She did not mean to seek escape to-night, but an irresistible impulse, which quite robbed her of her judgment, drove her to take a look into the yard and make sure for herself that the bridge was still there and everything as she had last seen it.

But when with the help of the wind she pulled open the heavy door and stood, throbbing under the force of the gale, on the shallow step outside, she found herself confronted by a darkness so hollow and so absolute that she felt as though she had stumbled into a pit.  But instead of retreating, if only to procure a lantern, she took the one step down to the narrow walk which led through grass and flowers to the edge of the plateau from which the bridge extended.  Would she be satisfied now?  No, she must see the bridge, or if she could not see it, must feel it with her foot or touch it with her hand.  Once sure of its presence there, she would return, take off her clothing and seek refreshment.

But how was she to find her way in such absolute darkness?  Alone with the dying tempest, now moaning in fitful gusts, now shrieking a last protest in her ear, she stood peering helplessly before her.  Already her arms had gone out like those of a blind person loosed upon an unknown road.  She was conscious of a great fear.  All the solitude of her position had rushed upon her.  She felt herself lost, forsaken; yet she had no idea of turning back.  If she could but find some support—­something upon which to lay her fingers.  She thought of the fence, and her courage revived.  If she could but reach and follow that!

There were obstacles in her way.  She was sure of this, for she remembered some of them, and Elvira no more changed her garden than her house.  But with care she succeeded in getting around these, and soon she knew by the lessened force of the wind that she was near, if not directly under, the high fence upon which she depended for guidance.  A few bushes—­another unexpected obstacle, followed by a bad stumble—­separated her from the contact for which she had reached; then by a final effort her fingers found the boards and she went eagerly on, dragging herself through the wet without knowing it, and only stopping with a sense of shock, when her hand, sliding from the boards, fell groping about in midair with nothing to grasp at.  She had come to the end of the fence and was within a foot of the bridge—­if the bridge was still there.

But her fears on this score were few, and she felt about with hand and foot till the former struck the rail at her side, and the latter the narrow planking spanning the gorge.

She hesitated now.  Who would not?  But the impulse which had led her thus far continued to urge her on.  She stepped upon the bridge and proceeded to cross it, clinging to the rail with a feverish clutch, and feeling every board with her foot before venturing to trust her full weight upon it.  She found them seemingly firm, and when about halfway across she stopped to listen for the roar of the mountain stream which she knew to be rushing over its rocky bed some forty awesome feet below her.