danger whatever."
"I am frightened, though," she said, "I cannot help it. I never saw
anything of the kind before; and the darkness behind and before us,
and the black water on either side, do make me shiver."
"Stop!" I called to the boatman.
"Now, Eveena," I said, "I do not care to persist in this journey if it
really distresses you. I wished to see so wonderful a work of
engineering; but, after all, I have been in a much uglier and more
wonderful place, and I can see nothing here stranger than when I was
rowed for three-quarters of a mile on the river in the Mammoth Cave.
In any case I shall see little but a continuation of what I see
already; so if you cannot bear it, we will go back."
By this time Esmo, who had been in the bows, had joined us, wishing to
know why I had stopped the boat.
"This child," I said, "is not used to travelling, and the tunnel
frightens her; so that I think, after all, we had better take the
usual course across the mountains."
"Nonsense!" he answered. "There is no danger here; less probably than
in an ordinary drive, certainly less than in a balloon. Don't spoil
her, my friend. If you begin by yielding to so silly a caprice as
this, you will end by breaking her heart before the two years are
out."
"Do go on," whispered Eveena. "I was very silly; I am not so
frightened now, and if you will hold me fast, I will not misbehave
again."
Esmo had taken the matter out of my hands, desiring the boatman to
proceed; and though I sympathised with my bride's feminine terror much
more than her father appeared to do, I was selfishly anxious, in spite
of my declaration that there could be no novelty in this tunnel, to
see one thing certainly original--the means by which so narrow and so
long a passage could be efficiently ventilated. The least I could do,
however, was to appease Eveena's fear before turning my attention to
the objects of my own curiosity. The presence of physical strength,
which seemed to her superhuman, produced upon her nerves the quieting
effect which, however irrationally, great bodily force always
exercises over women; partly, perhaps, from the awe it seems to
inspire, partly from a yet more unreasonable but instinctive reliance
on its protection even in dangers against which it is obviously
unavailing.
Presently a current of air, distinctly warmer than that of the tunnel,
which had been gradually increasing in force for some minutes, became
so powerful that I coul
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