It might float her for a few hours, and she was grateful.
Immersed in these reflections, Caroline sat gazing at the clouds,
now transformed into royal robes of crimson and gold--the gorgeous
train of the sun filled the western horizon. She raised her pale
hands to her head, lifting the mass of dark hair from her temples.
The fevered blood, madly coursing, pulsed in her ear like the stroke
of a bell.
She remembered a sunset like this on the shores of the Bay of Minas,
where the thrush and oriole twittered their even-song before seeking
their nests, where the foliage of the trees was all ablaze with
golden fire, and a shimmering path of sunlight lay upon the still
waters like a glorious bridge leading from themselves to the bright
beyond.
On that well-remembered night her heart had yielded to Bigot's
pleadings. She had leaned her head upon his bosom, and received the
kiss and gave the pledge that bound her to him forever.
The sun kept sinking--the forests on the mountain tops burst into a
bonfire of glory. Shadows went creeping up the hill-sides until the
highest crest alone flamed out as a beacon of hope to her troubled
soul.
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