Ghost stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
As the winter passed,--it seemed to me as if winter had never passed so
rapidly before,--I found it natural to watch my health with the most
careful scrutiny; to avoid improper food and undue excitement; to
refrain from long and perilous journeys; to consider whether each new
cook who entered the family might have occasion to poison me. It was an
anomaly which I did not observe at the time, that while in my heart of
hearts I expected to breathe my last upon the second of May, I yet
cherished a distinct plan of fighting, cheating, persuading, or
overmatching death.
I closed a large speculation on which I had been inclined, in the
summer, to "fly"; Alison could never manage petroleum ventures. I wound
up my business in a safe and systematic manner. "Hotchkiss must mean to
retire," people said. I revised my will, and held one long and necessary
conversation with my wife about her future, should "anything happen" to
me. She listened and planned without tears or exclamations; but after we
had finished the talk, she crept up to me with a quiet, puzzled sadness
that I could not bear.
"You are growing so blue lately, Fred! Why, what can 'happen' to you? I
don't believe God can mean to leave me here after you are gone; I don't
believe he _can_ mean to!"
All through the sweet spring days we were much together. I went late to
the office. I came home early. I spent the beautiful twilights at home.
I followed her about the house. I made her read to me, sing to me, sit
by me, touch me with her little, soft hand. I watched her face till the
sight choked me. How soon before she would know? How soon?
"I feel as if we'd just been married over again," she said one day,
pinching my cheek with a low laugh. "You are so good! I'd no idea you
cared so much about me. By and by, when you get over this lazy fit and
go about as you used to, I shall feel so deserted,--you've no idea! I
believe I will order a little widow's cap, and put it on, and wear it
about,--now, what do you mean by getting up and stalking off to look out
of the window? Fine prospect you must have, with the curtain down!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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