"They must have had a quarrel," he said to himself, with a knowing nod, as he closed the door. "They have had a quarrel, and my lady wishes to make it all right again." It was a reprieve. She kissed the little note with a passion of love that was real. "My darling," she said, "if we could but go away together." And as she sat there a sudden memory of the time when she had run away from him came to her. She saw the old-fashioned garden at Brackenside; she saw the great crimson roses, and the sheaves of white lilies; she saw the kindly face of Mattie, and heard Earle singing: "Thou art my soul, my life--the very eyes of me." Ah, peaceful, innocent days! Blind, mad fool that she had been ever to listen to Vivianne--to let him tempt her--to let him take her from the innocent, happy home! What had she gained? And--ah, Heaven!--what had she lost? If she could but have foreseen, have known, how differently she would have behaved. "I am strong," she said, pushing away the golden hair with her white hands. "I am strong, but I could not live this life--it would kill me." She sat for half an hour, thinking steadily, then her resolve was taken. She would tide over the dinner as well as she could, throwing him more and more off his guard. She would see Earle that evening, and tell him that she wanted their marriage hastened; that she was tired of so many lovers, and wanted to go away with him; that she was wearied of London life. She knew that Earle would be on the alert to serve her, he would manage it all. She had faith in his great love. Then she would tell the earl that her health and strength were failing her; ask him to take her to Linleigh Court. Lord Vivianne would not dare to follow her there. It was like a haven of rest to her. When the summer came, she would marry Earle quietly and go abroad. Then she would be out of her enemy's power; he could no longer hurl her from her high estate, or compel her to marry him. She would be another man's wife then, and it would be his place to protect and avenge her. The plan, rapidly conceived, rapidly sketched, was her only resource, her only safety. True, it would spoil her life, the triumphs that she now enjoyed would be hers no longer. She would cease to be the belle of the season, the queen of beauty and fashion. She must lose that part of her life which she valued most--the homage, the adulation, the brightness, and all through him. How her whole soul raged in burning fury against him! If he had been lying there on the ground, her foot on his neck, she would not have spared him. She would have seen him die with pleasure. It did not lessen her anger and her rage that she had to talk to him, to smile, and charm him. "If a look could kill him," she said to herself, "he should die."