She again employed Walter Elliot to procure three saddle-horses; and, in spite of his dutiful remonstrances, and all unused as she had ever been to brave the inclemencies of the weather, or to encounter any bodily fatigue, she set off on horseback, through roads in which the snow often came up to the girths of the saddle. To Amy, who had been a mountain-bred lass--who had often wandered about her native hills on the rough Welsh ponies--the undertaking was not one of such difficulty; though she feared the strength of her delicately nurtured lady would never stand such hardships; but the soul which animated that apparently fragile form was such as to communicate to the frame some of its own power and elasticity. As they rode out of the town, the sun shone forth in dazzling splendour upon the brilliant whiteness of the scene. The roof of each house was clothed with a thick soft covering of newly-fallen snow, which the smoke of the town had not yet tarnished, though the power of the sun had already melted it in some degree, so that each gable was ornamented with a fringe of long pendent icicles. As they quitted the town and waded through the obstructed road, still the same dazzling whiteness presented itself to their view: the load which bent down the branches of the trees was not yet dissolved; and when the small birds, twittering in the welcome sunshine, lighted on a feathered spray, they shook from it a shower of bright snow-flakes. To a mind at ease the scene was beautiful and cheerful; and Lady Nithsdale in the midst of her sorrows felt grateful for the cheering light and for the clear pure atmosphere. CHAPTER XVI. The drowsy night grows on the world, and now The busy craftsman and o'erlabour'd hind Forget the travail of the day in sleep: Care only wakes, and moping pensiveness.--Rowe. The sun was now midway through its course, and their progress had been but slow. "Is not my dear lady in need of rest?" inquired Amy Evans, as they approached a small village, at the entrance of which there was a newly-painted gaudy sign of the King's Head. "No, Amy, no; I need no rest. The consciousness of drawing nearer to my lord is rest enough for me." "But, honoured madam," interposed Walter Elliot, "it were not ower wise in us to push our steeds too hard. They dumb creatures are but flesh and bluid like our ainselves; and should they chance to knock up, what shall we do, I'm thinking. 'Tis weary wark for them lifting their hoofs eighteen or twenty inches through the snaw every step they take. An' it please your leddyship, we had better gie them a rest at yon bra'-looking inn."