... A minute later Marjorie's mind rose up
out of black gulfs of sleep, in which, since her falling asleep an hour
or two ago, she had wandered, bearing an intolerable burden, which she
could neither see nor let fall, to find the rosy-streaked face of Janet,
all pinched with cold, peering into her own. She sat up, wide awake, yet
with all her world still swaying about her, and stared into her maid's
eyes.
"What is it? What time is it?"
"It is after six, mistress. And the mistress seems uneasy. I--"
Marjorie sprang up and went to the bed.
III
On the evening of that day her mother died.
* * * * *
There was no priest within reach. A couple of men had ridden out early,
dispatched by Marjorie within half an hour of her awaking--to Dethick,
to Hathersage, and to every spot within twenty miles where a priest
might be found, with orders not to return without one. But the long day
had dragged out: and when dusk was falling, still neither had come back.
The country was rain-soaked and all but impassable, she learned later,
across valley after valley, where the streams had risen. And nowhere
could news be gained that any priest was near; for, as a further
difficulty, open inquiry was not always possible, in view of the news
that had come to Booth's Edge last night. The girl had understood that
the embers were rising again to flame in the south; and who could tell
but that a careless word might kindle the fire here, too.
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