Scarcely three minutes after the new idea had struck her, her resolution was fixed.
Once more concealing the papers in her bosom, she repaired with the lamp to her brother’s room—purloined the key a second time—hastened to the chamber of death—opened the closet again—and again sustained the shock of a single glance at its horrors, as she returned the manuscript to the place whence she had originally taken it.
Then, having once more retraced her way to Francisco’s chamber, she restored the key to the folds of his doublet—for he continued to sleep soundly; and Nisida succeeded in regaining her own apartments just in time to avoid the observation of the domestics, who were now beginning to move about.
Nisida sought her couch and slept until nearly ten o’clock, when she awoke with a start—doubtless caused by some unpleasant dream.
Having ascertained the hour by reference to a water-clock, or clepsydra, which stood on a marble pedestal near the head of the bed, she arose—unlocked the door of her apartment—rang a silver bell—and then returned to her bed.
In a few minutes Flora, who had been waiting in the adjoining room, entered the chamber.
Nisida, on regaining her couch, had turned her face toward the wall, and was therefore unable to perceive anything that took place in the apartment.
The mere mention of such a circumstance would be trivial in the extreme, were it not necessary to record it in consequence of an event which now occurred.
For, as Flora advanced into the room, her eyes fell on a written paper that lay immediately beneath the arm-chair; and conceiving from its appearance that it had not been thrown down on purpose, as it was in nowise crushed nor torn, she mechanically picked it up and placed it on the table.
She then proceeded to arrange the toilet table of her mistress, preparatory to that lady’s rising; and while she is thus employed, we will endeavor to make our readers a little better acquainted with her than they can possibly yet be.