Frederic Edwin Church Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives painting

Frederic Edwin Church Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives paintingWilliam Merritt Chase Terrace Prospect Park paintingWilliam Merritt Chase On the Lake Central Park painting
the darkness, as when years ago I had lit her cigarette on the way from the station; as far as when she was out of mind, in the dry, empty years at the Old Rectory, and in the jungle. Tears spring from speech; presently in her silence her weeping stopped. She sat up, away from me, took my handkerchief, shivered, rose to her feet.

‘Well,’ she said, in a voice much like normal. ‘Bridey is one for bombshells, isn’t he?’
I followed her into the house and to her room; she sat at her looking-glass. ‘Considering that I’ve just recovered from a fit of hysteria,’ she said, ‘I don’t call that at all bad.’ Her eyes seemed unnaturally large and bright, her cheeks pale with two spots of high colour, where, as a girl, she used to put a dab of