"
Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her mistress's back
hair with dogged patience, and then moved toward the door.
"Mary," said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone.
"My lady."
"I should like to hear what the bride is like."
"I'll know that to-night," said Mary, grinding her teeth.
"I shall not require you again till bedtime."
Mary left the room, and went, not to the still-room, but to her own
garret, and there she gave way. She flung herself, with a wild cry,
upon her little bed, and clutched her own hair and the bedclothes, and
writhed all about the bed like a wild-cat wounded.
In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot nor forgave. She
got up at last, and started at her own image in the glass. Hair like a
savage's, cheek pale, eyes blood-shot.
She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared to go downstairs;
but now she was seized with a faintness, and had to sit down and moan.
She got the better of that, and went to the still-room, and got some
spirits; but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. They
sent the devil into her black eye, but no color into her pale cheek.
She had a little scarlet shawl; she put it over her head, and went into
the village. She found it astir with expectation.
Mr.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174