noon
Of all the mourners , the `` laal limber Frenchman '' was the most mournful . It was a cheerless winter morning when they set out from Shoulthwaite . The wind had never fallen since the terrible night of the death of Angus . As they ascended the fell , however , it was full noon . The sun had broken languidly through the mists that had rolled midway across the mountains , and were now being driven by the wind in a long white continent towards the south , there to gather between more sheltered headlands to the strength of rain . When they reached the top of the Armboth Fell the sky was clear , the sun shone brightly and bathed the gorse that stretched for miles around in varied shades of soft blue , brightening in some places to purple , and in other places deepening to black . The wind was stronger here than it had been in the valley , and blew in gusts of all but overpowering fierceness from High Seat towards Glaramara .