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With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. For a long time neither spoke again. "Did I hear you …" began McClintock. Jeez! It was about time. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. The actual danger was lost sight of in these wild apprehensions; and many timorous beings were scared beyond reason's verge by the excess of their fears.
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