The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 33: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

16 REYNOLDS’ WORKS could not sleep; and, moreover, haunted by misgivings as she was, she must sit up so as to be prepared for anything that might occur. She rose from her seat to examine the door, but fastenings there were none. This was a circumstance that did not, however, tend to confirm her apprehensions, inasmuch as it was by no means likely that such a poverty-stricken place would be furnished with any means of security of that kind. She looked at her watch; it was now half-past ten o’clock, and the sound of voices reached her ears from below. She gently opened the door and listened; the muleteers, the master and mistress of the hostelry were laughing and talk- ing, most probably drinking together. Yes, they were drinking, for Kate now caught the sounds of bottles and mugs, and the odour of tobacco-smoke likewise reached her. She thought to herself that if those persons were thus in- dulging in an orgy it was by no means likely they had any criminal intentions. Still she resolved not to be aise off her guard. The window was at the back of the house. She opened it gently and looked forth; the giant trees of the forest were dimly seen through the deep gloom of night. Again the thought of escape entered her mind, but she knew not what might be the height of this window from the ground in the rear of the dwelling. The level of that ground might be much lower than in front; the descent from the casement would there- fore be perilous to a degree, and besides, the savage growling of a dog now reached her ears. She shut the window, and sat down again. Notwithstanding her courage, poor Kate was much dispirited. Even if she were assured of her own personal safety, the delay thus experienced in her journey was sufficient to trouble her sorely. Was it not a matter of life or death on which she was bound? Was it not to save one who was dearer to her than her own existence, and there- fore was not her time most precious? And, how, too, was she to while away the long mortal hours that must elapse ere morning dawned? She felt fatigued, but dared not lie down to rest. She needed slumber to enable her to sustain the fatigues of the long journey which yet lay before her, but she felt like a person benighted amongst the snows of Alpine regions, where to yield to sleep is to meet certain death, And then, CONNIE OO KS (E(0)