Well, she couldn't tell him that,
and he would not believe her if she did. She stopped and returned to her
chair. She leant back now, resting her head on the cushion. The afternoon
grew old, and a gleam of sinking sun, escaping from the grey red-edged
clouds that hung over the river, troubled her eyes; she closed them and
reclined in stillness. She felt very tired, worn out with the stress of
it, with the conflict and the strain. Strange notions, half fancies, half
dreams, began to flit through her mind. She saw the end come in many
ways, now while they were alone together, now in some public place, even
in the House, or while he addressed his shareholders. She seemed to hear
the buzz of talk that followed the event, the wonder at him, the blame of
her; she saw poor old Aunt Maria's trembling hands and hopeless face.
Presently, as she fell into an unquiet drowsiness, she seemed to see even
beyond the end, as though the end were no end and he were with her still,
his spirit being about her, enveloping her, still wrapping her round so
that the rest of the world was kept away and she was still with him,
though she could not see him nor hear his voice.
Pages:
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450