One evening, in the beginning of June, I had stayed out very latewith Mary Ann in the wood; we had, as usual, separated ourselvesfrom the others, and had wandered far; so far that we lost our way,and had to ask it at a lonely cottage, where a man and woman lived,who looked after a herd of half-wild swine that fed on the mast in thewood. When we got back, it was after moonrise: a pony, which we knewto be the surgeon's, was standing at the garden door. Mary Annremarked that she supposed some one must be very ill, as Mr. Bates hadbeen sent for at that time of the evening. She went into the house;I stayed behind a few minutes to plant in my garden a handful of rootsI had dug up in the forest, and which I feared would wither if Ileft them till the morning. This done, I lingered yet a little longer:the flowers smelt so sweet as the dew fell; it was such a pleasantevening, so serene, so warm; the still glowing west promised so fairlyanother fine day on the morrow; the moon rose with such majesty in thegrave east.