I was probably awakened by the shrieks and piteous cries of poor Esther.

My sleeping place was on the floor of a little, rough closet, which opened into the kitchen; and through the cracks of its unplaned boards, I could distinctly see and hear what was going on, without being seen by old master.

Esther's wrists were firmly tied, and the twisted rope was fastened to a strong staple in a heavy wooden joist above, near the fireplace.

Here she stood, on a bench, her arms tightly drawn over her breast.

Her back and shoulders were bare to the waist.