She saw him stoop
his dark, bearded head, with a half-impatient gesture, and kiss the
beautiful woman's mouth, then motion her toward the house. "Make haste
and put on your travelling dress," he seemed to say; "I'll walk up the
road a little way and wait for you."
Sophie found power to slip down from the window after that, but she knew
she was dreaming still. She heard a stealthy footstep on the stairs and
along the entry; it seemed to pause, and hesitate a moment at her door;
but then it went on and entered Cornelia's room. If she only could go to
her lover, Sophie thought. If she only could speak to him and feel his
arms around her. And why should she not? he had but just gone up the
road. She would slip out and run after him. It was deadly cold: she was
in her white wedding-dress. Yes; but then it was a dream--nothing but a
dream--no harm could come of it.
She lifted herself softly from the floor, and moved toward the door. She
passed the looking-glass on the dressing-table as she went, and cast a
darkling glance into it. A haggard ghost seemed to stare back at her,
with crazy eyes. A braid of brown, silky hair had become loosened, and
was creeping down upon the spectre's shoulders.
Sophie stole along as noiselessly as a cat.
Pages:
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356