It was now about nine at night, an hour when our ancestors generally retired to rest. All Alfgar's desire and hope--O how joyful a hope!--was to see from the hill the bearings of Clifton, and to descend, with all the speed in his power, towards it. He might arrive before they had retired to rest. So he ran eagerly forward. The moon was bright, and the snow reflected so much light that locomotion was easy.