The cold severity of his tone wounded her inexpressibly, and she haughtily drew herself up.
“Dr. Grey will at least allow me an opportunity of explaining the circumstances that he seems to regard as so heinous?”
He looked at the proud but quivering mouth,—into the great, shadowy, gray eyes, and a heavy sigh escaped him.
“Perhaps it is better that I should know your history, for it will diminish my own unhappiness to feel assured that you are worthy of the estimate I placed upon you one hour ago. Shall I come to-morrow, or will you tell me now what you desire me to know?”
“I can not sleep until I have exonerated myself in your clear, truthful, holy eyes: I can not endure that you should think harshly of me, even for a day. This room is suffocating! 356 I will meet you on the portico; and yonder, by the sea, I will show you my life.”
She went to the escritoire, opened one of the drawers, and took out a package. Wrapping a cloak around her, she quitted the parlor, and found Dr. Grey leaning against one of the columns.
He did not offer her his arm as formerly, but slowly and silently they walked down towards the beach, where the surf was rolling heavily in with a steady roar, and tossing sheets of foam around the stone piers.
|
... “While far across the hill,
A dark and brazen sunset ribbed with black, Glared, like the sullen eyeballs of the plague.” |