girl's eyes.

She drew her thin shawl round her, and crept again into the shadow of the
engine-house. Not three hours, and the day would have returned. But
already the dawn-breath seemed to be blowing through the night. For it
had grown cold and her limbs shivered.

... She woke often in terror, pursued by sheets of flame, or falling
through unfathomed space; haunted all through by a sense of doom, an
awful expectancy--like one approaching some grisly Atreus-threshold and
conscious of the death behind it. But sleep seized her again, a cold
tormented sleep, and the hours passed.

Meanwhile the light that had hardly gone came welling gently back. The
stars paled; the high mountains wrapped themselves in clouds; a clear
yellow mounted from the east, flooding the dusk with cheerfulness. Then
the birds woke. The diminished sands, on which the tide was creeping,
sparkled with sea-birds; the air was soon alive with their white curves.

With a start Laura awoke. Above the eastern fells scarlet feather-clouds
were hovering; the sun rushed upon them as she looked; and in that blue
dimness to the north lay Bannisdale.

She sprang up, stared half aghast at the black depths of the quarry,
beside which she had been sleeping, then searched the fell with her eyes.
Yes, there was the upward path. She struck into it, praying that friend
and houses might meet her soon.

Meanwhile it seemed that nothing moved in the world but she.