He ran forward, and in two minutes returned, silent. "Yes?" she said impatiently. "Beeches," he replied; "the same beeches." "We have toiled round in a circle. What shall we do?--now we are lost indeed!" Her voice went straight to his heart, and roused him to fresh exertions. "It is strange that we see no lights," he said; "there must be farmhouses or cottages somewhere." "They all go to bed by daylight in summer--to save candles. Do let us go on--somewhere." He easily understood her nervous desire to move. The darkness seemed to increase; but he led the mare slowly. Every now and then a lark rose from the turf--they could not see, but heard the wings--and fluttered away into the gloom. "Hush!" whispered Margaret suddenly. "What was that? I thought I heard footsteps." "It was nothing," said he, peering into the darkness. He had himself heard steps distinctly, but he would not let her be alarmed if he could help it. "There!" she caught fast hold of his arm and drew him close. The heavy steps were distinctly audible for a moment, and then stopped. "Who goes there?" shouted Geoffrey, startling her with the sudden noise. His voice sounded hollow and dead in the vastness of the mighty hills. They listened: no answer. "Let us go on quick," she said. Kitty moved again, painfully; her rider glanced back. "I am sure I saw something far off moving," she whispered. "Nothing but a hawthorn bush," said Geoffrey; yet he had himself discerned a shadowy something. Margaret had heard of the shepherds' stories of the weird shapes that haunted the desolate places on the Downs. Kitty, obeying her impulse, pushed on more rapidly; when they looked back again there was nothing. But almost suddenly the darkness increased; it seemed to thicken and fall on them. In a few moments it was so intensely black that they could barely see each other. With it came a strange sense of oppression--a difficulty of breathing. Her hand on his shoulder trembled; even the man felt a sense of something unusual, bent his brow, and steeled himself to meet it. With her other hand she covered her face. In that pitch-black darkness, that almost sulphurous air, it seemed as if a thunderbolt must fall. The mare stood still. In a minute there came a rushing sound--a rumbling of the ground; it swept by on their left at a short distance. A faint "baa" told what it was. "A flock of sheep," said Geoffrey. "They have leapt the hurdles." "They always do when the clouds come down," said Margaret, recollecting what the shepherds said. "It will thunder."