--Alone?--deserted--defenceless? Of
my own will too? There was a _law_ in that will, though, was there not?
(_Turning suddenly from the window_.) Shall I see him again? The living
real of my thousand dreams, in the light of life, will he stand here
to-day?--to-day? No, no. Is this swift flow of being leading on to
_that_? Oh day of anguish, if in thine awful bosom, still, that dazzling
instant sleeps, I can forgive the rest.
(_She stands by the toilette, and begins to gather once more
the long hair from her shoulders. Suddenly a low voice at the
door breaks the stillness. The Canadian servant looks in_.)
_Jan_. I ask your pardon--Shall I come in, Ma'amselle?
_Helen_. Ay, ay, come in. How strangely any voice sounds amid this
loneliness. I am glad you are here.
_Jan_. (_Entering_.) Beautiful! Santa Maria! How beautiful! May I look
at these things, Ma'amselle? (_Stopping by the couch strewn with bridal
gear_.) Real Brussels! And the plume in this bonnet, was there ever such
a lovely droop?
_Helen_. Come, fasten this clasp for me, Netty. I thought to have had
another bridesmaid once, but--that is past--Yes, I am a bride to-day,
and I must not wait here unadorned.
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