For some moments the Octoroon stood at the open casement, gazing on the scene beneath her—lost in thought.
"If I remain in this house," she murmured, "I am utterly in the power of that base man. Another moment, and he may enter this chamber; again I may hear those words which are poison to my soul; and this time he may force me to listen to his infamous proposals. All those beneath this roof are the slaves of his will—it were hopeless, then, to look for help from them; but beneath that purple vault I might surely be safer; and at the worst the river is near at hand."
She shuddered as she spoke. To this girl, religiously educated, there was something horrible in the idea of suicide. It seemed a doubt of Providence even to think of this worst and last resource.
But on one thing she had determined, and that was to escape from the house to the gardens below; once there, she might find her way to some adjoining plantation, where she might meet with some benevolent creature who would interfere to shield her from her hated master.
It was not slavery she feared, it was dishonor.
The rope with which she had been bound still hung to one of her wrists. This rope might be the means of saving her.
She examined the door of her chamber and found that it was locked on the outside.
"So much the better," she thought; "he believes his prisoner to be safe. He thinks that I would not dare a leap of a few feet even to escape from him. How little he knows of a woman's power in the moment of desperation!"
She hurried to the balcony, and attached the cord, which was about five feet long, to the iron railing, then with the help of this cord she dropped lightly to the ground.
She lighted unhurt upon the soft earth of a flower-bed, but the slender ropes broke with her weight, and the best part remained in her hand. She was free!