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322 back, and showed her head, from which the ringlets had all been so lately shorn: the hair had, however, grown rapidly, and it lay in the short, thick, waving curls of early childhood. With the hope of relieving her oppression, the windows had all been thrown up. As if a sudden thought struck her, Emily rose, and, with Beatrice's aid, walked to the one which opened by some garden steps. "So much for auguries," said Emily, pointing to a young geranium, which was growing in vigour below. "The day before I left home, I planted that slip, and, in idea, linked my futurity with the slight shrub, saying, If it flourishes, so shall I—if it dies, I shall die too. See how luxuriantly it blooms!" Neither of her friends spoke: the words of encouragement, of its being a good omen, died on Lady Mandeville's lips; and Beatrice led her back to the chair, finding no voice to urge the quiet she recommended by signs. "It is twelve o'clock!" exclaimed Emily; and at the same moment the church-clock struck. The wind, which was setting towards the house, brought the hours slowly and distinctly. She counted them as they struck; and then breathless with mingled weakness and