The noise
of the rain, and the freshness it brought with it in the air,
seemed to awaken her as if from a painful and a fearful sleep.
The power of reflection returned to her; her heart heaved and
bounded with an overwhelming terror, as the thought of Rosamond
came back vividly to it; her memory recurred despairingly to the
long-past day of her mother's death, and to the farewell promise
she had made by her mother's bedside. She burst into an
hysterical passion of weeping that seemed to be tearing her to
pieces. In the midst of it she heard the clatter of a horse's
hoofs in the courtyard, and knew that Rosamond's husband had come
back.
Dipping her handkerchief in cold water, and passing it over her
eyes as she left the room, she instantly hastened to her sister.
Fortunately the daylight was fading in the old-fashioned chamber
that Rosamond occupied. Before they could say two words to each
other, Franval was in the room. He seemed violently irritated;
said that he had waited for the arrival of the mail--that the
missing newspaper had not come by it--that he had got wet
through--that he felt a shivering fit coming on--and that he
believed he had caught a violent cold. His wife anxiously
suggested some simple remedies. He roughly interrupted her,
saying there was but one remedy, the remedy of going to bed; and
so left them without another word.
Pages:
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307