"I will tell you what Lady Chetwynde would have to say. She would tell how she once employed you in England; how you suffered some slight from her; how you were dismissed from her service. That then you went to London, and engaged yourself as valet to Lord Chetwynde, by whom you were not known; that, out of vengeance, you determined to ruin him. That Lady Chetwynde Was anxious about her husband, and, hearing of his illness, followed him from place to place; that, owing to her intense anxiety, she broke down and nearly died; that she finally reached this place to find her villainous servant--the one whom she had dismissed--acting as her husband's valet. That she turned him off on the spot, whereupon he went to the authorities, and lodged some malicious and insane charges against her. But Lady Chetwynde would have more than this to say. She could show _certain vials_, which are no doubt in these rooms, to a doctor; and he could analyze their contents; and he could tell to the court what it was that had caused this mysterious disease to one who had always before been so healthy. And where do you think your charge would be in the face of Lady Chetwynde's story; in the face of the evidence of the vials and the doctor's analysis?"
Hilda paused and regarded Gualtier with cold contempt. Gualtier felt the terrible truth of all that she had said. He saw that here in Lausanne he had no chance. If he wished for vengeance he would have to delay it. And yet he did not wish for any vengeance on her. She had for the present eluded his grasp. In spite of his assertion of power over her--in spite of the coercion by which he had once extorted a promise from her--he was, after all, full of that same all-absorbing love and idolizing affection for her which had made him for so many years her willing slave and her blind tool. Now this sudden reassertion of her old supremacy, while it roused all his pride and stimulated his anger, excited also at the same time his admiration.
He spoke at length, and his tone was one of sadness.
"There is one other thing which is against me," said he; "my own heart. I can not do any thing against you."
"Your heart," said Hilda, "is very ready to hold you back when you see danger ahead."
Gualtier's pale face flushed.
"That's false," said he, "and you know it. Did my heart quail on that midnight sea when I was face to face with four ruffians and quelled their mutiny? You have already told me that it was a bold act."
"Well, at least you were armed, and they were not," said Hilda, with unchanged scorn.
"Enough," cried Gualtier, flushing a deeper and an angrier red. "I will argue with you no more. I will yield to you this time. I will leave the hotel and Lausanne. I will go to England. _He_ shall be under your care, and you may do what you choose.
"But remember this," he continued, warningly. "I have your promise, given to me solemnly, and that promise I will yet claim. This man may recover; but, if he does, it will only be to despise you. His abhorrence will be the only reward that you can expect for your passion and your mad self-sacrifice. But even if it were possible for him to love you--yes, to love you as you love him--even then you could not have him. For I live; and while I live you could never be his: No, never. I have your promise, and I will come between you and him to sunder you forever and to cast you down. That much, at least, I can do, and you know it.