voice. "Linda, Linda." Heavens and earth! it was his voice.
There was no mistaking it. Had she heard but a single syllable in the
faintest whisper, she would have known it. It was Ludovic Valcarm,
and he had come for her, even out of his prison. He should find that
he had not come in vain. Then the word was repeated--"Linda, are you
there?" "I am here," she said, speaking very faintly, and trembling
at the sound of her own voice. Then the iron pin was withdrawn
from the wooden shutter on the outside, as it could not have been
withdrawn had not some traitor within the house prepared the way for
it, and the heavy Venetian blinds were folded back, and Linda could
see the outlines of the man's head and shoulders, in the dark, close
to the panes of the window. It was raining at the time, and the night
was very dark, but still she could see the outline. She stood and
watched him; for, though she was willing to be with him, she felt
that she could do nothing. In a moment the frame of the window was
raised, and his head was within the room, within her aunt's parlour,
where her aunt might now have been for all that he could have
known;--were it not that Tetchen was watching at the corner, and
knew to the scraping of a carrot how long it would be before Madame
Staubach had made the soup for to-morrow's dinner.

"Linda," he said, "how is it with you?"

"Oh, Ludovic!"

"Linda, will you go with me now?"

"What! now, this instant?"

"To-night. Listen, dearest, for she will be back. Go to her in ten
minutes from now, and tell her that you are weary and would be in
bed. She will see you to your room perhaps, and there may be delay.
But when you can, come down silently, with your thickest cloak
and your strongest hat, and any little thing you can carry easily.
Come without a candle, and creep to the passage window. I will be
there. If she will let you go up-stairs alone, you may be there in
half-an-hour. It is our only chance." Then the window was closed, and
after that the shutter, and then the pin was pushed back, and Linda
was again alone in her aunt's chamber.

To be there in half-an-hour! To commence such a job as this at once!
To go to her aunt with a premeditated lie that would require perfect
acting, and to have to do this in ten minutes, in five minutes,
while the minutes were flying from her like sparks of fire! It was
impossible. If it had been enjoined upon her for the morrow, so that
there should have been time for