“If our journey takes us through that yawning chasm, I think we had better stop for the night at the first tavern we come to,” suggested the young man, thinking more of the safety of his companion than of his own.
“No! where the coach can go, we can go, night or day,” persisted Gloria.
It was dusk when they reached the gap they had seen so far before them. There was a great stone building on a river that broke through the mountains at this point. The water reflected the high precipices and the buildings with their gleaming lights. The place was a combination of tavern, post-house, mill and ferry.
Here they stopped to change horses and get supper, after which the coach, with its passengers, freight and horses, was ferried across the river to the other side, and then it took the road beneath the shelter of the snow-clad mountains, and kept it, plodding along slowly for the rest of the night.
But we must not dwell too long on this picturesque journey.
CHAPTER XX
GRYPHYNSHOLD
But there no more shall human voice
Be heard to rage—lament—rejoice—
The last sad note that swelled the gale
Was woman’s wildest funeral wail.