But the past afforded her no such clue. She had said nothing, she had
done nothing, which could offend the most sensitive of men.
Then a new and terrible light began to dawn upon her. She remembered
her wretched extraction--the pitiable condition in which the baronet
had discovered her, and she began to think that he repented of his
marriage. "He regrets his folly, and I am hateful in his eyes," thought
Honoria, "for he remembers my degraded position--the mystery of my past
life. He has heard sneering words and cruel innuendoes fall from the
lips of his fashionable friends, perhaps; and he is ashamed of his
marriage. He little knows how gladly I would release him from the tie
that binds us--if, indeed, it has grown hateful to him." Thus musing
and wandering alone, in one of the forest pathways--for she had
outstripped her guests, and sought a little relief for her overwrought
spirits, constrained to the courtesies of her position for the moment--
she scarcely knew whither, she came presently upon a group of grooms,
who were lounging before a rough canvas tent, which had been erected
for the accommodation of the horses.
"Is 'Orestes' in that tent, Plummer?" she asked of the old groom who
generally attended her in her rides and drives.
"No, my lady, Sir Oswald had him saddled a quarter of an hour ago, and
rode him away."
"Sir Oswald has gone away!"
"Yes, my lady.
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