It must have seemed to that poor girl, opening her letter, for
distraction from another grief, up in her bedroom, like the laughter
of a devil.
I just cannot bear to think of my poor dear girl at that moment. . . .
And, at the same time, Leonora was lashing, like a cold fiend, into
the unfortunate Edward. Or, perhaps, he was not so unfortunate;
because he had done what he knew to be the right thing, he may
be deemed happy. I leave it to you. At any rate, he was sitting in
his deep chair, and Leonora came into his room--for the first time
in nine years. She said:
"This is the most atrocious thing you have done in your atrocious
life." He never moved and he never looked at her. God knows
what was in Leonora's mind exactly.
I like to think that, uppermost in it was concern and horror at the
thought of the poor girl's going back to a father whose voice made
her shriek in the night. And, indeed, that motive was very strong
with Leonora. But I think there was also present the thought that
she wanted to go on torturing Edward with the girl's presence. She
was, at that time, capable of that.
Edward was sunk in his chair; there were in the room two candles,
hidden by green glass shades.
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