When she recovered herself from the
effort she tried vainly to catch a glimpse of the canoe that seemed to
have dissolved suddenly into the white mist trailing over the heated
waters of the Pantai. After listening for a while intently on her knees,
Mrs. Almayer rose with a deep sigh, while two tears wandered slowly down
her withered cheeks. She wiped them off quickly with a wisp of her grey
hair as if ashamed of herself, but could not stifle another loud sigh,
for her heart was heavy and she suffered much, being unused to tender
emotions. This time she fancied she had heard a faint noise, like the
echo of her own sigh, and she stopped, straining her ears to catch the
slightest sound, and peering apprehensively towards the bushes near her.
"Who is there?" she asked, in an unsteady voice, while her imagination
peopled the solitude of the riverside with ghost-like forms. "Who is
there?" she repeated faintly.
There was no answer: only the voice of the river murmuring in sad
monotone behind the white veil seemed to swell louder for a moment, to
die away again in a soft whisper of eddies washing against the bank.
Mrs. Almayer shook her head as if in answer to her own thoughts, and
walked quickly away from the bushes, looking to the right and left
watchfully.
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