e. The servant
had assumed the air and manner of a master, and the message which she
had sent had been non-committal. She had relied upon the prospect of
her own speedy arrival upon the scene, and upon her own power of
confronting him, and reducing him to obedience in case of his refusal
to fall in with her wishes.

But now it had fallen out far differently from what she had expected,
and the collapse of her own strength had ruined all. Now every day
and every hour was taking hope away from her, and giving it to that
man who, from being her tool, had risen to the assertion of
mastership over her. Now every moment was dragging away from her the
man whom she sought so eagerly--dragging him away from her love to
the darkness of that place to which her love and her longing might
never penetrate.

Now, also, there arose within her the agonies of remorse. Never
before had she understood the fearful meaning of this word. Such a
feeling had never stirred her heart when she handed over to the
betrayer her life-long friend, her almost sister, the one who so
loved her, the trustful, the innocent, the affectionate Zillah; such
a feeling had not interfered with her purpose when Gualtier returned
to tell of his success, and to mingle with his story the recital of
Zillah's love and longing after her. But now it was different. Now
she had handed over to that same betrayer one who had become dearer
to her than life itself--one, too, who had grown dearer still ever
since that moment when she had first resolved to save him. If she had
never arrived at such a resolution--if she had borne with the
struggles of her heart, and the tortures of her suspense--if she had
fought out the battle in solitude and by herself, alone at Chetwynde,
her sufferings would have been great, it is true, but they would
never have arisen to the proportions which they now assumed. They
would never have reduced her to this anguish of soul which, in its
reaction upon the body, thus deprived her of all strength and hope.
That moment when she had decided against vengeance, and in favor of
pity, had borne for her a fearful fruit. It was the point at which
all her love was let loose suddenly from that repression which she
had striven to maintain over it, and rose up to gigantic proportions,
filling all her thoughts, and overshadowing all other feelings. That
love now pervaded all her being, occupied all her thoughts, and
absorbed all her spirit. Once it was love; now