Before her mind's eye was the picture of Denzil
Quarrier's study--its luxury, brightness, wealth of volumes; and
Denzil's face made an inseparable part of the scene. That face had
never ceased to occupy her imagination since the evening of his
lecture at the Institute. Its haunting power was always greatest
when she sat here alone in the stillness. This little room, in which
she had known the pleasures of independence and retirement, seemed
now but a prison. It was a mean dwelling, fit only for labouring
folk; the red blind irritated her sight, and she had to turn away
from it.
What a hope had come to her of a sudden last autumn! How recklessly
she had indulged it, and how the disappointment rankled!
A disappointment which she could not accept with the resignation due
to fate. At first she had done so; but then a singular surmise crept
into her thoughts--a suspicion which came she knew not whence--
and thereafter was no rest from fantastic suggestions. Her surmise
did not remain baseless; evidence of undeniable strength came to its
support, yet all was so vague--so unserviceable.
She opened the printed sheets that Quarrier had given her and for a
few minutes read with interest. Then her eyes and thoughts wandered.
Her servant knocked and entered, asking if she should remove the
supper-tray. In looking up at the girl, Mrs.
Pages:
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244