A clammy chill clutched at Virginia’s heart like tightening fingers. The import of his words burned deep within her. She got to her feet—but reseated herself at once at a wave of her father’s hand. The thought of death always had a sobering effect upon her—it filled her with longing, yet dread. The beautiful young mother, whose picture hung in the best room, and whose eyes followed her in every direction, was dead. Matty had told her many times just how her mother had gone, and how often the gentle spirit had returned to hover over the beloved young daughter. Now the memory of it was enhanced by the roar of the wind and the dismal moaning of the tall pines. Virginia firmly believed that her mother, among other unearthly visitants, walked in the night when the blizzard kept up its incessant beating. She also believed that the sound through the pines—that roaring, ever-changing, unhuman sound—was not of the wind’s making. It was voices,—spirit voices,—voices of the dead, of those who had gone down into the small cemetery beyond the road.

Only the day before Matty had told her how, one night, a tall, wandering white thing had walked in silence across the fields to Jonathan Woggles’ house. In the story, Jonathan’s grandpa was about to pass away. The glittering spirit stalked around and around the house, waiting for the old man’s soul. She was about to relate the tale when her father repeated:

“Your uncle is bad enough to want us out of the way.”

The shuddering chill again possessed her. She was torn between horror and eagerness—horror of what might be and eagerness to escape it. 20

20

“But he can’t get us out, can he?” she questioned.

“Yes, I’m afraid he can and will! Your Uncle Jordan is your mother’s stepbrother, no direct relation to you, but the only one left to look after you in the world but me. If you’ve any desire to live, you must leave here after I’ve gone, and that’s all there is to it!”

Virginia then understood, for the first time, something of the danger menacing her. Her heart beat and pounded like an engine ploughing up hill. From sheer human desire of self-preservation, she partly rose from the chair, with the idea of immediate departure.

“I could go with Matty, couldn’t I?” she suggested.

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