- end_line
- 14273
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 14194
- text
- "Good heavens!--coming here?--your cousin?--Miss Tartan?"
"Yes, I thought you must have heard of her and me;--but it was broken
off; Delly."
"Sir? Sir?"
"I have no explanation, Delly; and from you, I must have no amazement.
My cousin,--mind, my _cousin_, Miss Tartan, is coming to live with us.
The next room to this, on the other side there, is unoccupied. That room
shall be hers. You must wait upon her, too, Delly."
"Certainly sir, certainly; I will do any thing;" said Delly trembling;
"but,--but--does Mrs. Glendin-din--does my mistress know this?"
"My wife knows all"--said Pierre sternly. "I will go down and get the
key of the room; and you must sweep it out."
"What is to be put into it, sir?" said Delly. "Miss Tartan--why, she is
used to all sorts of fine things,--rich
carpets--wardrobes--mirrors--curtains;--why, why, why!"
"Look," said Pierre, touching an old rug with his foot;--"here is a bit
of carpet; drag that into her room; here is a chair, put that in; and
for a bed,--ay, ay," he muttered to himself; "I have made it for her,
and she ignorantly lies on it now!--as made--so lie. Oh God!"
"Hark! my mistress is calling"--cried Delly, moving toward the opposite
room.
"Stay!"--cried Pierre, grasping her shoulder; "if both called at one
time from these opposite chambers, and both were swooning, which door
would you first fly to?"
The girl gazed at him uncomprehendingly and affrighted a moment; and
then said,--"This one, sir"--out of mere confusion perhaps, putting her
hand on Isabel's latch.
"It is well. Now go."
He stood in an intent unchanged attitude till Delly returned.
"How is my wife, now?"
Again startled by the peculiar emphasis placed on the magical word
_wife_, Delly, who had long before this, been occasionally struck with
the infrequency of his using that term; she looked at him perplexedly,
and said half-unconsciously--
"Your wife, sir?"
"Ay, is she not?"
"God grant that she be--Oh, 'tis most cruel to ask that of poor, poor
Delly, sir!"
"Tut for thy tears! Never deny it again then!--I swear to heaven, she
is!"
With these wild words, Pierre seized his hat, and departed the room,
muttering something about bringing the key of the additional chamber.
As the door closed on him, Delly dropped on her knees. She lifted her
head toward the ceiling, but dropped it again, as if tyrannically awed
downward, and bent it low over, till her whole form tremulously cringed
to the floor.
"God that made me, and that wast not so hard to me as wicked Delly
deserved,--God that made me, I pray to thee! ward it off from me, if it
be coming to me. Be not deaf to me; these stony walls--Thou canst hear
through them. Pity! pity!--mercy, my God!--If they are not married; if
I, penitentially seeking to be pure, am now but the servant to a greater
sin, than I myself committed: then, pity! pity! pity! pity! pity! Oh God
that made me,--See me, see me here--what can Delly do? If I go hence,
none will take me in but villains. If I stay, then--for stay I must--and
they be not married,--then pity, pity, pity, pity, pity!"
- title
- Chunk 5