Nicholas turned his head a fraction of an inch. His eyelids drooped and his veiled gaze rested upon Miranda.
She sat across the room, her head bent over the embroidery hoops and the same lawn handkerchief on which Johanna had been working Nicholas' monogram. This transfer was at his suggestion, for upon seeing that Miranda was as skilled with the needle as Johanna was clumsy, he had remarked that he thought it foolish for his wife to waste her time, 'If Miranda will be kind enough to do them.' She had, of course, been delighted, and she took great pride in her exquisite stitches and the neatness of the letters which Johanna had bungled.
From the silver sconce on the wall above Miranda's head candlelight fell directly on her hair and burnished it to gold fire. The color and texture of this hair gave Nicholas yet again a sensation of pleasure which was deeper than admiration, a curious pleasure which had in it both voluptuousness and solace. But for the origin of this sensation he had never troubled to search. Introspection was alien to his nature.
He continued to watch the pure oval of the girl's averted cheek, the long white throat and the youthful shadows at her collarbones, while her nimble fingers continued to manipulate the embroidery silk, which had much the same sheen and whiteness as her skin. She had scarcely attended to the conversation, in which as befitted her youth and anomalous position in the household she had taken no part. Her thoughts ran on the anticipated excitements of the ball.
Suddenly, in unconscious response to the steadiness of Nicholas' gaze, she raised her eyelids and looked full at him. A shock ran through her. Her heart beat in slow thick strokes. They looked across the room into each other's eyes for a half a second only, then Nicholas turning to the Countess said smoothly: 'Ah, that is most interesting, madame. Tell me more about your little Blaise.'
But Miranda knew that for all the triviality of the incident something cataclysmic had occurred. Their relationship had changed and from this point there could be no going back.
That night she had a dream in which her father came to her at Dragonwyck, and she ran to him with a joyous affection that she had never felt in reality.
'I've come to take you home, my girl,' he said, caressing her. And she clung to him crying for happiness, and yet she could not go. For a while she struggled frantically while her father receded and beckoned to her from across a shadowy gulf. Then she looked down at her body and saw that it was bound around with many colored flashing chains like jewels. 'You see I can't get free!' she cried. 'The chains are holding me.' Her father's face grew angry. You can free yourself if ye'll but try!' he shouted. She shook her head and he vanished. At once the chains grew light as clouds. She gathered them up in her hands and fell to kissing the jeweled links. And as she kissed them fear came to her, a fear so sharp that she awakened.
For a while she lay shivering in bed, but soon in the growing light she felt the security of her familiar room. She watched the bureau and the great Kas dwindle from dim monsters to useful pieces of furniture. The first rays of the summer sun slanted across the distant Taghkanic Mountains into her windows. She got up and looked out. The Catskills seemed near and distinct. She could make out scattered rooftops down the river at Coxsackie. The Hudson's waters were brightly blue and ruffled by nothing except the wake of a great schooner bound for Albany.
Below the houses on the vast lawns, booths covered with red, white, and blue bunting, picnic tables, and a carrousel had been set up during the night. From a distant grove of hemlocks came the squeak of a fiddle and the wheeze of a hand organ where the rustic musicians were practicing.
It would be a fine day for the festivities.
5
BREAKFAST THAT MORNING WAS HURRIED AND eaten to the accompaniment of confusion from outside. Nicholas' tenants were
She sat across the room, her head bent over the embroidery hoops and the same lawn handkerchief on which Johanna had been working Nicholas' monogram. This transfer was at his suggestion, for upon seeing that Miranda was as skilled with the needle as Johanna was clumsy, he had remarked that he thought it foolish for his wife to waste her time, 'If Miranda will be kind enough to do them.' She had, of course, been delighted, and she took great pride in her exquisite stitches and the neatness of the letters which Johanna had bungled.
From the silver sconce on the wall above Miranda's head candlelight fell directly on her hair and burnished it to gold fire. The color and texture of this hair gave Nicholas yet again a sensation of pleasure which was deeper than admiration, a curious pleasure which had in it both voluptuousness and solace. But for the origin of this sensation he had never troubled to search. Introspection was alien to his nature.
He continued to watch the pure oval of the girl's averted cheek, the long white throat and the youthful shadows at her collarbones, while her nimble fingers continued to manipulate the embroidery silk, which had much the same sheen and whiteness as her skin. She had scarcely attended to the conversation, in which as befitted her youth and anomalous position in the household she had taken no part. Her thoughts ran on the anticipated excitements of the ball.
Suddenly, in unconscious response to the steadiness of Nicholas' gaze, she raised her eyelids and looked full at him. A shock ran through her. Her heart beat in slow thick strokes. They looked across the room into each other's eyes for a half a second only, then Nicholas turning to the Countess said smoothly: 'Ah, that is most interesting, madame. Tell me more about your little Blaise.'
But Miranda knew that for all the triviality of the incident something cataclysmic had occurred. Their relationship had changed and from this point there could be no going back.
That night she had a dream in which her father came to her at Dragonwyck, and she ran to him with a joyous affection that she had never felt in reality.
'I've come to take you home, my girl,' he said, caressing her. And she clung to him crying for happiness, and yet she could not go. For a while she struggled frantically while her father receded and beckoned to her from across a shadowy gulf. Then she looked down at her body and saw that it was bound around with many colored flashing chains like jewels. 'You see I can't get free!' she cried. 'The chains are holding me.' Her father's face grew angry. You can free yourself if ye'll but try!' he shouted. She shook her head and he vanished. At once the chains grew light as clouds. She gathered them up in her hands and fell to kissing the jeweled links. And as she kissed them fear came to her, a fear so sharp that she awakened.
For a while she lay shivering in bed, but soon in the growing light she felt the security of her familiar room. She watched the bureau and the great Kas dwindle from dim monsters to useful pieces of furniture. The first rays of the summer sun slanted across the distant Taghkanic Mountains into her windows. She got up and looked out. The Catskills seemed near and distinct. She could make out scattered rooftops down the river at Coxsackie. The Hudson's waters were brightly blue and ruffled by nothing except the wake of a great schooner bound for Albany.
Below the houses on the vast lawns, booths covered with red, white, and blue bunting, picnic tables, and a carrousel had been set up during the night. From a distant grove of hemlocks came the squeak of a fiddle and the wheeze of a hand organ where the rustic musicians were practicing.
It would be a fine day for the festivities.
5
BREAKFAST THAT MORNING WAS HURRIED AND eaten to the accompaniment of confusion from outside. Nicholas' tenants were
Similar Books
