When Mme. de Vigny had arrived at this decision, she tried to calm herself, but it was a difficult task. All day she raved against Providence and the treachery of the man she had trusted in, but, when the evening came, she arrayed herself in her most becoming costume to meet the Senator. She had made up her mind by that time. She had refused him simply on account of her fatal passion for Lord Francis Onslow, but that was over now--quenched as effectually as though it had never been--and she was determined not to let the colonel’s dollars slip through her fingers a second time. For many reasons, too, America would suit her better than England. How could she have been such a fool as to think of giving it up for a foolish love dream? She looked more than handsome--she looked bewitchingly seductive as she advanced with a soft, luminous gaze to meet Clutterbuck, and asked his pardon for the trouble she had given him. “But something has occurred since last night, my dear friend,” she said, “that makes it necessary for me to take a short sea voyage. My doctor is rather alarmed about my health, and insists on my obedience. So, as I have always had a supreme longing to visit your delightful country, I have decided to go to America for the autumn, and want you to tell me the best means of getting there. You must know so much,” she concluded, as she slipped her arm confidingly through his. “Ah! Mrs. der Vin-yay!” exclaimed the colonel, patting her little hand, “why can’t you make up your mind to let me take you there? You should travel like a queen, Loo-cill, and there’s a house waiting for you in New York City that might satisfy an empress. Say the word, Mrs. der Vin-yay, say the word, and you’ll make me the happiest man in the United States.” “But there is an obstacle to our marriage,” she whispered, “perhaps an insuperable one. Had it not been so, I should have said ‘yes,’ last night.” “Dollars can overcome all obstacles,” replied the colonel. “What is it? I guess it’ll make no difference between us.” “I have a little nephew, the orphan child of an only sister, now deceased, and I will marry no man who asks me to leave him behind.” “That man won’t be myself, Mrs. der Vin-yay. Bring him along, by all means. There’s room in the States for another boy or two, and I’ll do by him as if he were my own.” “Oh! you are too good, _too_ good,” exclaimed Lucille fervently, as she pressed his hand.