Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
She remembered also that the next room, through which she had entered,
had windows on two sides. Those on one side opened as did her own; but
those on the other side looked out on an open space. And so, without
further thought, she opened the door between and passed into the outer
room. It too, like her own, was dark from the closed shutters.
Instinctively she went softly, her bare feet making no sound on the
carpet. With the same instinctive caution she had opened the door
noiselessly; when the self-protective instinct has once been awakened,
it does not easily relapse to sleep. She went over to one of the
windows and tried to look out through the chinks. The day was bright
outside and the sun was shining; the fog had entirely disappeared. In
the sudden desire to breathe the fresh morning air, and to free in the
sunlight her soul cramped by the long darkness of fog and night, she
threw open the heavy shutters.
Athlyne slept so soundly that he never stirred. He lay on the sofa on
his left side with his face out to the room. He too had been dreaming;
and to his dreams the happiness of the day had brought a vivifying
light. Through all his weariness of mind and body came to his spirit
the glow of those moments when he knew that his love was reciprocated;
when his call to his mate had been answered--answered in no uncertain
voice. And so he, too, had lain with bodily nature all quiescent,
whilst the emotional side of his mind ranged freely between memory and
expectation. And in due process the imaginative power of the mind had
worked on the nerves--and through them on the body--till he too lay in
a languorous semi-trance--the mind ranging free whilst the abnormally
receptive body quivered in unison. It was a dangerous condition of
being in which to face the situation which awaited him.
The sound of the opening shutter wakened him, fully and all at once.
The moment his eyes opened he saw a figure between him and the window;
and at the knowledge that some stranger was in his room the habit of
quick action which had prevailed in his years of campaigning
re-asserted itself. On the instant he flung aside his blanket and
sprang from his bed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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