This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1855 edition. Excerpt: ... the lady lisle. The last faint flush of sunset had faded away, and the frame-work of the casement which had been darkly opposed to the sombre sky, gradually blended with the blackness of night. A servant entered, and lighting a lamp which hung in the farther end of the chamber, was about to light several others, when his Lady said to him with a sad, but gentle voice, "Leave me at present, Richard, and light no more." The servant obeyed, after heaping a pile of pine-wood on the ample fire-place. The lady, who sat alone and mournful, soon relapsed into a mood of deeper abstraction. The light of the single lamp shadowed out the graceful folds of her dress from the prevailing gloom: but as the fire, which had before almost died away, burst out into flame and brightness, its reddening glow played over her cheek, a cheek which had been pale for many months. The lady shivered, as she felt, for the first time, the slight warmth; but still her mind's anxiety so absorbed every outward sense and feeling, that she thought not on the coldness of the night. An hour had passed away before the meditations of the lady were again disturbed, and the same domestic announced her husband's approach. She raised her eyes as he entered the apartment, and started when she beheld him. He was followed by others of his servants; but at his look they forthwith departed. The lady had risen partly from her chair to welcome her husband; but feelings, which she could not repress, stopped her. She shrunk back, as if unable to look upon him: yet she tried to conceal the shuddering that crept through her every vein; and, leaning her arm on the carved frame-work of her chair, she covered her eyes with her hand. "Art thou not well, Alice?" said the gentleman; and his wife...