or so, and no result. You must go to bed; and--do you say your prayers?
Well! that's one way of getting out of it--pray that you may forget all
about what's not good for you. Why, you're almost like a young man, when
you set your mind on a thing. Bad! won't do! Say your prayers
regularly. And, please, pour me out a mouthful of brandy. My hand
trembles--I don't know what's the matter with it;--just like those rushes
on the Thames I used to see when out fishing. No wind, and yet there
they shake away. I wish it was daylight on the old river now! It's
night, and no mistake. I feel as if I had a fellow twirling a stick over
my head. The rascal's been at it for the last month. There, stop where
you are, my dear. Don't begin to dance!"

He pressed at his misty eyes, half under the impression that she was
taking a succession of dazzling leaps in air. Terror of an impending
blow, which he associated with Emilia's voice, made him entreat her to be
silent. After a space, he breathed a long breath of relief, saying: "No,
no; you're firm enough on your feet. I don't think I ever saw you dance.
My girls have given it up. What led me to think...but, let's to bed, and
say our prayers. I want a kiss."

Emilia kissed him on the forehead. The symptoms of illness were strange
to her, and passed unheeded. She was too full of her own burning passion
to take evidence from her sight. The sun of her world was threatened
with extinction. She felt herself already a wanderer in a land of tombs,
where none could say whether morning had come or gone. Intensely she
looked her misery in the face; and it was as a voice that said, "No sun:
never sun any more," to her. But a blue-hued moon slipped from among the
clouds, and hung in the black outstretched fingers of the tree of
darkness, fronting troubled waters. "This is thy light for ever! thou
shalt live in thy dream." So, as in a prison-house, did her soul now