"No, no, miss," said Diana. "Best keep along in dese yere woods; dey's safe."
The hours were endless. At last it seemed to Anne as if they were not moving at all, but merely sitting still in their saddles, while a continuous procession of low trees and high bushes filed slowly past them, now pointing upward, now slanting downward, according to the nature of the ground. In reality they were moving forward, crossing a spur of the mountain, but so dense was the foliage of the thicket, and so winding the path, that they could not see three feet in any direction, and all sense of advance was therefore lost. Anne fell into a mental lethargy, which was troubled every now and then by that strange sense of having seen particular objects before which occasionally haunts the brain. Now it was a tree, now a bird; or was it that she had known July in some far-off anterior existence, and that he had kicked a stone from his path in precisely that same way?
It was late twilight when, after a long descent still shrouded in the interminable thicket, the path came out suddenly upon a road, and Anne's eyes seemed to herself to expand as the view expanded. She saw a valley, the gray smoothness of water, and here and there roofs. July had stopped the mules in the shadow.
"Can you tell me which house it mought be, miss?" he asked, in a low, cautious tone.
"No," replied Anne. "But the person I am trying to find is named Heathcote—Captain Heathcote. We must make inquiries."
"Now do be keerful, miss," urged July, keeping Anne's mule back. "I'll jes' go and peer roun' a bit. But you stay hyar with Di."
"Yes, miss," said Diana. "We'll go back in de woods a piece, and wait. July'll fin' out all about 'em."
Whether willingly or unwillingly, Anne was obliged to yield; the two women rode back into the woods, and July stole away cautiously upon his errand.
It was ten o'clock before he returned; Anne had dismounted, and was walking impatiently to and fro in the warm darkness.