Under the great tree she lay in an exhausted condition, thinking of her failure to conciliate Pethram, of the past with all its follies, of the present with its pain, and the future which looked so hopeless and dreary. It was all over. She had staked everything on the casting of a die, and lost. Her husband had driven her away from the house, from her child, and there was nothing left for her to do but to return to London with Ferrari and marry him at once. Never again would she live with her child. She might see her--yes; but without being seen--for she knew that if she spoke again to Kaituna everything would be revealed by Rupert Pethram. To destroy that beautiful memory of, motherhood, which was the chief treasure of Kaituna's life--to show herself in her true colours as a fallen and wretched woman--no, she could not do that; better exile, better wretchedness, better death than the terrible truth. With a groan she sat up among the soft grass, her hands lying idly on her lap, her wild face raised to the lonely sky. Yes, lonely, for above there was nothing but clouds, black heavy clouds, as gloomy as her own future. Oh, God! was there no hope? Was there---- Stay! the clouds part, rolling heavily to the westward, revealing a glimpse of dark blue sky, and set therein like a diamond, the glimmer of a star. Hope! yes, it was a sign of hope! a sign of promise! a sign of comfort? She thought she would go back to Ferrari and see if he could suggest any plan by which she could turn the tables on her husband; so brushing the dead leaves off her dress, she threw the lace kerchief she wore round her neck over her head, after the fashion of a mantilla, and walked rapidly down the avenue towards Deswarth. The rapid motion of walking seemed to restore her nerve and with such restoration she regained again the fierceness of her savage spirit. The moment of softness was past, the good angel who had comforted her with the star of hope fled away in terror, and over her head the angel of evil, who had been her constant companion for so many years, now spread his sable wings. He had ordered her away. He had parted her from her child. This man--her husband that used to be, who had ruined her life by his cruel words and studied neglect. The blame of her sin rested on his shoulders, and she had suffered in the eyes of the world. Now once more he triumphed, and while he was resting, honoured and respected in his own house, she was flying through the night like a guilty creature. "Oh!" muttered Mrs. Belswin between her clenched teeth, "if I was a man I'd kill him. But I can do nothing! I can do nothing. Yet I don't know. If I can persuade that cowardly Ferrari, or Belk. Belk would do anything for me. What is to be done must be done to-night--to-morrow it will be too late. Which way am I to turn?" She paused a moment; pressed her hands on her beating heart, then suddenly made up her mind. "I will see Ferrari--first."