Her mind flew back to the happenings of the previous day. With the
lightning rapidity of retrospective thought, she passed again through
each experience from the moment when the call of the blackbird sounded
in the crypt. The helpless horror of being lifted by unseen hands; the
slow, swinging progress, to the accompaniment of the measured tread of
the men-at-arms; the stifling darkness, air and light shut out by the
heavy cloak, and yet the clear consciousness of the moment when the
stretcher passed from the Cathedral into the sunshine without; the
sudden pause, as the Bishop met the stretcher, and then--as she lay
helpless between them--Symon's question and Hugh's reply, with their
subtlety of hidden meaning, which filled her with impotent anger,
shewing as it did the completeness of the Bishop's connivance at Hugh's
conspiracy. Then Hugh's request, and the Bishop's hand laid upon her,
the Bishop's voice uplifted in blessing. Then once again the measured
tramp, tramp, and the steady swing of the stretcher; but now the men's
heels rang on cobbles, and voices seemed everywhere; cheery greetings,
snatches of song, chance words concerning a bargain or a meeting, a
light jest, a coarse oath; and, all the while, the steady, tramp,
tramp, and the ring of Hugh's spurs.
She grew faint and it seemed to her she was about to die beneath the
cloak, and that when at length Hugh removed it, it would prove a pall
beneath which he would find a dead bride.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313