Esther’s Narrative

           Itwasthreeo’clockinthemorningwhenthehousesoutsideLondondidatlastbegintoexcludethecountryandtocloseusinwithstreets.Wehadmadeourwayalongroadsinafarworseconditionthanwhenwehadtraversedthembydaylight,boththefallandthethawhavinglastedeversince;buttheenergyofmycompanionneverslackened.Ithadonlybeen,asIthought,oflessassistancethanthehorsesingettinguson,andithadoftenaidedthem.Theyhadstoppedexhaustedhalf-wayuphills,theyhadbeendriventhroughstreamsofturbulentwater,theyhadslippeddownandbecomeentangledwiththeharness;butheandhislittlelanternhadbeenalwaysready,andwhenthemishapwassetright,Ihadneverheardanyvariationinhiscool,"Geton,mylads!"ThesteadinessandconfidencewithwhichhehaddirectedourjourneybackIcouldnotaccountfor.Neverwavering,heneverevenstoppedtomakeaninquiryuntilwewerewithinafewmilesofLondon.Averyfewwords,hereandthere,werethenenoughforhim;andthuswecame,atbetweenthreeandfouro’clockinthemorning,intoIslington.IwillnotdwellonthesuspenseandanxietywithwhichIreflectedallthistimethatwewereleavingmymotherfartherandfartherbehindeveryminute.IthinkIhadsomestronghopethathemustberightandcouldnotfailtohaveasatisfactoryobjectinfollowingthiswoman,butItormentedmyselfwithquestioningitanddiscussingitduringthewholejourney.

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