O'er many a frozen,
many a fiery Alpe, Rocks, Caves, Lakes, Fens, Bogs, Dens and shades
of death, A Universe of death, which God by curse Created evil, for
evil only good Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breaks
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, Abominable,
inutterable, and worse Than Fables yet have feigned, or fear
conceived, Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire.
She did not care for reading, most especially she did not care for
poetry, but to-night she saw the picture. Up to the very bounds of
the house this waste country, filled with beasts of prey, animals
with fiery eyes and incredible names, the long stretch of snow and
ice, the black water with no stars reflected in it, the wind.
A coal crashed in the fire; she gave a little cry.
"My dear, what is it?" said Aunt Anne. Then, with a little shake of
her shoulders, she added: "There's a horrid draught. Perhaps you
forgot to close the kitchen-door when you came away, Maggie dear."
Maggie flushed. Of course she had forgotten. She left the room,
crossed the hall. Yes, there was the door, wide open. She locked it,
the place was utterly cold and desolate.
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