The Descent of Man and Other StoriesWharton, Edith
General
The Descent of Man and Other Stories
Wharton, Edith
New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories
I don't know how long she stood there. I only know I couldn't stir or
take my eyes from her. Afterward I was terribly frightened, but at the
time it wasn't fear I felt, but something deeper and quieter. She
looked at me long and long, and her face was just one dumb prayer to
me--but how in the world was I to help her? Suddenly she turned, and I
heard her walk down the passage. This time I wasn't afraid to follow--I
felt that I must know what she wanted. I sprang up and ran out. She was
at the other end of the passage, and I expected her to take the turn
toward my mistress's room; but instead of that she pushed open the door
that led to the backstairs. I followed her down the stairs, and across
the passageway to the back door. The kitchen and hall were empty at
that hour, the servants being off duty, except for the footman, who was
in the pantry. At the door she stood still a moment, with another look
at me; then she turned the handle, and stepped out. For a minute I
hesitated. Where was she leading me to? The door had closed softly
after her, and I opened it and looked out, half-expecting to find that
she had disappeared. But I saw her a few yards off, hurrying across the
court-yard to the path through the woods. Her figure looked black and
lonely in the snow, and for a second my heart failed me and I thought
of turning back. But all the while she was drawing me after her; and
catching up an old shawl of Mrs. Blinder's I ran out into the open.
Emma Saxon was in the wood-path now. She walked on steadily, and I
followed at the same pace, till we passed out of the gates and reached
the high-road. Then she struck across the open fields to the village.
By this time the ground was white, and as she climbed the slope of a
bare hill ahead of me I noticed that she left no foot-prints behind
her. At sight of that, my heart shrivelled up within me, and my knees
were water. Somehow, it was worse here than indoors. She made the whole
countryside seem lonely as the grave, with none but us two in it, and
no help in the wide world.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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