She was not one to flinch from the course of action she had marked out for herself, nor from the consequences of that course; but she shuddered even in the heat, as she thought what her life would be when her vengeance was taken.
"He will never forgive me," she said, "he will look upon me as the wickedest of women. It does not matter; he should not have exasperated me by slighting me."
Then the coppery haze seemed to gather itself together--great purple masses of clouds piled themselves in the sky, a lurid light overspread the heavens, the dense oppressive silence was broken by a distant peal of thunder, great rain-drops fell--fierce, heavy drops. The trees seemed to stretch out their leaves to drink in the moisture, the parched flowers welcomed the downpour; and still the Duchess of Hazlewood stood out on the terrace, so deeply engrossed in her thoughts that she never heeded the rain.
Madaline hastened out to her with a shawl.
"Dear duchess," she cried, "it is raining; and you are so absorbed in thought that you do not notice it."
She laughed a strange, weird laugh, and raised her beautiful face with its expression of gloom.
"I did not notice it, Madaline," she said; "but there is no need for anxiety about me," she added, proudly.
They re-entered the house together. Madaline believed that the duchess was thinking of and grieving over the departure of the duke. Lady Peters thought the same. They both did their best to comfort her--to amuse her and distract her thoughts. But the absent expression did not die from her dark eyes. When they had talked to her some little time she took up the "Lady of Lyons."
"How much you admire that play," said Madaline; "I see you reading it so often."
"I have a fancy for it," returned the duchess; "it suits my taste. And I admire the language very much."