” Lucy reflected. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. Ennison,” he said, “it is for you to cut in at Lady Angela’s table.
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