which would
take the stage into the village without its passing our house, a whim
possessed me. I would surprise them at home, and go in at the back
door, while they were expecting to hear the stage. The driver let me
out, and I stood in the road till he was out of sight.

A breeze blew round me, penetrating, but silent; the fields, and the
distant houses which dotted them, were asleep in the pale sunshine,
undisturbed by it. The crows cawed, and flew over the eastern woods.
I walked slowly. The road was deserted. Mrs. Grossman's house was
the only one I must pass; its shutters were closed, and the yard was
empty. As I drew near home a violent haste grew upon me, yet my feet
seemed to impede my progress. They were like lead; I impelled myself
along, as in a dream. Under the protection of our orchard wall I
turned my merino mantle, which was lined with an indefinite color,
spread my veil over my bonnet, and bent my shoulders, and passed down
the carriage-drive, by the dining-room windows, into the stable-yard.
The rays of sunset struck the lantern-panes in the light-house, and
gave the atmosphere a yellow stain. The pigeons were skimming up and
down the roof of the wood-house, and cooing round the horses that were
in the yard. A boy was driving cows into the shed, whistling a lively
air; he suspended it when he saw me, but I shook my finger at him, and
ran in. Slipping into the side hall, I dropped my bonnet and shawl,
and listened at the door for the familiar voices. Mother must be
there, as was her wont, and Aunt Merce. All of them, perhaps, for
I had seen nobody on my way. There was no talking within. The last
sunset ray struck on my hand its yellow shade, through the fan-light,
and faded before I opened the door. I was arrested on the threshold by
a silence which rushed upon me, clutching me in a suffocating embrace.
Mother was in her chair by the fire, which was out, for the brands
were black, and one had fallen close to her feet. A white flannel
shawl covered her shoulders; her chin rested on her breast. "She
is ill, and has dropped asleep," I thought, thrusting my hands out,
through this terrible silence, to break her slumber, and looked at the
clock; it was near seven. A door slammed, somewhere upstairs, so loud
it made me jump; but she did not wake. I went toward her, confused,
and stumbling against the table, which was between us, but reached her
at last. Oh, I knew it! She was dead! People must die, even in th