The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan,—and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine.
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