This twilight sanctuary had never been invaded before, and she rose hastily.
The course of an irregular path that followed the lake was broken here by the creek's miniature chasm, but adventurous pedestrians might gain the top and continue over a rough rustic bridge along the edge of Mrs.
Owen's cornfield.

Sylvia peered down, expecting to see Marian or Blackford, but a stranger was approaching, catching at bushes to facilitate his ascent.

Sylvia stepped back, assuming it to be a cottager who had lost his way.

A narrow-brimmed straw hat rose above the elderberry bushes, and with a last effort the man stood on level ground, panting from the climb.

He took off his hat and mopped his face as he glanced about.