Explore "Hudson River Bracketed" by Edith Wharton on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Waking near noon that day from the sleep into which she had fallen after the vigil on Thundertop, Héloïse Spear sat up in bed and thought: "What's wrong?"
She stretched her arms above her head, pushed back her hair from her sleepy eyes, and looked about her room, which was cooled by the soft green light filtered through the leaves of the ancient trumpet creeper above her window. For a moment or two the present was drowned in the remembered blaze of the sunrise, and the enjoyment of the hunger satisfied beside the pool; but already she knew that-- as was almost invariable in her experience--something disagreeable lurked in the heart of her memories: as if every enjoyment in life had to be bought by a bother.