Silva closed the door silently, although her ears caught the click of the bolt when it was shot home.
No sound of their retreating footsteps reached her through the thick wall.

The stillness of her prison seemed to strike her like a blow.
For a moment she stood staring at the bare wall, her lips parted, her limbs trembling from the reaction of excitement; then she stepped forward, and felt along the smooth surface of rock.
The door fitted so closely she could not even determine its exact outlines.

Baffled, her glance wandered about the cell, seeking vainly for any sign of weakness, and then, giving way utterly to her despair, the girl flung herself on the bench, covering her eyes to shut out those hideous surroundings.

What should she do?
What could she do?
What possibility of hope lay in her own endeavours?
From what source could she expect any outside help?
After those first moments of complete despair, there came greater calmness, in which her mind began to grapple with the situation.

Life had never been an easy problem, and discouragement was no part of her creed.