“ ‘Only to hold the candle for me,’ I answered, restored to my seven senses at last; and, taking it from her, I led the way, and she followed, till we had passed through the kitchen and reached the cellar stairs. These were steep and awkward, and she let me help her down.”
“Now, Edward!” said my mother.
“Yes, yes, my love, I understand,” returned my father.
“Up to this time your mother had asked no questions; but when we stood in a vast, low cellar, which we had made several turns to reach, and I gave her the candle, and took up a great crowbar which lay on the floor, she said at last—
“ ‘Edward, are you going to bury me alive? or what are you going to do?’
“ ‘I’m going to dig you out,’ I said, for I was nearly beside myself with joy, as I struck the crowbar like a battering-ram into the wall. You can fancy, John, that I didn’t work the worse that Kate was holding the candle for me.
“Very soon, though with great effort, I had dislodged a brick, and the next blow I gave into the hole sent back a dull echo. I was right!
“I worked now like a madman, and, in a very few minutes more, I had dislodged the whole of the brick-thick wall which filled up an archway of stone and curtained an ancient door in the lock of which the key now showed itself. It had been well greased, and I turned it without much difficulty.
“I took the candle from Kate, and led her into a spacious region of sawdust, cobweb, and wine-fungus.
“ ‘There, Kate!’ I cried, in delight.
“ ‘But,’ said Kate, ‘will the wine be good?’