The
terrible ordeal passed through by this unhappy woman, had told upon
her severely. In a year, she seemed to have lived ten. All the fine
roundness of her face and person had given way, and she presented
the appearance of one who had come out of a long and exhausting
illness.
Constance made it a point of duty to visit her often. She found her
states of mind exceedingly variable. Sometimes she was in patient,
tranquil states, and sometimes she manifested great bitterness of
spirit, complaining of man's cruel selfishness, and God's injustice.
The marriage of Mr. Dewey disturbed her considerably. One day, not
long after this event, Constance called to see her. She was in one
of her darker moods; and all the comforting suggestions which my
good wife could make, seemed to go for nothing. They were sitting
near a window, overlooking the street, when Delia suddenly turned
pale, and caught her breath. A carriage went sweeping by at the
moment, drawn by two spirited horses,
"Is that the woman?" she exclaimed, as soon as she recovered
herself.
"That is the woman," Constance replied.
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