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A Lady of Quality | Frances Hodgson Burnett | |
The doves sate upon the window-ledge and lowly cooed and cooed |
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"It was not murder," whispered Anne--"no, it was not." She lifted to her sister's gaze a quivering lip. "And yet once I had loved him--years I had loved him," she said, whispering still. "And in a woman there is ever somewhat that the mother creature feels"--the hand which held her sister's shook as with an ague, and her poor lip quivered--"Sister, I--saw him again!" The duchess drew closer as she gasped, "Again!" "I could not rest," the poor voice said. "He had been so base, he was so beautiful, and so unworthy love--and he was dead,--none knowing, untouched by any hand that even pitied him that he was so base a thing, for that indeed is piteous when death comes and none can be repentant. And he lay so hard, so hard upon the stones." Her teeth were chattering, and with a breath drawn like a wild sob of terror, the duchess threw her arm about her and drew her nearer. "Sweet Anne," she shuddered--"sweet Anne--come back--you wander!" "Nay, 'tis not wandering," Anne said. "'Tis true, sister. There is no night these years gone by I have not remembered it again--and seen. In the night after that you bore him there--I prayed until the mid-hours, when all were sleeping fast--and then I stole down-- in my bare feet, that none could hear me--and at last I found my way in the black dark--feeling the walls until I reached that farthest door in the stone--and then I lighted my taper and oped it." "Anne!" cried the duchess--"Anne, look through the tower window at the blueness of the sky--at the blueness, Anne!" But drops of cold water had started out and stood upon her brow. |
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A Lady of Quality Frances Hodgson Burnett |
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