After I had done dinner, I slept a little as my custom is, and the last
sound that I heard, and the first upon awaking, was the drone of the
bees. When I awakened I thought that I would walk down to Master
Richard's house and see how all fared. So I took my staff and set out.

It was very cool and dark in the wood, through which I had come up six
days before walking in the summer night with the young man, and all was
very quiet. I could hear only the hum of the flies, and, as I drew
nearer, the running of the water over the stones of the road, where it
crosses it beside the little bridge.

Then I came out beside the gate into the meadow, and my eyes were
dazzled by the hot light of the sun after the darkness of the wood.

I stood by the gate a good while, leaning my arms upon it (for I felt
very heavy and weary), and looking across the meadow yellow with flowers
to the green hazels beyond, and between me and the wood the air shook as
if in terror or joy, I knew not which. I could see, too, the open door
of the hut, and its domed roof of straw, and the wicket leaning against
the wall as he had left it, and on either side the may-trees lifted
their bright heads.

My children, I am not ashamed to tell you that I could not see all this
very clearly, for my eyes were dim at the thought that the master of it
was not here, and that I knew not where he was nor how he fared. I
prayed saint Giles with all my might that I might see him here again,
and walk with him as I had walked so often. And then at the end, a
little after I had heard the _Angelus_ ring from over the wood, and had
saluted our Lady and entreated her for Master Richard, I thought that I
would go up and see the hut.