Vaura woke from a late sleep as Saunders tapped at the door; slumber
had only come to her by sweet snatches during the hours of the night;
but she lay happy in the dreamy quiet; and the face of the man she
loved was ever before her. On waking, as her maid knocked, her first
feeling was that something was wanting; that something had gone out of
her daily life, and she gave a long deep sigh. Then the sweet sense,
that she was loved, came to her; not that the knowledge of this man's
love was just come to her--she had known it for some time, but they
had both reached that stage when mutual pledges of love were craved
for, and which to fill their whole being with the fulness of content,
with the fulness of a satisfied bliss, had become a necessity.
The first thing that met her eye on rising, were a few crushed flowers
on the seat of her favourite chair. Tied around the stalks was a
delicate point-lace handkerchief; on the tiny square of muslin was
written, in the handwriting she knew so well, Vaura Vernon; among the
blossoms were a few written words:
"My heart aches at leaving you without a word of farewell My brain is
in a whirl.
Pages:
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373