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THE SEXTON'S COTTAGE |
35 |
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white as her dress, but not like snow, for at once it suggested warmth. I thought her features were perfect, but her eyes made me forget them. The life of her face and her whole person was gathered and concentrated in her eyes, where it became light. It might have been coming death that made her face luminous, but the eyes had life in them for a nation—large, and dark with a darkness ever deepening as I gazed. A whole night-heaven lay condensed in each pupil; all the stars were in its blackness, and flashed; while round it for a horizon lay coiled an iris of the eternal twilight. What any eye is, God only knows : her eyes must have been coming direct out of his own ! the still face might be a primeval perfection; the live eyes were a continuous creation.
' Here is Mr. Vane, wife !' said the raven.
' He is welcome,' she answered, in a low, rich, gentle voice. Treasures of immortal sound seemed to lie buried in it.
I gazed, and could not speak.
'I knew you would be glad to see him !' added the raven.
She stood in front of the door by which she had entered, and did not come nearer.
I Will he sleep ? ' she asked.
'I fear not,' he replied; ' he is neither weary nor heavy laden.'
' Why then have you brought him ? '
'I have my fears it may prove precipitate.' 'I do not quite understand you,' I said, with an uneasy foreboding as to what she meant, but a vague hope of some escape. ' Surely a man must do a day's work first!' |
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D 2 |
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