Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. ” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. 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. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood.
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