This night my dear father's face troubled
me--sometimes white and sharp as ivory, sometimes strangely transparent
like glass, sometimes all hanging in cadaverous folds, always with the same
unnatural expression of diabolical fury.
From this dreadful vision I could only escape by sitting up and staring
at the light. At length, worn out, I dropped asleep, and in a dream I
distinctly heard papa's voice say sharply outside the bed-curtain:--'Maud,
we shall be late at Bartram-Haugh.'
And I awoke in a horror, the wall, as it seemed, still ringing with the
summons, and the speaker, I fancied, standing at the other side of the
curtain.
A miserable night I passed. In the morning, looking myself like a ghost, I
stood in my night-dress by Lady Knollys' bed.
'I have had my warning,' I said. 'Oh, Cousin Monica, papa has been with me,
and ordered me to Bartram-Haugh; and go I will.'
She stared in my face uncomfortably, and then tried to laugh the matter
off; but I know she was troubled at the strange state to which agitation
and suspense had reduced me.
'You're taking too much for granted, Maud,' said she; 'Silas Ruthyn,
most likely, will refuse his consent, and insist on your going to
Bartram-Haugh.
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