Good—he was half glad.
He turned up the hill, and stumbled blindly over the wild slopes, having lost the path in the complete darkness.
It was boring.
Where was he going?
No matter.
He stumbled on till he came to a path again.
Then he went on through another wood.
His mind became dark, he went on automatically.
Without thought or sensation, he stumbled unevenly on, out into the open again, fumbling for stiles, losing the path, and going along the hedges of the fields till he came to the outlet.
And at last he came to the high road.
It had distracted him to struggle blindly through the maze of darkness.
But now, he must take a direction.
And he did not even know where he was.
But he must take a direction now. Nothing would be resolved by merely walking, walking away.
He had to take a direction.
He stood still on the road, that was high in the utterly dark night, and he did not know where he was.
It was a strange sensation, his heart beating, and ringed round with the utterly unknown darkness.
So he stood for some time.
Then he heard footsteps, and saw a small, swinging light.
He immediately went towards this.
It was a miner.
'Can you tell me,' he said, 'where this road goes?'
'Road?
Ay, it goes ter Whatmore.'
'Whatmore!
Oh thank you, that's right.
I thought I was wrong.
Good-night.'
'Good-night,' replied the broad voice of the miner.
Gerald guessed where he was.
At least, when he came to Whatmore, he would know.
He was glad to be on a high road.
He walked forward as in a sleep of decision.
That was Whatmore Village—?
Yes, the King's Head—and there the hall gates.
He descended the steep hill almost running.
Winding through the hollow, he passed the Grammar School, and came to Willey Green Church.
The churchyard!
He halted.
Then in another moment he had clambered up the wall and was going among the graves.
Even in this darkness he could see the heaped pallor of old white flowers at his feet.
This then was the grave.
He stooped down.
The flowers were cold and clammy.
There was a raw scent of chrysanthemums and tube-roses, deadened.
He felt the clay beneath, and shrank, it was so horribly cold and sticky.
He stood away in revulsion.
Here was one centre then, here in the complete darkness beside the unseen, raw grave.
But there was nothing for him here.
No, he had nothing to stay here for.