Lady of Mallow [antikvár]

CHAPTER ONE s /ARAH SHIVERED and drew her cloak 'more closely about her. The summerhouse had broken panes of glass in the windows, and the wind blew through in a cold stream. It was rapidly growing dark. Because the trees were leafless, it was possible to see the house. Already lights were blooming in the windows. Sarah could identify them as she stood there, shivering and waiting. There was Lady Malvina's glowing boldly, with no curtains drawn, probably because she had forgotten to ring for Bessie. She would be nodding in front of an enormous fire (her room was always grossly overheated), with her capacious skirts spread about her and her cap askew. But presently, refreshed by her nap, she would wake to renewed vitality, and probably go to the nursery to thoroughly awake and excite Titus with one of her ferocious games. Eliza winced when she heard her approach. She said privately that Lady Malvina would be the death of her, if not of Titus first. In contrast to Lady Malvina's uninhibited glow of light, Amalie's windows showed a mere chink between the heavy curtains. Amalie, unlike her mother-in-law, seemed nervous of the outside darkness. She was always starting at something, always looking over her shoulder. Her thin bright anxious face was seldom relaxed. She was constantly watching her husband. Because she loved him too much? Because she was afraid he did not feel a similar affection for her? Whatever it was, the next window, Blane's (one wondered if the communicating door was ever opened into Amalie's bedroom) was in darkness, for Blane's restlessness—a restlessness that was curiously different from Amalie's, and was