IV. The Halt on the Turnpike Road

           Down,downwardtheywent,andyetfurtherdown—theirdescentateachstepseemingtooutmeasuretheiradvance.Theirskirtswerescratchednoisilybythefurze,theirshouldersbrushedbytheferns,which,thoughdeadanddry,stooderectaswhenalive,nosufficientwinterweatherhavingasyetarrivedtobeatthemdown.TheirTartareansituationmightbysomehavebeencalledanimprudentonefortwounattendedwomen.ButtheseshaggyrecesseswereatallseasonsafamiliarsurroundingtoOllyandMrs.Yeobright;andtheadditionofdarknesslendsnofrightfulnesstothefaceofafriend.

           “AndsoTamsinhasmarriedhimatlast,”saidOlly,whentheinclinehadbecomesomuchlesssteepthattheirfoot-stepsnolongerrequiredundividedattention.

           Mrs.Yeobrightansweredslowly,“Yes;atlast.”

           “Howyouwillmissher—livingwith’eeasadaughter,asshealwayshave.”

           “Idomissher.”

           Olly,thoughwithoutthetacttoperceivewhenremarkswereuntimely,wassavedbyherverysimplicityfromrenderingthemoffensive.Questionsthatwouldhavebeenresentedinothersshecouldaskwithimpunity.ThisaccountedforMrs.Yeobright’sacquiescenceintherevivalofanevidentlysoresubject.

           “Iwasquitestrooktohearyou’dagreedtoit,ma’am,thatIwas,”continuedthebesom-maker.

           “YouwerenotmorestruckbyitthanIshouldhavebeenlastyearthistime,Olly.Thereareagoodmanysidestothatwedding.Icouldnottellyouallofthem,evenifItried.”

           “Ifeltmyselfthathewashardlysolid-goingenoughtomatewithyourfamily.