'
'It accords with the rest,' she said; 'but we must submit. Shall you
obtain leave, do you suppose?'
'For--for--to-morrow,' said Waverley; but muttering the last word so
faintly that it was almost unintelligible.
'Aye, then or never,' said Flora, 'until'--she added, looking upward,
'the time when, I trust, we shall all meet. But I hope you will see him
while earth yet bears him. He always loved you at his heart, though--but
it is vain to talk of the past.'
'Vain indeed!' echoed Waverley.
'Or even of the future, my good friend,' said Flora, 'so far as earthly
events are concerned; for how often have I pictured to myself the strong
possibility of this horrid issue, and tasked myself to consider how I
could support my part; and yet how far has all my anticipation fallen
short of the unimaginable bitterness of this hour!'
'Dear Flora, if your strength of mind'--
'Aye, there it is,' she answered, somewhat wildly; 'there is, Mr.
Waverley, there is a busy devil at my heart, that whispers--but it were
madness to listen to it--that the strength of mind on which Flora prided
herself has murdered her brother!'
'Good God! how can you give utterance to a thought so shocking?'
'Aye, is it not so?--but yet it haunts me like a phantom: I know it is
unsubstantial and vain; but it will be present--will intrude its horrors
on my mind--will whisper that my brother, as volatile as ardent, would
have divided his energies amid a hundred objects.
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