She placed the lantern upon the floor, and endeavoured to raise the stone; but it seemed fixed in its setting, although it trembled as she touched it.
Still she was not disheartened. She scrutinized the boards in the immediate vicinity of the stone; but her search was unavailing. No evidence of a concealed lock—no trace of a secret spring met her eyes. Yet she was confident that she was on the right scent. As she turned herself round, while crawling upon her hands and knees the better to pursue her examination, her rustling silk dress disturbed a portion of the masonry in the chimney, where a grate had once been fixed.
A brick fell out.
The heart of the Rattlesnake now beat quickly.
She approached the lantern to the cavity left by the dislodged brick; and at the bottom of the recess she espied a small iron ring.
She pulled it without hesitation; the ring yielded to her touch, and drew out a thick wire to the distance of nearly a foot.
The Rattlesnake now tried once more to raise the stone, and succeeded. The stone was fixed at one end with stout iron hinges to one of the beams that supported the floor, and thus opened like a trap-door.
When raised, it disclosed a narrow flight of stone steps, at the bottom of which the most perfect obscurity reigned.
The Rattlesnake now paused—in alarm.
She longed to penetrate into those mysterious depths—she panted to dive into that subterranean darkness; but she was afraid.