The
feverish excitements natural to that event, and even the fruit of its
fortunate issue, in the death of Munro, for whom she really had a
grateful regard, were not greatly lessened, though certainly something
relieved, by the capture of Rivers, and his identification with the
outlawed Creighton. She was now secure from him: she had nothing further
to apprehend from the prosecution of his fearful suit; and the death of
her uncle, even if the situation of Rivers had left him free to urge it
further, would, of itself, have relieved her from the only difficulty in
the way of a resolute denial.
So far, then, she was at peace. But a silent sorrow had made its way
into her bosom, gnawing there with the noiselessness and certainty of
the imperceptible worm, generated by the sunlight, in the richness of
the fresh leaf, and wound up within its folds. She had no word of sorrow
in her speech--she had no tear of sorrow in her eye--but there was a
vacant sadness in the vague and wan expression of her face, that needed
neither tears nor words for its perfect development.
Pages:
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897