Why, that is Bruno, the Duke of Champdoce's dog," her husband
would have thought no more about the matter; but her own folly had made
much of a merely trivial incident.

Ever since that fatal walk the Viscount's manner appeared to have
changed, and more than once Diana fancied that she caught a look of
suspicion in his eyes. How could she best manage to make him forget this
unlucky event? She saw that for the rest of her life she must affect a
terror of dogs; and, for the future, whenever she saw one, she uttered
a little cry of alarm, and insisted upon all Octave's being chained
up. But for all this she lived in a perfect atmosphere of suspicion and
anxiety, while the very ground upon which she walked seemed to have been
mined beneath her feet. Her sole wish now was to fly from Mussidan, and
leave Bevron and its environs, she cared not for what spot. It has been
first arranged that immediately after the marriage they should make a
short tour; but in spite of this, they still lingered at Mussidan; and
all that Diana could do was to keep this previous determination before
her husband, without making any direct attack.

The blow came at last, and was more unexpected and terrible than she
had anticipated. On the afternoon of the 26th of October, as Diana was
gazing from her window, an excited crowd rushed into the courtyard of
the Chateau, followed by four men bearing a litter covered with a sheet,
under which could be distinguished the rigid limbs of a dead body, while
a cruel crimson stain upon one side of the white covering too plainly
showed that some one had met with a violent death.

The hideous sight froze Diana with terror, and it was impossible for her
to leave the window or quit the object on the litter, which seemed to
have a terrible fascination for her. That very morning her husband,
accompanied by his friend the Baron de Clinchain, Montlouis, and a
servant named Ludovic, had gone out for a day's shooting. It was evident
that something had happened to one of the party; which of them could
it be? The doubt was not of very long duration; for at that moment her
husband entered the courtyard, supported by M. de Clinchain and Ludovic.
His face was deadly pale, and he seemed scarcely able to drag one leg
after the other. The dead man therefore must be Montlouis. She need
no longer plot and scheme for the dismissal of the secretary, for his
tongue had been silenced for ever.

A ray of comfort dawned in Diana's hea