Dread came over her, like a cold wave rolling down on and enveloping her――a dread lest the mouth might be choked. It was an imperious necessity for her at once to ascertain whether there remained any way of escape. She threw open the door of the lantern to afford more light, and then she saw that a mass of rubble mounting to the summit encumbered the entrance, and apparently completely choked it. Winefred found that she must climb this; she did so, tearing and rolling down the pieces of chalk and marl and sand before her. She thrust the lantern before her, to see if any glimmer shot through and reflected itself against the farther wall of the cleft. She looked to see if any indraught caused the flame to waver. The earth and stone were heaped dense to the very summit, and to what a depth above the mouth of the cave without it was impossible for her to conjecture. To add to her terror and bewilderment, the fumes of the spirits became stronger and more pungent, stupefying her brain. The stones in falling had stove in some of the barrels, and their contents oozed forth. Winefred's heart stood still for a moment as she realised the full meaning of her situation. Then she staggered down the heap and retreated to the farthest recess of the cave, set the lantern before her, looked into the light, and for a moment became the prey of despair. But Winefred was young, energetic, and brave. She studied the candle. How long would that last? How long would it be before day broke? But when daylight came, none would penetrate into this vault where she was interred alive. Yet, possibly there might be some rift, some eyelet-hole through which it might enter and reveal a way of escape. What was the time? She put her hand to her belt for the watch that had been given her. It was not there. She had not brought it with her. She left the lantern where it was and went again to the entrance, and worked with hands and feet to roll down and tear through the dead mass of rubble. She worked on till she was blinded with sweat and tears, till her head whirled, till her powers were failing, and then she reeled back to the depths of the cave to see the wick of the candle fallen over and burn uncertainly in the melted grease. She put her hand to it. It went out. Then she threw herself forward on her hands, gasping, her pulse leaping, her brain swimming. 'I am buried alive!' she cried. 'Oh, mother! what will she think? What will she do?' Her hands gave way, she fell on her face, and consciousness deserted her. CHAPTER XV CAST FORTH Jane Marley was roused from her sleep before dawn by the sound of some one entering the house. Then she heard the door being locked and barred, and a heavy tread was on the stair.