Mrs. Marston, in her own room, reviewed the agitating scene through which she had just been so unexpectedly carried.  The tremendous suspicion which, at the first disclosure of the tableau we have described, smote the heart and brain of the poor lady with the stun of a thunderbolt, had been, indeed, subsequently disturbed, and afterwards contradicted; but the shock of her first impression remained still upon her mind and heart.  She felt still through every nerve the vibrations of that maddening terror and despair which had overcome her senses for a moment.  The surprise, the shock, the horror, outlived the obliterating influence of what followed.  She was in this agitation when Mademoiselle de Barras entered her chamber, resolved with all her art to second and support the success of her prompt measures in the recent critical emergency.  She had come, she said, to bid her dear madame farewell, for she was resolved to go.  Her own room had been invaded, that insult and reproach might be heaped upon her; how utterly unmerited Mrs. Marston knew.  She had been called by every foul name which applied to the spy and the maligner; she could not bear it.  Some one had evidently been endeavoring to procure her removal, and had but too effectually succeeded.  Mademoiselle was determined to go early the next morning; nothing should prevent or retard her departure; her resolution was taken.  In this strain did mademoiselle run on, but in a subdued and melancholy tone, and weeping profusely.

The wild and ghastly suspicions which had for a moment flashed terribly upon the mind of Mrs. Marston, had faded away under the influences of reason and reflection, although, indeed, much painful excitement still remained, before Mademoiselle de Barras had visited her room.  Marston’s temper she knew but too well; it was violent, bitter, and impetuous; and though he cared little, if at all, for her, she had ever perceived that he was angrily jealous of the slightest intimacy or confidence by which any other than himself might establish an influence over her mind.  That he had learned the subject of some of her most interesting conversations with mademoiselle she could not doubt, for he had violently upbraided that young lady in her presence with having discussed it, and here now was mademoiselle herself taking refuge with her from galling affront and unjust reproach, incensed, wounded, and weeping.  The whole thing was consistent; all the circumstances bore plainly in the same direction; the evidence was conclusive; and Mrs. Marston’s thoughts and feelings respecting her fair young confidante quickly found their old level, and flowed on tranquilly and sadly in their accustomed channel.

While Mademoiselle de Barras was thus, with the persevering industry of the spider, repairing the meshes which a chance breath had shattered, she would, perhaps, have been in her turn shocked and startled, could she have glanced into Marston’s mind, and seen, in what was passing there, the real extent of her danger.