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CHAP. VI.
Let's talk of graves, and worms, and epitaphs.
Madeline rose with a heaviness of heart which left her scarcely power to move; the day was as gloomy as her mind, and added, perhaps, by its melancholy to her's:—a slow, but penetrating, rain was falling, and the cattle that grazed upon the lawn were dripping with wet, and retiring to the most sheltered parts of the wood:—the waters of the lake looked black and troubled, nor did any brightness in the sky give a promise of a finer day. To complete the dejection of Madeline, on going to the dressing-room
