Explore "The Rosicrucian. By Dinah Maria Mulock Craik" by Dinah Mulock on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Fearfully did morning dawn on the eyes of the murderer. He had regained his chamber unobserved, and there he crouched in its most gloomy nook. His frenzy had passed away, and left the freezing coldness of despair. The darkness was terrible to him, and yet when the light of morning came, he shrank from it in horror, and buried his face in his garments to shut out the fearful glare. All day he remained motionless. Margareta's loud weeping came to him from within. From her brother's bolted door, she thought he had departed on one of his usual rambles, and Basil heard his name repeated often, mingled with Isilda's, -- whom all supposed to have perished in the flames.
Basil heard his sister's sobs; but they fell idly on his stony ears. Many sounds rose from the street, -- the widow's cry, the orphan's moan, and the despairing lament of the houseless and homeless, -- but all were nothing to him. He kept the same immovable attitude until daylight waned, and then he rose and lit the fire on his hearth.