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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startling as if some great noise had been replaced by perfect stillness.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 them, if he can. I cannot rest until I know that we are not too
late. Let us go on, in the name of Heaven!'
They did so, leaving the postilion to order such accommodation as the
house afforded, and to renew his knocking. Kit accompanied them
with a little bundle, which he had hung in the carriage when they left
home, and had not forgotten since - the bird in his old cage - just as
she had left him. She would be glad to see her bird, he knew.
The road wound gently downward. As they proceeded, they lost sight
of the church whose clock they had heard, and of the small village
clustering round it. The knocking, which was now renewed, and which
in that stillness they could plainly hear, troubled them. They wished
the man would forbear, or that they had told him not to break the
silence until they returned.
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