The greatest confusion prevailed in the Riverola Palace, when, in the morning, the disappearance of Flora Francatelli was discovered.

Nisida hastened, at an early hour, to her brother’s apartment, and intimated to him the fact that she was nowhere to be found.

Francisco, who was already dressed, was overwhelmed with grief at this announcement, and, in the first excess of excitement, conveyed to her his intention of seeking the young maiden throughout the city.

He was hastening to quit the room, when Nisida held him back, and intimated to him that his anxiety in this respect would create suspicions injurious alike to his reputation and that of Flora Francatelli—the more so, as she was but a menial in the household.

Francisco paused and reflected for a few moments; then, having tenderly embraced his sister, he hastily addressed her by the symbolic language in which they were accustomed to converse:

“Pardon me, beloved Nisida, for having kept a secret from thee—the only one that my heart has ever so selfishly cherished.”

Nisida appeared to be profoundly astonished at this communication, and made an impatient sign for him to proceed.

“You will not be surprised at my anxiety to seek after the missing girl,” he continued, “when I intimate to you that I love her—and that, next to yourself, she is dearer to me than I can express.”

“Your passion can scarcely be an honorable one, Francisco,” was the reproach conveyed by Nisida, while her countenance wore a corresponding expression.

“I would sooner die than harbor an injurious thought in respect to that virtuous and beautiful creature!” responded the young count, his face flushed with the glow of generous emotions. “My happiness is intimately connected with this attachment, Nisida, and I feel convinced that you would rather forward my views than oppose them.”

“Yes, dear brother,” was the reply which she conveyed to him: “your happiness is my only consideration.”

But, as she gave this assurance, an ill-subdued sigh escaped her breast, and she compressed her lips tightly to crush the emotions that were agitating her. A cloud evanescently appeared on the broad and marble forehead; the penciled brows contracted, and the eyes flashed brightly—oh! far more brightly than glanced the ray of the morning sun through the windows, upon the glossy surface of her luxuriant hair. A momentary spasm seemed to convulse the full and rounded form; and the small, elegantly shaped foot which peered from beneath her flowing robe, tapped the floor twice with involuntary movement.

Mistress as she usually was of even her most intense feelings, and wonderfully habituated by circumstances to exercise the most complete command over her emotions, she was now for an instant vanquished by the gush of painful sentiments which crowded on her soul.

Francisco did not, however, observe that transitory evidence of acute feeling on the part of his sister—a feeling which seemed to partake of the nature of remorse, as if she were conscience-stricken!

For she loved her brother deeply—tenderly, but after the fashion of her own wild and wonderful disposition—a love that was not calculated always to prove friendly to his interests.

Francisco paced the room in an agitated manner.

At length he stopped near where his sister was standing, and intimated to her that Flora might perhaps have repaired to the residence of her aunt.

Nisida conveyed to him this answer: “The moment that I missed Flora ere now, I dispatched a domestic to her aunt’s cottage; but she has not been there since Sunday last.”

“Some treachery is at work here, Nisida,” was the young count’s response. “Flora has not willingly absented herself.”

At this moment Francisco’s page entered the apartment to announce that Dr. Duras was in the reception-room.

The young count made a sign to his sister to accompany him; and they proceeded to the elegant saloon where the physician was waiting.

Having saluted the count and Nisida with his usual urbanity, Dr. Duras addressed himself to the former, saying, “I have just learnt from your lordship’s page that the favorite attendant on your sister has most unaccountably disappeared.”

“And both Nisida and myself are at a loss what to conjecture, or how to act,” replied Francisco.

“Florence is at this moment the scene of dreadful crimes,” observed the physician. “Yesterday morning a young female was murdered by a near neighbor of mine——”

“I was astounded when I heard of the arrest of Signor Wagner on such a charge,” interrupted the count. “He was latterly a frequent guest at this house: although, I believe, you never happened to meet him here?”

“No,” answered the physician; “but I saw him at the funeral of your lamented father, and once or twice since in the garden attached to his mansion; and I certainly could not have supposed, from his appearance, that he was a man capable of so black a crime. I was, however, about to observe that Florence is at this moment infested by a class of villains who hesitate at no deed of turpitude. This Signor Wagner is a foreigner, possessed of immense wealth, the sources of which are totally unknown; and, moreover, it is declared that the sbirri, yesterday morning, actually traced the robber-captain Stephano to the vicinity of his mansion. All this looks black enough, and it is more than probable that Wagner was in league with the redoubtable Stephano and his banditti. Then the mysterious disappearance of Flora is, to say the least, alarming, for I believe she was a well conducted, virtuous, estimable young woman.”

“She was—she was indeed!” exclaimed Francisco. “At least,” he added, perceiving that the physician was somewhat astonished at the enthusiasm with which he spoke—“at least, such is my firm impression; such, too, is the opinion of my sister.”

“The motive which brought me hither this morning,” said Dr. Duras, “was to offer you a little friendly advice, which my long acquaintance with your family, my dear count, will prevent you from taking amiss.”

“Speak, doctor—speak your thoughts!” cried Francisco, pressing the physician’s hand gratefully.

“I would recommend you to be more cautious how you form an intimacy with strangers,” continued Dr. Duras. “Rumor has a thousand tongues—and it is already reported in Florence that the alleged murderer was on familiar terms with the noble Count of Riverola and Lady Nisida.”

