t
without any particular purpose, in the character of a common
sight-seer.

Hilda thus at length, left so much to herself, without the joy of his
presence to soften her, grew gradually hopeless and desperate; and
there began to rise within her bitter feelings, like those of former
days. In the midst of these her darker nature made itself manifest,
and there came the vengeful promptings of outraged love. With her
vengeance meant something more than it did with common characters;
and when that fit was on her there came regrets that she had ever
left Chetwynde, and gloomy ideas about completing her interrupted
work after all. But these feelings were fitful, for at times hope
would return again, and tenderness take the place of vindictiveness.
From hope she would again sink into despair, and sometimes meditate
upon that dark resolve which she had once hinted to Gualtier at the
Hotel Gibbon.

Amidst all this her pride was roused. Why should she remain in this
position--a hanger-on--forcing herself on an unwilling man who at
best only tolerated her? The only soft feeling for her that had ever
arisen in his heart was nothing more than pity. Could she hope that
ever this pity would change to love, or that even the pity itself
would last? Was he not even now longing to get rid of her, and
impatiently awaiting tidings of his Indian appointment? To go to
India, she saw plainly, simply meant to get rid of her. This, she
saw, was his fixed determination. And for her--why should she thus
remain, so deeply humiliated, when she was not wanted?

So she argued with herself, but still she staid on. For love makes
the proudest a craven, and turns the strength of the strongest into
weakness; and so, in spite of herself, she staid, because she could
not go.

Meanwhile the state of Lord Chetwynde's, mind was not by any means
enviable. He found himself in a position which was at once unexpected
and to him, extremely embarrassing. Every feeling of gratitude, every
prompting of common generosity, compelled him to exhibit toward Hilda
a greater degree of kindness than existed in his heart. The
association of a long journey had necessarily thrown him upon her
society, and there had been times when he had found her agreeable;
there had also been that memorable episode when her poor, pale face,
with its stain of blood over the white forehead, had drawn forth his
deepest pity, and roused him to some approach to tenderness. But with
the occasio