The Sisters

           Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:itwasthethirdstroke.NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyandevenly.Ifhewasdead,Ithought,IwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofacorpse.Hehadoftensaidtome:“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.NowIknewtheyweretrue.EverynightasIgazedupatthewindowIsaidsoftlytomyselfthewordparalysis.Ithadalwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentandsinfulbeing.Itfilledmewithfear,andyetIlongedtobenearertoitandtolookuponitsdeadlywork.

           OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairstosupper.Whilemyauntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformerremarkofhis:

           “No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...buttherewassomethingqueer...therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.I’lltellyoumyopinion....”

           Hebegantopuffathispipe,nodoubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.Tiresomeoldfool!Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtoberatherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhisendlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.

           “Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.