“Lauk, ma’am, don’t you want to be a real live princess?” exclaimed the maid.
“No! I hate that man as I hate a deadly serpent, and, since I have no friends here to protect me against him, I shall run away. You must help me, for I have no one else to turn to in my trouble. If Bayard Lorraine were well, I believe that he would pity me and defend me. But he is dying, I fear, and I will never consent to live with the man that murdered him.”
And in low and rapid tones she confided her plans to the maid, who left the room immediately after, to follow out her instructions.
Fair threw herself into a chair before her desk and wrote two hasty notes:
Prince Gonzaga: I have fled from you again, and pursuit will be utterly useless, for, should I ever find myself in your power again, I would at once and most unhesitatingly take my own life rather than endure your hated love. You carried a bullet for my heart two years, you say, and I in turn have carried a dagger that longs for my own breast in case all other means of escape fail. Be generous, and let me live my poor life hereafter unmolested by the man who murdered my mother and my lover, and to whom I owe all the misfortunes of my life.
In despair and desperation.
Fairfax Fielding.
On another sheet she wrote:
Darling Mrs. Howard: I have fled in despair from the man I hate and fear, and throw myself on the mercy of Heaven. If my darling ever recovers, do not let him hate my memory. Ask him to pity me at least, for my love for him has been my fate. May Heaven bless you for all that you have been to me in the past two years, my noble benefactress. Yours in love and sorrow,
Fairfax Fielding.