Diana's brain was in a whirl.
Deep-seated, poignant grief for the loss of one whom she had loved with all the passion her impetuous nature was capable of, made the thought and hope of revenge grow stronger and stronger.
Vengeance! aye, and a terrible one was what her soul craved.
Let once the deadly blow be stricken, and what matter then even if she fell into the hands of the authorities? What matter even if her life was pronounced a forfeit to the law? for life now had little charm for her.
As the sun rose, she sat down a little way out of the road and tried to form some connected plan for carrying out her purpose.
But no! her brain was too confused for deep thought, and after a brief interval she resolved to act upon no plan whatever, but simply do as the course of events might dictate.
At about the hour when she thought the inhabitants of the town would begin to stir, Diana walked into the place.
She knew the residence of the Harkaways well, but scarcely glanced at it as she passed and proceeded to a little house not far from it, where, according to an inscription over the door, one might obtain food, drink and lodging.
Entering this place, Diana made a slender meal, and then, telling the ancient dame who kept the house that she was fatigued, demanded to be shown where she could repose for an hour or two.
The old woman ushered her into a small, meanly-furnished apartment at the front of the house.