There is one point at which the road to Elverston makes a short
ascent: there is a sudden curve there, two great ash-trees, with a roadside
stile between, at the right side, covered with ivy. Driving back and
forward, I did not recollect having particularly remarked this point in
the highway; but now it was before me, in the thin light of the thinnest
segment of moon, and the figure of Meg Hawkes, her back toward me, always
ascending towards Elverston. It was constantly the same picture--the same
motion without progress--the same dreadful suspense and impatience.
I was now sitting on the side of the bed, looking wistfully across the
room. When I did not see Meg Hawkes, I beheld Madame darkly eyeing first
one then another point of the chamber, evidently puzzling over some
problem, and in one of her most savage moods--sometimes muttering to
herself, sometimes protruding, and sometimes screwing up her great mouth.
She went into her own room, where she remained, I think, nearly ten
minutes, and on her return there was that in the flash of her eyes, the
glow of her face, and the peculiar fragrance that surrounded her, that
showed she had been partaking of her favourite restorative.
Pages:
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741