When such
a chance offered, it was a common experience with him to be drawn
into prolixity. But he was pained and surprised, nevertheless, after
twenty minutes' discourse (in which he proved Sophia, and Sophia
alone, to be responsible for the disasters of the day), to find that
she had dropped asleep. He looked down for a minute or so upon her
closed lids, then moved to the rail of the balcony and ejaculated
under his breath:
"O woman--woman! Wise art thou as the dove, and about as harmless as
the serpent!"
He considered the heavens for some moments, and added with some
tartness but with a far-off look at the stars, as though aiming the
remark at the late Mrs. Runacles:
"Her charm, at any rate, is not derived from her mother!"
He turned abruptly and considered her as she slept under the stars.
Stooping after a minute or two, and lifting her very gently, he bore
her into the house and down to her own room. As they descended the
ladder from the attic, she stirred and opened her eyes drowsily:
"You will bring Tristram back?" she murmured, but so softly that he
had to bend his head to catch the syllables.
Her eyes closed again before he could answer. He carried her to her
bed and laid her upon it; then, after waiting a while to assure
himself that she was fast asleep, retraced his steps softly to the
little balcony.
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