Then quickly through her storm-tossed soul passed the thought that both sacred and profane history recorded instances of crimes committed by righteous and honorable men.  Amazing truth!  She remembered the piety and the sin of David, when he stole the wife of Uriah, and betrayed that loyal servant and brave soldier to a treacherous and bloody death!  She remembered the loyalty and the treason of that chivalrous young Scottish prince who headed a fratricidal rebellion, in which his father and his king was slain, and who, as James IV., lived a life of remorse and penance, until, in his turn, he was slain on the fatal field of Flodden.  She thought of these, and other instances, in which it might seem as if an angel and a devil lived together, animating one man’s body.  This would, of course, produce inconsistency of conduct, insanity of mind.

But among all the harrowing thoughts that hurried through her tortured mind, one feeling was predominant—­the necessity of instant flight.  There was no other cause for her to pursue.  The bridal train was awaiting her down stairs.  Soon they would send to summon her again.  How could she meet them?  What could she say to them?  How could she ever look upon the face of the Duke of Hereward and live?

She must fly at once.  No, there was no time to write a note and leave it pinned on her dressing-table cushion.  Besides, what could she say in her note?  Nothing; or nothing that she would say.

She must go and make no sign.  She forced herself to rise from the floor and commence hurried preparations for immediate flight.

In all the tumult of her soul, some intuition guided her through her hasty arrangements to take the most effectual means to elude pursuit and baffle discovery.

She took off her handsome mourning dress of black silk and crape that she had put on to travel in, and she packed it, with the black felt hat, vail, sack and gloves that belonged to the suit, in one of her trunks, which she carefully locked.

Then from some receptacle of her left-off colored dresses, she selected a dark-gray silk suit, with sack, hat, vail and gloves to match.  And in that she dressed herself.

Then she reflected.

“They will think that I went away in my mourning dress, which they will miss.  If they describe me, they will describe a lady in deep mourning.  If any one comes in pursuit, they will look for a young woman in black, and pass me by, because I shall wear gray and keep my vail down.”

Then she concealed in her bosom all the cash she had in hand, being about fifteen hundred pounds in Bank of England notes, which she had previously drawn out for her own private uses during her bridal tour.  This she thought would go far to meet the unknown expenses of her future.  She also took her diamonds.  She might have to sell them, she thought, for support.

Then, when she was quite ready, dressed in the dark gray suit, sack, hat, vail and gloves, and with a small valise in her hand, she went into her bath-room, and to the back door at the head of the private stairs leading down to the little garden of roses that was her own favorite bower.