--That is nothing to
another transcendental fancy of mine. I believe her soul thinks itself
in his little crooked body at times,--if it does not really get freed or
half freed from her own. Did you ever see a case of catalepsy? You know
what I mean,--transient loss of sense, will, and motion; body and limbs
taking any position in which they are put, as if they belonged to a
lay-figure. She had been talking with him and listening to him one day
when the boarders moved from the table nearly all at once. But she sat
as before, her cheek resting on her hand, her amber eyes wide open and
still. I went to her, she was breathing as usual, and her heart was
beating naturally enough,--but she did not answer. I bent her arm; it
was as plastic as softened wax, and kept the place I gave it.--This will
never do, though, and I sprinkled a few drops of water on her forehead.
She started and looked round.--I have been in a dream,--she said;--I
feel as if all my strength were in this arm;--give me your hand!--She
took my right hand in her left, which looked soft and white enough,
but--Good Heaven! I believe she will crack my bones! All the nervous
power in her body must have flashed through those muscles; as when a
crazy lady snaps her iron window-bars,--she who could hardly glove
herself when in her common health.
Pages:
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353