Diana, too, was much disturbed, and abused herself mentally for having been so weak and cowardly.

Why had she not at once confessed that she knew the dog?
Had she said at once, "Why, that is Bruno, the Duke of Champdoce's dog," her husband would have thought no more about the matter; but her own folly had made much of a merely trivial incident.
Ever since that fatal walk the Viscount's manner appeared to have changed, and more than once Diana fancied that she caught a look of suspicion in his eyes.

How could she best manage to make him forget this unlucky event?
She saw that for the rest of her life she must affect a terror of dogs; and, for the future, whenever she saw one, she uttered a little cry of alarm, and insisted upon all Octave's being chained up.

But for all this she lived in a perfect atmosphere of suspicion and anxiety, while the very ground upon which she walked seemed to have been mined beneath her feet.

Her sole wish now was to fly from Mussidan, and leave Bevron and its environs, she cared not for what spot.