The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimblets into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived, to ascend them; and when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dress to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. She had fallen into it naturally, the only expression of the dance she had ever seen or known, and that a stolen sweet.
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