Outside the wind blew dismally; the shutters creaked to and fro on their
hinges; the leafless branches of the trees tapped their ghostly fingers
against the panes.
Faynie tried to speak--to cry out--but her tongue seemed to cleave to
the roof of her mouth, powerless. Her hands fell to her side a dead
weight, her eyes fairly bulging from their sockets.
It almost seemed to the girl that she was passing through the awful
transition of death.
The blood in her veins was turning to ice, and the heart in her bosom to
marble.
In an upper room, afar off, she heard one of the servants coughing
protractedly in her sleep.
Oh, God! if she could but burst the icy bonds that bound her hand and
foot and cry out--bring the household about her. Her lips opened, but no
sound came from them.
The very breath in her body seemed dying out with each faint gasp that
broke over the white, mute lips.
Outside the night winds grew wilder and fiercer. A gust of hail battered
against the window panes and rattled down the wide-throated chimneys.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203