So sudden was the whole incident, and so engrossing the terror of poor Kate's mind, that she saw nothing of what passed, and was merely conscious that by George's opportune coming she was rescued from the insolent attentions of the stranger.
“Did he speak to you? Did he dare to address you?” asked Onslow, in a voice which boiling passion rendered almost unintelligible.
“If he did, I know not,” said she, as she covered her face with shame, and struggled against the emotion that almost choked her.
“He took your arm; he certainly laid hold of your hand!”
“It was all so rapid that I can tell nothing,” said she, sobbing; “and although my courage never failed me till you came, then I thought I should have fainted.”
“But how came you alone, and on foot, and at such an hour, too? Where had you been?”
These questions he put with a sort of stern resolution that showed no evasive answer would rescue her.
“Did you leave home without a carriage, or even a servant?” asked he again, as no answer was returned to his former question.
“I did take a carriage in the morning; and and—”
“Sent it away again,” continued George, impetuously. “And where did you drive to, where pass the day?”