Monsieur, as an English traveller, surrounded by all means of travelling
pleasantly; doubtless possessing fortune, carriages, and servants-'Perfectly, perfectly. Without doubt,' said the gentleman. Monsieur could not easily place himself in the position of a person who
had not the power to choose, I will go here to-morrow, or there next
day; I will pass these barriers, I will enlarge those bounds. Monsieur
could not realise, perhaps, how the mind accommodated itself in such
things to the force of necessity. 'It is true,' said Monsieur. 'We will--ha--not pursue the subject. You are--hum--quite accurate, I have no doubt. We will say no more.'
The supper having come to a close, he drew his chair away as he spoke,
and moved back to his former place by the fire. As it was very cold
at the greater part of the table, the other guests also resumed their
former seats by the fire, designing to toast themselves well before
going to bed. The host, when they rose from the table, bowed to all
present, wished them good night, and withdrew. But first the insinuating
traveller had asked him if they could have some wine made hot; and as
he had answered Yes, and had presently afterwards sent it in, that
traveller, seated in the centre of the group, and in the full heat of
the fire, was soon engaged in serving it out to the rest.
At this time, the younger of the two young ladies, who had been silently
attentive in her dark corner (the fire-light was the chief light in the
sombre room, the lamp being smoky and dull) to what had been said of the
absent lady, glided out. She was at a loss which way to turn when she
had softly closed the door; but, after a little hesitation among the
sounding passages and the many ways, came to a room in a corner of the
main gallery, where the servants were at their supper. From these she
obtained a lamp, and a direction to the lady's room.
It was up the great staircase on the story above. Here and there, the
bare white walls were broken by an iron grate, and she thought as she
went along that the place was something like a prison. The arched door
of the lady's room, or cell, was not quite shut. After knocking at it
two or three times without receiving an answer, she pushed it gently
open, and looked in.
The lady lay with closed eyes on the outside of the bed, protected from
the cold by the blankets and wrappers with which she had been covered
when she revived from her fainting fit. A dull light placed in the deep
recess of the window, made little impression on the arched room. The
visitor timidly stepped to the bed, and said, in a soft whisper, 'Are
you better?' The lady had fallen into a slumber, and the whisper was too low to awake
her. Her visitor, standing quite still, looked at her attentively.