the tall dark
man! I had read his life before, but it had made no impression on me; it
had never occurred to me that I was like him; but I now sympathised with
Saul, for my own dark hour was but recently passed, and, perhaps, would
soon return again; the dark hour came frequently on Saul.

Time wore away; I finished the book of Saul, and, closing the volume,
returned it to its place. I then returned to my seat on the stone, and
thought of what I had read, and what I had lately undergone. All at once
I thought I felt well-known sensations, a cramping of the breast, and a
tingling of the soles of the feet; they were what I had felt on the
preceding day--they were the forerunners of the fear. I sat motionless
on my stone, the sensations passed away, and the fear came not. Darkness
was now coming again over the earth; the dingle was again in deep shade;
I roused the fire with the breath of the bellows, and sat looking at the
cheerful glow; it was cheering and comforting. My little horse came now
and lay down on the ground beside the forge; I was not quite deserted. I
again ate some of the coarse food, and drank plentifully of the water
which I had fetched in the morning. I then put fresh fuel on the fire,
and sat for a long time looking on the blaze; I then went into my tent.

I awoke, on my own calculation, about midnight--it was pitch dark, and
there was much fear upon me.

CHAPTER LXXXV

Free and Independent--I Don't See Why--Oats--A Noise--Unwelcome
Visitors--What's the Matter?--Good Day to Ye--The Tall
Girl--Dovrefeld--Blow on the Face--Civil Enough--What's This?--Vulgar
Woman--Hands off--Gasping for Breath--Long Melford--A Pretty Manoeuvre--A
Long Draught--Signs of Animation--It Won't Do--No Malice--Bad People.

Two mornings after the period to which I have brought the reader in the
preceding chapter, I sat by my fire at the bottom of the dingle; I had
just breakfasted, and had finished the last morsel of food which I had
brought with me to that solitude.

"What shall I now do?" said I to myself; "shall I continue here, or
decamp?--this is a sad lonely spot--perhaps I had better quit it; but
whither shall I go? the wide world is before me, but what can I do
therein? I have been in the world already without much success. No, I
had better remain here; the place is lonely, it is true, but here I am
free and independent, and can do what I please; but I can't remain here
without food. Well, I will