CHAPTER IV.
A PRAYER-RAFT.
How long Arminell had been resting in her sunny nook above the water, reading the record of luxury, misery and vice, she did not know, for she became engrossed in the repulsive yet interesting tale, and the time slipped away, unperceived.
She was roused from her reading by the thought that suddenly occurred to her, quite unconnected with the story, that she had let go the strands of ivy when she reached the cave,—and in a moment her interest in the "Gilded Clique" ceased and she became alarmed about her own situation. In her delight at attaining the object of her ambition, she had cast aside the streamers without a thought that she might need them again, and they had reverted to their original position, beyond her reach. She could not venture along the strip of turf without their support, and she had not the crook with her, wherewith to rake them back within reach of her hand.
What was to be done? The charm of the situation was gone. Its novelty had ceased to please. Her elation at her audacity in venturing on the "path perilous" had subsided. To escape unassisted was impossible, and to call for assistance useless in a place so rarely visited.
"It does not much matter," said Arminell; "I shall not have to spend a night among the owls. My lady when she misses me will send out a search-party, and Jingles will
