Country life -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Piedmont (U.S. : Region) -- Fiction; Virginia -- Fiction
She went out, with the big splint-basket on her arm; and she was
scarcely out of sight before Dorinda had dragged down the carpet bag and
hidden it under the front porch behind one of the primitive rock pillars
of the foundation. It would be impossible, she knew, to bring down the
bag in the morning without waking her mother, who was a light sleeper.
Her father and the boys, drugged by toil in the open, could sleep
through thunder; but her mother would start up and call out at the
scratching of a mouse. After she had hidden the bag, she went back into
the spare room and unwrapped her tan ulster and brown felt hat from the
newspapers which protected them from moths. As she unpinned the parcels,
a smell of mingled camphor and lavender was released on the air, and she
hoped that her mother would not detect it. "If she says anything, I'll
tell her it's time to be wearing my winter clothes," she decided, while
she carried the ulster and hat upstairs to her room. Since she had clung
desperately to the thought of going away, her suffering had been more
endurable; the vehement pain had dulled into an apathetic despair which
deadened every cell of her body. She dreaded the moment when the stupor
would lift and she should think and feel clearly again.
All night she slept only in restless waves of unconsciousness. The
darkness was broken up into false dawns, and at every deceptive glimmer
she would steal softly to the window and watch for the first splinter of
light. While it was still dark, she dressed herself in the clothes she
had laid by her bed, and then sat waiting for the sound of a crow in the
henhouse. In the early part of the night there was a vaporous moon; but
as the hours wore on, the sky clouded over, and when the day began to
break a fine, slow rain was falling. "I hate so terribly to go," she
thought, while she smoothed her hair and then wrapped up her brush and
comb and slipped them into the pocket of her ulster. "I don't believe
I'll go after all." But she knew, even while she lingered over the idea,
that there was no turning back.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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