He
ascended the steps leading to the House. No sooner did He touch
the door with the silver Myrtle, than it flew open, and presented
him with a free passage. He entered, and the door closed after
him of its own accord.
Guided by the moonbeams, He proceeded up the Staircase with
slow and cautious steps. He looked round him every moment with
apprehension and anxiety. He saw a Spy in every shadow, and
heard a voice in every murmur of the night breeze. Consciousness
of the guilty business on which He was employed appalled his
heart, and rendered it more timid than a Woman's. Yet still He
proceeded. He reached the door of Antonia's chamber. He stopped,
and listened. All was hushed within. The total silence
persuaded him that his intended Victim was retired to rest, and
He ventured to lift up the Latch. The door was fastened, and
resisted his efforts: But no sooner was it touched by the
Talisman, than the Bolt flew back. The Ravisher stept on, and
found himself in the chamber, where slept the innocent Girl,
unconscious how dangerous a Visitor was drawing near her Couch.
The door closed after him, and the Bolt shot again into its
fastening.
Ambrosio advanced with precaution. He took care that not a board
should creak under his foot, and held in his breath as He
approached the Bed. His first attention was to perform the magic
ceremony, as Matilda had charged him: He breathed thrice upon
the silver Myrtle, pronounced over it Antonia's name, and laid it
upon her pillow.
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