At break of day Halsey was waiting upon the road with a fairly good
horse and a comfortable chaise. Susannah never forgot the light that
came to his eyes when he saw her approach; it was like dawn in paradise.

Angel Halsey was not without shrewd worldly wisdom. He turned into a
cross corduroy road that led through the woods, passing only some small
clearings to the west of Palmyra, and thus by a detour avoiding that
village, he returned again to the highroad between Canandaigua and
Geneva. The pursuers, upon failing to hear that the chaise had passed
through Palmyra, might turn back, or if they had gone on they might have
outstripped them on the road, and be in front rather than behind. This
danger peopled the long lonely road with possible enemies both before
and behind. The strain upon the imagination was very great. The road was
heavy and rough.

Susannah perceived that Halsey's apprehension of being overtaken was
almost solely on her account. He was so upborne by his religious
enthusiasm as to be oblivious to the pain which his wound of yesterday
gave him, and was perfectly willing to encounter the violence of her
kindred again if need be, yet, seeing her terror with a quickness of
sympathy which roused her gratitude, he took every possible precaution
that could allay her fears. All through the weary, weary day she hardly
spoke to him, never addressed him by name.

They reached the new town of Geneva at sundown. When they had set forth
again, it was a great comfort to Susannah that grayness had succeeded to
sunshine. She was weary of the yellow light, of the dull glare from the
stubble fields, of the obtrusive colours of the autumn foliage, of the
blueness of the sky, of everything, indeed, that she had seen and heard
during the wretched hours of the day. They now travelled through a very