She returned home considerably saddened by what she had seen, but in three days she was to accompany her husband to India, and in the bustle of preparation, and the joy of knowing that she was not to be separated from him again, her heart was comforted and at peace. Never once during that time did she give one thought to Harriet Brandt. Miss Wynward had hardly mentioned her name, and no one seemed to know where she had gone. The girl had passed out of their lives altogether. Margaret only regretted one thing in leaving England--that she had not seen Anthony Pennell again. Colonel Pullen had called twice at his chambers, but had each time found him from home. Margaret wanted to put in a good word for the Baroness with him. She thought perhaps that he might see her, after a while, and speak a few words of comfort to her. But she was obliged to be content with writing her wishes in a farewell letter. She little knew how hardened Anthony Pennell felt, at that moment, against anyone who had treated the woman he loved in so harsh a manner. Harriet Brandt spent the time, after her lover had left her to think over and decide upon their mutual fate, in walking up and down the room. She was like a restless animal; she could not stay two moments in the same place. Even when night fell, and the inhabitants of the Langham Hotel had retired to rest, she still kept pacing up and down the room, without thinking of undressing herself or seeking repose, whilst her conscience wrestled in warfare with her inclinations. Her thoughts took her far, far back to the earliest remembrance of which her mind was capable. She thought of her hard, unfeeling, indifferent father--of her gross, flabby, sensual mother--and shuddered at the remembrance! What had _she_ done?--she said to herself--wherein had _she_ sinned, that she should have been cursed with such progenitors? How had they _dared_ to bring her into the world, an innocent yet hapless child of sin--the inheritor of their evil propensities--of their lust, their cruelty, their sensuality, their gluttony--and worst of all, the fatal heritage that made her a terror and a curse to her fellow-creatures? How dared they? _How dared they?_ Why had God’s vengeance not fallen upon them before they had completed their cruel work, or having accomplished it, why did He not let her perish with them--so that the awful power with which they had imbued her, might have been prevented from harming others? Harriet thought of little Caroline; of her two nurses; of Sister Theodosia--of Mrs. Pullen’s baby; of Bobby Bates; until she felt as though she should go mad. No! no! she would never bring that curse upon her Beloved; he must go far away, he must never see her again, or else she would destroy herself in order that he might escape!