had continued her occupation of
writing for some time. When she was through she read over what she had
written, and then deliberately tore it into atoms.

"No, I will not tell them anything," she muttered, with a frown; "I will
just go and leave no trace behind me. It may seem unkind to Lord
Cameron, but some time I will explain it all."

She then arose and dressed herself in her traveling suit, tied a
dark-blue vail about her face, and brought a thick shawl from her
closet. She then began to lay out a change of clothing and her toilet
articles, but suddenly stopped in the midst of her work.

"No, I will not burden myself with anything," she murmured,
thoughtfully. "I am not strong, and I need all the strength I have to
get myself away; besides, I can easily buy what I need in any town."

She hastily drew on her gloves, without observing that the rings, which
she usually wore and which she prized very highly, were still lying upon
her cushion where she had left them before taking her bath. She did not
even think to take her watch, which she sadly missed and regretted
afterward; her only thought was to get away as quickly as possible from
all danger of violating her conscience and of wronging a noble and
generous man.

She then put out her light and sat alone in the darkness, waiting for
the house to become quiet so that she could steal forth unobserved.

Two hours passed, all in the house seemed to be at rest, and she
noiselessly crept out of a window upon the piazza, made her way swiftly
around the house to where a flight of stairs led to the ground, and then
sped away in the darkness, with no definite idea whither she was going.

She took the highway leading away from Mentone, because she dreaded lest
some one should meet and accost her in the town. She had a dim idea that
if she could get to San Remo, which was about twelve miles east of
Mentone, she could take a train going north without being discovered,
and accordingly she bent her footsteps in this direction.

Her way led along the cliffs overhanging the sea, before mentioned, and
how she, to whom the way was entirely strange, should have escaped the
fate which every one afterward supposed to have been hers was wondered.
But escape it she did, and after safely passing this perilous point she
descended the hill, and then the road closely followed the beach for
some distance.

Here she came upon the rude hut, or shelter, which has been described,
and bei