Lady Gwendolyn had come to England with a purpose, and she proceeded to carry it out as soon as her physical strength would allow her. She awoke about three o’clock, much comforted and strengthened by her long sleep, and was glad to find herself alone. Of course, it was easy enough to dispose of Phœbe, but she rather preferred not to have any trouble in the matter.
She breathed freer when she got outside the hotel, but she took good care to keep her veil down. On reaching the station, she found she had half an hour to wait for her train, and so she forced herself to take some refreshment. She knew that she had need to garner up her strength if she was to perform the task she had set herself.
It was quite dark when she reached Borton, but, of course, there were lights in the station; and as all the officials knew her well, she had to double her precautions. She ordered a fly, and drove straight to the best inn in the little town, as she happened to know the proprietor of “The Chequers” was a newcomer, and had no knowledge of her personally.
However, he saw in a moment that she was a lady; and though her small traveling-bag did not look promising, he received her with great dignity, and showed her at once to the best rooms in the hotel.
A tidy little maid was sent to wait upon her, and while she helped to remove her things, Lady Gwendolyn said carelessly:
“Have you any nice houses in the neighborhood, Mary?”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Mary. “There is Colonel Dacre’s, ma’am—Borton Hall, it is called.”
“Indeed! is it a fine place?”
“Yes, ma’am; but not so fine as Lord Teignmouth’s, which is four miles out of the town.”
“Really! I suppose neither of them is here now?”