Chapter 7: The Caravan

How long she had been there she did not know. She looked about her, wondering where she was; how she had come there. She was in the open air; above her were the stars in the sky. She seemed to be lying on some rubbish; but something hard was underneath. How her head ached; it made her feel so stupid. Putting up her hand to soothe it, she found that it hurt her almost as much as her head. Staring at it, in the dim light she could just make out that it was covered with something wet. All at once she remembered, hazily; and sat up straighter. She had dropped from the window--it must be somewhere above her; she could not see it from where she was. This rough surface which she touched when she put out her poor, hurt hand must be the outer wall of the hotel.

One thing was plain: she was not dead; and so it behoved her not to stay where she was a moment longer than she could help; she had not dropped from the window to spend the night on the ground immediately beneath. She raised herself to her feet; the process occasioning her more pain than she had expected. It was all she could do to stand. One ankle showed a disposition to double up; her left leg smarted so that the pain of it brought the tears into her eyes. Indeed, there were smarts and aches all over her; her arms seemed limp and her hands nerveless; her whole body felt hurt, and bruised, and shaken. Her first impulse, when she learnt the plight she was in, was to sink back on to the ground, from which she had with such difficulty raised herself, and cry. But, even in the half-dazed condition in which she was, she recognised that such a mode of procedure would be worse than futile. Since she had risked so much to get so far she might at least try to get a little farther. Now, in all probability, only a little courage was needed to enable her to get at least clear away from that immediate neighbourhood.

Which way should she go? She looked about her. The light, if dim, was sufficient to enable her to make out something of her surroundings. Seemingly the place in which she was had nothing to do with the hotel. It was apparently a yard which was associated with the adjoining house. What kind of house it was she could not see; she could see windows, but behind them no lights were visible; the whole place seemed to be in darkness. There were buildings on three sides of the yard. She could just see what seemed to be a door which led into the house; it was hardly likely to be of much use to her--she would be little better off in the adjoining house than in the hotel which she had just now quitted. She looked for another door; and saw that there was one in the wall which bounded the yard on the fourth side. She moved towards it, stumbling over unseen obstacles as she went. Reaching it, she raised the latch; the door was open. Passing through she found herself in a narrow alley, which ran between two walls. Since, to her, direction mattered nothing, she turned to the left; then, when she had gone some little distance, to the left again; and presently came to what was apparently the principal street of the town. Conscious of the singularity of her appearance: dressed, as she was, for indoors; hatless; with her attire in disorder; being unwilling to attract notice, she peered anxiously about her alley. At that hour of the night even the town’s chief thoroughfare was nearly deserted. Gaining courage from the fact, passing into it, she pressed forward with hurrying footsteps, leaving the hotel more and more behind her as she went.

Occasionally she met both pedestrians and vehicles; but no one seemed to take any special heed of her. Either they were too occupied with their own affairs; or else they saw nothing about her to rouse their interest. On and on she went; always along the same broad street; the farther she went the fewer people she encountered. At last it seemed to her that she had gone some distance without meeting a soul. Looking round she perceived that she seemed to have left the town behind; the high street seemed to have become a country road. Here and there by the roadside were detached villas and houses; but the long unbroken line of buildings had come to an end. Pressing on she found that the villas and the houses were becoming fewer and farther between; she was in the open country. On a sudden even the fertile country, with its fields and trees and hedges, seemed to have gone; the road seemed to be passing over an illimitable expanse of open heath.

She was so tired; so stiff; and in such pain. Her ankle hurt her so that she could hardly put her foot to the ground. The leg which she had grazed against the wall, as she had lowered herself from the sill, smarted almost beyond endurance. Her bruised body ached all over; her head ached worse than her body. As she paused to take her bearings all these things forced themselves on her at once. She became conscious that, however great the need, she could not go on much farther without a rest. Where was she to rest? Out here the world seemed brighter; the stars brighter. Certainly the air was clearer. She could see on all sides of her, by the light of the stars, ever so far; little enough there seemed to see. Here and there, the way she had come, were the outlines of houses; but in front, and on either hand, was nothing but the open moor; broken by what probably were clumps of furze and bushes. Should she lie down by the side of one of those clumps, to rest? The turf ought to be dry; there was promise of fair weather; she would be better there than alone in a room with Mr Emmett, be he alive or dead. The thing to be desired was to get at some distance from the road, so that she might escape observation from passers-by. She began to pick her way, as best she could, across the grass. Her objective was a patch of brushwood which, so far as she was able to judge, was at a distance of perhaps a couple of hundred yards; far enough from the road to ensure her privacy. Gaining the edge of the patch, she began to thread her way among the bushes; determined, if she could, to reach the centre, so that they might stand up round about her, and so serve as an effective screen. She had just decided that she had got as far in among them as she need, and was about to allow herself the luxury of sinking down upon the turf, when there was a rustling sound, and, looking up, a man seemed to rise out of the solid earth, within a few feet of where she was standing.