“And now,” continued the maniac (though maniac is too harsh and decided a word for the dreaming wildness of Lucilla’s insanity), as, dropping the curtain, she took her guest’s hand and conducted her back into the outer room--“and now, farewell! You sought me, and, I feel, only from kind and generous motives. We never shall meet more. Tell not your husband that you have seen me. He will know soon, too soon, of my existence: fain would I spare him that pang and,” growing pale as she spoke, “that peril; but Fate forbids it. What is writ, is writ: and who shall blot God’s sentence from the stars, which are His book? Farewell! high thoughts are graved upon your brow: may they bless you; or, where they fail to bless, may they console and support. Farewell! I have not yet forgotten to be grateful, and I still dare to pray.” Thus saying, Lucilla kissed the hand she had held, and turning hastily away, regained the room she had just left; and, locking the door, left the stunned and bewildered countess to depart from the melancholy abode. With faltering steps she quitted the chamber, and at the foot of the stairs the little Moor awaited her. To her excited fancy there was something eltrich and preternatural in the gaze of the young African, and the grin of her pearly teeth, as she opened the door to the visitant. Hastening to her carriage, which she had left at a corner of the square, the countess rejoiced when she gained it; and throwing herself back on the luxurious cushions, felt as exhausted by this starry and weird incident in the epic of life’s common career, as if she had partaken of that overpowering inspiration which she now almost incredulously asked herself, as she looked forth on the broad day and the busy streets, if she had really witnessed. CHAPTER LXIV. LUCILLA’S FLIGHT.--THE PERPLEXITY OF LADY ERPINGHAM.--A CHANGE COMES OVER GODOLPHIN’S MIND.--HIS CONVERSATION WITH RADCLYFFE.--GENERAL ELECTION.--GODOLPHIN BECOMES A SENATOR.