with increasing fear that there was no way but by the smith's yard,
and no choice but risk it.

A dozen yards or so, however, from the end of the lane, where it took
a sharp turn before entering the street, he spied an opening in the
wall--the same from which, the night before, Tommy had returned with
such a frightened face. Clare went through, and found a narrow passage
running to the left for a short distance between two walls. At the
end, half on one side, half on the other of the second wall, lay the
well that had terrified Tommy. The wall crossed it with a low arch. On
the further side of the well was a third wall, with a space of about
two feet and a half between it and the side of the round well. Through
that wall there might be a door!--or, if not, there might be some way
of getting over it! To cross the well would be awkward, but he must do
it! He tied the loaf in his pocket-handkerchief--he was far past
fastidiousness, and Tommy knew neither the word nor the thing--and
knotted the ends of it round his neck. But his chief anxiety was not
to break the bottle in his jacket-pocket. He got on his knees on the
parapet. How deep and dark the water looked! For a moment he felt a
fear of it something like Tommy's. How was he to cross the awful gulf?
It was not like a free jump; he was hemmed in before and behind, and
overhead also. But the baby drew him over the well, as the name of
Beatrice drew Dante through the fire. The baby was waiting for him,
and it had to be done! He made a cat-leap through beneath the arch,
reaching out with his hands and catching at the parapet beyond. He did
catch it, just enough of it to hold on by, so that his body did not
follow his legs into the water. Oh, how cold they found it after his
run! He held on, strained and heaved up, made a great reach across the
width of the parapet with one hand, laid hold of its outer edge, made
good his grasp on it, and drew himself out of the water, and out of