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PRISCILLA
65
hands clasped as they had been when she was laid there, her face unchanged, the great room empty—death everywhere.
The cousin stood dumb at the door, the women crowding about her with hot blankets and restoratives. "It was a mistake," she said; and pushing them back, closed the door.
She went downstairs to the room where the trunk lay, and drawing the letters from her pocket placed them back unopened where she had found them. With reverent hands she laid the wedding things one by one in their place, and when she had finished she sealed and corded the box.
When Priscilla went to her sleeping-place the next day, there was borne by her side a little trunk, and it was laid at her feet in the cold vault that held so many dead.
F.C.
E
