False shame
was strongest, and conquered. I waved a gay adieu. I turned the
corner, and peeping over my shoulder, I saw the door close; the bar
of yellow light was there no longer in the darkness of the passage.
I thought at that instant that I heard a heavy sigh. I looked
sharply round. No one was there. No door was open, yet I fancied,
and fancied with a wonderful vividness, that I did hear an actual
sigh breathed not far off, and plainly distinguishable from the
groan of the sycamore branches as the wind tossed them to and fro
in the outer blackness. If ever a mortal's good angel had cause to
sigh for sorrow, not sin, mine had cause to mourn that night. But
imagination plays us strange tricks and my nervous system was not
over-composed or very fitted for judicial analysis. I had to go
through the picture-gallery. I had never entered this apartment by
candle-light before and I was struck by the gloomy array of the
tall portraits, gazing moodily from the canvas on the lozenge-paned
or painted windows, which rattled to the blast as it swept howling
by. Many of the faces looked stern, and very different from their
daylight expression.
Pages:
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610