"Leonardo di Marioni.
"P. S.—I forgot to say that the whole of the poison, or even half a teaspoonful, would produce sudden and abrupt death. Just a pinch, administered twice, perhaps, in order to be quite secure, would be sufficient."
Enclosed in the letter was the oblong envelope he spoke of, which I carefully opened. It contained only a small quantity of pale pink powder, which emitted a faint pungent odor. I locked it up in my desk, and destroyed the letter.
All my strength had returned. I felt myself free from the madness of this overmastering love. Another passion for the moment had taken its place. The vision of that old man, wandering about the streets of Rome, with a sad, weary heart and tottering limbs out of touch with the times, a figure for a half-contemptuous pity; that is the picture which I saw steadily before me to nerve my heart and purpose, and well it succeeded.
The second bell roused me from my thoughts. I hastily rose from my chair, and attired myself in the plainest gown which I possessed. I unlocked my desk, and thrust the little packet into my pocket. Then, without jewelry or flowers, and with my hair plainly coiled upon my head, I went downstairs.
They had commenced dinner when I arrived, and Lord Lumley glanced reproachfully at me as I took my seat. From the sudden silence directly I entered, I imagined they had been talking of me, and I made my excuses with a momentary nervousness. There was something unusual in the air. It seemed to me that Lady St. Maurice was regarding me with a new and kindly interest. She said nothing, as I had dreaded she would, of my long absence from the house, and Lord St. Maurice, with a courtesy unusual even for him, rose when I entered, and motioning the butler away, himself held my chair. What did it all mean? At another time I might have wondered more, but just then there were other thoughts in my mind. Should I have an opportunity to commit my crime that night? I feared not.
I gave no one any chance for sentimental conversation during dinner time, for I talked more than usual, and in a lighter vein. I wanted nothing said which could bring back to my memory that wild scene on the cliffs, or the hours of agony which I had been through. All such things were of the past. I desired to be able to look back upon them as upon some strange night-dream—fair enough of itself, but gone with the first breath of morning. To my relief, the others, too, avoided the subject. There was nothing said about Lord Lumley's escape which even bordered upon the pathetic.
Dinner, which seemed to me to last longer than usual, came to an end at last. I had planned to make some excuse to the Countess, and leave the drawing-room before Lord Lumley could follow, but, as I had half expected that he might, Lord Lumley accompanied us there without waiting to smoke. To my surprise, Lady St. Maurice, before I could frame an excuse to her for my own departure, left us alone. Lord Lumley held the door open for her, and it seemed to me that a meaning glance passed between them. It was beyond my understanding. I could only see that my plans were frustrated, and that I must prepare for another struggle.
He shut the door carefully, and then came back and stood over me. I looked at him calmly. How could he read the agony in my heart.