The torture she had undergone for months, the warring of the evil past with the noble present, of that which was sweet and passionately loving woman with that which was all but devil, had strung her to a pitch so intense and high that on the falling of this unnatural and unforeseen blow she was left scarce a human thing.

Looking back, she saw herself a creature doomed from birth; and here in one moment seemed to stand a force ranged in mad battle with the fate which had doomed her.
"'Twas ordained that the blow should fall so," she said, "and those who did it laugh--laugh at me." 'Twas but a moment, and her sharp breathing became even and regular as though at her command; her face composed itself, and she turned to the bell and rang it as with imperious haste.
When the lacquey entered, she was standing holding papers in her hand as if she had but just been consulting them.
"Follow Sir John Oxon," she commanded.

"Tell him I have forgot an important thing and beg him to return at once.

Lose no time.

He has but just left me and can scarce be out of sight." The fellow saw there was no time to lose.