‘It reminds me of Mount Sinai in the Pilgrim’s Progress. You remember Christian was afraid because the side of it which was next the wayside did hang so much over that he thought it would fall on his head.’
‘I never read the Pilgrim’s Progress,’ she returned, in a careless if not contemptuous tone.
‘Didn’t you? Oh, you would like it so much!’
‘I don’t think I should. I don’t like religious books.’ ‘But that is such a good story!’
‘Oh! it’s all a trap—sugar on the outside of a pill! The sting’s in the tail of it. They’re all like that. I know them.’
This silenced me, and for a while we went on without speaking.
The rain ceased; the mist cleared a little; and I began to think I saw some landmarks I knew. A moment more, and I perfectly understood where we were.
‘I’m all right now, sir,’ I said to Mr Coningham. ‘I can find my way from here.’
As I spoke I pulled up and proceeded to dismount.
‘Sit still,’ he said. ‘We cannot do better than ride on to Mr Forest’s. I don’t know him much, but I have met him, and in a strange country all are friends, I dare say he will take us in for the night. Do you think he could house us?’