The rain dripped through the roof and the wind blew
throughthe walls. The sun filteredthrough the ivy leaves and the blind with peasants
walking blewgently out. She summoned her brother Henry, and cross-examined him.
Wilson, though convinced that death awaited her, got in.
In Wimpole Street Miss Barrett could not eat her
dinner.
Suchsigns of secrecy and stealth must herald, Flush
felt, someapproaching crisis. He found himself almost blinded,first by the sun, then
by the shadow. The demons pawed and clawed them;cursed and quarrelled over them.
Over the fire hung a mirror with twocupids to hold the lights.
Miss Barrett, Flush saw, went deadly white. Trees
bent over her; theriver raced round her. And sheseemed now to be perpetually
starting and moving.
The terms upon which Wimpole Street lived cheek by
jowl with St. Atlast the light broadened; the rattling stopped. Lying on her sofa,
Miss Barrett read the letters.
There were no sofas, no armchairs, no bookcases,
nobusts. Lying on her sofa, Miss Barrett read the letters. Once the hunting horn of
Venus had blown its wildmusic over the Berkshire fields; he had loved
Mr.
Taylor would name his sum; she wouldpay it; Flush
would be returned.
Now in Florence the last threads of his old fetters
fell from him.
There was a rattling in the room andhe thought he
heard Miss Mitford tying up a bunch of geraniums.
Theywere to come before her again years later when
she was sitting on asunny balcony in Italy. The bed was a bed;the wash-stand was a
wash-stand. When they were alone sherose and took a diamond necklace from a drawer.
Imagine waiting in the house ofthat woman!
For they were at Vaucluse; she had perchedherself
upon a stone in the middle of Petrarchs fountain. Insects crawled in his fur, but he
was too weak, too indifferent toshake his coat.
Had the Kennel Club, then, no jurisdiction inItaly?
Almostexhausted, almost hopeless, he lay panting in his dark corner ofthe teeming
floor.
But now the butler had opened the door,and she went
upstairs to her room again. Flies buzzed on scraps of old meat that were decaying on
the floor. For they were at Vaucluse; she had perchedherself upon a stone in the
middle of Petrarchs fountain. But Henry, instead of telling her, had told Mr. Flush
had lain at theirmercy in their midst for five whole days. But now the butler had
opened the door,and she went upstairs to her room again.