As soon as he left her, she descended into the court enclosed by the
quadrangle of the mansion; and as long as daylight lasted she
continued to walk there, in order to avoid the solitude of her own
dreaded apartment. As she traversed the pavement with hurried steps,
she gazed on the huge iron cross, and no longer regarded with
indifference the terrific legends attached to it. But at length the
closing evening, accompanied by tempestuous winds, compelled her to
retire to the house.
Once more she found herself installed for the evening in the
abhorred chamber. All was as before--her husband was seated opposite
to her in the same chair, by the same lamp-light--the ticking of the
time-piece was again painfully audible from the wearisome stillness
of the apartment; and her own trembling hands were again lingering
over the embroidery-frame from which she dared not lift her eyes.
Her heart beat painfully, her breath became oppressed, and she
ventured to steal a look at her husband, who to her surprise was
regarding her with an air of affectionate interest. Relieved for a
moment, she returned to her occupation; but her former terrors soon
overcame her. She would have given worlds to escape from that room,
from that dwelling, and wandered she cared not how, she knew not
wither, so she might be rescued from the sight of that awful figure,
from the sound of that dreaded voice.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31