Temperance stayed to the house-cleaning. It was lucky, she could not
help saying, as house-cleaning must always be after a funeral, that
it should have happened at the regular cleaning-time. She went back
to her own house as soon as it was over. Father drove to Milford as
usual; Arthur resumed his school, and Aunt Merce, who had at first
busied herself in looking over her wardrobe, and selecting from it
what she thought could be dyed, folded it away. She passed hours in
mother's room, from which father had fled, crying over her Bible,
looking in her boxes and drawers to feed her sorrow with the sight of
the familiar things, alternating those periods with her old occupation
of looking out of the windows. In regard to myself, and Veronica, she
evinced a distress at the responsibility which, she feared, must
rest upon her. Veronica, dark and silent, played such heart-piercing
strains that father could not bear to hear her; so when she played,
for he dared not ask her to desist, he went away. To me she had
scarcely spoken since the funeral. She wore the same dress each
day--one of black silk--and a small black mantle, pinned across her
bosom. Soon the doors began to open and shut after their old fashion,
and people came and went as of old on errands of begging or borrowing.
At the table we felt a sense of haste; instead of lingering, as was
our wont, we separated soon, with an indifferent air, as if we were
called by business, not sent away by sorrow. But if our eyes fell on a
certain chair, empty against the wall, a cutting pang was felt,
which was not at all concealed; for there were sudden breaks in our
commonplace talk, which diverged into wandering channels, betraying
the tension of feeling.
Many weeks passed, through which I endured an aching, aimless
melancholy. My thoughts continually drifted through the vacuum in
our atmosphere, and returned to impress me with a disbelief in the
enjoyment, or necessity of keeping myself employed with the keys of an
instrument, which, let me strike ever so cunningly, it was certain I
could never obtain mastery over.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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