She sat meditating sorrowfully upon this change, and mingling it,
as it were, with everything about her, when the distant
church-clock bell struck nine. Rising at the sound, she retraced
her steps, and turned thoughtfully towards the town.
She had gained a little wooden bridge, which, thrown across the
stream, led into a meadow in her way, when she came suddenly upon
a ruddy light, and looking forward more attentively, discerned that
it proceeded from what appeared to be an encampment of gipsies, who
had made a fire in one corner at no great distance from the path,
and were sitting or lying round it. As she was too poor to have
any fear of them, she did not alter her course (which, indeed, she
could not have done without going a long way round), but quickened
her pace a little, and kept straight on.
A movement of timid curiosity impelled her, when she approached the
spot, to glance towards the fire. There was a form between it and
her, the outline strongly developed against the light, which caused
her to stop abruptly. Then, as if she had reasoned with herself
and were assured that it could not be, or had satisfied herself
that it was not that of the person she had supposed, she went on
again.
Pages:
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578