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| Bartholomew stumbles on in the middle of the walking party, mistrusting firm ground to meet him with each new step, and very much doubting his own sure-footedness. Rain drives down still, in a spiteful victory shower after doing all the damage it can. He muses on the persistent misery wrought by nature; no man would continue to beat down after delivering the killing blow, not like this. And yet what’s the harm in it now? There is scarce else the rain can take from him, unless it begins to wash away members of the party. | Bartholomew stumbles on in the middle of the walking party, mistrusting firm ground to meet him with each new step, and very much doubting his own sure-footedness. Rain drives down still, in a spiteful victory shower after doing all the damage it can. He muses on the persistent misery wrought by nature; no man would continue to beat down after delivering the killing blow, not like this. And yet what’s the harm in it now? There is scarce else the rain can take from him, unless it begins to wash away members of the party. | ||
| - | Through the rain he can see his granddaughter, steadying the nerves of their fellow travellers with sturdy practicalities. The road ahead of them looks clear in Bartholemew’s eyes; Soon they will outwalk the rain into a limitless blue sky- he knows in Leeds they will find the end of the twisting, perilous Beaufort trail he himself was lost on, and make their own way on paved streets in shoes cleansed of mud. | + | Through the rain he can see his grandchild Lydia, steadying the nerves of their fellow travellers with sturdy practicalities. The road ahead of them looks clear in Bartholemew’s eyes; Soon they will outwalk the rain into a limitless blue sky- he knows in Leeds they will find the end of the twisting, perilous Beaufort trail he himself was lost on, and make their own way on paved streets in shoes cleansed of mud. |
| A little further behind is the hum of bickering Fishers. Slowing his pace as much as he can without inspiring concern in Lydia, Bartholomew allows the family to catch up with him. There is a prick of disappointment when he sees the Fisher’s chief arguer isn’t among them, but it is assuaged somewhat by the sight of Ophelia, quietly tending to her siblings. A great tenderness is felt, and it occurs at once to Bartholemew that he does not feel bad. | A little further behind is the hum of bickering Fishers. Slowing his pace as much as he can without inspiring concern in Lydia, Bartholomew allows the family to catch up with him. There is a prick of disappointment when he sees the Fisher’s chief arguer isn’t among them, but it is assuaged somewhat by the sight of Ophelia, quietly tending to her siblings. A great tenderness is felt, and it occurs at once to Bartholemew that he does not feel bad. | ||