so
restless? I used to think the house grew still at night; now I seem to catch the beating
of every clock and watch in it, the creaking of every board and stair. I look at my own
face, that is reflected in my bulging window: it seems strange to me, I am afraid to
gaze too hard at it. But I am afraid, too, to look beyond it, to the night which
presses at it. For the night has Millbank in it, with its
thick, thick shadows; and in one of those shadows Selina is lying—Selina—she is
making me write the name here, she is growing more real, more solid and quick,
with every stroking of the nib across the page—Selina. In one of those shadows
Selina is lying. Her eyes are open, and she is looking at me.
26 November 1872
I wish my aunty might see me where I am now. - For I am at Sydenham, at
Mrs Brink''s house! She has brought me here, all in the space of a single
day, saying she would rather have me perish than have me pass another
hour at Mr Vincy''s. Mr Vincy said ''You may have her, ma''am! & much
trouble I hope she will bring you'', though Miss Sibree wept to see me
pass her door, saying she knows I will be very great. Mrs Brink drove with
me in her own carriage, & when we arrived at her house I thought I should
faint, for it is the grandest place you ever saw, with a garden all about it &
a path of gravel leading up to the front door. Mrs Brink saw me looking &