Seated in
an arm-chair, in order to relieve the oppression which suffocated her,
Sarah, almost regretting the death from which she had just escaped, was
occupied with bitter thoughts. Suddenly Thomas Seyton entered the chamber
of the countess; he with difficulty restrained some internal agitation; at
a sign from him her two women withdrew.
"How are you now?" said he to his sister.
"In the same state--I am very weak, and from time to time almost
suffocated. Why did not heaven take me away from this world during my last
attack?"
"Sarah," said Thomas Seyton, after a pause, "you are between life and
death--a violent emotion might kill you, as it might save you."
"I have now no more emotions to experience, my brother."
"Perhaps--"
"The death of Rudolph would find me indifferent; the ghost of my drowned
daughter--drowned by my fault--is there--always there, before me. It is not
an emotion--it is incessant remorse. I am really a mother now, since I no
longer have a child."
"I would prefer to find in you that cold ambition which made you regard
your daughter as a means to realize the dream of your life."
"The frightful reproaches of the prince have killed this ambition; the
maternal sentiment is awakened in me at the picture of the extreme misery
of my daughter."
"And," said Seyton, hesitating and weighing each word, "if by
chance-supposing an impossible thing--a miracle--you were informed that
your daughter still lived--how would you support such a discovery?"
"I should die with shame and despair at the sight of her.
Pages:
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399