A thick cloud passed over the moon, and instantly the whole scene was plunged into funereal darkness; only a ghostly gleam of white being reflected from the ground to mingle with the reddish light of the lanterns.
Evelyn shuddered, and said, "What a difference!"
While again, Mr. Trevelyan pictured to himself these marshes two hours or more earlier, in the white darkness and bewildering flurry of the snowstorm.
"There is Walters!" Jean's quick eyes were the first to see a far-off glimmer. "Look! A lantern!"
"H'm! A good way from the path," muttered Mr. Trevelyan.
"Oh, they have a reason—they must have a reason for going," exclaimed Evelyn. "Can't we get to them quickly?"
"Not that way. We can't go straight across the dykes," said Jean. "Even if father and I could leap them, you couldn't. I don't think we ought to leave the path yet."
"Jean is at home in these marshes," observed Mr. Trevelyan, as Evelyn looked at him. "We could not have a better guide."
"Father—" Jean stood, deep in thought.
"Yes."