She lay down upon the little couch, with a long, low sigh. It was wonderful how tired and wearied she felt. She had suffered such a fever, such a torture of suspense, that the reaction of feeling that she was in perfect safety at last was too much for her. There came a fever of unrest upon her, her heart beat with terrible rapidity, her hands were like fire, her eyes and lips seemed to burn as though they had been touched by flame; she had not known until now how much she had suffered. Then she pictured Lord Vivianne coming on the twentieth and finding her married--married and gone far out of his reach! How he would rage! It would serve him right. He might tell his story then. Who would believe him? They would all think it the bitter exaggeration of a disappointed man. Then the room seemed to grow warm, the perfume of the flowers overpowering. "I wish," she thought, "that I had not let Eugenie go; I feel nervous and lonely to-night." She half-debated within herself whether she should go back to Mattie or not. The sense of being thought cowardly deterred her. There lay the moonlight, so calm, so still, so bright, streaming through the open window. "I will go down into the grounds," she said to herself; "a walk there will refresh me, and I shall be able to rest." She took out her watch and looked at it; it was nearly midnight. "There will be a pale bride to-morrow," she said, "if I am not to sleep all night." She unfastened the door that divided the room from the spiral staircase leading to the grounds. The staircase itself was almost hidden by dense green foliage and flowers; because it was so nearly hidden no one thought it dangerous; no stranger would have observed it. She went down to the grounds, it was so cool, so bright, still, and beautiful; the dew was shining on the grass, the moon and stars were shining in the sky; there was a rich odor of rare flowers; the night wind seemed to cool her heated brain; her lips grew pale and cool; the burning heat left her hands; it refreshed her. "I will walk here for half an hour," she said, "then I shall be sleepy enough." It struck her that she would go round to the library window, where Earle was with her father. She hoped they would not see her; but if they did, she should tell them she could not rest. Then she remembered that the earl had cautioned her never to use the spiral staircase at night lest it should be dangerous. She walked round to the side of the house. Ah! there was the light from the library-window; they were still there. Then--her heart almost stood still--she saw the figure of a man advancing across the carriage-drive toward the great hall-door. At midnight. Who could it be? The moon shone full upon him; and as he drew nearer, she saw the face of her mortal enemy, her hated foe--Lord Vivianne! CHAPTER LXXIX. WHY HE SUSPECTED.