The night after his sentence Raoul was marched past the Bayfield gates under escort for Dartmoor.

And Dorothea had not intervened.
This, of course, proves that she was of no heroical fibre.

She knew it.
Night after night she had lain awake, vainly contriving plans for his deliverance; and either she lacked inventiveness or was too honest, for no method could she discover which avoided confession of the simple truth.

As the days passed without catastrophe and without news save that her lover was bettering in hospital, she staved off the truth, trusting that the next night would bring inspiration.

Almost she hoped--being quite unwise in such matters--that his sufferings would be accepted as cancelling his offence.