He closed his eyes, and saw her lovelier than ever, dressed all in white,
waiting for him with sweet concern in that peerless face. "Julia! Julia!"
he cried, with a loud heart-broken cry. The half-hour struck. At that he
struggled, he writhed, he bounded: he made the very room shake, and
lacerated his flesh; but that was all. No answer. No motion. No help. No
hope.
The perspiration rolled down his steaming body. The tears burst from his
young eyes and ran down his cheeks. he sobbed, and sobbing almost choked,
so tight were his linen bands upon his bursting bosom.
He lay still exhausted.
The clock ticked harshly on: the rest was silence. With this miserable
exception: ever and anon the victim's jammed body shuddered so terribly
it shook and rattled the iron bedstead, and told of the storm within, the
agony of the racked and all foreboding soul.
For then rolled over that young head hours of mortal anguish that no
tongue of man can utter, nor pen can shadow. Chained sane amongst the
mad; on his wedding-day; expecting with tied hands the sinister acts of
the soul-murderers who had the power to make their lie a truth! We can
paint the body writhing vainly against its unjust bonds; but who can
paint the loathing, agonised soul in a mental situation so ghastly? For
my part I feel it in my heart of hearts; but am impotent to convey it to
others; impotent, impotent.
Pages:
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726