usedly together.

She was in delirium.

CHAPTER LV.

SETTING A TRAP.

Gualtier was true to his word. On the evening of the day when he had
that interview with Hilda he left the hotel, and Lausanne also, and
set out for England. On the way he had much to think of, and his
thoughts were not at all pleasant. This frenzy of Hilda's had taken
him by complete surprise, and her utter recklessness of life, or all
the things most desirable in life, were things on which he had never
counted. Her dark resolve also which she had announced to him, the
coolness with which she listened to his menaces, and the stern way in
which she turned on him with menaces of her own, showed him plainly
that, for the present at least, she was beyond his reach, and nothing
which he might do could in any way affect her. Only one thing gave
him hope, and that was the utter madness and impossibility of her
design. He did not know what might have passed between her and Lord
Chetwynde before, but he conjectured that she had been treated with
insult great enough to inspire her with a thirst for vengeance. He
now hoped that Lord Chetwynde, if he did recover, would regard her as
before. He was not a man to change; his mind had been deeply
imbittered against the woman whom he believed his wife, and recovery
of sense would not lessen that bitterness. So Gualtier thought, and
tried to believe, yet in his thoughts he also considered the
possibility of a reconciliation. And, if such a thing could take
place, then his mind was fully made up what to do. He would trample
out all feelings of tenderness, and sacrifice love to full and
complete vengeance. That reconciliation should be made short-lived,
and should end in utter ruin to Hilda, even if he himself descended
into the same abyss with her.

Thoughts like these occupied his mind until he reached London. Then
he drove to the Strand Hotel, and took two front-rooms on the second
story looking out upon the street, commanding a view of the dense
crowd that always went thronging by.

Here, on the evening of his arrival, his thoughts turned to his old
lodging-house, and to those numerous articles of value which he had
left there. He had once made up his mind to let them go, and never
seek to regain possession of them. He was conscious that to do so
would be to endanger his safety, and perhaps to put a watchful
pursuer once more on his track. Yet there was something in the
thought which was attractiv