No sound, no sight of life, met his ear and eye.
In the front chamber, on a table, lay the guitar of the actress and some manuscript parts in plays.

He paused, and summoning courage, tapped at the door which seemed to lead into the inner apartment.

The door was ajar; and hearing no sound within, he pushed it open.

It was the sleeping chamber of the young actress,--that holiest ground to a lover.
And well did the place become the presiding deity: none of the tawdry finery of the Profession was visible on the one hand, none of the slovenly disorder common to the humbler classes of the South on the other.

All was pure and simple; even the ornaments were those of an innocent refinement,--a few books placed carefully on shelves, a few half-faded flowers in an earthen vase which was modelled and painted in the Etruscan fashion.