The hot blood grew
chill for an instant, and the babbling tongue was tied when the dreamer
came near the frontier ground, where the oath reared itself distinct and
threatening as ever, while all else was fantastic and vague.
There was something of this in Guy's case. We could hear distinctly many
of his broken sentences, relating sometimes to the hunting-field,
sometimes to the orgies of wine or play. There were names, too,
occurring now and then, which to his mother were meaningless, but to me
had an evil significance. Once or twice--not oftener--he was talking to
Flora Bellasys. But when the name of Constance Brandon came, the harsh
loud voice sank into a whisper so low that if you had laid your ear to
his lips you would not have caught one syllable. Very, very often I had
occasion to remark this, and to wonder how the heart could guard its
treasure so rigidly when the brain was driving on, aimless as a ship
before the hurricane with her rudder gone.
On the fifth day after Guy's illness began, an angel might have
interceded for him in the stead of a pure true-hearted woman, for
Constance was dead.
I saw Lady Catharine tremble, and bend her head down low when she heard
the news, as if herself crushed by the blow which would fall so heavily
on her son.
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