"To the right, Miss, about a quarter of a mile further on; it strikes off through Hemlock Hollow. It's a lonesome road, though, Miss, and there may be one or two pairs of bars to take down before we get to the end."
"You're sure, however, that you know the way, and that it's shorter?" I asked.
Michael thought he was sure.
"Then, my man, we'll try it; and keep as near to me as you can."
And turning Madge's head, I gave her liberty to do her best. Michael had much ado, I fear, to keep in sight of me; but I cared very little for his guardianship, or indeed for any other circumstance or occurrence whatsoever, so long as I reached the village and the post-office before Mr. Rutledge quitted them.
Michael was nearer right than he generally had the good fortune to be, when he described the Hemlock Hollow road as a wild and lonesome one. It was an unfrequented wood road; the trees met above it; there was neither foot-path nor fence on either side; it was just a way hewn down and cleared for one wagon to pass. Lying in a hollow, it was always damper, and colder, and darker, than anywhere else, and as I pressed on, I couldn't help being struck with the chilliness of the air, and "the rich moist smell of the rotting leaves" that lay thick upon the road. How fast the light had faded! I never knew twilight to come on so rapidly.
"Never mind," I reasoned, "it cannot be long before we are out of this hollow, and then we shall be so near the village that I shall not mind the dark, and after that Mr. Rutledge will be with us. He will not be angry, I know; there was too much laughing about his mouth, when he motioned me homeward. I am sure he won't be angry; but I almost wish——Michael!"
"Yes, Miss," called out my attendant in the distance.
"How long before we are out of this wood?"
"I don't rightly remember the length of it, Miss," gasped the panting esquire, as he reached me.