"There
is no end to it," she sobbed despairingly. "It is like a spider's web:
every struggle to be free but multiplies the fine yet irresistible
thread that seems to bind me. And to-night I thought to be so happy;
instead of that, he has left me scarce the heart to do what I have to
do."
She went back to the room, opened a window, and put out a white
handkerchief, then closed the window down on it.
Then she went to Josephine's bedroom-door: it opened on the tapestried
room.
"Josephine," she cried, "don't go to bed just yet."
"No, love. What are you doing? I want to talk to you. Why did you say
promise? and what did you mean by looking at me so? Shall I come out to
you?"
"Not just yet," said Rose; she then glided into the corridor, and passed
her mother's room and the doctor's, and listened to see if all was
quiet. While she was gone Josephine opened her door; but not seeing Rose
in the sitting-room, retired again.
Rose returned softly, and sat down with her head in her hand, in a calm
attitude belied by her glancing eye, and the quick tapping of her other
hand upon the table.
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