horses were put into a brisk canter and the coach was once more in rapid
motion.

The night and the snow came on together, and dismal enough they were.
There was no sound to be heard but the howling of the wind; for the
noise of the wheels, and the tread of the horses' feet, were rendered
inaudible by the thick coating of snow which covered the ground, and was
fast increasing every moment. The streets of Stamford were deserted as
they passed through the town; and its old churches rose, frowning and
dark, from the whitened ground. Twenty miles further on, two of the
front outside passengers, wisely availing themselves of their arrival at
one of the best inns in England, turned in, for the night, at the George
at Grantham. The remainder wrapped themselves more closely in their
coats and cloaks, and leaving the light and warmth of the town behind
them, pillowed themselves against the luggage, and prepared, with many
half-suppressed moans, again to encounter the piercing blast which swept
across the open country.

They were little more than a stage out of Grantham, or about halfway
between it and Newark, when Nicholas, who had been asleep for a short
time, was suddenly roused by a violent jerk which nearly threw him from
his seat. Grasping the rail, he found that the coach had sunk greatly
on one side, though it was still dragged forward by the horses; and
while--confused by their plunging and the loud screams of the lady
inside--he hesitated, for an instant, whether to jump off or not,
the vehicle turned easily over, and relieved him from all further
uncertainty by flinging him into the road.