that had passed between them had not
shaken the confidence which she felt in his willingness to assist her
in a thing like this. She understood his feelings so perfectly that
she saw in this purpose which she offered him something which would
be more agreeable to him than any other, and all that he had ever
expressed to her of his feelings strengthened this view. Even his
attempts to gain the mastery over her, his coercion by which he
forced from her that memorable promise, his rage and his menaces at
Lausanne, were so many proofs of his love for her and his malignant
hate to Lord Chetwynde. The love which she had once despised while
she made use of it she now called to her aid, so as to make use of it
again, not thinking of what the reward would be which he would claim,
not caring what his hope might be, indifferent to whatever the future
might now reveal, and intent only upon securing in the best and
quickest way the accomplishment of her own vengeful desires.

This confidence which she felt in Gualtier was not unfounded, nor was
her hope disappointed. In about a week after she had sent her letter
she received an answer. It was dated Florence. It showed that he had
arrived in the city, and informed her that he would call upon her as
soon as he could do so with safety. There was no signature, but his
handwriting was well known to her, and told her who the writer was.

About an hour after her receipt of the letter Gualtier himself was
standing in her presence. He had not changed in appearance since she
last saw him, but had the same aspect. Like all pale and cadaverous
men, or men of consumptive look, there could be scarcely any change
in him which would be for the worse. In Hilda, however, there was a
very marked change, which was at once manifest to the searching gaze
of his small, keen eyes as they rested upon her. She was not, indeed,
so wretched in her appearance as on that eventful day when she had
astonished him by her arrival at Lausanne. Her face was not
emaciated, nor were her eyes set in dark cavernous hollows as then,
nor was there on her brow the stamp of mortal weakness. What Gualtier
saw in her now had reference to other things. He had seen in her
nervousness and agitation before, but now he marked in her a loss of
all her old self-control, a certain feverish impatience, a wild and
unreasoning eagerness--all of which seemed to rise out of
recklessness and desperation. Her gestures were vehement, her wor