“I felt very ill; my hands were cold as death, they trembled; my face burned, my brain whirled. I tried to steady myself by saying that my husband would be here soon, and I must be ready to meet him. My maid returned. She looked pale and scared. Sir Alfred and Captain Pierrepont had left the house; there was no message for me. “‘My lady,’ said the girl, ‘is there anything the matter? All the servants are looking so strange--is anything wrong?’ “God help me! I went mad--mad with fear, shame, outraged love, wounded honor, and dread of what was to follow. I tore the hair from my head. I cried aloud for my dead mother. I was mad. “They gave me sleep and merciful oblivion. But morning only brought me the same frantic alarm, the same terrible waking. What had I done; what were they going to do with me? What was wrong? I could not rise; my limbs were heavy, my head ached. I was bewildered and uncertain. There were times when I fancied I must have been guilty of some great crime, and have forgotten it. Surely my husband, whom I had loved and revered as the noblest of men, could never have wrongfully accused me. Was it possible that I had done anything wrong and had forgotten it? I tried to think over every word I had ever spoken--every action since I had been married, and I could not discover one that was worthy of such blame. “‘An intrigue?’--I began to remember his words--he said that I had carried on an intrigue with the Duke of Launceston. What did they call an intrigue here in England? In my land it was something that young girls did not even know by name. What was it here? I had sung songs with him; I had paid him the same amount of attention that I considered due to all my husband’s guests; but Heaven knew my heart and conscience were free from all blame. “How that day passed I could tell no one; it was one long dream of misery, one delirium of horror; and the night even worse. I saw the servants looking strangely at me--some of them sent in notice to leave--one or two went that very day; yet I was innocent, God knows I was--innocent as a little dreaming babe. “The following morning brought a letter from my husband, it was even more cruel than his words had been. It merely said that he had commenced proceedings for a divorce, on the grounds of my conduct with the Duke of Launceston, and that he would not return home while I was there. “Was ever woman so desolate? There was no one to whom I could appeal in this hour of distress--no friendly hand or heart to aid me. I could only kneel and pray to the most high God to make my innocence clear. Mr. Eyrle, my prayer will be answered yet.