7]by any bolt which Fate could hurl against her. Her face was dark and very wrinkled, crowned by an aureole of white hair—a sort of three-arched aureole, one arch over each ear, and one above her forehead. Her lips were thin and firmly set in a straight line, moving no more than was absolutely necessary to give form to her words, so that sometimes her speech had an uncanny ventriloquial effect very startling. Her eyes were ambushed behind her glasses, which I never saw her without, and was sure she wore to bed with her. Her figure was tall and angular, and was clothed habitually in black, cut in the most uncompromising fashion. I must concede grandaunt the virtue—if it be a virtue in woman—that she never made the slightest effort to disguise her angles or to soften them.

[Pg 7]

These external characteristics were evident enough, even to my childish eyes; of her internal ones, a few made an indelible impression upon me. I saw that she pursued a policy of stern repression toward herself, and toward all who came in contact with her. If she had emotions, she never betrayed them, and she was intolerant of those who did. She thought it weakness. If she had affections, she mercilessly stifled them. Duty [Pg 8]was her watchword. Again, one of the great aims of her existence seemed to be to keep the sunlight and fresh air out of the house—I believe she thought them vulgar—just as her mother and grandmother and greatgrandmother, I suppose, had done before her.

[Pg 8]

She converted our bright and sunny parlour into a gloomy, penitential place, that sent a chill down my back every time I peeped into it, which was not often. The only thing in the world she seemed afraid of was night air, and this she dreaded with a mighty dread, believing it laden with some insidious and deadly poison. To breathe night air was to commit suicide—though I have never been quite clear as to what other kind of air one can breathe at night.

Yes—one other fear she had. I remembered it afterwards, and understood, though at the time I simply thought it queer. Mother tucked me in bed one evening, and kissed me and bade me good-night. I heard her step die away down the hall and then I suppose I fell asleep. But I soon awakened, possessed by a burning thirst, a cruel and insistent thirst which was not to be denied. The moon was shining brightly, and I looked across at mother’s bed, but saw she was not there. [Pg 9]There was nothing for it but to go after a drink myself, so I clambered out of my cot and started along the hall. Just about midway, I 

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