His horse was ready below; the groom, weary of holding the bridle, had thrown it over an iron hook in the yard, and gone about other business.

The sun perceptibly declined, and the shadow of the beeches of the forest began to descend the grassy slope.

Still he stayed, restlessly moving, now in the dining chamber, now in the hall, now at the foot of the staircase, with an unpleasant feeling that the servants looked at him curiously, and were watching him.
Oliver had gone long since, riding with his new friend Lord Durand; they must by now be half-way through the forest.

Forced by the inexorable flight of time, he put his foot upon the staircase to go up to the drawing-room and bid farewell to the Baroness.

He ascended it, step by step, as a condemned person goes to his doom.