Suddenly an unaccustomed voice fell upon our ears. Turning, we saw that a black-robed woman, with a black wrap of some sort about her head, had come up to where Aunt Em stood, and was at her shoulder. Marcellus nudged me, and whispered, “It’s S’reny. Look out for squalls!” And then we listened in silence.
“Won’t you speak to me at all, Emmeline?” we heard this new voice say.
Aunt Em’s face, sharply outlined in profile against the sky, never moved. Her lips were pressed into a single line, and she kept her eyes on the barn.
“If there’s anything I’ve done, tell me,” pursued the other. “In such an hour as this--when both our hearts are bleeding so, and--and every breath we draw is like a curse upon us--it doesn’t seem a fit time for us--for us to--” The voice faltered and broke, leaving the speech unfinished.
Aunt Em kept silence so long that we fancied this appeal, too, had failed. Then abruptly, and without moving her head, she dropped a few ungracious words as it were over her shoulder. “If I had anything special to say, most likely I’d say it,” she remarked.
We could hear the sigh that Serena drew. She lifted her shawled head, and for a moment seemed as if about to turn. Then she changed her mind, apparently, for she took a step nearer to the other.
“See here, Emmeline,” she said, in a more confident tone. “Nobody in the world knows better than I do how thoroughly good a woman you are, how you have done your duty, and more than your duty, by your parents and your brothers, and your little step-son. You have never spared yourself for them, day or night. I have said often to--to him who has gone--that I didn’t believe there was anywhere on earth a worthier or more devoted woman than you, his sister. And--now that he is gone--and we are both more sisters than ever in affliction--why in Heaven’s name should you behave like this to me?”
Aunt Em spoke more readily this time. “I don’t know as I’ve done anything to you,” she said in defence. “I’ve just let you alone, that’s all. An’ that’s doin’ as I’d like to be done by.” Still she did not turn her head, or lift her steady gaze from those closed doors.
“Don’t let us split words!” entreated the other, venturing a thin, white hand upon Aunt Em’s shoulder. “That isn’t the way we two ought to stand to each other. Why, you were friendly enough when I was here before. Can’t it be the same again? What has happened to change it? Only to-day, on our way up here, I was speaking to your father about you, and my deep sympathy for you, and--”