By that paradox of nature which makes disaster itself less hard to bear than the apprehension of disaster, Ralph felt relieved when he knew the worst.

There was much of the mystery still unexplained, but the morrow would reveal it; and Ralph lay down to sleep, and rose at daybreak, not with a lighter, but with an easier heart.
When he took up his shepherd's staff that morning, he turned towards Fornside Fell.

Rising out of the Vale of Wanthwaite, the fell half faced the purple heights of Blencathra.

It was brant from side to side, and as rugged as steep.

Ralph did not ascend the screes, out went up by Castle Rock, and walked northwards among the huge bowlders.
The frost lay on the loose fragments of rock, and made a firm but perilous causeway.