Inez laid down her book; a sudden thought darted across her mind, and her heart palpitated with emotion. She remembered what the woman had said about there being but one man in the house, and that he was asleep below.—The room door was open—the old woman slept soundly, and she was not likely to be awakened easily—a famous opportunity presented itself for her to attempt to make her escape. The chance was worth encountering any danger in making the effort, and she determined to avail herself of it. Hastily putting on her shawl, Inez mentally invoked the assistance of Heaven, and then, with noiseless footsteps, approached the chair on which the old woman was sitting, to make sure that she was not assuming drunkenness and sleep, and she was soon convinced that she was not. She now lightly stepped on to the landing, and closing the door gently upon the unconscious old woman, locked it after her, and thus left her a secure prisoner. She then leant her head over the bannisters, and listened attentively, but hearing no noise below, she was in hope that all was right, and ventured to begin to descend the stairs. Having passed down one flight, she once more paused and listened attentively, but all remained as still as death, and her hopes became more sanguine. At length she reached the door of the parlor, which was closed, and Inez hesitated, and her heart beat so vehemently against her side that she could scarcely support herself. ‘Courage, Courage!’ she whispered to herself, ‘this is the critical moment. Let me be firm, and I may escape.’ Her trembling and hesitation decreased as these thoughts crossed her mind, and she laid her hand on the handle of the door. It opened with a creaking noise, which again excited her fear, lest it should arouse the man; but her alarm was, fortunately groundless. A light was burning on the table, and the fire cast forth a cheerful blaze, and by their light our heroine beheld a ruffian seated in the chair, his arms folded across his chest, and fast asleep.