Explore "A Tragedy of Love and Hate" by Bertha M. Clay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
They went through the silent house without another word, through the long corridors so lately gay with the sound of laughing voices and the lustre of perfumed silken gowns. The gloom seemed to deepen, the very lights that should have lessened it looked ghastly.
They came to the door of my lady's room, and there for one-half minute Sir Ronald paused. It was as though he feared to open it. Then he made an effort. Kenelm saw him straighten his tall figure and raise his head as though to defy fear. With reverent touch he turned the handle and they entered the room together. Loving hands had been busy there; it was hung round with black velvet and lighted with innumerable wax tapers. She had loved flowers so well in life that in death they had gathered them round her. Vases of great, luscious white roses; clusters of the sad passion flower; masses of carnations -- all mixed with green leaves and hawthorn branches.