They could not even feebly imagine what the carriages were; it was enough for them to know that they were carriages, and carriages with cushions.

They could not conceive who the old man was who had led them; but it was quite enough that he had certainly led them to the carriages.
Syme drove through a drifting darkness of trees in utter abandonment.
It was typical of him that while he had carried his bearded chin forward fiercely so long as anything could be done, when the whole business was taken out of his hands he fell back on the cushions in a frank collapse.
Very gradually and very vaguely he realised into what rich roads the carriage was carrying him.

He saw that they passed the stone gates of what might have been a park, that they began gradually to climb a hill which, while wooded on both sides, was somewhat more orderly than a forest.

Then there began to grow upon him, as upon a man slowly waking from a healthy sleep, a pleasure in everything.

He felt that the hedges were what hedges should be, living walls; that a hedge is like a human army, disciplined, but all the more alive.