Hour by hour she had seen how, by an incomprehensible combination of fatal circumstances, the infernal circle narrowed down, within which she was wretchedly struggling, and which soon would crush her effectually.  What did they want of her?  Why did they try every thing to exasperate her to the utmost?  Did they expect some catastrophe to result from her despair?

Unfortunately, she did not examine this question carefully, too inexperienced as she was to suspect the subtle cunning of people whose wickedness would have astonished a criminal judge.  Ah, how useful one word from Daniel would have been to her at this crisis!  But, trembling with anguish for his betrothed, the unhappy man had not dared repeat to her the terrible words which had escaped M. de Brevan, in his first moment of expansion,—­

“Miss Brandon leaves the dagger and the poisoned cup to fools, as too coarse and too dangerous means to get rid of people.  She has safer means to suppress those who are in her way—­means which justice never discovers.”

Lost in sombre reflections, the poor girl was forgetting the hour, and did not notice that it had become dark already, when she heard the dinner-bell ring.  She was free not to go down; but she revolted at the idea that the Countess Sarah might think her overcome.  So she said to herself,—­

“No.  She shall never know how much I suffer!”

Ringing, then, for Clarissa, who had come back, she said,—­

“Come, quick, dress me!”

And in less than five minutes she had arranged her beautiful hair, and put on one of her most becoming dresses.  While changing her dress, she noticed the rustling of paper.

“Ah!” she said to herself, “my letter to Daniel.  I had forgotten it.”

Was it already too late to send it to M. de Brevan?  Probably it was.  But why might she not try, at least?  So she gave it to Clarissa, saying,—­

“You will take a cab, and take this letter immediately to M. de Brevan, Rue Laffitte, No. 62.  If he is out, you will leave it, telling the people to be sure to give it to him as soon as he comes in.  You can find some excuse, if they should ask you why you are going out.  Be discreet.”

She herself went down stairs, so determined to conceal her emotion, that she actually had a smile on her lips as she entered the dining-room.  The fever that devoured her gave to her features unwonted animation, and to her eyes a strange brilliancy.  Her beauty, ordinarily a little impaired, shone forth once more in amazing splendor, so as to eclipse almost that of the countess.

Even Count Ville-Handry was struck by it, and exclaimed, glancing at his young wife,—­

“Oh, oh!”

Otherwise, this was the only notice which was taken of Henrietta.  After that, no one seemed to mind her presence, except M. Elgin, whose eye softened whenever he looked at her.  But what was that to her?  Affecting a composure which she was far from possessing, she made an effort to eat, when a servant entered, and very respectfully whispered a few words in the ear of the countess.