"I would rather," she said to herself, "die ten thousand deaths. I have wronged you enough, my love--I will wrong you no more." Perhaps her brain was in some degree weakened by the continued shocks and by bitter suffering, but there came to her in that hour, the crisis of her life, no idea but of flight--anyhow, anywhere--flight where those cruel words could not follow her--flight were it even into the cold arms of death. She would go to Dr. Chalmers and ask him at once to take her abroad, to guide her to some place where those who persecuted her could never reach her more. She did not stop to think; every footstep made her tremble, every sound threw her into a paroxysm of fear. What if they should be coming to confront her now with Lord Chandon? "I cannot see him," she said; "death rather than that!" At last she could bear the suspense no longer. What mattered the rain, the wind, the blinding tempest to her? Out of the house she would be safe; in the house danger greater than death threatened her--danger she could not, would not, dared not face. She did not stop to think; she did not even go to the bedside of the little one she loved so dearly to kiss her for the last time; a wild, half-mad frenzy had seized upon her. She must go, for her persecutors were close upon her, were hunting her down. She must go, or her doom was sealed. She put on her cloak and hat, and went down the staircase and out by one of the side doors, unseen, unnoticed. The wind almost blinded her, the rain beat fast and heavy upon her; but the darkness, the storm, the leaden sky, the wailing wind, seemed preferable to what lay before her. CHAPTER XXXVII. It appeared to Adrian, Lord Chandon, on the morning following, that there was some unusual confusion in the house. Lady Dartelle was late in coming down to breakfast. When breakfast was over, she asked to speak with Lord Chandon alone, and he followed her to the library. "My lord," she began, "pray tell me, do you know anything of the whereabouts of this unfortunate girl? I had perhaps better explain to you that much scandal has been caused in my household by the fact that my governess met your valet on the sands, and was seen talking to him for more than an hour. One of my daughters also saw him give Miss Holte a note. Now, as we could not imagine her capable of any correspondence with a servant it was only natural to suppose that he was acting for his master. I sent for Miss Holte and spoke to her, and she evinced the utmost confusion, and terrible agitation. She did not deny that she was acquainted with you. I told her I should consider it my duty to speak to you; this morning we find she must have left the house last night. Had I not reason to seek an explanation, Lord Chandon?" "You had, indeed," he replied, "but I can throw no light on the mystery. Here is Gustave; perhaps he can enlighten us." "Gustave," asked Lord Chandon, "for whom have you been carrying notes to Lady Dartelle's governess?"