Page:Magdalen by J S Machar.pdf/191

 only for a moment,—her soul at once fell again into its heavy semi-sleep.

The old lady frequently looked into her eyes: something yellow quivered in them now, and blue rings around them made them appear deeper in their sockets. The light breath of playful merriment and mobility had vanished, and there remained only a long, apathetic, retired, quiet glance. Her face was emaciated and of the color of yellowish alabaster. Her thin, light red lips had somehow become immovable. Her every motion had grown heavier and more feeble. For the remarks and jests of the old lady, for books and reminiscences, for everything, she had but a weak, melancholy smile.

“She is like a caterpillar,” often thought the old lady, “but she will change to a chrysalis.” Only rarely and but for a moment, she saw Lucy’s whole suppressed life, but with the childish optimism of her soul she thought that everything would soon be different.