le."

Diana hastened to obey the summons. Her father and mother were seated
near each other, evidently in deep distress. She went towards them, and
the Marquis, drawing her to him, pressed her against his heart.

"Poor child! My dear daughter!" murmured he, "you are all that is left
to us now."

Their son had died, and the sad news had been brought to the Chateau
while Diana was at Mass. By her brother's death she had succeeded to a
princely fortune, and would now be one of the richest heiresses for many
a mile round. Had this event happened but a week before, her marriage to
Norbert would have met with no opposition from his father, and she would
never have plunged into this abyss of crime. It was more than the irony
of fate; it was the manifest punishment of an angry Divinity. She shed
no tear for her brother's death. Her thoughts were all firmly fixed on
Norbert, and that fearful announcement made in the house of God rang
still in her ears. What could be the meaning of this sudden arrangement,
and why had the marriage been so suddenly decided on?

She felt that some mystery lay beneath it all, and vowed that she would
fathom it to its nethermost depths. What was it that had taken place
at Champdoce? Had the Duke, contrary to Daumon's prognostications,
recovered? Had he discovered his son' insidious attack upon his life,
and only pardoned it upon a blind compliance being given to his will?
She passed away the whole day in these vain suppositions, and tried to
think of every plan to stay the celebration of this union, for she had
not given up her hopes, nor did she yet despair of ultimate success. Her
new and unlooked-for fortune placed a fresh weapon at her disposal, and
she felt that the victory would yet be hers if she could but see Norbert
again, were it but for a single instant. Was she not certain of the
absolute power that she exercised over him, for had she not by a few
words induced him to enter upon the terrible path of crime? She must see
him, and that without a moment's delay, for the danger was imminent. A
day now would be worth a year hereafter. She determined that, upon that
very night, she would visit Champdoce. A little after midnight, when the
inhabitants of the Chateau were wrapped in slumber, she crept on tiptoe
down the grand staircase, and made her exit by a side door. She had
arranged her plan as to how she would find Norbert, for he had often
described the interior arrangements of the Chateau