The other cavalier made some reply, but it was in so low a tone, and the rain at the moment made so much noise, that his words reached the ear of his comrade only, and afforded no trace of their purport to the anxious Inez. Whatever their purport might be, however, they evidently directed them to some other quarter; for they moved away without more ado.
Inez now breathed more freely. It was a great relief to her to stand upright; but her tender limbs, unused to any hardship, and cramped by her recent stooping, suffered severely from the wet and cold. She was still afraid to move out of the shrubbery; for she doubted not, from what she had overheard, that the two cavaliers continued on the watch, though they had removed from her immediate vicinity. Their brief dialogue also apprised her, in terms too broad and distinct to be misunderstood, that they were aware of her having received a visit from a gallant; and this circumstance tended to increase her uneasiness, and make her more and more melancholy. But she was somewhat assured by the reflection, arising out of this train of thought, after she had started all manner of conjectures, that Hildebrand had got clear away; for if he had effected his descent from the casement without incurring any hurt, she thought it highly improbable that he would pause or linger in his retreat and suffer the low wall of the garden, the only remaining obstacle, to prevent his making off. The matter, however, was involved in uncertainty; and her conjectures, and hopes, and apprehensions, rising one upon another, in quick and unbroken succession, harassed her excessively, and subjected her mind to the most exquisite pangs of suspense.
She remained standing in the shrubbery for nearly half an hour. Then, finding all quiet, she stepped over the parterre, and ventured out on the walk. No one was in sight, and she resolved, though not without hesitation, and many lingering fears respecting the safety of Hildebrand, to endeavour to return unperceived to the house.
She set forward with a trembling heart, but she grew more confident as she progressed, and discovered nothing around, so far as she could distinguish, to indicate the presence of a single living creature. Her heart quite bounded as she arrived in front of the house, and she mounted the flight of steps at the door, under the shelter of the veranda, with a sense of recovered buoyancy. Passing over the landing, she paused in front of the door, and clutched eagerly at the latch:—the door was fastened within.
Her head reeled again as she made this discovery; and yet, on a moment’s reflection, she could hardly bring herself to believe that the door was really fastened, and she fixed her hand on the latch once more. But the door resisted her efforts, and she tried it over and over again, sometimes with all her force, and at others gently, but still with the utmost earnestness, with the like disheartening result.
She was very cold, and wet withal, and her tender and delicate frame, from the severe manner in which it had been tried, was already fast sinking from exhaustion. How could she bear up till the morrow? What resource was left her, in her utter helplessness and misery, against the terrors and hardship of a night in the open air?
In vain she pondered on her situation. The more she thought of it, in a fruitless pursuit of some one hopeful reflection, the greater became her misery, and the more confirmed her despair. Nor were the great personal apprehensions that she entertained, and which every moment augmented, the most afflictive element of her distress; for the solitude around now raised within her a host of ideal and superstitious terrors, far more grievous and depressing. For some minutes she hardly ventured to raise her eyes from the ground. The sputtering of the rain on the veranda, a few feet above her head, made her thrill with fear; if she sought to relieve her wearied limbs by changing her position, either by supporting her arm on the hand-rail, or by leaning against the door, the rustling of her drapery, whenever she moved, turned her heart cold, and conjured up before her the most morbid and distracting fancies.
She might have remained in this position till the morning, but, happening to glance on one side, her eye fell on the dim outlines of an outhouse, stretching away from the main building, only a few yards from where she stood. This she knew to be the kitchen, and, though she had no doubt of the kitchen being duly secured, she recollected that there was a wood-house adjoining, in a line with the kitchen, the door of which was fastened only with a staple, and would, therefore, afford her ready access. Poor as such a refuge would be, it would, in her present destitution, still be a refuge; and it no sooner presented itself to view than she hastened to embrace it.
Quickly descending the flight of steps, she kept close against the side of the house, in order to screen herself in its shadow, and pushed forward to the kitchen. On arriving before this building, she paused a moment, and looked anxiously round. But she could discern no trace of any overlooker, and, drawing a deep breath, she again pressed against the wall, and resumed her progress to the wood-house. As she passed along, however, keeping close to the wall, she came against the kitchen-door; and, yielding to her involuntary pressure, which its situation in an indenture rendered more forcible, the door flew open.