Although it was still quite dark, and Malcolm, drawing his companion after him, was obliged to grope his way along this tunnel, yet occasional sharp drafts of wind proved that there existed certain irregular crevices in the rocks overhead that in the daytime admitted a little light as well as air, although their winding or crooked formation might prevent any one on the ground above seeing or suspecting the existence of the subterranean passage beneath their feet. As this tunnel took nearly a straight line to the old nunnery, a walk of about ten minutes brought Malcolm and Eudora to the other terminus that admitted them to the lower cellars under the ruins.
When they had emerged from the tunnel into these cellars, Malcolm paused and carefully collected bricks, stones, and other fallen portions of the building, with which he choked up and concealed the narrow opening.
Then taking the hand of Eudora, he led her from the cellars up into the outer air.
Here, in the ruined chapel, they found the pony-chaise fastened to a young oak-tree that grew within what had once been the grand altar of the chapel of the convent.
He led the horse out to the road, and then returned and conducted Eudora to the chaise, placed her in it, took the seat by her side, and drove rapidly off. A drive of ten minutes brought them to a rural railway station.
Up to this time no word had been spoken between them, so intense had been the anxiety of both. But now, when he had alighted and fastened his horse to a tree, and came to the chaise to hand her out, he whispered:
“Draw down your veil, Eudora, and keep it down.”
She silently obeyed, and he handed her out and led her into the office of the station.
“Two first-class tickets to London,” he said to the clerk behind the little office-windows.
They were supplied to him.