"My husband is with me," murmured the widow. "He walks by my side, and
speaks to me as in old times; but his words come faintly on my ear. Cheer
me and comfort me, my husband; for there is a terror in those dim,
motionless eyes, and in that shadowy voice."
As she spoke thus, she seemed to gaze upon some object that stood by her
bedside; and the eyes of those who witnessed this scene could not but
follow the direction of hers. They observed that the dying woman's own
shadow was marked upon the wall, receiving a tremulous motion from the
fitful rays of the lamp, and from her own convulsive efforts. "My husband
stands gazing on me," she said again; "but my son,--where is he? And, as I
ask, the father turns away his face. Where is our son? For his sake, I
have longed to come to this land of rest. For him I have sorrowed many
years. Will he not comfort me now?"
At these words the stranger made a few hasty steps towards the bed; but,
ere he reached it, he conquered the impulse that drew him thither, and,
shrouding his face more deeply in his cloak, returned to his former
position. The dying woman, in the mean time, had thrown herself back upon
the bed; and her sobbing and wailing, imaginary as was their cause, were
inexpressibly affecting.
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