All the ground was soaking wet, with pools and puddles everywhere.

Helen could imagine nothing but a heartless, dreary, cold prospect.

Just then home was vivid and poignant in her thoughts.

Indeed, so utterly miserable was she that the exquisite relief of sitting down, of a cessation of movement, of a release from that infernal perpetual-trotting horse, seemed only a mockery.

It could not be true that the time had come for rest.
Evidently this place had been a camp site for hunters or sheep-herders, for there were remains of a fire.