The Ancestral Footstep (fragment): Outlines of an English RomanceHawthorne, Nathaniel
General
The Ancestral Footstep (fragment): Outlines of an English Romance
Hawthorne, Nathaniel
American literature
The footsteps came on, and at the turning of the path, just where
Middleton had met Eldredge, the new-comer appeared in sight. It was
Hoper, in his usual dress of velveteen, looking now seedy,
poverty-stricken, and altogether in ill-case, trudging moodily along,
with his hat pulled over his brows, so that he did not see the ghastly
object before him till his foot absolutely trod upon the dead man's hand.
Being thus made aware of the proximity of the corpse, he started back a
little, yet evincing such small emotion as did credit to his English
reserve; then uttering a low exclamation,--cautiously low, indeed,--he
stood looking at the corpse a moment or two, apparently in deep
meditation. He then drew near, bent down, and without evincing any horror
at the touch of death in this horrid shape, he opened the dead man's
vest, inspected the wound, satisfied himself that life was extinct, and
then nodded his head and smiled gravely. He next proceeded to examine
seriatim the dead man's pockets, turning each of them inside out and
taking the contents, where they appeared adapted to his needs: for
instance, a silken purse, through the interstices of which some gold was
visible; a watch, which however had been injured by the explosion, and
had stopt just at the moment--twenty-one minutes past five--when the
catastrophe took place. Hoper ascertained, by putting the watch to his
ear, that this was the case; then pocketing it, he continued his
researches. He likewise secured a note-book, on examining which he found
several bank-notes, and some other papers. And having done this, the
thief stood considering what to do next; nothing better occurring to him,
he thrust the pockets back, gave the corpse as nearly as he could the
same appearance that it had worn before he found it, and hastened away,
leaving the horror there on the wood-path.
He had been gone only a few minutes when another step, a light woman's
step, [was heard] coming along the pathway, and Alice appeared, having on
her usual white mantle, straying along with that fearlessness which
characterized her so strangely, and made her seem like one of the
denizens of nature. She was singing in a low tone some one of those airs
which have become so popular in England, as negro melodies; when
suddenly, looking before her, she saw the blood-stained body on the
grass, the face looking ghastly upward. Alice pressed her hand upon her
heart; it was not her habit to scream, not the habit of that strong,
wild, self-dependent nature; and the exclamation which broke from her was
not for help, but the voice of her heart crying out to herself. For an
instant she hesitated, as [if] not knowing what to do; then approached,
and with her white, maiden hand felt the brow of the dead man,
tremblingly, but yet firm, and satisfied herself that life had wholly
departed. She pressed her hand, that had just touched the dead man's, on
her forehead, and gave a moment to thought.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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