"Gone back, miss."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, miss. I think he's going home by way of the village, and that he's going to get the letters from the office on his way."
"Couldn't we overtake him possibly?"
"I'm afraid not, miss; we've got two miles further to go, and the horses are not as fresh as when we started, miss."
That was a very palpable fact; indeed, both Michael's arguments seemed equally invincible; but I evaded them by exclaiming:
"Isn't there any shorter way back to the village? Think quick, Michael, I know there must be."
Michael thought, as quickly as he could, no doubt, but very slowly, it seemed to me.
"Yes, Miss," he said, meditatively, after a moment's pause, "yes, Miss, there is another; but it's but a wild road for the like of you to be travelling—so late too."
"Which way is it?" I said, with an impatient wave of the hand.