Accordingly our hero, as a preliminary caution, crept upon the moss-grown roof, and placing his head over the top of the chimney, listened whether anything below was stirring. The light and fire, according to Peter's statement, had long ago been put out, but the air of the funnel over which he leaned was yet hot, sooty, and sulphureous. It would be a stifling undertaking to get down there; although the shortness of the distance from the top to the fire-place promised but a brief continuance to their struggle through such a black and uncomfortable region. As Colin attentively listened at the mouth of this ventage, he distinctly heard old Jerry snoring in his sleep sufficiently loud to have kept any bedfellow--had he been blessed with one--awake; and at every inspiration growling not unlike some jealous bull-dog when just aroused to the consciousness that his master's property is about to be invaded. Still he listened, and shortly heard more than that. Could it be? Was it possible? Yes, true enough, he indistinctly heard the voice of “A soul that pray'd in agony, From midnight chime to morning prime, Miserere Domine!” He heard in that awful midnight silence the whisperings of poor Woodruff to his God, for freedom at some time to his spirit, and patience to endure until that freedom came! That sound wrought upon his brain like madness; it nerved him doubly for his enterprise, and urged him on to effect his object this time, or perish in the attempt. Every other consideration, in fact, vanished before the irrepressible determination he now felt, to set poor Fanny's father free, or die. Having arranged with his companions that they should follow him as speedily as possible, he now prepared himself after the best manner he could, and having taken off his boots to prevent noise, crept cautiously into the chimney. After considerable trouble, and many pauses and hesitations in order to assure himself that Jerry yet continued in his heavy slumber, Colin landed with his feet one on each side the fire-place; and thence he stealthily and silently crept down upon the floor. The whole place seemed as dark as though he had been absolutely sightless; and every movement of the limbs required to be made with such degree of slowness and care as should render noise next to impossible even in case he should have the ill-luck to meet with any obstacle in his endeavours to gain the open portion of the apartment. Woodruff's voice was now still. Perhaps he had sunk to the silence of despair, or of that last flickering of hope which is closest akin to despair, with the heartache for his companion, as had been his condition for years;--unthinking how that heart ached thus for the last night at last, and that Providence had that moment sent a deliverer, even into whose own ear had entered his last beseeching for Heaven's mercy.