But her eyebrows--he
had loved to kiss them once--they were surely much as before. And
involuntarily she bent towards the glass, and stroked the dark growth
above her eyes as if it were his hand caressing her.
She came down at last, dressed in a loose blue dress with a broad lace
collar and blond lace in the wide sleeves. And not to seem too
much dressed, she had put on a red-flowered apron to give herself a
housewifely look.
It was past seven now. Louise came whimpering to her, and Merle sank
down in a chair by the window, and took the child on her lap, and
waited.
The sound of wheels in the night may mean the approach of fate itself.
Some decision, some final word that casts us down in a moment from
wealth to ruin--who knows? Peer had been to England now, trying to come
to some arrangement with the Company. Sh!--was that not wheels? She
rose, trembling, and listened.
No, it had passed on.
It was eight o'clock now, time for Louise to go to bed; and Merle began
undressing her. Soon the child was lying in her little white bed, with
a doll on either side. "Give Papa a tiss," she babbled, "and give him
my love. And Mama, do you think he'll let me come into his bed for a bit
tomorrow morning?"
"Oh yes, I'm sure he will. And now lie down and go to sleep, there's a
good girl."
Merle sat down again in the room and waited. But at last she rose, put
on a cloak and went out.
The town lay down there in the autumn darkness under a milk-white mist
of light.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202