Another fifteen minutes passed, and still Ida came not.
“This is rather singular,” thought Jack. “She can't have told Ida that I am here, or I am sure she would rush up at once to see her brother Jack.”
At length, tired of waiting, and under the impression that he had been forgotten, Jack walked to the door, and placing his hand upon the latch, attempted to open it.
There was a greater resistance than he had anticipated.
Supposing that it must stick, he used increased exertion, but the door perversely refused to open.
“Good heavens!” thought Jack, the real state of the case flashing upon him, “is it possible that I am locked in?”
To determine this he employed all his strength, but the door still resisted. He could no longer doubt.
He rushed to the windows. There were two in number, and looked out upon a court in the rear of the house. No part of the street was visible from them; therefore there was no hope of drawing the attention of passers-by to his situation.
Confounded by this discovery, Jack sank into his chair in no very enviable state of mind.
“Well,” thought he, “this is a pretty situation for me to be in! I wonder what father would say if he knew that I was locked up like a prisoner. And then to think I let that treacherous woman, Mrs. Hardwick, lead me so quietly into a snare. Aunt Rachel was about right when she said I wasn't fit to come alone. I hope she'll never find out this adventure of mine; I never should hear the last of it.”