CHAPTER IX.
FANCIES AND PREMONITIONS.
It seemed a wonder that Mrs. Lee ever could have been a beautiful woman like her daughter, for she had faded sadly during her illness. Her hair was still thick and long, but the mountain snow was not whiter. Her face, too, was of opaque paleness; while her delicate eyebrows were black as jet; and the large eyes beneath them had lost nothing of their penetrating brightness.
Mrs. Lee was lying on the couch, in the light of a broad window which opened to the south; the balcony was as usual filled with plants, and every morning her couch was moved, and the window drapery put back that she might command some feature in the landscape over which her eye had not wearied the day before. It was a harmless enjoyment, and one which the whole family loved to encourage. Indeed, there was not a fancy or caprice of hers which was ever questioned in that house.
"Ah, Martha, it is you; I am glad of it. For when I am ill at ease, you always do me good."
She held out her little thin hand while speaking, and pressed mine almost imperceptibly.
"What has happened, Martha? During the last half hour something oppresses me, as if the atmosphere were disturbed; yet it is a clear day, and the roses on the terrace look brighter than usual."
"Nothing has happened, dear lady. Mr. Lee has come back from town, bringing the lady we all expected."
"Mrs. Dennison?"
"Yes, Mrs. Dennison. She has just gone to her room."