The light of the candle in her hand, thrown upward on her face,
showed the fictitious animation that she had sustained vanish out of its
lineaments, as life itself might flicker to extinction, and leave a mask
like death. It was a tragic mask. Her lids fell over her hopeless eyes;
her lips drooped; the flush of her splendid florid beauty had faded as if
it had never bloomed. She discovered that she was gasping in the dull,
chill air. She leaned against the balustrade of the stairs, limp, inert,
as if every impetus of vigor had deserted her. But it would never do for
her to faint, she reflected. She must act for others, with just judgment,
with foresight, with effective housewifely care, and with good heart and
courage.
"I must think for the rest--as Ned would, if he were here," she said,
still half fainting. She got the window open hard by, and a vagrant gust
of the cold air stung her face as with a lash. But she was out of the
direct course of the blast as it came shrilly fluttering from over the
roof, and she could maintain her position, although she could scarcely
breathe in the keen frigidity.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146