m, and now she rejoiced that Gualtier was
on his track. She began to believe that she could never be safe until
Lord Chetwynde was "removed." And if Lord Chetwynde, then others. Who
was this Mrs. Hart that she should have any power of troubling her?
Measures might easily be taken for silencing her forever, and for
"removing" such a feeble old obstacle as this. Hilda knew means by
which this could be effected. She knew the way by which the deed
could be done, and she had nerve enough to do it.

[Illustration: "She Stood For A Little While And Listened."]

The appearance of this new danger in Chetwynde Castle itself gave a
new direction to her troubles. It was as though a gulf had suddenly
yawned beneath her feet. All that night she lay deliberating as to
what was best to do under the circumstances. Mrs. Hart was safe
enough for a day or two, but what might she not do hereafter in the
way of mischief? She could not be got rid of, either, in an ordinary
way. She had been so long in Chetwynde Castle that it seemed morally
impossible to dislodge her. Certainly she was not one who could be
paid and packed off to some distant place like the other servants.
There was only one way to get rid of her, and to this one way Hilda's
thoughts turned gloomily.

Over this thought she brooded through all the following day. Evening
came, and twilight deepened into darkness. At about ten o'clock Hilda
left her room and quietly descended the great staircase, and went
over toward the chamber occupied by Mrs. Hart. Arriving at the door
she stood without for a little while and listened. There was no
noise. She gave a turn to the knob and found that the door was open.
The room was dark. She has gone to bed, she thought. She went back to
her own room again, and in about half an hour she returned. The door
of Mrs. Hart's room remained ajar as she had left it. She pushed it
farther open, and put her head in. All was still. There were no
sounds of breathing there. Slowly and cautiously she advanced into
the room. She drew nearer to the bed. There was no light whatever,
and in the intense darkness no outline revealed the form of the bed
to her. Nearer and nearer she drew to the bed, until at last she
touched it. Gently, yet swiftly, her hands passed over its surface,
along the quilts, up to the pillows. An involuntary cry burst from
her--

The bed was empty!

CHAPTER XLVIII.

FROM LOVE TO VENGEANCE, AND FROM VENGEANCE TO LOVE.