G. G. Fairfield, Genevra; or, the history of a portrait (1851)
“ He stamped out of the room, and his heavy tread re-echoed along the corridor. Amazed at his temper, I sat still, thinking over what he had said, and wondering if he had spoken the truth: which, in that case, would have been some extenuation of his fault, when Pasiphae came rushing into the room, her face expressing the greatest terror, and frantically wringing her hands, she threw herself on her knees before me, and stared, without speaking.“What is the matter, Pasiphae? what has happened? what ails you?” I cried. ”
