She thought that the handwriting was not unknown to her; but she could not recollect whose it was. One fact was, however, certain—it was not the writing of her mistress.
She was musing upon the horrible and mysterious contents of the paper, when Nisida rose from her couch.
Acknowledging with a slight nod of the head the respectful salutation of her attendant, she hastily slipped on a loose wrapper, and seated herself in the arm-chair which Flora had just abandoned.
The young girl then proceeded to comb out the long raven hair of her mistress.
But this occupation was most rudely interrupted: for Nisida’s eyes suddenly fell upon the manuscript page on the table; and she started up in a paroxysm of mingled rage and alarm.
Having assured herself by a second glance that it was indeed a portion of the writings which had produced so strange an effect upon her a few hours previously, she turned abruptly toward Flora; and, imperiously confronting the young maiden, pointed to the paper in a significant manner.
Flora immediately indicated by a sign that she had found it on the floor, beneath the arm-chair.
“And you have read it!” was the accusation which, with wonderful rapidity, Nisida conveyed by means of her fingers—fixing her piercing, penetrating eyes on Flora’s countenance at the same time.
The young maiden scorned the idea of a falsehood; although she perceived that her reply would prove far from agreeable to her mistress, she unhesitatingly admitted, by the language of the hands. “I read the first four lines, and no more.”
A crimson glow instantly suffused the face, neck, shoulders, and bosom of Nisida; but instantly compressing her lips—as was her wont when under the influence of her boiling passions, she turned her flashing eyes once more upon the paper, to ascertain which leaf of the manuscript it was.