_She heard the dull, plashing sound of a river, the shivering of
rushes, then the noise of a struggle, oaths, a heavy crashing fall, a
groan, and then no more_!
Blessed with her husband's love, she had for a while closed her eyes
upon that horrible picture of the past; but now, in the hour of
despair, it came back to her, hideously distinct, awfully palpable.
"How could I hope for happiness?" she thought; "I, the daughter of an
assassin! The sins of one generation are visited on another. A curse is
upon me, and I can never hope for happiness."
The sun rose, and shone broad and full over the barren moorland; but it
was several hours after sunrise before the man who took care of the
ruins came to release the wretched prisoner.
He picked up a scanty living by showing the tower to visitors, and he
knew that no visitors were likely to come before nine o'clock in the
morning. It was nearly nine when Honoria saw him approaching in the
distance.
It was after nine when he drew up the bridge, and came across it to the
ruined fortress.
"You are free from this moment, Lady Eversleigh," said the surgeon,
whose face looked horribly pale and worn in the broad sunlight. That
night of watching had not been without its agony for him.
Honoria did not condescend to notice his words. She took up the plumed
hat, which had been lying among the long grass at her feet.
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