to which such strange injunctions had been given.

CHAPTER III.

THE MANUSCRIPT--FLORA FRANCATELLI.

Nisida's hand trembled not as she placed the key in the lock; but when
it turned, and she knew that in another instant she might open that door
if she chose, she compressed her lips firmly together--she called all
her courage to her aid--for she seemed to imagine that it was necessary
to prepare herself to behold something frightfully appalling.

And now again her cheeks were deadly pale; but the light that burned in
her eyes was brilliant in the extreme.

White as was her countenance, her large black orbs appeared to shine--to
glow--to burn, as if with a violent fever.

Advancing with her left hand, she half-opened the door of the closet
with her right.

Then she plunged her glances with rapidity into the recess.

But, holy God! what a start that courageous, bold, and energetic woman
gave--a start as if the cold hand of a corpse had been suddenly thrust
forth to grasp her.

And oh! what horror convulsed her countenance--while her lips were
compressed as tightly as if they were an iron vise.

Rapidly and instantly recoiling as that glance was, it had nevertheless
revealed to her an object of interest as well as of horror; for with
eyes now averted, she seized something within the closet, and thrust it
into her bosom.

Then, hastily closing the door, she retraced her way to her brother's
chamber.

He still slept soundly; Nisida returned the key to the pocket whence she
had taken it, and hurried back to her own room, from which she had
scarcely been absent five minutes.

And did she seek her couch? did she repair to rest?

No; that energetic woman experienced no weariness--yielded to no
lassitude.

Carefully bolting the door of her innermost chamber, she seated herself
in the arm-chair and drew from her bosom the object which she had taken
from the mysterious closet.

It was a manuscript, consisting of several small slips of paper,
somewhat closely written upon.

The paper was doubtless familiar to her; for she paused not to consider
its nature, but greedily addressed herself to the study of the meaning
which it conveyed. And of terrible import seemed that manuscript to be;
for while Nisida read, her countenance underwent many and awful
changes--and her bosom heaved convulsively at one instant, while at
another it remained motionless, as if respiration were suspended.

At length the perusal