The Vale of Cedars by Grace Aguilar
page 111 of 327 (33%)
page 111 of 327 (33%)
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succeeded in subduing the ascendency of the sensation, in some
measure, till the day itself; when, as the hours waned, it became more and more overpowering. As he entered his wife's apartment, to bid her farewell ere he departed for the castle, it rose almost to suffocation in his throat, and he put his arm round her as she stood by the widely-opened casement, and remained by her side several minutes without speaking. "Thou art not going to the castle yet, dearest?" she inquired. "Is it not much earlier than usual?" "Yes, love; but I shall not ride to-night. I feel so strangely oppressed, that I think a quiet walk in the night air will recover me far more effectually than riding." Marie looked up anxiously in his face. He was very pale, and his hair was damp with the moisture on his forehead. "Thou art unwell," she exclaimed; "do not go to-night, dearest Ferdinand,--stay with me. Thy presence is not so imperatively needed." He shook his head with a faint smile. "I must go, love, for I have no excuse to stay away. I wish it were any other night, indeed, for I would so gladly remain with thee; but the very wish is folly. I never shrunk from the call of duty before, and cannot imagine what has come over me to-night; but I would sacrifice much for permission to stay within. Do not look so alarmed, love, the fresh air will remove this vague oppression, and give me back myself." "Fresh air there is none," replied his young wife, "the stillness is actually awful--not a leaf moves, nor a breeze stirs. It seems too, |
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