She led Alice back to the chairs they had left; and when the servant
came in to turn on the softly shaded lamps, they sat there, facing each
other, in a silence which seemed to Corinna to be louder than any sound.
There was the noise of wonder in it, and tragedy, and something vaguely
menacing to which she could not give a name. It was fear, and yet it was
not fear because it was so much worse. Only the blank terror in Alice's
face, the terror of the woman who has lost hope, could express what it
meant. And this terror translated into sound asked presently:
"Are--are you sure?"
A wave of pity surged through Corinna's heart. Her strength became to
her something on which she could rest--which would not fail her; and
she understood why she had had to meet so many disappointments in life,
why she had had to bear so much that was almost unbearable. It was
because, however strong emotion was in her nature, there was always
something deep down in her that was stronger than any emotion.
Pages:
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439