EPOCH THE SECOND. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. The little streaks upon the germinating area of an egg, the nervous movements of an impatient horse, the trick of a calculating boy, the senses of a fish, the fungus at the root of a garden flower, and the slime upon a sea-wet rock—ten thousand such things bear their witness and are illuminated. She prevaricated. . There is the key. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror.
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