“I’faith, wench, thy chamber seems well fitted for so goodly a brace of guests—­not a thread awry.  Everything in trim order for thy gallants, mayhap.  Thou hast not been at thy studies of late.—­I have seen its interior in somewhat less orderly fashion.  I marvel if it might not be pranked out for our coming.  Now, to work, sir:—­where does thy grubbing begin?”

Constance posted herself in a gloomy corner, where she could watch their proceedings almost unperceived.  She hoped that in her chamber the search would not be so strict as in situations of more likelihood and probability for concealment.  At any rate, the common feelings of delicacy and respect,—­not quite extinct, she observed, even in this purveyor of justice,—­would prevent any very exact and dangerous scrutiny.  Nor was she deceived.  He merely felt round the walls, opened the presses and closets, but did not disturb the bed furniture.  He was retiring from the search, when her father scornfully taunted him with the ill success of his mission.

“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