Alternately a prey to fear and indignation, she walked about the little apartment, or sat by the fire weeping and praying, until sleep began to oppress her; and, unable longer to resist its effects, with an audible supplication to Heaven that the morrow might bring about her release, she threw herself (without undressing) on the bed, and almost immediately fell fast asleep.
A strong dose of love is worse than one of ratafia; when once it gets into our heads it trips up our heels, and then good night to discretion. THE LYING VALET.
From an uneasy slumber that had been disturbed by many a painful dream, Lilian started, awoke, and leaped from the bed. The embers of the night fire still smouldered on the hearth stone, and the rays of the red sun rising above a gorge in the Corstorphine hills, radiated through her grated window as through a focus. Pressing her hands upon her temples, she endeavoured to collect the scattered images that had haunted her sleep. She had dreamt of Walter. He seemed to be present in that very chamber, to stand by her gloomy bed, and smiled kindly and fondly as of old. He bent over to kiss her, but lo! his features turned to those of Lord Clermistonlee; the great tester bed with its plumage and canopy became a hearse; she screamed and awoke to find it was day.
Now all her former fear and indignation revived in full force, and she wept passionately. Reflecting how completely she was at the mercy of Clermistonlee, whose character for reckless ferocity, and steady obstinacy of purpose, she knew too well; she resolved to endure with patience, and await with caution an opportunity for release or escape. How little she knew of what was acting in Edinburgh! And her beloved kinswoman, so revered, so tender, and affectionate, but so aged and infirm.
"O horror!" exclaimed Lilian, wringing her hands, "this must have destroyed her."
"Open Madam Lilian," said the voice of Beatrix Gilruth, as she knocked at the door; "open, my lord awaits you at breakfast in the hall."
Lilian hesitated; but aware that resistance would not better her fortune, with her usual frankness ran to the door, opened it, and despite the repulsive sternness of Gilruth's aspect, impelled by a sense of loneliness, and a wish to gain her friendship, she bade her good morning, and lightly touched her hand. Her air of innocence and candour impressed the misanthropic heart of Beatrix, and she smiled kindly. While leading her before the mirror to assist in arraying her for breakfast, the bosom of the unfortunate castaway could not repress a sigh, and a scanty tear trembled in either eye, as she writhed her withered fingers in the soft masses of Lilian's hair.