Home BurialComplete TextHe saw her from the bottom of the stairsBefore she saw him. She was starting down,Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.
She took a doubtful step and then undid itTo raise herself and look again. He spokeAdvancing toward her: "What is it you seeFrom up there always?--for I want to know."She turned and sank upon her skirts at that,And her face changed from terrified to dull.
He said to gain time: "What is it you see?"Mounting until she cowered under him.
"I will find out now--you must tell me, dear."She, in her place, refused him any help,With the least stiffening of her neck and silence.
She let him look, sure that he wouldn't see,Blind creature; and awhile he didn't see.
But at last he murmured, "Oh," and again, "Oh.""What is it--what?" she said.
"Just that I see.""You don't," she challenged. "Tell me what it is.""The
wonder is I didn't see it at once.
I never noticed it from here before.
I must be wonted to it--that's the reason.
The little graveyard where my people are!So small the window frames the whole of it.
Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it?There are three stones of slate and one of marble,Broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlightOn the sidehill. We haven't to mind those.
But I understand: it is not the stones,But the child's mound----""Don't, don't, don't,don't," she cried.
She withdrew, shrinking from beneath his armThat rested on the banister, and slid downstairs;And turned on him with such a daunting look,He said twice over before he knew himself:"Can't a man speak of his own child he's lost?""Not you!--Oh, where's my hat? Oh, I don't need it!I must get out of here. I must get air.--I don't know rightly whether any man can.""Amy!...