"Virginia isn't the most densely peopled country in the world, and we are coming to a pretty sterile region that won't support much life in the best of times."
"Are we on doubtful ground?"
"That or very near it."
They passed at least one or two houses by the roadside, but they were lone and dark. No lean Virginia dogs howled at them and the solitary and desolate character of the country did not abate.
"Are you cold?" asked Prescott.
"Not at all," she replied. "I have never in my life taken an easier journey. It seems that fortune has been with us."
"Fortune favours the good or ought to do so."
"How long do you think it is until daylight?"
"I don't know; an hour, I suppose; why bother about it?"
Certainly Prescott was not troubling his head by trying to determine the exact distance to daylight, but he began to think for the first time of his journey's end. He must leave Miss Catherwood somewhere in comparative safety, and he must get back to Richmond, his absence unnoted. These were problems which might well become vexing, and the exaltation of the moment could not prevent their recurrence. He stopped the wagon and took a look at the worthy Elias, who was slumbering as peacefully as ever. "A sound conscience makes a sound sleeper," he quoted, and then he inspected the country.