is assured, notwithstanding the drawn curtain veils her from his sight. Unheeding all but the voice of his passion, he rushes to the door that closes her from him; he does not venture to knock, but violently pulls the bell. He listens, but all is still within. He rings again, the sound reverberates through the house, but no footstep is heard to approach. Every light appeared extinct, save that still glimmering in Rosilia's chamber.
The servants had retired to rest, with the exception of one, who was about descending the staircase to answer the bell. Fearful and tremulous, Rosilia listened over the banisters—an idea struck her it might be Melliphant. Her father opened his dressing-room, and her agitation calmed upon hearing him peremptorily forbid the servant to give admission to any one.
"If the business is urgent," said he, "they will call again in the morning."
Again, for the third time, the persevering Melliphant rings; he even knocks, loudly but singly. His bosom conceals a pistol, and in his hand he has placed a bribe to bestow upon the servant who should open the door, and who might contrive for him a meeting with Rosilia, that he might profit by a last resource, and finally prosecute what to him, as he conceived, the unfortunate sudden entrance of the bailiffs, had in his morning's interview prevented. Not a footstep along the hall reaches his ear, as placed to receive the sound.
