If he found out about Earle, he would find out about her, too. Then--well, suppose it came, this discovery that she dreaded so terribly, what would he do if she refused to marry him? "Kill her," he had said; but that was not so easily done. She might compromise and secure her own safety by refusing to marry Earle, and marrying Lord Vivianne. He would keep her secret then. People would only say that she had changed her mind, and say that she was like all the Studleighs--faithless. But she loved Earle with all her power of loving, and she hated Lord Vivianne with an untold hatred. She said to herself that if she had to save herself from the most terrible death by marrying him, she would not do it. She loathed him; she would have been pleased to hear that he was dead, or anything else dreadful had happened to him, for he had spoiled her life. Of what use was all her wealth, her luxury, her magnificence? Her life through him was spoiled--completely spoiled. "I wish he were dead," she said to herself, over and over again. "The toils are spreading around me; I shall be caught at last." She flung her arms above her head with a terrible cry. What was she to do? She must, first of all, prevent them from meeting that night. They must not dine together at her father's house; that was the evil to be immediately dreaded. She flung the masses of golden hair back from her white face. "If I dare but tell Earle, and let him avenge me," she thought. Then she wrote to him a coaxing little note, telling him that she had a particular reason for desiring him not to dine at Hyde House that evening--a reason that she would explain afterward, but that she herself desired to see him alone. Would he come later on in the evening and ask for her? She would arrange to receive him in Lady Linleigh's boudoir. Then she rung for a footman in hot haste. "Take this note to Mr. Moray," she said. "Never mind how long you have to wait. Give it into his own hands, then bring me the answer." "Oh, these lovers," sighed the servant. "What there is to do to please them!" Still, he did his best. He waited until he saw Earle, put the note in his hand, and waited for the answer. Earle only smiled as he read it. He was so completely accustomed to these pretty little caprices, he had ceased to attach any importance to them. He merely wrote in reply that he was entirely at her command. "You remember the old song, my darling: "'Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me; Thou hast command of every part, To live and die for thee.' "I will come later on in the evening and see no one but you." He laughed as he closed the note. "I wonder what pretty caprice possesses my darling now," he said to himself. The man who took the note back wondered at his young mistress, her face was quite white, her golden hair clung in rich disorder, the white hands, so eagerly extended to seize the letter, trembled and burned like fire.