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Alma-Tadema, Laurence, 1865?-1940

"The Wings of Icarus Being the Life of one Emilia Fletcher"


"Dear!" she cried; "dear, you loved me so, and this is what I have
done. Oh, Emilia, forgive me!--Emilia, forgive me, oh, forgive me!"
I told her that she was forgiven. I cooled her forehead with water,
and at length laid her upon the bed. She clung to me piteously as I
was leaving.
"Kiss me good night," she murmured.
I had not felt that I could kiss her, but I stooped and touched her
slightly on the brow, at the root of the curls. Then I left her,
feeling all the way the clutch of her little fingers on my arm.
* * * * *
As I slipped up to my room, I had to pass the drawing-room door; it
was ajar, and I caught a glimpse of them all as they sat at the
card-table under the green-shaded lamp.
"Honours divided, Miss Seymour, honours divided," said the vicar;
and as I slowly made my way upstairs I heard the clatter of teacups
and Mrs. Rayner's thin laugh.
I went past the room I had shared with Gabriel, and made my way to
the topmost floor, to the room that was formerly mine. It was in
disorder, and nearly bare. I lighted a candle, but the sight of the
dreariness oppressed me; I therefore blew it out again, and leant
out of the open window.


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