her seat to examine the clepsydra. That movement caused her
eyes to fall upon the paper which she had picked up a quarter of an hour
previously.

In spite of herself the image of Francisco was still uppermost in her
thoughts; and, in the contemplative vein thus encouraged, her eyes
lingered, unwittingly--and through no base motive of curiosity--upon the
writing which that paper contained.

Thus she actually found herself reading the first four lines of the
writing, before she recollected what she was doing.

The act was a purely mechanical one, which not the most rigid moralist
could blame.

And had the contents of the paper been of no interest, she might even
have continued to read more in that same abstracted mood; but those four
first lines were of a nature which sent a thrilling sensation of horror
through her entire frame; the feeling terminating with an icy coldness
of the heart.

She shuddered without starting--shuddered as she stood; and not even a
murmur escaped her lips.

The intenseness of that sudden pang of horror deprived her alike of
speech and motion during the instant that it lasted.

And those lines, which produced so strange an impression upon the young
maiden, ran thus:

"merciless scalpel hacked and hewed away at the still almost
palpitating flesh of the murdered man, in whose breast the
dagger remained buried--a ferocious joy--a savage hyena-like
triumph----"

Flora read no more; she could not--even if she had wished.

For a minute she remained rooted to the spot; then she threw herself
into the chair, bewildered and dismayed at the terrible words which had
met her eyes.

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 portio