The maid followed after her. "I should wish your keys, madam, to pack your trunks," she said, solicitously. "To pack my trunks!" exclaimed the mistress, in surprise. "Why should you wish to do that, Dolores?" Dolores looked back at her in surprise also. "For your journey, of course, Madam Carlyle," she said. "Monsieur, your husband, tells me dat Paris do not agree with your health, and dat he removes you dis day to his palace in Italy on de Bay of Naples." CHAPTER XXXII. Alas for that one triumphant night of Felise Herbert. It was succeeded by a day of disappointment. It was scarcely noon before she heard that Colonel Carlyle had caused the arrest of Leslie Dane upon the charge of murdering Mr. Arnold, and that he had been committed to prison to await a requisition from the governor of New Jersey, in which State the deed had been committed. Mrs. Arnold entering her room in a tremor of nervous agitation, found her pacing the floor, wildly gesticulating, and muttering to herself, in terms of the fiercest denunciation, anathemas against Colonel Carlyle. "The miserable old dotard!" she exclaimed, furiously. "To think that his madness should have carried him to such lengths! Just when I felt so sure of my revenge he has balked me of my satisfaction and imperiled my safety by his jealous madness!" "Felise, you have heard all, then?" exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, anxiously. Felise turned her blazing dark eyes toward her mother, and Mrs. Arnold shuddered. "All, all!" she echoed passionately; "ill news flies apace!" "Felise, I feared this!" exclaimed Mrs. Arnold. "You were over-confident last night. Who could tell what form that old man's madness would take?" "Who, indeed!" cried her daughter passionately. "And yet my theory seemed so plausible--who could have dreamed of its failure? But for him all would have gone as I planned it! But you cannot dream, mother, what that besotted old villain had the audacity to do!" "It is not possible he suspected your complicity in the affair, Felise--he has taken no steps against _us_?" wildly questioned the mother as she sank into a chair half-fainting with terror. "No, no, he has not done that, mother--his deviltry took another form." "What, then, my dear? Oh! Felise, do sit down and calm yourself, and let us talk this matter over quietly," implored Mrs. Arnold anxiously. "Calm myself--ha, ha, ha, when the blood in my veins has turned to molten fire, and is burning me to ashes! You are an iceberg, mother, with your cold words and calm looks, but you cannot put out the fire that is raging within me! Surely I must be wholly my father's child! There is nothing of you about me--nothing!"