"Where is the bride?"
"The groom stumbled," said one. "Let us to Combe Ivy, in comfort's name. There'll be drink there."
He staggered down the hill, and his fellows made after him. But Young Gerard sprang upon one, and gripped him by the shoulder and shook him, and for the third time cried:
"Where is the bride?"
"In the water," he answered heavily, "because—there was—no wine."
Then he dragged himself out of the boy's grasp, and fell down the hill after his companions.
Young Gerard stood for one instant listening and holding his breath. Suddenly he said, "My lost lamb, crying on the hills." He ran into the shed and looked about, and snatched from the settle the green and cherry cloak, and from the wall the crystal and silver lantern. He struck a spark from a flint and lit the wick. It burned brightly and steadily. Then he ran out of the shed. The old woman rose up in his path.
"That's a good light," said she, "and a warm cloak."
"Don't stop me!" said Young Gerard, and ran on. She nodded, and as he vanished in one direction, she vanished in the other.
He had not run far when he saw one more shadow on the hills; and it came with faltering steps, and a trembling sobbing breath, and he held up his lantern and the light fell on Thea, shivering in her wet veil. As the flame struck her eyes she sighed, "Oh, I can't see the way—I can't see!"