On came the
hoof tramps and the voices of the riders,
two grave old voices, conversing soberly
as they drew near. These mingled sounds appeared
to pass along the road, within a few yards
of the young man's hiding-place; but, owing
doubtless to the depth of the gloom at that
particular spot, neither the travellers nor
their steeds were visible. Though their figures
brushed the small boughs by the wayside,
it could not be seen that they intercepted,
even for a moment, the faint gleam from the
strip of bright sky athwart which they must
have passed. Goodman Brown alternately crouched
and stood on tiptoe, pulling aside the branches
and thrusting forth his head as far as he
durst without discerning so much as a shadow.
It vexed him the more, because he could have
sworn, were such a thing possible, that he
recognized the voices of the minister and
Deacon Gookin, jogging along quietly, as
they were wont to do, when bound to some
ordination or ecclesiastical council. While
yet within hearing, one of the riders stopped
to pluck a switch.
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