The anxiety was burning her heart away; it would be burnt as dry as
ashes soon. And she had been born a woman--a weak woman--a thing meant
to sit at home with her foot on the treadle of her poor little wheel,
while dear lives were risked and lost elsewhere.
Rotha was a changed being. She was no longer the heartsome lassie who
had taken captive the stoical fancy of old Angus. Tutored by
suffering, she had become a resolute woman. Goaded by something akin
to despair, she was now more dangerous than resolute.
She was to do strange things soon. Even her sunny and girlish
ingenuousness was to desert her. She was to become as cunning as
dauntless. Do you doubt it? Put yourself in her place. Think of what
she had done, and why she had done it; think of what came of it, and
may yet come of it. Then look into your own heart; or, better far,
look into the heart of another--you will be quicker to detect the
truth and the falsehood that lies _there_.
Then listen to what the next six days will bring forth.
The cottage at Fornside has never been occupied since the tailor
abandoned it.
Pages:
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493