Sir Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgot his one grief and his one enemy for a time.
Not so Lady Bassett.

She lay awake all night and thought deeply of Richard Bassett and "his unrelenting, impenitent malice." Women of her fine fiber, when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often divinations.

The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time by flashes of lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events to come, And so it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror of the future and of Richard Bassett crept over her--a terror disproportioned to his past acts and apparent power.

Perhaps she was oppressed by having an enemy--she, who was born to be loved.

At all events, she was full of feminine divinations and forebodings, and saw, by flashes, many a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver and strike the beloved breast.