- Software name: appdown
- Software type: Microsoft Framwork
- size: 928MB
Trafford smiled at the jest, and looked after the carriage thoughtfully.
When Norman looked from that face to the hole, something went thrilling warmly through all his veins.It behaved very well until Esmeraldawho was riding aheadput it at a gate. It refused, and Trafford called to her to let him open the gate; but Esmeralda threw back some response over her shoulder, and tried the jump again. The horse refused, as before, and so clumsily that he slipped and fell.
There was a suggestion in this last bit of history, which Diva was quick to notice. She had the coffin disinterred, and satisfied herself that the body therein contained was not that of the man whom she had married,albeit, she found on its chill finger a ring which she had given him, and saw that there were some striking similarities of height, complexion, and color of hair and eyes. She needed no further proof that Earle Roy and Edmund Roath were one and the same, and she believed that he still lived, answering to the dead man's name, and playing his part, on some distant stage. However, she took care that her actions should express quite the contrary conviction; she caused the re-interment to be so arranged as to suggest an intended removal; she generously requited every kindness shown to the invalid; finally, she put on deep widow's weeds, and sickened to feel them so appropriate. She had a sombre intuition that Edmund Roath was dead to her. Nothing remained of him but his backward shadow on her heart and life. The places that had known him grew dim and tomb-like. The wealth which had doubtless been his main object, became worthless in her eyes. The chill materialism with which he had imbued her mind, in place of the more rationalistic creed of her father, made all things ring hollow to her touch. The charm of Italy was gone; its sky had faded, its atmosphere was as heavy with the weight of a dead Past as her own heart. She longed for a new sky above, new earth below, new air to breathe, a new life to live. She longed, too,poor, empty heart! poor, hungry soul!for something to love and to reverence, though she was scarcely conscious of it; she knew only that she had a deep thirst which nothing quenched.
"Not as I used to care. One's taste changes as life goes on. Lately I have read nothing but Victor Hugo, and Keats, and Shelley."
"And I hope you accepted their invitations."