t iron wicket had resounded, and all was still. I
hesitated, I know not why: a moment before, my mind was made up; and
now, it seemed like self-destruction to go on! Here was life! a sad
and terrible existence, truly; but was the dark grave better? or, if it
were, had I the right to make the choice? This was a subtlety that had
not occurred till now. The dull tramp of the patrol routed my musings,
as in quick time a party advanced up the alley towards me. They were
not visible from the darkness, but the distance could not be great, and
already I could hear the corporal urging them forward, as the mists were
rising, and a deadly fog gathering over the earth. Any longer delay
now, and my project must be abandoned forever, seeing that my lingering
outside the walls would expose me to close surveillance for the future.

I arose suddenly, and advanced to the very edge of the cliff: would that
I could only have scanned the depth below, and seen where I was about
to go! Alas! darkness was on all; a foot beneath where I stood, all was
black and undistinguishable.

The patrol were now about thirty paces from me; another instant, and
I should be taken! I clasped my hands together convulsively, and, with
drawn-in breath and clenched lips, I bent my knees to spring. Alas, they
would not! my strength failed me at this last moment, and instead of
a leap, my limbs relaxed, and, tottering under me, gave way. I lost my
balance, and fell over the cliff! Grasping the grassy surface with
the energy of despair, I tore tufts of long grass and fern as I fell
down--down--down--till consciousness left me, to be rallied again into
life by a terrible "squash" into a reedy swamp at the bottom. Up to my
waist in duck-weed and muddy water, I soon felt, however, that I had
sustained no other injury than a shock,--nay, even fancied that the
concussion had braced my nerves; and as I looked up at the dark mass of
wall above me, I knew that my fall must have been terrific.

Neither my bodily energy nor my habiliments favored me in escaping from
this ditch; but I did rescue myself at last, and then, remembering that
I must reach some place of refuge before day broke, I set out over the
moor, my only pilotage being the occasionally looking back at the lights
of the hospital, and, in sailor-fashion, using them as my point of
departure. When creeping along the walks of the Lazaretto, I was barely
able to move; and now, such a good ally is a strong "will," I