When questioned afterwards he was always silent.
But it was not all fear.
The figure drew nearer until at last it stood in the centre of the path, closing the way to the wanderer.
The dark moors, the faint and spectral sky, the whole visible world flashed away. There was a noise in Joseph's ears as of many waters, and through the great rush that was overwhelming him, body, mind, and soul, he seemed to hear a voice speaking—
Then a thick darkness blotted out all sensation, and he knew no more.
Joseph tried to lift his arm. He was conscious of the desire to do so, but for some reason or other he was unable to move it for a moment.
The arm felt like lead.
Slowly—and this also was with an effort—he opened his eyes.
He was in bed, lying in the familiar room at Lluellyn's cottage, though how he had come there he had no idea whatever.