Page 262 - sons-and-lovers

wind to the wan of the tower. At their feet fell the precipice
where the limestone was quarried away. Below was a jum-
ble of hills and tiny villages—Mattock, Ambergate, Stoney
Middleton. The lads were eager to spy out the church of
Bestwood, far away among the rather crowded country on
the left. They were disgusted that it seemed to stand on a
plain. They saw the hills of Derbyshire fall into the monot-
ony of the Midlands that swept away South.
Miriam was somewhat scared by the wind, but the lads
enjoyed it. They went on, miles and miles, to Whatstandwell.
All the food was eaten, everybody was hungry, and there
was very little money to get home with. But they managed
to procure a loaf and a currant-loaf, which they hacked to
pieces with shut-knives, and ate sitting on the wall near the
bridge, watching the bright Derwent rushing by, and the
brakes from Matlock pulling up at the inn.
Paul was now pale with weariness. He had been respon-
sible for the party all day, and now he was done. Miriam
understood, and kept close to him, and he left himself in
her hands.
They had an hour to wait at Ambergate Station. Trains
came, crowded with excursionists returning to Manchester,
Birmingham, and London.
‘We might be going there—folk easily might think we’re
going that far,’ said Paul.
They got back rather late. Miriam, walking home with
Geoffrey, watched the moon rise big and red and misty. She
felt something was fulfilled in her.
She had an elder sister, Agatha, who was a school-teach-

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