Henry was silent; he knew not what to say, and without another word passing
between them, they drove home.

On reaching her room, Gertrude buried her face in her handkerchief and wept.
She loved Henry, and when she had heard from the lips of her companions
how their husbands had proved false, she felt that he was an exception,
and fervently thanked God that she had been so blessed.

When Gertrude retired to her bed that night, the sad scene of the day
followed her. The beauty of Isabella, with her flowing curls, and the look
of the child, so much resembling the man whom she so dearly loved,
could not be forgotten; and little Clotelle's exclamation of "Papa! papa!"
rang in her ears during the whole night.

The return of Henry at twelve o'clock did not increase her happiness.
Feeling his guilt, he had absented himself from the house since his return
from the ride.





CHAPTER XI

TO-DAY A MISTRESS, TO-MORROW A SLAVE


THE night was dark, the rain descended in torrents from the black
and overhanging clouds, and the thunder, accompanied with vivid