To remain under that roof another night, when she knew the horrible truth, was profanation. For some days she had hoped and prayed that her enemy had lied when he claimed her as his lawful wife; and so, doubting and fearing, avoiding Forster’s society on the plea of indisposition, she had delayed and waited. Now, however, delay was impossible. That her enemy meant mischief was proved by the fact that he had already breathed these slanders into the air. She could not stay to face the anger of the man she loved, or, worst of all, his sorrow. She would go at once, without another hour’s delay. Her resolve once made, its very intensity sustained her. She dried her eyes, and quietly prepared to go forth on foot. At first she thought of taking with her a portion of her wardrobe, and a few simple ornaments which Forster had given her; but this thought was soon abandoned. Keeping on the dress she wore, a plain robe of dark material, she drew on a dark bonnet, and threw round her shoulders a shawl, the commonest thing of the kind she possessed, but costly nevertheless. In her impulsive haste she forgot the bracelets upon her hands. She listened till all was still. Then she stole softly downstairs. In the hall she hesitated. Should she leave him no message; no intimation of her resolve? If she disappeared without a word of explanation there would be a scandal, a hue and cry. Besides, it would be so cruel. No; she could not go away without leaving a few written words. She passed along the lobby into the little study, and sitting down in Forster’s chair tried to scribble some hurried lines. As she did so her tears began to fall. She was sitting thus, in deep agitation, when a footman entered to attend to the fire, and, after standing amazed for a moment at the sight of his mistress, retired with a murmur of apology. This intrusion brought her back to herself. After writing and destroying several wild effusions, she wrote the following:-- _‘I am going away. Do not follow me or try to find me; by the time you receive this I shall perhaps have done with this world for ever. Try to forgive me. Indeed, indeed, I am grateful to you for all your goodness, but when you learn the truth you will see that I could not stay. Kiss your little boy for me. God bless him and you! ‘Madeline.’_ The paper was wet with tears, but she folded it up and inclosed it in an envelope, which she addressed and left upon the study table. Then, shuddering, she rose and left the room, drawing down her thick veil over her face. In the lobby she met the same servant who had surprised her in the study. ‘I am going out,’ she said, in reply to his amazed stare. ‘If your master returns----’ ‘Beg pardon, ma’am,’ exclaimed the man, ‘but you can’t think of it. It’s pouring wet.’ ‘I cannot help that. It is very important.’