‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. Half an hour's labour, during which he was obliged more than once to pause to regain breath, sufficed to make a hole wide enough to allow a passage for his arm up to the elbow. Though he never seen so much of Miss Mary as I did. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite.
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