End of the world -- Fiction; Epidemics -- Fiction; Science fiction; Twenty-first century -- Fiction
By the time that she had with uneasy thoughts laid her fair cheek upon
her pillow, her mother’s servant brought a draught; a suspicion again
crossed her at this novel proceeding, sufficiently alarming to
determine her not to take the potion; but dislike of contention, and a
wish to discover whether there was any just foundation for her
conjectures, made her, she said, almost instinctively, and in
contradiction to her usual frankness, pretend to swallow the medicine.
Then, agitated as she had been by her mother’s violence, and now by
unaccustomed fears, she lay unable to sleep, starting at every sound.
Soon her door opened softly, and on her springing up, she heard a
whisper, “Not asleep yet,” and the door again closed. With a beating
heart she expected another visit, and when after an interval her
chamber was again invaded, having first assured herself that the
intruders were her mother and an attendant, she composed herself to
feigned sleep. A step approached her bed, she dared not move, she
strove to calm her palpitations, which became more violent, when she
heard her mother say mutteringly, “Pretty simpleton, little do you
think that your game is already at an end for ever.”
For a moment the poor girl fancied that her mother believed that she
had drank poison: she was on the point of springing up; when the
Countess, already at a distance from the bed, spoke in a low voice to
her companion, and again Idris listened: “Hasten,” said she, “there is
no time to lose— it is long past eleven; they will be here at five;
take merely the clothes necessary for her journey, and her
jewel-casket.” The servant obeyed; few words were spoken on either
side; but those were caught at with avidity by the intended victim. She
heard the name of her own maid mentioned;—“No, no,” replied her mother,
“she does not go with us; Lady Idris must forget England, and all
belonging to it.” And again she heard, “She will not wake till late
to-morrow, and we shall then be at sea.”——“All is ready,” at length the
woman announced. The Countess again came to her daughter’s bedside: “In
Austria at least,” she said, “you will obey. In Austria, where
obedience can be enforced, and no choice left but between an honourable
prison and a fitting marriage.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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