In the impetuosity of her nature, Inez had unlocked to her unknown lover the inmost recesses of her heart. He was the light and key to all her thoughts. What would have been to his disadvantage with some, by enforcing caution, and keeping before them the necessity of acting with prudence, pleaded to her in his favour; and her very ignorance of his name and station made her look upon him with a more ardent and passionate interest.
At length, the silence that prevailed, and the lateness of the hour, which was now past midnight, led her to suppose that the household must all have retired, and she proceeded to put in execution her purpose of visiting the garden. Softly opening her chamber-door, she looked out into the gallery, and found that the lights in the hall below had been extinguished. Nevertheless, she was afraid to bring her own light forth, and she set on her way in the dark.
Wrapping her mantilla tightly round her, she pressed close to the wall, and proceeded, with a light but quick step, to descend to the hall. She soon reached the bottom of the stairs, and, with a beating heart, groped her way to the rearward door. It was very dark, but, from long familiarity with the building, both by night and day, she knew where to tread, and she made out the door without difficulty. She raised her hand to draw back the bolts; but, to her surprise, she found that, either from neglect or accident, these were not secured, and the door had been left unfastened.
It was not without some qualms of fear that Inez looked out on the pitchy night. The rain was still falling, though not with any force, and the light showers drew from the foliage of the trees, as they fell upon it, a distinct vibration, that gave to the prevailing darkness an unearthly terror. But her apprehensions of peril from fellow-mortals, which her venturing out alone at so late an hour might well inspire, repressed any superstitious fears in the bosom of Inez, though they rendered her equally timid and irresolute. After a brief pause, however, her decision returned, and, drawing the door close after her, she passed out.
Without the door, there was a stone landing, guarded on either side by an iron rail, which led down a flight of steps to the garden. Above the landing, on a level with the top of the door, was a sort of veranda, open at the sides, which ran the whole length of the rails. Inez now perceived, what she had not thought of before, that this veranda was immediately beneath the casement from which her lover had made his egress, and she doubted not that he had easily lit upon it from the casement-sill, and thence leaped to the ground. A thrill of joy shot through her frame, as, measuring the height of the veranda with her eye, she perceived that he could do this without incurring any hurt; and the prompt manner in which he had seized such a means of escape, when the danger must have been yet remote, and the expediency of retreat could hardly have occurred to him, led her to look upon his image with more confirmed admiration.