Yes, she was right. In a moment a low and cautious, but perfectly audible voice, floated up to her ears.
"Oh! my dear Miss Bonnibel," was what it said, "is that you?"
Bonnibel put her hand to her heart as if the shock of joy were too great to be borne.
It was the voice of the poor girl over whose unknown fate her heart had ached for many weary days—the welcome voice of faithful Lucy Moore.
"Yes, it is Bonnibel," she murmured gently back, fearing that her voice might be heard by Dolores Dupont, who slept on a couch in the dressing-room to be near her mistress.
"Are you alone?" inquired Lucy, softly.
"Yes, quite alone," was answered back.
"Miss Bonnibel, I have a rope-ladder down here. I am going to throw it up to you. Try and catch it, and fasten it to your window strongly enough for me to climb up to you."
Bonnibel leaned forward silently. A twisted bundle was skillfully thrown up, and she caught it in her hands. Stepping back into the room she uncoiled a light yet strong ladder of silken rope.
"Fasten it into the hooks that are used to secure the window-shutters," said Lucy's voice from below.