While they thus slept, the day wore on, and the sun was
declining when they awoke and wondered that they had wasted their time
for so long a period.
Starting again with renewed energy, they travelled onward through the
mighty forest till sunset, when they approached the high ground which
now runs along the northern boundary of Oxfordshire and of which
Edgehill forms a portion. Though progress had been slow, for the road,
although secure, was yet in so neglected a state as to form an obstacle
to rapid travelling, and they had met no fellow travellers. Leaving the
Foss Way, which followed the valley, and slowly ascending the hill by a
well-marked track, they looked back from its summit upon a glorious
view. Far as the eye could reach stretched the forest to the northward,
one huge unbroken expanse save where the thin wreaths of smoke showed
some village or homestead, where English farmers already wrestled with
the obstacles nature had formed. But westward the view was more
home-like; the setting sun was sinking behind the huge heights now known
as the Malvern Hills, which reared their forms proudly in the distant
horizon.
The western sky was rich in the hues of the departing sun, which cast
its declining beams upon village and homestead, thinly scattered in the
fertile vale through which the Foss Way pursued its course.
But our travellers did not stay long to contemplate the beauty of the
scene; they were yet ten miles from the hospitable roof where they had
purposed spending the night, and they had overslept themselves so long
at their noontide halt, that they found darkness growing apace, while
their weary animals could scarcely advance farther.
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