Having read the letter through once Lady Constantine flung it aside with
an impatient little stamp that shook the decaying old floor and casement.
Its contents produced perturbation, misgiving, but not retreat. The deep
glow of enchantment shed by the idea of a private union with her
beautiful young lover killed the pale light of cold reasoning from an
indifferently good relative.
'Oh, no,' she murmured, as she sat, covering her face with her hand.
'Not for wealth untold could I give him up now!' No argument, short of Apollo in person from the clouds, would have
influenced her. She made her preparations for departure as if nothing
had intervened.