I should have explained before, that the great hall ran straight through the middle of the house, dividing it into two equal parts, and being itself divided by a large thick door from what was called the pantry-hall. On entering from the front of the house, the first room on the left hand was the drawing-room, or parlour, as they call it here. Then came a little parlour used as breakfast-room, and then the dining-room. On the opposite side of the hall was, first, Mr. and Mrs. Stringer's bed-room, then a dressing-room; and then, facing the dining-room, another bed-room where the children slept. Mr. McGrubber slept at the top of the house in a room next to the school-room. My room was over that of Mr. and Mrs. Stringer; and Bessy's on the opposite side over the dining-room. Thus, when Zed went down the great staircase, though his tread was very heavy, I should lose the sound of his foot if he entered Mr. Stringer's room or the dressing-room. To say the truth, I did not attach much importance to his information or his fears; and, sitting down at the table, I leaned my head upon my hand and gave myself up to meditation. "What could be the impediment," I asked myself, "to my union with Bessy Davenport, which seemed so formidable in her eyes?" I traced back the history of my family as far as I knew it. I dwelt upon all that I had ever heard even in my childhood's days, which could in any degree account for her scruples or her doubts. But I could find nothing. My mind was too much excited for sleep to approach my eyes; and, many a time, I went over and over the same ground, turning the question before me in every different direction, and only puzzling myself more and more. Hour passed by after hour; the dull chime of the hall clock sounded one and two; and I resolved at length to lie down to rest. Just, however, as I rose from my chair, I fancied I heard voices speaking in a low tone on the outside of the house; and, approaching the window, I looked out. There was nobody there, and I returned to the table. I had hardly reached it, when I heard distinctly a window raised. I paused to listen; and then came what seemed to me a faint, smothered cry. Snatching up the pistols from the table, I advanced towards the door; but before I could reach it, it was thrown open, and Zed appeared. He carried a large key in his hand, and his eyes seemed starting from his head. "Run, master, run," he cried, "down the back staircase, out through the little hall into the wood. They are murdering all the white people down below!" "How many are there?" I exclaimed. "Oh, thirty or more," answered Zed; "but I have locked the door between the halls, so they can't get through. Run down the back staircase; run, master, quick quick!"