and there was little that she would not have braved for the chance of
serving her father. And now all peril seemed slight in comparison with
that which awaited her in Randal's suit, backed by her father's approval.
Randal had said that Madame di Negra alone could aid her in escape from
himself. Harley had said that Madame di Negra had generous qualities;
and who but Madame di Negra would write herself a kinswoman, and sign
herself "Beatrice"?

A little before the appointed hour, she stole unobserved through the
trees, opened the little gate, and found herself in the quiet, solitary
lane. In a few minutes; a female figure came up, with a quick, light
step; and throwing aside her veil, said, with a sort of wild, suppressed
energy, "It is you! I was truly told. Beautiful! beautiful! And oh!
what youth and what bloom!"

The voice dropped mournfully; and Violante, surprised by the tone, and
blushing under the praise, remained a moment silent; then she said, with
some hesitation,

"You are, I presume, the Marchesa di Negra? And I have heard of you
enough to induce me to trust you."

"Of me! From whom?" asked Beatrice, almost fiercely. "From Mr Leslie,
and--and--"

"Go on; why falter?"

"From Lord L'Estrange."

"From no one else?"