Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 14, 2025
He came on a Saturday noon. That afternoon we attended en masse one of those refined inquisitions commonly known as picnics, and Winthrop lost his pocket-knife. Selphar, of course, kept house at home. When we returned, Winthrop made some careless reference to his loss in her presence, and thought no more of it.
Selphar had seen Aunt Alice. We sat down and looked at one another. There was a singular, pinched look about my mother's mouth. "Sarah." "Yes." "She says" and then she told me what she said. She had seen Alice Stuart in a Western town, seven hundred miles away. Among the living, she desired to be counted of the dead. And that was all.
She went directly to the book-case, laid her hands upon the books at once, and brought them to my mother. Mother changed them from, hand to hand several times, and turned them with the gilt lettering downwards upon her lap. "Now, Selphar, which is Miss Sarah's?" The girl quietly took mine up. The experiment was repeated and varied again and again. In every case the result was the same.
We said nothing about it but Selphar did. The delusion, if delusion it were, clung to her, haunted her, pursued her, week after week. To rid her of it, or to silence her, was impossible.
I accepted it in silent suspicion. He came on Saturday noon. That afternoon we attended en masse one of those refined inquisitions commonly known as picnics, and Winthrop lost his pocket-knife. Selphar, of course, kept house at home. When we returned, Winthrop made some careless reference to his loss in her presence, and thought no more of it.
The economy of the arrangement decided in her favor; for, in spite of our grand descent and grander notions, we were poor enough, after father died, and the education of three children had made no small gap in our little principal, and she came. Her name was a singular one, Selphar. It always savored too nearly of brimstone to please me. I used to call her Sel, "for short."
She made no mistake. It was no guess-work. All this was done with the bandage tightly drawn about her eyes. She did not see those letters with them. That evening we were sitting quietly in the dining-room. Selphar sat a little apart with her sewing, her eyes still closed. We kept her with us, and kept her in sight. The parlor, which was a long room, was between us and the front of the house.
We met a carriage on a narrow road and the horses' heads touched, before either driver had seen the other. Selphar had been quite silent during the drive. I leaned forward, looked closely into her face, and could dimly see through the darkness that her eyes were closed. "Why!" she said at last, "see those gloves!" "Where?" "Down in the ditch; we passed them before I spoke.
Literally, we could not see a hand before our eyes. We met a carriage on a narrow road, and the horses' heads touched, before either driver had seen the other. Selphar had been quite silent during the drive. I leaned forward, looked closely into her face, and could dimly see through the darkness that her eyes were closed. "Why!" she said at last, "see those gloves!" "Where?"
We went to the window, and saw the men running down the street. The snow the next morning was found trodden down under the window, and their footprints were traced out to the road. When we went back to the other room, Selphar was standing in the middle of it, a puzzled, frightened look on her face, her eyes wide open.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking