ord Chetwynde bade her an affectionate farewell, and left the
place once more.

On the morning after his departure Hilda was in the morning-room
waiting for Gualtier, whom she had summoned. Although she knew that
Lord Chetwynde was going away, yet his departure seemed sudden, and
took her by surprise. He went away without any notice, just as he had
done before, but somehow she had expected some formal announcement of
his intention, and, because he had gone away without a word, she
began to feel aggrieved and injured. Out of this there grew before
her the memory of all Lord Chetwynde's coolness toward her, of the
slights and insults to which he had subjected her, of the abhorrence
which he had manifested toward her. She felt that she was despised.
It was as though she had been foully wronged. To all these this last
act was added. He had gone away without a word or a sign--where, she
knew not--why, she could not tell. It was his abhorrence for her that
had driven him away--this was evident.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." And this woman, who found
herself doubly and trebly scorned, lashed herself into a fury of
indignation. In this new-found fury she found the first relief which
she had known from the torments of unrequited passion, from the
longing and the craving and the yearning of her hot and fervid
nature. Into this new fit of indignation she flung herself with
complete abandonment. Since he scorned her, he should suffer--this
was her feeling. Since he refused her love, he should feel her
vengeance. He should know that she might be hated, but she was not
one who could be despised. For every slight which he had heaped upon
her he should pay with his heart's blood. Under the pangs of this new
disappointment she writhed and groaned in her anguish, and all the
tumults of feeling which she had endured ever since she saw him now
seemed to congregate and gather themselves up into one outburst of
furious and implacable vengefulness. Her heart beat hot and fast in
her fierce excitement. Her face was pale, but the hectic flush on
either cheek told of the fires within; and the nervous agitation of
her manner, her clenched hands, and heaving breast, showed that the
last remnant of self-control was forgotten and swept away in this
furious rush of passion. It was in such a mood as this that Gualtier
found her as he entered the morning-room to which she had summoned
him.

Hilda at first did not seem to see him, or at