stairs to meet them, but at the head of the stairs she paused, and trembled, for as the low sound of voices reached her from below, she fancied she heard the voices of total strangers: she held in her breath that she might be better enabled to ascertain whether or not her fears were justly founded, and was soon convinced that it was neither Madame D'Alembert nor Lubin she had seen enter.
Alive only to one dreadful idea, to one apprehension, she now believed her fate approaching, and looked round for some place to secrete herself; she looked in vain however; for mouldering cells and narrow passages, choked with rubbish only, met her view.
At length she recollected, that near the cell where she had been sitting there was a long and winding gallery, pretty free from rubbish, and which Madame D'Alembert had informed her led to the innermost recesses of
