"And how am I to get back?" said I, in a forlorn voice, to the old woman, who stood staring at me on the other side—"Ah, I see there is a bridge below."
"But you can't go over the bridge; there's a gate on it; master keeps the key himself. You are in the private grounds now. Dear—dear! the Squire would be so angry if he knew. You must go back; and they'll see you from the house! Dear me! dear—dear! What shall I do? Can't you leap back agin?"
Moved by these piteous exclamations, and not wishing to subject the poor old lady to the wrath of a master, evidently an unfeeling tyrant, I resolved to pluck up courage and re-leap the dangerous abyss.
"Oh yes—never fear," said I, therefore. "What's been done once ought to be done twice, if needful. Just get out of my way, will you?"
And I receded several paces over a ground much too rough to favour my run for a spring. But my heart knocked against my ribs. I felt that impulse can do wonders where preparation fails.
"You had best be quick then," said the old woman.
Horrid old woman! I began to esteem her less. I set my teeth, and was about to rush on, when a voice close beside me said—
"Stay, young man; I will let you through the gate."
I turned round sharply, and saw close by my side, in great wonder that I had not seen him before, a man, whose homely (but not working) dress seemed to intimate his station as that of the head-gardener, of whom my guide had spoken. He was seated on a stone under a chestnut-tree, with an ugly cur at his feet, who snarled at me as I turned.
"Thank you, my man!" said I joyfully. "I confess frankly that I was very much afraid of that leap."