Page:Edgar Huntly, or The Sleep Walker.djvu/175

 inexplicable, as to leave it equally in doubt whether I was separated from my paternal abode by a river or an ocean.

I made enquiries of my companion; but she was unable to talk coherently: she answered my questions with weeping and sobs, and entreaties to fly from the scene of her distress. I collected from her, at length, that her father's house had been attacked on the preceding evening, and all the family but herself destroyed: since this disaster she had walked very fast and a great way, but knew not how far or in what direction.

In a wilderness like this, my only hope was to light upon obscure paths, made by cattle. Meanwhile, I endeavoured to adhere to one line, and to burst through the vexatious obstacles which encumbered our way. The ground was concealed by the bushes, and we were perplexed and fatigued by a continual succession of hollows and prominences: at one moment we were nearly thrown headlong into a pit, at another we struck our feet against the angles of stones: the branches of the oak rebounded in our faces or entangled our legs, and the unseen thorns inflicted on us a thousand wounds.

I was obliged in these arduous circumstances to support, not only myself, but my companion: her strength was overpowered by her evening journey, and the terror of being overtaken incessantly harassed her.

Sometimes we lighted upon tracks which afforded us an easier footing, and inspired us with courage to proceed: these for a time terminated at a brook, or in a hog, and we were once more compelled to go forward at random. One of these tracks insensibly became more beaten, and at length exhibited the traces of wheels. To this I adhered, confident that it would finally conduct us to a dwelling.

On either side, the undergrowth of shrubs and brambles continued as before: sometimes small tracts were observed which had lately been cleared by fire. At length a vacant space of larger dimensions than had hitherto occurred, presented itself to my view: it was a field of some acres that had apparently been upturned by the hoe. At the corner of this field was a small house.