Before the thing was done, I was up to the middle of my thighs in the pit, and almost spent, but done it was at last, and as I pushed it forward, it encountered some solid obstacle. There was dry ground, or a tree, not more than three yards or so ahead of me. That assurance gave me the strength of madness. I dragged myself a little out of the mud, and threw myself on the piece of wreckage with such force, that it sank beneath my weight so deeply that I was swallowed up in the mire, shoulder high. But the other end of my raft remained firm, and by clutching, writhing, pulling, I got inch by inch out of the slough, and, while doing so, to my unspeakable joy I perceived a faint glimmer of dawn. That showed me a down-drooping branch of birch above my head, which at last I reached, and clung to it trembling lest it should break. It held, and by its aid I gained solid ground. I threw my arms round the trunk of the tree as though it had been a human friend, laughing and sobbing in a breath. Then I vowed Sebastian Vliet should answer to me for his dastard trick before he was many hours older. After that, I remembered to thank God for my deliverance, and fell asleep over my thanksgiving. I must have slept an hour or more, for the sun was above the horizon when I awoke cold and shivering. It would be wearisome to relate how I got home, for nothing happened by the way; though I have the keenest recollection of the effort it cost to walk the two miles, which were as long as twenty, my clothing being caked with mire even to my shirt, and my limbs shaking with cold and exhaustion. But by the usual breakfast hour I had eaten and drunk, washed and changed, and was my own man again. I had need of all my strength, for my father came into the room with suppressed fury in face and voice. "At last you have condescended to honour me," he began. "Have you come to say you will save Temple from the hammer, or that you choose beggary for yourself and disgrace for your father? Quick: let me know your mind." "If you mean will I wed a girl I do not love----" I was answering, when my father burst out-- "Bah! Do not sicken me with play-actor rubbish. Are you going to act like a man of sense and of honour, or like an idiot?" "I will not offer marriage to Mistress Ryther," I replied. "Then begone out of the house," he thundered, "and let me never see your fool-face again, and if there is anything in a father's curse, may it cling to you as long as you live." At this moment, Mr. Butharwick entered the room with a feeble step. He stretched out his hands imploringly to my father, and said in a voice not his own-- "My honoured patron, my friend and benefactor," and something more which was indistinguishable, for his mouth began to work strangely. Then he staggered, and would have fallen but my father caught him in his arms, and laid him on the couch.