And so sweet she was, so unconscious
of any thought of rivalry! That night she came late to Lillian's room to
say good-night once more, to counsel hope, and urge an effort to sleep.
Even when she seemed gone at last, she opened the door again to blow a
kiss and smile anew. When the door had closed finally Lillian, standing
near the mirror, could but note the difference. She was ghastly in her
gay and modish attire, for she had instantly laid aside her mourning for
the death of the boy, as an affront to her faith that he still lived. The
sharp tooth of suspense had eaten into her capacities of endurance; her
hopes preyed upon her in their keen, fictitious exaltations; the
alternations of despair brought her to the brink of the grave. She was
reduced almost to a shadow; she would go about the affair--she would
entertain no other--with a sort of jerking, spasmodic activity as unlike
muscular energy as if she were an automaton. She had no rest in her
sleep, and would scream and cry out in weird accents at intervals, and
dream such dreams! She would blanch when questioned, and close her lips
fast, and never a word escaped them of what these visions of terror might
be.
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