in
disguise, or shall I get employ near his person? I can be a valet, or
a courier, or any thing else."

"Any thing. This must be left to you. I care not for details. The
grand result is what I look to."

"And what is the grand result?"

"Something which you yourself once proposed," said Hilda, in low,
stern tones, and with deep meaning.

Gualtier's face flushed. He understood her.

"I know," said he. "He is an obstacle, and you wish this obstacle
removed."

"Yes."

"You understand me exactly, my lady, do you?" asked Gualtier,
earnestly. "You wish it removed--_just as other obstacles have been
removed_. You wish never to see him again. You wish to be your own
mistress henceforth--and always."

"You have stated exactly what I mean," said Hilda, in icy tones.

Gualtier was silent for some time.

"Lady Chetwynde," said he at length, in a tone which was strikingly
different from that with which for years he had addressed her--"Lady
Chetwynde, I wish you to observe that this task upon which you now
send me is far different from any of the former ones which I have
undertaken at your bidding. I have always set out without a
word--like one of those Haschishim of whom you have read, when he
received the mandate of the Sheik of the mountains. But the nature of
this errand is such that I may never see you again. The task is a
perilous one. The man against whom I am sent is a man of singular
acuteness, profound judgment, dauntless courage, and remorseless in
his vengeance. His acuteness may possibly enable him to see through
me, and frustrate my plan before it is fairly begun. What then? For
me, at least, there will be nothing but destruction. It is,
therefore, as if I now were standing face to face with death, and so
I crave the liberty of saying something to you this time, and not
departing in silence."

Gualtier spoke with earnestness, with dignity, yet with perfect
respect. There was that in his tone and manner which gave indications
of a far higher nature than any for which Hilda had ever yet given
him credit. His words struck her strangely. They were not
insubordinate, for he announced his intention to obey her; they were
not disrespectful, for his manner was full of his old reverence; but
they seemed like an assertion of something like manhood, and like a
blow against that undisputed ascendency which she had so long
maintained over him. In spite of her preoccupation, and her
tempestuous passion, she was for