all my theories vain. Now, since I have had
your experience, I, too, find them vain. It's the old story--the old,
old hackneyed saying," he continued, wearily--

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

A long silence followed.

"We have been warned," said Hilda at length. "The dead arise before
us," she continued, solemnly, "to thwart our plans and our purposes.
The dead wife of Lord Chetwynde comes back from beneath the sea to
prevent our undertakings, and to protect him from us."

Gualtier said nothing. In his own soul he felt the deep truth of this
remark. Both sat now for some time in silence and in solemn
meditation, while a deep gloom settled down upon them.

At last Gualtier spoke.

"It would have been far better," said he, "if you had allowed me to
complete that business. It was nearly done. The worst was over. You
should not have interfered."

Hilda made no reply. In her own heart there were now wild desires,
and already she herself had become familiar with this thought.

"It can yet be done," said Gualtier.

"But how can you do it again--after this?" said Hilda.

"You are now the one," replied Gualtier. "You have the power and the
opportunity. As for me, you know that I could not become his valet
again. The chance was once all my own, but you destroyed it. I dare
not venture before him again. It would be ruin to both of us. He
would recognize me under any disguise, and have me at once arrested.
But if you know any way in which I can be of use, or in which I can
have access to his presence, tell me, and I will gladly risk my life
to please you."

But Hilda knew of none, and had nothing to say.

"You, and you alone, have the power now," said Gualtier; "this work
must be done by you alone."

"Yes," said Hilda, after a pause. "It is true, I have the power--I
have the power," she repeated, in a tone of gloomy resolve, "and the
power shall be exercised, either on him, _or on myself_."

"On _yourself_!"

"Yes."

"Are you still thinking of such a thing as that?" asked Gualtier,
with a shudder.

"That thought," said Hilda, calmly, "has been familiar to me before,
as you very well know. It is still a familiar one, and it may be
acted upon at any moment."

"Would you dare to do it?"

"Dare to do it!" repeated Hilda. "Do you ask that question of me
after what I told you at Lausanne? Did I not tell you there that what
I dared