She awoke to renewed suffering, and spent wretched hours in forming a thousand futile plans of revenge. Scarcely having tasted food since Percy's departure, she felt her strength leaving her. And with her strength, went her anger, resentment and pride. During the long sleepless night, of the second day, the desire to see Percy again overmastered every other feeling. The intensity of her love seemed to increase, as her physical vigor lessened. The knowledge that, no matter how she destroyed his happiness, or ruined his hopes in life, she must still love him, and live without him, bore down upon her heart like a burning weight, and put to flight all desire for revenge. The one thing, the only thing which made the future worth living, was a reconciliation with Percy. She rose and sat by her window in the chill, gray dawn. "He must come back to me, he must," she whispered, "_at any cost_! I have given up the whole world for his love, for his companionship. Even if his love has been given to another, he must still give me his companionship. I will see him--I will send for him to-day, and tell him so." A strange idea had presented itself to her feverish, suffering heart. An idea born of her wild love and her crushed and ruined pride. In the silent watches of the night, the thought had come to her, that even if Percy made Helena his wife, he might still give her (his comrade, _his_ long-time confidant and friend)--his occasional affectionate companionship. If she submitted quietly and passively to his marriage, he might not wholly cast her off. She believed that society was full of men, respectable citizens in the eyes of the world--who retained their intimate lady friends after marriage. And she knew that the United States Government permitted a large and increasing colony to exist, where men retained any number of wives. Surely, if any woman on earth had the right to be so retained, it was she. And Percy would see it so--and he would not cast her off. She could scarcely wait for the day to advance, to send for him and lay the plan before him. She had not the faintest comprehension of the mighty magnitude or the exalted nature of the love which had sprung to life in Percy's heart for Helena. She believed it to be the passing fancy of the hour--a sudden passion of the senses. She remembered the subtle magnetism which Helena possessed in days of old--a peculiar power of drawing people to her--of attracting them and winning their confidence with no seeming effort of her own. She remembered how popular she was in Madame Scranton's Academy--and in those days she had believed it to be the mesmerism of her eyes, that won the hearts of her companions. Percy was, no doubt, affected by this mysterious influence which fascinated every one who lingered long in Helena's presence. But it would pass away--and his love for her, his ideal mate and comrade, would burn again with greater lustre, if she waited patiently.