the wine-coloured
travelling-gown and the coat, and a pair of shoes and stockings. These I have laid
out ready upon the bed, and if I gaze at them now, through the shadows, it might
be her lying there, in a slumber or a swoon.
I do not even know if she will come clad in her prison costume, or whether
they will bring her naked to me, like a child.
There is the creak of Vigers'' bed, and the spitting of the coals.
Now it is quarter^to-ten.
Now it is almost eleven.
This morning a letter came, from Helen at Marishes. She says the house is
grand, but Arthur''s sisters rather proud. She says that Priscilla believes herself to
be with child. She says that the estate has a frozen lake in it, on which they have
been skating. I read that, and closed my eyes. I had a very
clear vision, of Selina with her hair about her shoulders, a crimson hat upon her
head, a velvet coat, ice-skates—I must have been remembering some picture. I
imagined myself beside her, the air coming sharply into our mouths. I imagined
how it would be if I took her, not to Italy, but only to Marishes, to my sister''s house;
if I sat with her at supper, and shared her room, and kissed her—
I cannot say what would frighten them most—her being a spirit-medium, or a
convict, or a girl.
''We have heard from Mrs Wallace,'' says Helen in her letter, ''that you are working,