Katherine, seeing that Constance' lips were blue and her face pale,
and forgetting her ladyship's evil ways, agreed they should stop at
the first inn and there lie until the next morning; Janet having
declared privately to her mistress that she should not waste any time
with her ladyship.
Though the night was black and the road uncertain, yet they maintained
a fair pace over the open downs, having left the shadowy trees behind;
but there were no lights ahead and the prospects of getting shelter
for the night were dubitable.
Constance became more and more impatient, pulling up the window every
few minutes to inquire if any lights were to be seen, each time
letting in a shower of rain that deluged her dress. This dampness was
soon felt by her ladyship, whose temper could hardly keep her warm,
and she called for blankets. There were none. At this knowledge she
grew worse, and cried that she was in a chill and must have aid from
somewhere.
For a truth, her teeth were chattering and her hands were cold, but
it was nothing but mimosis brought on by the evil caldron that boiled
within her wicked body.
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