There they all paused, hovering in uncertainty around
the room, while the queen, holding her purple train up lightly in
one hand, stood at the foot of the throne, glancing at them with
her cold, haughty and beautiful eyes. In their wandering, those
same darkly-splendid eyes glanced and lighted on Sir Norman, who,
in a state of seeming stupor at the horrible scene he had just
witnessed, stood near the green table, and they sent a thrill
through him with their wonderful resemblance to Leoline's. So
vividly alike were they, that he half doubted for a moment
whether she and Leoline were not really one; but no - Leoline
never could have had the cold, cruel heart to stand and witness
such a horrible eight. Miranda's dark, piercing glance fell as
haughtily and disdainfully on him as it had on the rest; and his
heart sank as he thought that whatever sympathy she had felt for
him was entirely gone. It might have been a whim, a woman's
caprice, a spirit of contradiction, that had induced her to
defend him at first. Whatever it was, and it mattered not now,
it had completely vanished. No face of marble could have been
colder, of stonier, or harder, than hers, as she looked at him
out of the depths of her great dark eyes; and with that look, his
last lingering hope of life vanished.
Pages:
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209