"By my woman's wit," she answers, curtly and decisively.
"Then, perhaps, you can find your way out in the same manner," the baronet rejoins, sarcastically.
"Perhaps so, but I think, on the whole, I should prefer a guide," she answers, with cool insolence.
"I am at your service, madam," Colonel Lockhart says, obeying a pleading look from Lady Vera, and preceding her to the door, followed by Sir Harry.
In a moment more, without word or backward glance, the wicked woman sweeps from the room.
Then Vera, broken down by the fierce strain upon her feelings, breaks down utterly, and weeps on Lady Clive's breast until she is thoroughly exhausted.
"You see it is all for the best to go away to-morrow," she has said to her friend. "Even my life is not safe here against the machinations of my relentless enemies."
[CHAPTER XXXIII.]
It is very lovely down in the country at Fairvale Park in the golden summer weather. A pang goes through Lady Vera's heart as she recalls Sir Harry Clive's warning, and thinks of losing this grand, picturesque place, the only true home she has ever known. Her sweetest, tenderest memories of her father are twined around the spot.