n.

"I wonder thou hast not tumbled the bed topsy-turvy. I am glad to see
thou hast yet some grace and manners in thy vocation. Now, Sir
Messenger, to requite thee for this thy courtesy and forbearance, I will
show thee a secret tabernacle, which all thy prying has not been able to
discover."

Saying this he approached the bed: a spring was concealed in one of the
posts communicating with the secret door behind which Tyrone was hidden.
As he turned aside the drapery to ascertain precisely its situation,
Constance, no longer able to control her apprehension of discovery,
rushed before him. Her terror, for the time, threw her completely from
her guard.

"Do not, my father:--he must not look there. For my sake, oh, spare
_this_"----

She was silent:--her lips grew deadly pale; and she leaned against the
pillar for support. The officer's suspicions were awakened, and he gave
a shrewd guess at the truth.

"Now, fair dame," he cried: "it is but an ungracious office to thwart a
lady of her will, but I must see what lurks in that same secret recess.
Master Holt, I prythee help me to a peep behind the curtain."

But Holt was too much astonished to comply. What could exist there to
excite his daughter's apprehensions so powerfully, puzzled him greatly.
He had not a thought, the most remote, that could affect her
fidelity;--yet he hesitated. The officer, in a more peremptory tone,
demanded admission. Rousing from his stupor, and mortified at the folly
of these girlish fancies, he struck the spring: in a trice, a portion of
the bed's head flew open, displaying a dark chasm beyond. Swift as
thought the officer darted through the aperture; but the door was
immediately shut, and with great violence. A scuffle was heard within,
but not a word was spoken. Holt, in doubt and consternation gazed with a
wild and terrific aspect on the devoted Constance, who, covering her
face, sought to avoid seeing the expected result of her imprudence. Her
father now listened. There was a dread suspense in his look more fearful
than even the most violent outburst of his wrath. He seemed every moment
to expect some irrefragable proof,--some visible and overwhelming
conviction of his daughter's infamy. The door was still closed. Groans
were plainly audible, telling of some terrible strife within. Suddenly
these indications ceased. Holt shuddered. He fancied some foul act was
perpetrating--perhaps even now consummated--under his own roof; and
swift