To be confined in her own room was intolerable; it was wretched enough to be looked at and spoken to, but it was more wretched to be left alone.

She was frightened at her own sensations: she was frightened at the imperious vividness with which pictures of the past and future thrust themselves on her imagination.

And there was another feeling, too, which made her want to be down-stairs and moving about.

Perhaps she might have an opportunity of speaking to Captain Wybrow alone--of speaking those words of hatred and scorn that burned on her tongue.

That opportunity offered itself in a very unexpected manner.
Lady Cheverel having sent Caterina out of the drawing-room to fetch some patterns of embroidery from her sitting-room, Captain Wybrow presently walked out after her, and met her as she was returning down stairs.
'Caterina,' he said, laying his hand on her arm as she was hurrying on without looking at him, 'will you meet me in the Rookery at twelve o'clock?
I must speak to you, and we shall be in privacy there.