to her. She knew that
his room was on the ground floor, with two windows looking on to the
courtyard. When, however, she reached the old Chateau, she hesitated.
Suppose that she should go to the wrong window. But she had gone too far
to recede, and determined that if any one else than Norbert should open
the window, she would turn and fly. She tapped at the window softly,
and then more loudly. She had made no mistake. Norbert threw open the
window, with the words,--

"Who is there?"

"It is I, Norbert; I, Diana."

"What do you want?" asked Norbert in an agitated tone of voice. "What do
you want to do here?"

She looked at him anxiously and hardly recognized his face, so great was
the change that had come over it. It absolutely terrified her.

"Are you going to marry Mademoiselle de Puymandour?" asked she.

"Yes I am."

"And yet you pretended to love me?"

"Yes, I loved you ardently, devotedly, with a love that drove me to
crime; but you had no love; you cared but for rank and fortune."

Diana raised her hands to heaven in an agony of despair.

"Should I be here at this hour if what you say is true?" asked she
wildly. "My brother is dead, and I am as wealthy as you are, Norbert,
and yet I am here. You accuse me of being mercenary, and for what
reason? Was it because I refused to fly with you from my father's house?
Oh, Norbert, it was but the happiness of our future life that I strove
to protect. It was----"

Her speech failed her, and her eyes dilated with horror, for the door
behind Norbert opened, and the Duke de Champdoce entered the room,
uttering a string of meaningless words, and laughing with that mirthless
laugh which is so sure a sign of idiotcy.

"Can you understand now," exclaimed Norbert, pointing to his
father, "why the remembrance of my love for you has become a hateful
reminiscence? Do you dare to talk of happiness to me, when this spectre
of a meditated crime will ever rise between us?" and with a meaning
gesture he pointed to the open gate of the courtyard.

She turned; but before passing away, she cast a glance upon him full
of the deepest fury and jealousy. She could not forgive Norbert for his
share in the crime that she herself prompted,--for the crime which had
blighted all her hopes of happiness. Her farewell was a menace.

"Norbert," she said, as she glided through the gate like a spectre of
the night, "I will have revenge, and that right soon."

CHAPTER XI.

MARRIAGE BE