She paused. In that moment there were struggling within her thoughts which the doctor did not imagine. Should she be so base as to say what was in her mind, or should she not? That was the question. But rapidly she pushed aside all scruples, and in a low, stern voice she said:
"I suspect his valet."
"I thought so," said the doctor. "It could have been no other. But he must have had a motive. Can you imagine what motive there could have been?"
"I know it only too well," said Hilda, "though I did not think of this till it was too late. He was injured, or fancied himself injured, by Lord Chetwynde, and his motive was vengeance."
"And where is he now?" asked the doctor.
"He was thunder-struck by my appearance. He saw me nearly dead. He helped me up to his master's room. I charged him with his crime. He tried to falter out a denial. In vain. He was crushed beneath the overwhelming surprise. He hurried out abruptly, and has fled, I suppose forever, to some distant country. As for me, I forgot all about him, and fainted away by the bedside of my husband."
The doctor sighed heavily, and wiped a tear from his eye.
He had never known so sad a case as this.
CHAPTER LVII.
BACK TO LIFE.