“The duke himself is liable to be deceived in respect to the real character of an individual,” said Francisco proudly.

“But his highness would not form hasty acquaintances,” replied the physician. “After all, it is with the best possible feeling that I offer you my counsel—knowing your generous heart, and also how frequently generosity is imposed upon.”

“Pardon the impatience with which I answered you, my dear friend,” exclaimed the young count.

“No pardon is necessary,” said the physician; “because you did not offend me. One word more and I must take my leave. Crimes are multiplying thickly in Florence, and Stephano’s band becomes each day more and more daring; so that it is unsafe to walk alone in the city after dusk. Beware how you stir unattended, my dear Francisco, at unseasonable hours.”

“My habits are not of that nature,” replied the count. “I, however, thank you cordially for your well-meant advice. But you appear to connect the disappearance of Flora Francatelli,” he added, very seriously, “with the dreadful deed supposed to be committed by Signor Wagner!”

“I merely conjecture that this Wagner is associated with that lawless horde who have become the terror of the republic,” answered the physician; “and it is natural to suppose that these wretches are guilty of all the enormous crimes which have lately struck the city with alarm.”

Francisco turned aside to conceal the emotions which these remarks excited within him; for he began to apprehend that she whom he loved so fondly had met with foul play at the hands of the bravoes and banditti whom Stephano was known to command.

Dr. Duras seized that opportunity to approach Nisida, who was standing at the window; and as he thrust into her hand a note, which was immediately concealed in her dress, he was struck with surprise and grief at the acute anguish that was depicted on her countenance.

Large tears stood on her long, dark lashes, and her face was ashy pale.

The physician made a sign of anxious inquiry; but Nisida, subduing her emotions with an almost superhuman effort, pressed his hand violently and hurried from the room.

Dr. Duras shook his head mournfully, but also in a manner which showed that he was at a loss to comprehend that painful manifestation of feeling on the part of one whom he well knew to be endowed with almost miraculous powers of self-control.

His meditations were interrupted by Francisco, who, addressing him abruptly, said, “In respect to the missing young lady, whose absence will be so acutely felt by my sister, the only course which I can at present pursue, is to communicate her mysterious disappearance to the captain of police.”

“No time should be lost in adopting that step,” responded the doctor. “I am about to visit a sick nobleman in the neighborhood of the captain’s office: we will proceed so far in each other’s company.”

The young count summoned his page to attend upon him, and then quitted the mansion in company with the physician.

In the meantime Nisida had retired to her own apartment, where she threw herself into a seat, and gave vent to the dreadful emotions which had for the last hour been agitating within her bosom.

She wept—oh! she wept long and bitterly: it was terrible and strange to think how that woman of iron mind now yielded to the outpourings of her anguish.

Some time elapsed ere she even attempted to control her feelings; and then her struggle to subdue them was as sudden and energetic as her grief had a moment previously been violent and apparently inconsolable.

Then she recollected the note which Dr. Duras had slipped into her hand, and which she had concealed in her bosom; and she hastened to peruse it. The contents ran as follows:

“In accordance with your request, my noble-hearted and much-enduring friend, I have consulted eminent lawyers in respect to the will of the late Count of Riverola. The substance of their opinion is unanimously this: The estates are inalienably settled on yourself, should you recover the faculties of hearing and speaking at any time previous to your brother’s attainment of the age of thirty; and should you enter into possession of the estates, and allow your brother to enjoy the whole or greater part of the revenues, in direct contradiction to the spirit of your father’s will, the estates would become liable to confiscation by his highness the duke. In this case your brother and yourself would alike be ruined.

“Now, the advice that these lawyers give is this: A memorial should be addressed to his highness, exhibiting that you refuse to undergo any surgical treatment or operation for the restoration of the faculties of hearing and speech, inasmuch as you would not wish to deprive your brother of the enjoyment of the estates nor of the title conferred by their possession: that you therefore solicit a decree, confirming his title of nobility, and dispensing with the prerogative of confiscation on the part of the prince, should you recover the faculties of hearing and speech, and act in opposition to the will of your late father in respect to the power of alienating the estates from your own possession.

“Such, my generous-minded friend, is the counsel offered by eminent advocates; and, by the memory of your sainted mother, if not for the sake of your own happiness, I implore you to act in accordance with these suggestions. You will remember that this advice pretty accurately corresponds with that which I gave you, when, late on the night that the will was read, you quitted your sleepless couch and came to my dwelling to consult me on a point so intimately connected with your felicity in this world.

“Your sincerely devoted friend,
“Jeronymo Duras.”

While Nisida was occupied in the perusal of the first paragraph of this letter, dark clouds lowered upon her brow; but as she read the second paragraph, wherein the salutary advice of the lawyers was conveyed to her, those clouds rapidly dispersed, and her splendid countenance became lighted up with joyous, burning, intoxicating hope!

It was evident that she had already made up her mind to adopt the counsel proffered her by the eminent advocates whom the friendly physician had consulted on her behalf. FtgH4OsDxkWzNistqN4mMAyyorHMXks6D+I+BQ1gGSz1w0nMYf3X+2ZfYNtj6MM8