"I must go to-morrow night," she said to herself. "I shall see Adrian just once again, and then I must bid him farewell forever. Oh, my love, my love!" She flung herself upon the floor, and wept until the morning dawned and the summer sun peeped into the room. CHAPTER XVIII. She was roused from her heavy trance of exhaustion and grief by a knock at her door. It was one of the housemaids bearing in her hand a bouquet of beautiful flowers--"From Mr. Darcy." The girl looked in wonder at her young lady's pale face and heavy eyes. "You do not seem well this morning, miss," she said. "I have not slept," returned Hyacinth. But the few words put her on her guard. She bathed her face, rearranged her hair, and changed her dress, though the weight of misery lay like a weight of lead upon her. Then Lady Vaughan, thinking that she was tired from the emotion and shock of the previous evening, sent word that Miss Vaughan had better remain in her own room for a few hours. The hapless girl was thankful for the respite. She looked so terribly ill, so ghastly pale, that, when Pincott brought her breakfast, she started in alarm. "There is nothing the matter," said Hyacinth, "but that I did not sleep well." Pincott went away only half satisfied. Hyacinth managed to obtain a railway guide. A train would leave Bergheim at ten that night, and reach Ostend on the following morning before the boat started. She would have time to secure a passage and cross. She could take the mail train for Dover, and reach Loadstone so as to be in time for the trial. At ten that night she must go. She had run away from home once before. Then she had been blinded, tempted and persuaded--then she had believed herself going straight into the fairyland of love and happiness; but now it was all changed. She was running away once more; but this time she was leaving all the hope, all the happiness of her life behind her. It was well for her that the dull stupor of exhaustion fell over her, or the pain she was suffering must have killed her. She did not know how the time passed. It was like one long, cruel dream of anguish, until the summons came for luncheon. Then she went down stairs. Adrian was not there--that was some consolation. She looked quickly around the room. "How could I look on his face and live, knowing that I shall see it no more?" she said to herself. It was like a horrible travesty--the movements of the servants, the changing of the dishes, Lady Vaughan's anxiety about the cold chicken, Sir Arthur's complaint about the wine, while her heart was breaking, and Claude lay in the prison from which she must free him. Lady Vaughan was very kind to her. She expressed great concern at seeing her look so ill--tried to induce her to eat some grapes--told her that Adrian was coming to dinner, and would bring some friends with him; then said a few words about Claude, pitied his mother, yet blamed her for not bringing him up better, and the ordeal was over.