Explore "Rose of the World" by Egerton Castle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There was sunshine enough without to have tempted the most obstinate recluse into the fields. But as little as she had heeded November rain did Rosamond now heed the brightness of this opening December. While the old attic room held her bodily presence, her soul was once again back in the past. The past... where, after all, she had not lived, and which (strange poignant lesson of fate! ) was now to become to her more living than the present.
Those letters, those early memorials, the very thought of which had once inspired dread, now drew her like a magnet. Scarcely could she give herself to the necessary facts of life, so impatiently did she long for those solitary hours in his room, with him!