"Colonel Carlyle, I will tell you this much," she said, "for I see that you suspect me of that which I would rather die than be guilty of. I am not going because a guilty passion for a former lover is driving me from your arms to his. If I go into exile I shall go alone, and I shall pray for death every hour until my weary days upon earth are ended forever. Death is the only happiness I look for, the future holds nothing for me but the blackness of darkness. I can tell you nothing more!" She ceased, and dropped her anguished face into the friendly shelter of her hands again. He remained rooted to the spot as if he could never move again. "Bonnibel," he said, at last, "surely some subtle madness possesses you. You do not know what you would do. I must save you from yourself until you become rational again." With these words he went out of the room, locking the door behind him. CHAPTER XXXV. Colonel Carlyle had not quitted the room an hour before Bonnibel's maid, Dolores, came into her presence, bearing a sealed letter upon a salver. "_Une lettre_ from monsieur le colonel, for Madam Carlyle," she said, in her curious _melange_ of French and English. Bonnibel took the letter, and Dolores retreated to a little distance and stood awaiting her pleasure. "What can he have to write to me of?" she thought, in some surprise, as she opened the envelope. She read these words in a rather tremulous hand-writing: "Bonnibel, my dear wife," and she shuddered slightly at the words--"I sought you a little while ago to inform you of my immediate departure for Paris, but our interview was of so harrowing a nature that I was forced to leave you without communicating my intention. I could not endure your reproaches longer. I am compelled to leave you here--circumstances force my immediate return to Paris. It is possible, nay, probable, that I may have to make a trip to the United States before I return to Naples. Believe me, it is distressing to me beyond measure to leave you now under existing circumstances, but the business that takes me away is most imperative and admits of no delay. "I have made every possible provision for your comfort and pleasure during my absence. The housekeeper, the domestics and your own especial maid will care for you faithfully. In an hour I leave here. If you have any commands for me; if you are willing to see me again, and speak even one word of kind farewell, send me a single line by Dolores, and I will be at your side in an instant. "CLIFFORD CARLYLE." She finished reading and dropped the letter, forgetful of the lynx-eyed French woman who regarded her curiously. Her eyes wandered to the window, and she fell into deep thought. "Madam," the maid said, hesitatingly, "Monsieur le colonel awaits _une_ reply. He hastens to be gone." Bonnibel looked up at her. "Go, Dolores," she answered, coldly; "tell him there is _no reply_."