The Choir Invisible

"I do not know; but if at the end of life I should be left alone here,

perhaps I shall make my way back to Kentucky to John, as the old tree falls

beside the young one."

From this point the tone of the letter changed.

"And now I am going to open to you what no other eye has ever seen, must

ever see--one page in the book of my life."

When she reached these words with a contraction of the heart and a loud

throbbing of the pulses in her ears, she got up and locked the letter in her

bureau. Then, commanding herself, she went to the dining-room, and with her

own hands prepared the supper table; got our her finest linen, glass,

silver; had the sconces lighted, extra candelabra brought in; gave orders

for especial dishes to be cooked; and when everything was served, seated her

guest at the foot of the table and let him preside as though it were his old

rightful place. Ah, how like his father he was! Several times when the

father's name was mentioned, he quite choked up with tears.

At an early hour he sought rest from the fatigue of travel. She was left

alone. The house was quiet. She summoned the negro girl who slept on the

floor in her room and who was always with her of evenings: "You can go to the cabin till bedtime. And when you come in, don't make any

noise. And don't speak to me. I shall be asleep."

Then seating herself beside the little candle stand which mercifully for her

had had shed its light on so many books in the great lonely bedchamber, she

re-read those last words: "And now I am going to open to you what no other eye has ever seen, must

ever see--one page in the book of my life: "Can you remember the summer I left Kentucky? On reaching Philadelphia I

called on a certain family consisting, as I afterwards ascertained, of

father, mother, and daughter; and being in search of lodgings, I was asked

to become a member of their household. This offer was embraced the more

eagerly because I was sick for a home that summer and in need of some kind

soul to lean on in my weakness. I had indeed been led for these reasons to

seek their acquaintance--the father and mother having known my own parents

even before I met them. You will thus understand how natural a haven with my

loneliness and amid such memories this house became to me, and upon what

grounds I stood in my association with its members from the beginning.