When able to get up again and look about me, it was completely dark.

I saw far below me a light, that looked about as big as a pin's head, which I knew to be from the inn at Rowardennan, but heard no sound except the rush of the waterfall, and the sighing of the night-wind.
For the first few minutes after I perceived I had got to my night's lodging, such as it was, the prospect seemed appalling.

I was very lightly clad,--my feet and dress were very wet,--I had only a little shawl to throw round me, and a cold autumn wind had already come, and the night-mist was to fall on me, all fevered and exhausted as I was.
I thought I should not live through the night, or, if I did, live always a miserable invalid.

There was no chance to keep myself warm by walking, for, now it was dark, it would be too dangerous to stir.
My only chance, however, lay in motion, and my only help in myself, and so convinced was I of this, that I did keep in motion the whole of that long night, imprisoned as I was on such a little perch of that great mountain.

_How_ long it seemed under such circumstances only those can guess who may have been similarly circumstanced.