The old woman staggered to a seat, for she could scarcely stand, and having dropped into it, she raised her blood-shot eyes towards the countenance of our heroine, and fixed upon her a look expressive of her usual malevolence. Inez averted her head, and, taking up a book, pretended to be reading; but the old woman was not to be diverted that way, and, after several ineffectual attempts to speak, she stammered out—
‘They are all gone out but one man, and he has fallen asleep by the fire, and so I thought I would come up stairs and keep you company, you are fond of my company, I know.’
This speech was accompanied by sundry hiccups, and the disgusting old woman rolled about in the chair apparently in the most uncomfortable manner. Inez trembled, but she endeavored to conceal her fears as much as possible, and pretended to be continuing to read the book she held in her hand, and did not make any reply.
‘Mr. Blodget is a very foolish man,’ continued the old woman—‘he is a very foolish man, or he would not stand shilly-shallying and dilly-dallying with you, my fine lady, in the manner he has. Such squeamish minxes, indeed; poh!’
We need not attempt to describe the feelings of our heroine, while the old woman was thus proceeding; she endeavored to close her ears to the words she was giving utterance to, but in vain, and the disgust which she felt was most unbounded.
‘Why don’t you answer me?’ demanded the beldame in a surly tone; ‘I suppose you think yourself above me, don’t you? But I can tell you you are not. You are a prisoner, but I am not, and—’
A very long yawn stopped the old woman’s tirade, and her head dropped upon the table. She muttered two or three incoherent words, and shortly afterwards her loud snoring convinced our heroine that the effects of the liquor she had been drinking had overpowered her, and that she had fallen off to sleep.
Inez laid down her book; a sudden thought darted across her mind, and her heart palpitated with emotion. She remembered what the woman had said about there being but one man in the house, and that he was asleep below.—The room door was open—the old woman slept soundly, and she was not likely to be awakened easily—a famous opportunity presented itself for her to attempt to make her escape. The chance was worth encountering any danger in making the effort, and she determined to avail herself of it.
Hastily putting on her shawl, Inez mentally invoked the assistance of Heaven, and then, with noiseless footsteps, approached the chair on which the old woman was sitting, to make sure that she was not assuming drunkenness and sleep, and she was soon convinced that she was not. She now lightly stepped on to the landing, and closing the door gently upon the unconscious old woman, locked it after her, and thus left her a secure prisoner. She then leant her head over the bannisters, and listened attentively, but hearing no noise below, she was in hope that all was right, and ventured to begin to descend the stairs.
Having passed down one flight, she once more paused and listened attentively, but all remained as still as death, and her hopes became more sanguine.