ress."

That secret would never have escaped her devoted lips had she been able
to retain it.

As carefully as the eyes of the dead are closed, I drew down her gaping
lids, and turned away. As I did so, the clock struck eight. Fatima never
listened more anxiously to the toll of parting time than I did that
night; but, alas for me! no sister Anne kept watch on the tower; no
brother hastened to arrest the sword. I was deserted by all save God and
desperation. One hour comprised my fate! Very quietly I closed the door
between Mrs. Clayton's room and my own. The bolt was on the other side,
so I could not secure my privacy, even for a moment, should she chance
to wake, or should Mrs. Raymond or Dinah return unexpectedly. As rapidly
as I could, I altered my dress--this time above my clothes--threw on the
black silk frock and mantilla prepared for me on shipboard, tied a dark
veil over my head, an old woolen scarf about my throat, provided for
Ernie's sore-throat and croup, and stood equipped for my enterprise.

Neither bonnet, nor gloves, nor boots, did I possess--Mrs. Raymond's
loan having long since been condoned on behalf of some one else, and my
clothing, in my captivity, had been contrived to suit my circumstances.

Wheeling the bedstead very gently on its noiseless castors a few inches
from the wall, I insinuated myself between them, and, sheltered by the
head-board, loosened again the slightly-adhering covering of paper that
concealed the door, and fitted into the key-hole the well-oiled wooden
key, which once before had proved its efficiency. It did not fail me
now, in my hour of extremity, for a moment later I had turned and
removed it from its socket, stepped forth upon the landing, and relocked
without the door of my prison; but, perhaps, with too much of nervous
haste, too little caution, for, to my inexpressible confusion, the
handle of the instrument of my emancipation remained in my hand, broken
off at the lock, and useless forever more.

In delaying probable pursuit from within, I had cut off all possibility
of my own retreat in case of failure. My bridges were literally burned
behind me, and I had no alternative left between flight and detection.
And yet there was something in the situation that, inconsistently
enough, made me smile, albeit with a trembling heart.

I shook my head drearily, as a couplet from Collins's "Camel-Driver,"
with its strange appropriateness, irresistibly crossed my brain.

Why