"As confident as I am of my own existence. Indeed, no mistake was possible."
Gualtier looked deeply troubled.
"It looks bad," said he; "but, after all, there are ways of accounting for it. She may have heard that Lord Chetwynde intended to go to Italy and to Florence--for it was quite possible that he mentioned it to her at the Castle--and when she went away she may have intended to come here in search of him. I dare say she went to London first, and found out from his solicitors where he had gone. There isn't the slightest probability, at any rate, that he can have met with her. If he had met with her, you would have known it yourself soon enough. She would have been here to see his wife, with the same affectionate solicitude which she showed once before--which you told me of. No. Rest assured Lord Chetwynde knows nothing of her presence here. There are others who take up all his thoughts. It seems probable, also, that she has just arrived, and there is no doubt that she is on the look-out for him. At any rate, there is one comfort. You are sure, you say, that she did not recognize you?"
"No; that was impossible; for I wore a thick veil. No one could possibly distinguish my features.
"And she can not, of course, suspect that you are here?"
"She can not have any such suspicion, unless we have been ourselves living in the dark all this time--unless she is really in league with Lord Chetwynde. And who can tell? Perhaps all this time this Chute and Mrs. Hart and Lord Chetwynde have their own designs, and are quietly weaving a net around me from which I can not escape. Who can tell? Ah! how easily I could escape--if it were not for one thing!"
"Oh, as to that, you may dismiss the idea," said Gualtier, confidently; "and as for Lord Chetwynde, you may rest assured that he does not think enough about you to take the smallest trouble one way or another."
Hilda's eyes blazed.
"He shall have cause enough to think about me yet," she cried. "I have made up my mind what I am to do next."
"What is that?"