"Two hours passed ere she could again show herself to her father, from
whom she seemed in some new way divided by the new feeling in which he did
not, and could not share. But at last, lest he should seek her, and
finding her, should suspect her thoughts, she descended and sought him.--
For there is a maidenliness in sorrow, that wraps her garments close
around her.--But he was not to be seen; the door of the study was locked.
A shudder passed through her as she thought of what her father, who lost
no opportunity of furthering his all but perfect acquaintance with the
human form and structure, might be about with the figure which she knew
lay dead beneath that velvet pall, but which had arisen to haunt the
hollow caves and cells of her living brain. She rushed away, and up once
more to her silent room, through the darkness which had now settled down
in the house; threw herself again on her bed, and lay almost paralysed
with horror and distress.
"But Teufelsbuerst was not about anything so frightful as she supposed,
though something frightful enough.
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