She hunted the markets for bread and treats so they could feast during the day. She fell into another depression, refusing to touch Sebastian or call him husband when he demanded it. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. Days later, Sebastian found her by the lake, sobbing. Very well! I will try to help you. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. ” “For my infertility. It was a letter. She cut a deep gash into her own arm with a steel screw, loosing drops of her own blood onto the floorboards.
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