even catch the sound of those tiny animals that are usually
heard in the thickets and furze-bushes at night; and all his movements
were exaggerated, until their echoes seemed to reverberate through the
whole forest. A turn of the road brought him into view of something that
made his heart throb with delight. Standing by the wayside was an
enormous coach with four huge horses pawing the ground impatiently. My
uncle rushed up to the driver, who was so enveloped in wraps, he could
not see his face, and in a voice trembling with emotion begged for the
favour of a lift--if not to Helena itself, as far in that direction as
the coach was going. The driver made no reply, but with his hand
motioned my uncle to get in. The latter did not need a second bidding,
and the moment he was seated, the vehicle started off. It was a large,
roomy conveyance, but had a stifling atmosphere about it that struck my
uncle as most unpleasant; and although he could see no one, he
intuitively felt he was not alone, and that more than one pair of eyes
were watching him.

"The coach did not go as fast as my uncle expected, but moved with a
curious gliding motion, and the wheels made no noise whatever. This
added to my uncle's apprehensions, and he almost made up his mind to
open the carriage door and jump out. Something, however, which he could
not account for restrained him, and he maintained his seat. Outside, all
was still profoundly dark. The trees were scarcely distinguishable as
deeper masses of shadow, and were recognizable only by the resinous
odour, that, from time to time, sluggishly flowed in at the open window
as the coach rolled on.

"At length they overtook some other vehicle, and for the first time for
some hours my uncle heard the sound of solid wheels, which were as
welcome to him as any joy bells. Just as they were passing the
conveyance--a small wagonette drawn by a pair of horses, the latter took
fright; there were loud shouts and a great stampede, and my uncle, who
leaned out of the coach window, caught a glimpse of the vehicle dashing
along ahead of them at a frightful speed. The driver of the coach,
apparently totally unconcerned, continued his journey at the same
regular, mechanical pace.

"Presently my uncle heard the sound of rushing water, and knew they must
be nearing the Usk, a tributary of the Battle, which was only five miles
from his house.

"The forest now ceased, and they crossed the road over the bridge in a
b