"What horrible, black depths!"
"It's as easy," said I, "as pie. You could do it on your head; look here——," I climbed out first and helped her, setting her feet on the rungs.
We went down in silence, I choking with laughter all the way at the sight of Peter below, who was looking with his mouth open and his lips too weak to meet on the curses and wonderment that rose up from the depths of him. When I touched turf and handed him the jewel-case, he took it like a man in a trance.
We put the ladder back into its place and stole over the turf together. But outside the garden-door Peter could stand no more of it—
"I've a fire-arm in my pocket," whispered he, pulling up, "and I'm going to fire it off to relieve my feelings if you don't explain here and now. Who, in pity's name, is she?"
"You mug—she's the Original Sleeping Beauty. I'm eloping with her, and you've got her jewels."
"Pardon me, Jem," he says in his gentlemanly way, "if I don't quite see. Are you taking her off to melt her or marry her? For how to get rid of her else——"
The poor old creature had halted, too, three paces ahead of us, and waited while we whispered, with the moonlight, that slanted down into the lane, whitening her bare neck and flashing in her jewels.
"One moment," I said, and stepped forward to her. "You had better take off those ornaments here, my dear, and give them to my servant to take care of. There's a carriage waiting for us at the end of the lane, and when he has stowed them under the seat we can climb in and drive off——"
"To the end of the world—to the very rim of it, my hero."