Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. He had scarcely entered the arch, when the indraught was so violent, and the noise of the wind so dreadful and astounding, that he almost determined to relinquish the undertaking. She might scream until her voice failed; the natives would not come to her aid; they never meddled with the affairs of the whites.
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