This was the most trying moment.
By the taper’s pale glimmer I noticed that my dear young mistress was white with fear.
Miss Morgan now took me on her shoulder, and next moment swung herself over the window-sill, descending, it appeared to me, to certain death in the awful darkness.
When her head was level with the sill, she beckoned to Beebee.
“When I give the signal,” she whispered, “hesitate not a moment, but speed downwards. Remember, it is for freedom, and for life itself; and, Beebee, for your prince.”
How brave Miss Morgan was!
In two minutes’ time, though it seemed to me it was an hour, we had reached the ground. Then Miss Morgan held fast the end of the silken ladder, and gave the signal.
There was no response!
What a fearful moment that was! Surely my mistress had fainted, or had the slaves awakened and held her?
I glanced upwards. Oh, joy! Against the dim, grey light above the trees, and against our prison wall, something dark was visible. And descending too.