alled
to her, from her innermost heart, that her honor, her life, and all her
earthly hopes, had thus been staked upon one card. She foresaw clearly
what the world would say the day after her flight. She would be lost,
and could hope for rehabilitation only when Daniel returned.

If she could only have been as sure of the heart of her chosen one as
she had formerly been! But the cunning innuendoes of the countess, and
the impudent asseverations of Sir Thorn, had done their work, and shaken
her faith. Daniel had been absent for nearly a year now, and during all
that time she had written to him every month; but she had received
from him only two letters through M. de Brevan,--and what letters! Very
polite, very cold, and almost without a word of hope.

If Daniel upon his return should abandon her!

And still, the more she reflected with all that lucidity with which the
approach of a great crisis inspired her, the more she became impressed
with the absolute necessity of flight. Yes, she must face unknown
dangers, but only in order to escape from dangers which she knew but too
well. She was relying upon a man who was almost a stranger to her; but
was not this the only way to escape from the insults of a wretch who had
become the boon companion, the friend, and the counsellor of her father?
Finally, she sacrificed her reputation, that is, the appearance of
honor; but she saved the reality, honor itself.

Ah, it was hard! As long as the day lasted on Wednesday, she was
wandering about, pale as a ghost, all over the vast palace. She bade
farewell to this beloved house, full of souvenirs of eighteen years in
which she had played as a child, where Daniel's voice had caused her
heart to beat loud and fast, and where her sainted mother had died. And
in the evening, at table, big tears were rolling down her cheeks as she
watched the stupidly-triumphant serenity of her father.

The next day, however, Thursday, Henrietta complained, as was agreed
upon, of a violent headache; and the doctor was sent for. He found her
in a violent fever, and ordered her to keep her bed. He little knew that
he was thus restoring the poor girl to liberty. As soon as he had left,
she rose; and, like a dying person who makes all her last dispositions,
she hastened to put every thing in order in her drawers, putting
together what she meant to keep, and burning what she wished to keep
from the curiosity of the countess and her accomplices.

M. de Breva