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Rh "He was a brave, good man," she said; "noble, unselfish to the last. His parting words were full of love and generosity. 'You will marry again,' he said. 'I have left no fetter upon your life. My latest prayer will be for your happiness.'"

"I wish we had both been worthier of his regard," said Bothwell gloomily.

He wondered at the supreme egotism of a nature which could be so little moved by this good man's death.

"That is past wishing now. Nothing that you or I can do will cancel the past. No, Bothwell," she said, looking at him steadily, "nothing will cancel the past."

They were at the hotel by this time. Bothwell ordered tea, then went out to the stables to order the carriage. He left Lady Valeria to take her tea in mournful solitude, while he walked up and down in front of the hotel, waiting to hand her into her carriage. He was indignant with her for the unwomanly step she had taken. He wondered that he could ever have cared for such a woman, a woman who could assume the dignity of an empress, and yet stoop to follies at which a dressmaker's apprentice might have hesitated; a creature of caprice and impulse, governed by no higher law than her own whim.

He walked up and down in the autumn darkness, listening to the murmur of the waves, seeing the stars shine out, pale and far apart in the calm gray, glancing now and then at the window of the sitting-room, where Lady Valeria was seated in the glow of the fire, a tall slim figure in densest black.

She came out after the carriage had been waiting some time.

"O, you are there, are you?" she exclaimed, seeing Bothwell by the hotel-door. "I thought you had gone."

"I waited to hand you to your carriage."

"You are vastly polite. I hardly expected so much attention."

"There is a train from Bodmin Road a few minutes after nine. You will be in time for it if your coachman drives pretty fast."

"The road is not the safest in the world for fast driving, but you can tell him to catch the train, if you please. Good-night."

Bothwell told the coachman not to waste his time when he had a level road; and as the habit of Cornish coachmen is to spring their horses up-hill and canter them gaily down-hill, there was every chance that Lady Valeria would be in time.

The carriage drove off, and Bothwell went back to his lodgings, wondering whether he had seen the last of the lady. Her coming had introduced a new element of doubt and fear into his mind. A woman capable of such foolishness might stop at no desperate act. All the serenity of Bothwell's sky had become clouded over.