Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and thought deeply of
Richard Bassett and "his unrelenting, impenitent malice." Women of her
fine fiber, when they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often
divinations. The dark future seems to be lit a moment at a time by
flashes of lightning, and they discern the indistinct form of events to
come, And so it was with Lady Bassett: in the stilly night a terror of
the future and of Richard Bassett crept over her--a terror
disproportioned to his past acts and apparent power. Perhaps she was
oppressed by having an enemy--she, who was born to be loved. At all
events, she was full of feminine divinations and forebodings, and saw,
by flashes, many a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver and strike the
beloved breast. It had already discharged one that had parted them for
a time, and nearly killed Sir Charles.
Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but left a sober dread
and a strange resolution. This timid creature, stimulated by love,
determined to watch the foe, and defend her husband with all her little
power. All manner of devices passed through her head, but were
rejected, because, if Love said "Do wonders," Timidity said "Do nothing
that you have not seen other wives do." So she remained, scheming, and
longing, and fearing, and passive, all day.
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