And yet he shrank with vague terror at the chance of being again exposed to the danger of being obliged to look into those soft, crystal-bright eyes, of glancing even for a moment into those untroubled depths, where lay mirrored the most perfect purity, loyalty, and truth. CHAPTER XIV. FRANK AMBERLEY’S EXULTATION. Lucia Guiscardini was determined not to come face to face again with Paul Desfrayne if she could help it. The evening of the day she saw him by accident at the Zoological Gardens, she was obliged to appear at the opera. Never, perhaps, had she performed more resplendently, yet all the time she was meditating how to escape a second interview. She settled the matter after her own fashion. Ordering her maid to pack up a few necessary things, she started by the midnight train for Paris. “I hate him,” she said to herself, as she sank back into a dim corner in the first-class carriage as it rattled away from Charing Cross; “and I would kill him if I could, and if I thought nobody could find it out. What a weak fool I must have been! But I was in too great a hurry to secure what I rashly imagined to be a splendid prize. And to think that I might be a princess if I were not tied by this hateful bond! Women have crushed others before for less cause.” The consequence was, that when Paul Desfrayne called at the house so strangely contiguous to that in which his mother dwelt, he was informed that madam was not in town. “Not in town?” he repeated, with amazement. Further inquiries elicited that madam had gone away rather suddenly--gone to Paris, the man believed, and had not left word when she might return. With a sense of almost relief, Paul turned away. Just then he was glad of a reprieve, for he felt little equal to much more violent emotion. He was infinitely relieved, too, by finding that Miss Turquand’s presence had not been considered necessary at the business meeting in Alderman’s Lane. The young lady had been taken down to the country, one of the partners informed him, by Lady Quaintree, the day before, to visit the mansion and grounds left by the testator. “As you are aware, Captain Desfrayne, having read the will, all the landed estates and house property have been left solely for the use and benefit of Miss Turquand,” remarked Mr. Salmon, a tall, large, white-headed gentleman, of a jovial deportment and cheerful manners. Captain Desfrayne bowed. He had indeed seen as much in the terrible document; but, being preoccupied by the vexatious clauses respecting the planned union between himself and Lois Turquand, had not paid much heed to the minor details. “The principal country house is, I understand, a very handsome and substantial place,” Mr. Salmon continued, jingling his seals musically. “I think it is situated in Gloucestershire,” he added, looking at Frank Amberley. “Flore Hall, Holston, some miles from Gloucester,” Frank Amberley replied.