As soon as the morning had a little advanced, Melissa ventured out. She proceeded with hesitating steps, carefully scrutinizing every object which met her sight. She examined every door; they were all fast. She critically searched every room, closet, &c. above and below. She then took a light and descended into the cellar—here her inquisition was the same. Thus did she thoroughly and strictly examine and search every part of the house from the garret to the cellar, but could find nothing altered, changed, or removed; no outlet, no signs of there having been any being in the house the evening before, except herself.
She then unlocked the outer door and proceeded to the gate, which she found locked as usual. She next examined the yard, the garden, and all the out houses.
Nothing could be discovered of any person having been recently there. She next walked around by the wall, the whole circle of the enclosure. She was convinced that the unusual height of the wall rendered it impossible for any one to get over it. It was constructed of several tier of hewed timbers, and both sides of it were as smooth as glass. On the top, long spikes were thickly driven in, sharpened at both ends.
It was surrounded on the outside by a deep wide moat, which was nearly filled with water. Over this moat was a draw-bridge, on the road leading to the gate, which was drawn up, and John had the key.
The events of the past night, therefore, remained inscrutable. It must be that her aunt was the agent who had managed this extraordinary machinery.
She found John at the house when she returned. “Does madam want any thing to-day?” asked he. “Has my aunt returned?” enquired Melissa. “Not yet,” he replied. “How long has she been gone?” she asked. “Four days, replied John, after counting his fingers, and she will not be back under four or five more.” “Has the key of the gate been constantly in your possession?” asked she. “The key of the gate and draw-bridge, he replied, have not been out of my possession for a moment since your aunt has been gone.” “Has any person been to enquire for me or my aunt, she enquired, since I have been here?”—“No, madam, said he, not a single person.” Melissa knew not what to think; she could not give up the idea of false keys—perhaps her aunt had returned to her father’s.—Perhaps the draw-bridge had been let down, the gate opened, and the house entered by means of false keys. Her father would as soon do this as to confine her in this solitary place; and he would go all lengths to induce her, either by terror, persuasion or threats, to relinquish Alonzo and marry Beauman.
A thought impressed her mind which gave her some consolation. It was possible to secure the premises so that no person could enter even by the aid of false keys. She asked John if he would assist her that day. “In anything you wish, madam,” he replied. She then directed him to go to work. Staples and iron bars were found in different parts of the building, with which he secured the doors and windows, so that they could be opened only on the inside. The gate, which swung in, was secured in the same manner. She then asked John if he was willing to leave the key of the gate and the draw-bridge with her. “Perhaps I may as well,” said he; “for if you bar the gate and let down the bridge, I cannot get in myself until you let me in.” John handed her the keys. “When I come,” said he, “I will halloo, and you must let me in.” This she promised to do, and John departed.[*]
[*] Of the place where Melissa was confined, as described in the foregoing pages, scarce a trace now remains. By the events of the revolution, the premises fell into other hands. The mansion, out houses and walls were torn down, the cemetery levelled, the moat filled up; the locusts and elm trees were cut down; all obstructions were removed, and the yard and garden converted into a beautiful meadow. An elegant farm-house is now erected on the place where John’s hut then stood and the neighbourhood is thinly settled.
That night Melissa let down the bridge, locked and barred the gate, and the doors and windows of the house: she also went again over all parts of the building, strictly searching every place, though she was well convinced she should find nothing extraordinary. She then retired to her chamber, seated herself at a western window, and watched the slow declining sun, as it leisurely sunk behind the lofty groves. Pensive twilight spread her misty mantle over the landscape; the western horizon glowed with the spangles of evening. Deepening glooms advanced. The last beam of day faded from the view, and the world was enveloped in night. The owl hooted solemnly in the forest, and the whippoorwill sung cheerfully in the garden. Innumerable stars glittered in the firmament, intermingling their quivering lustre with the pale splendours of the milky way.