"I want nothing," she said. "I have a few words to say to you in parting. I repeat that you are a wicked woman, Lady Lanswell, and that God will punish you for the wicked deed you have done. I say more, whether Heaven punishes you or not, _I will_. You have trampled me under your feet; you have insulted, outraged, tortured me. Listen to the word--you have tortured me; you have received me with scorn and contumely; you have laughed at my tears; enjoyed my prayers and humiliation. I swear that I will be revenged, even should I lose all on earth to win that revenge. I swear that you shall come and plead to me on your knees, and I will laugh at you. You shall plead to me with tears, and I will remind you how I have pleaded in vain. You have wrung my heart, I will wring yours. My revenge shall be greater than your cruelty; think, then, how great it will be." "I repeat that I am not frightened," said the countess, but she shrunk from the fire of those splendid eyes. "I was mad to think I should find a woman's heart in you. When the hour of my revenge comes, my great grief will be that I have a heart of marble to deal with!" cried Leone. "You cannot have such great affection for your husband, if you speak to his mother in this fashion," said the countess, mockingly. The girl stretched out her white arms with a despairing cry. "Give me back my husband, and I recall my threats." Then, seeing that mocking smile on that proud face, her arms fell with a low sigh. "I am mad," she said, in a low voice, "to plead to you--quite mad!" "Most decidedly," said the countess. "It appears to me there is more truth in that one observation than in any other you have made this evening. As I am not particularly inclined to the society of mad men or mad women, you will excuse me if I withdraw." Without another word, my lady touched the bell. To the servant who entered she said: "Will you show this person out as far as the park gates, please?" And, without another look at Leone, she quitted the room. Leone followed in silence. She did not even look around the sumptuous home one day she believed to be hers; she went to the great gates which the man-servant held open as she passed through. The sun had set, and the gray, sweet gloaming lay over the land. There was a sound of falling water, and Leone made her way to it. It was a cascade that fell from a small, but steep rock. The sound of the rippling water was to her like the voice of an old friend, the sight of it like the face of some one whom she loved. She sat down by it, and it sung to her the same sweet old song: "A ring in pledge he gave her, And vows of love we spoke; Those vows are all forgotten, The ring asunder broke." It would not be so with her, ah no! If ever the needle was true to the pole, the flowers to the sun, the tides to the moon, the stars to the heavens, Lord Chandos would be true to her. So she believed, and, despite her sorrow, her heart found rest in the belief.