So let it be, thought the
young lady, assuming a feeling of entire content. But assumed feelings
are not lasting. She who had been the life of society now grew very
weary of it. She yawned secretly in rooms of entertainment, or
invented lame excuses for her non-appearance there. "I can't think
what is the matter with me," she said to herself. "I never cared for
solitude, and I don't now; but I care less for common people and
commonplace talk."
It was perfectly consistent with this state of feeling that, on one of
the most disagreeable of all disagreeable March days, she should go
out alone for a long walk which had no definite direction nor object.
There was a certain satisfaction in matching her restless mood with
the restless weather, in feeling herself now gently buoyed along, now
almost lifted up and borne away on the strong wings of the rushing
wind. Great soft flakes of snow were falling, and yielding up their
heavenly purity at the first touch of earth, and the dull sunless day,
weary of its own existence, was with seeming relief dying into night.
Rose walked very fast without being aware of the fact.
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