“And do you think it a Christian act to refuse to aid me in my conscientious withdrawal from Lord Montressor?” “I take the part of law and order, my lady, and such I think the duty of every Christian.” “And I—take the part of God and—war, if need be—choose martyrdom if need be! Good-night, _most Christian minister_!” said Lady Montressor, rising to leave the room. “Good-night, my child. You are sarcastic; but I do not deserve it. You will sleep on this; and to-morrow you will think better of it and me. God bless and comfort you, my child. Good-night,” said the old man, very mildly. Estelle smiled mournfully, ironically, as she passed to the door; but while her hand rested upon the lock, her heart relented—repented—she turned back, went to the side of her venerable friend, took his aged hand, and said— “Forgive my unkind words. Trouble makes me irritable and unjust—yes! and ungrateful! For you have been very good to me; when my father and my mother forsook me, _you_ took me up; when I stood arraigned upon a criminal and degrading charge, _you_ stood at my side, sustaining me. Do you think that I can ever forget, or be thankless to you? Oh, never! no! God bless and preserve you! God love you and reward you! Good-night! _Good-night!_” she cried, and pressed his hand fervently to her heart and lips—then dropped it, turned, and hurried from the room. The good clergyman never looked upon her living face again. CHAPTER VII. THE FLIGHT OF ESTELLE. “Enough that we are parted—that there rolls, A flood of headlong fate between our souls. Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee, As hell from heaven to all eternity!”—_Moore._ “Yet! oh yet! thyself deceive not! Love may sink by slow decay! But by sudden wrench, believe not, Hearts can thus be torn away.”—_Byron._ When Lady Montressor reached her own apartment, she found her faithful attendant, Susan Copsewood, kneeling among the trunks, in the middle of the floor, busily engaged in packing them. On hearing the door opened Susan arose from her knees to receive and attend upon her mistress; but started and stood aghast on beholding the wild and haggard countenance of the lady. True, she had often seen that beauteous countenance darkened with the midnight of despair, or convulsed with a storm of passionate sorrow; and so she had no right to be amazed at any of its tempestuous changes; but she had never seen any thing like this—this half-insane, death-like look!