gning himself her devoted husband "Arondelle," were in the handwriting
of the Duke of Hereward! She could have sworn to that handwriting,
under any circumstances.

And the photograph shown as the likeness of Rose Cameron's husband, was a
duplicate of one in her own possession, given her by the duke himself.

And, above all, the certificate of marriage between them, signed by the
officiating clergyman and witnessed by the officers of the church, was
unquestionably genuine, regular, and legal!

No! there was not one merciful doubt to found a hope of his innocence
upon! It was amazing, stupefying, annihilating, but it was true. Her idol
was a fiend, glorious in personal beauty, diabolical in spirit, as the
fallen archangel Lucifer, Son of the Morning!

He was deeply, atrociously, insanely guilty!

Yes, insanely! for how could he have acted so recklessly, as well as so
criminally, if he had not been insane? Would he not have known that swift
discovery and disgrace were sure to follow the almost open commission
of such base crimes? And if no feeling of honor or conscience could have
deterred him, would not the fear of certain consequences have done so?

_His_ insanity was _her_ only rational theory of the case! But
his supposed insanity did not vindicate him to her pure and just mind.
For he was not an insane _man_ so much as an insane devil! He had
only been mad in his recklessness, not in his crimes.

Then quickly through her storm-tossed soul passed the thought that both
sacred and profane history recorded instances of crimes committed by
righteous and honorable men. Amazing truth! She remembered the piety and
the _sin_ of David, when he stole the wife of Uriah, and betrayed
that loyal servant and brave soldier to a treacherous and bloody death!
She remembered the loyalty and the _treason_ of that chivalrous
young Scottish prince who headed a fratricidal rebellion, in which his
father and his king was slain, and who, as James IV., lived a life of
remorse and penance, until, in his turn, he was slain on the fatal field
of Flodden. She thought of these, and other instances, in which it might
seem as if an angel and a devil lived together, animating one man's body.
This would, of course, produce inconsistency of conduct, insanity of
mind.

But among all the harrowing thoughts that hurried through her tortured
mind, one feeling was predominant--the necessity of instant flight. There
was no other cause for her to pursu