“Here goes,” he said. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. There’s a great gulf opened, and nobody’s got any plans what to do with us. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. . . "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. "You have lived over here?"—astonished. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. A deadlock.
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