Of late the girl had avoided straying far from her own home, in the fear of meeting him--but she had never told her fears to Allan.
Matravis had, till now, been content to be a villain within the limits of the law--but, on the present occasion, hot fumes of wine, cooperating with his deep desire of revenge, and the insolence of an unhoped-for meeting, overcame his customary prudence, and Matravis rose, at once, to an audacity of glorious mischief.
Late at night he met her, a lonely, unprotected virgin--no friend at hand--no place near of refuge.
Rosamund Gray, my soul is exceeding sorrowful for thee--I loathe to tell the hateful circumstances of thy wrongs.

Night and silence were the only witnesses of this young maid's disgrace--Matravis fled.
Rosamund, polluted and disgraced, wandered, an abandoned thing, about the fields and meadows till daybreak.

Not caring to return to the cottage, she sat herself down before the gate of Miss Clare's house--in a stupor of grief.
Elinor was just rising, and had opened the windows of her chamber, when she perceived her desolate young friend.

She ran to embrace her--she brought her into the house--she took her to her bosom--she kissed her--she spake to her; but Rosamund could not speak.
Tidings came from the cottage.

Margaret's death was an event which could not be kept concealed from Rosamund.