arrow ways; which, when they were close upon them,
turned to shadows too. A wall, a ruin, a sturdy gable end, would rise
up in the road; and, when they were plunging headlong at it, would be
the road itself. Strange turnings too, bridges, and sheets of water,
appeared to start up here and there, making the way doubtful and
uncertain; and yet they were on the same bare road, and these things,
like the others, as they were passed, turned into dim illusions.

He descended slowly from his seat--for his limbs were numbed--when
they arrived at a lone posting-house, and inquired how far they had to
go to reach their journey's end. It was a late hour in such by-places,
and the people were abed; but a voice answered from an upper window,
Ten miles. The ten minutes that ensued appeared an hour; but at the
end of that time, a shivering figure led out the horses they required,
and after another brief delay they were again in motion. It was a
cross-country road, full, after the first three or four miles, of holes
and cart-ruts, which, being covered by the snow, were so many pitfalls
to the trembling horses, and obliged them to keep a footpace. As it
was next to impossible for men so much agitated as they were by this
time, to sit still and move so slowly, all three got out and plodded on
behind the carriage. The distance seemed interminable, and the walk
was most laborious. As each was thinking within himself that the
driver must have lost his way, a church bell, close at hand, struck the
hour of midnight, and the carriage stopped. It had moved softly
enough, but when it ceased to crunch the snow, the silence was as
startling as if some great noise had been replaced by perfect stillness.

'This is the place, gentlemen,' said the driver, dismounting from his
horse, and knocking at the door of a little inn. 'Halloa! Past twelve
o'clock is the dead of night here.'

The knocking was loud and long, but it failed to rouse the drowsy
inmates. All continued dark and silent as before. They fell back a
little, and looked up at the windows, which were mere black patches in
the whitened house front. No light appeared. The house might have
been deserted, or the sleepers dead, for any air of life it had about
it.

They spoke together with a strange inconsistency, in whispers;
unwilling to disturb again the dreary echoes they had just now raised.

'Let us go on,' said the younger brother, 'and leave this good fellow
to wake the