The road was a fair
one; that is, it was well defined and there was no danger of losing
it; in fact, there was more danger of losing one's self in its
fathomless mud-holes and quagmires. Brandon had recently passed over
it twice, and had made mental note of the worst places, so he hoped to
avoid them.
Soon the rain began to fall in a soaking drizzle; then the lamps of
twilight went out, and even the shadows of the night were lost among
themselves in blinding darkness. It was one of those black nights fit
for witch traveling; and, no doubt, every witch in England was out
brewing mischief. The horses' hoofs sucked and splashed in the mud
with a sound that Mary thought might be heard at Land's End; and the
hoot of an owl, now and then disturbed by a witch, would strike upon
her ear with a volume of sound infinitely disproportionate to the size
of any owl she had ever seen or dreamed of before.
Brandon wore our cushion, the great cloak, and had provided a like one
of suitable proportions for the princess.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347