But Netta managed to push aside some briars with her parasol and enter one.

Almost at her first footstep she tore her pretty muslin dress, but folding it closer round her, she pushed her way.

The smart pink bonnet was in great danger, but escaped uninjured.
At last she found herself on the brink of a deep ravine, almost precipitous, and heard the sound of rushing water beneath her.

Large, gloomy trees outspread their brawny arms on each side of this gorge and lovingly embraced above it, so that the rays of the sun were again thwarted in their purpose, and turned and twisted about before they could glance upon the dark waters below.
Netta did not know all the tangles and tears she was to meet with when she set out on her walk.

She had not visited this spot for some time, and then she had taken a more frequented path, on the other side of the ravine.