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 would be the vengeance required at his hands. Constance, too,
seemed to apprehend the commission of some deadly crime, as she threw
herself imploringly before her father.
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