Lord Almeric's Suit

When Julia awoke in the morning, without start or shock, to the dreary
consciousness of all she had lost, she was still under the influence of
the despair which had settled on her spirits overnight, and had run like
a dark stain through her troubled dreams. Fatigue of body and lassitude
of mind, the natural consequences of the passion and excitement of her
adventure, combined to deaden her faculties. She rose aching in all her
limbs--yet most at heart--and wearily dressed herself; but neither saw
nor heeded the objects round her.

The room to which poor puzzled Mrs.
Olney had hastily consigned her looked over a sunny stretch of park,
sprinkled with gnarled thorn-trees that poorly filled the places of the
oaks and chestnuts which the gaming-table had consumed. Still, the
outlook pleased the eye, nor was the chamber itself lacking in
liveliness. The panels on the walls, wherein needlework cockatoos and
flamingoes, wrought under Queen Anne, strutted in the care of needlework
black-boys, were faded and dull; but the pleasant white dimity with
which the bed was hung relieved and lightened them.

To Julia it was all one. Wrapped in bitter thoughts and reminiscences,
her bosom heaving from time to time with ill-restrained grief, she gave
no thought to such things, or even to her position, until Mrs. Olney
appeared and informed her that breakfast awaited her in another room.

Then, 'Can I not take it here?' she asked, shrinking painfully from the
prospect of meeting any one.

'Here?' Mrs. Olney repeated. The housekeeper never closed her mouth,
except when she spoke; for which reason, perhaps, her face faithfully
mirrored the weakness of her mind.