I could.

He whipped his horse on to keep pace with me; then, leaning on the
dashboard, he made as though he would climb out of the cart. But just at
that moment a big bird rustled out of the hedge--the horse sprang aside,
precipitated his master into the bottom of the cart, and went off at a
gallop. Very thankful I was to see them disappear into the distance!

I was shaking so with fear that I had to sit down on a stone heap for a
while.

I pulled myself together and started on again, but all joy was gone from
the adventure--there seemed really to be too much adventure about it.

Three miles, four miles more I walked; but they did not go as the first
miles had gone. It was eleven o'clock, and I was only halfway; at this
rate I could not be home before two in the morning. If they had been
coming to meet me they would have done so before this. They must have
given me up for the night, every one would be in bed and asleep, and to
wake them up in the small hours would frighten them more than my not
coming home had done.

Moreover, the long road over the hill and through the woods was before
me. The thought of the moonlit, silent woods, with their weird shadows,
was too much for me; I looked about for a place of refuge for the night.

I soon found one.

A splendid rick of hay in a field close to the road had been cut.
Halfway up it there was a wide, broad ledge--just the place for a bed.
I did not take long to reach it, and, pulling some loose hay over myself
in case it grew chilly at dawn, I said my prayers--they were real
prayers that night--and was soon asleep in my soft, fragrant bed.

The sun woke me, shining hot on my nest. I looked at my watch, it was
six o'clock. Thrushes and blackbirds were singing their hearts out,
swallows were darting by, high in air a lark was hovering right above my
head, with quivering wings, singing his morning hymn of praise. I knelt,
up there on the hayrick, and let my thanks go with his to heaven's gate.

I had never felt such a keen sense of gratitude as I did that summer
morning: the dangers of the night all past and over, and a beautiful new
day given to me, and only seven miles and a half between me and home.

'Tis true that I was very hungry, but I started on my way and soon came
to a cottage whose mistress was up giving her husband his breakfast. She
very willingly gave me as much bread-and-butter as I could eat, and a
cup of tea. I did not quarrel with the thickness of t