Prev | Current Page 342 | Next

Hawthorne, Julian, 1846-1934

"Bressant"

How warm and pleasant it was! The walls of the room seemed
to draw up cozily around the stove, and nod to one another
good-naturedly. They loved Sophie and would do all they could to make
her comfortable and secure. She sat quite still, and perhaps fell into a
light, half-waking slumber.
A while afterward, she suddenly started in her chair, her head raised,
as if listening. The fire burnt as warmly as ever, but Sophie was
trembling incontrollably, and her heart was beating most unmercifully.
She walked quickly and blindly, with outstretched hands, to the window.
This time the ominous board forbore to creak. Its omen was fulfilled.
Without hesitating, she threw up the window, and, unmindful of the
tingling inrush of cold air, she leaned out, and looked down through the
arched window of the porch. The bare vines that struggled across it
afforded no interception to the view of the two figures standing within.
Sophie gazed at them as a bird does at a snake; she could not take her
eyes away; she could not move nor utter a sound. It was like the
oppression and paralysis of a fearful dream. Was she dreaming?
It was a terribly vivid dream, at any rate. She seemed to see one of
the figures--a woman--clasp the man's hand passionately in hers and
speak.


Pages:
330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354