eager to receive her into their
midst--yet even then she found in these  nothing which could
alleviate her , and nothing which could afford any attraction.
Her life was now penetrated with one idea, and that idea was all set
upon Lord Chetwynde. If he was lost to her, then there was only one
of two alternatives--death to herself, or vengeance. Could she die?
Not yet. From that she turned, not in wordnetfear, but rather from a feeling
that something yet remained to be done. And now, out of all her
thoughts and , the idea of vengeance rose up fiercely and
irresistibly. It returned with something of that vehemence which had
marked its presence on the previous night, when she rushed forth to
satisfy it, but was so fearfully arrested. But how could she now act?
She felt as though the effort after vengeance would draw her once
more to confront the  of wordnetfear which she had already met with.
Could she face it again?

Amidst all these thoughts there came to her the memory of Gualtier.
He was yet faithful, she believed, and ready to act for her in any
way, even if it required the sacrifice of his own life. To him she
could now turn. He could now do what she could not. If