To make matters worse, black clouds gathered over the sky.
Gerard quickened his pace almost to a run.
It was in vain; down came the rain in torrents, drenched the bewildered traveller, and seemed to extinguish the very sun-for his rays, already fading, could not cope with this new assailant.
Gerard trudged on, dark, and wet, and in an unknown region.

"Fool! to leave Margaret," said he.
Presently the darkness thickened.
He was entering a great wood.

Huge branches shot across the narrow road, and the benighted stranger groped his way in what seemed an interminable and inky cave with a rugged floor, on which he stumbled and stumbled as he went.
On, and on, and on, with shivering limbs and empty stomach, and fainting heart, till the wolves rose from their lairs and bayed all round the wood.
His hair bristled; but he grasped his cudgel, and prepared to sell his life dear.
There was no wind; and his excited ear heard light feet patter at times over the newly fallen leaves, and low branches rustle with creatures gliding swiftly past them.
Presently in the sea of ink there was a great fiery star close to the ground.

He hailed it as he would his patron saint.

"CANDLE! a CANDLE!" he shouted, and tried to run.