The prospect appalled her so much that she had almost a mind at the minute to brave the whole world and defy her own conscience rather than be parted from him, whom she loved better than life. And the child that was coming to her. Oh! that was hardest, after all. To be born to an inheritance of shame; to come into a world which had no welcome for it; to see tears always instead of smiles in the eyes which would have been so fond and proud, but for all this shame. No wonder Lady Gwendolyn threw herself down despairingly on the very floor, feeling in her abasement as if this were the only fitting place for such as she. Fortunately Phœbe had stolen in an hour ago, while her mistress slept, and lighted the fire, otherwise Lady Gwendolyn would have been chilled to the bone, for the streets were crisp with frost, and there was a cold, clear brightness in the air. As it was, she felt so benumbed, that presently she had to get back into bed to warm herself, and lay there, calm now, but utterly forlorn, trying to think. Phœbe came in after awhile on tiptoe, and was almost startled at the wild brilliancy of the wide-open eyes. “I fancied you were still asleep, my lady,” she said cheerfully. “May I get you some tea now?” “If you please,” answered Lady Gwendolyn, listening curiously for the sound of her own voice, and surprised to find that it had much the same tone as usual. “And be quick, Phœbe, we are going to follow Colonel Dacre as soon as we can get away.” Phœbe forgot her manners, and actually stared. Not an hour ago Colonel Dacre had told her that Lady Gwendolyn would remain in Paris until he came back to fetch her, and had bade Phœbe be specially watchful and attentive. Phœbe had promised readily, being much attached to her mistress, and on the strength of this recommendation she ventured to say: “Surely you won’t travel alone, my lady, in your state of health? Colonel Dacre said he should be returning in a few days.” “He will not be able,” replied Lady Gwendolyn coldly. “And I dislike being in a hotel without him. How soon can you get ready?” “Not before evening, my lady, I am afraid.” “Very well, then, we must travel in the night.” “Oh! but my lady, it would kill you.” “Nonsense! I am much stronger than you think, and with a carriage to ourselves I shall be able to sleep the whole way. Anyhow, I mean to go, so pray get on as fast as you can. If you are not ready, I shall be forced to leave you behind.” This threat had the desired effect. Phœbe began to bustle about her valiantly, and soon made visible progress. But in the middle of her packing, she suddenly appeared in the salon. “You forgot to tell me, my lady, what I was to do with Colonel Dacre’s things.” “The same as you do with mine, put them into the boxes.” “Very well, my lady,” answered Phœbe, and went back to her work.