Only one woman.She came late,and outstayed them all.AQuaker,or Friend,as they call themselves.I think this woman Was known by that name in heaven.A homely body,coarsely dressed in gray and white.Deborah (for Haley had let her in)took notice of her.She watched them all--sitting on the end of the pallet,holding his head in her arms with the ferocity of a watch-dog,if any of them touched the body.There was no meekness,no sorrow,in her face;the stuff out of which murderers are made,instead.All the time Haley and the woman were laying straight the limbs and cleaning the cell,Deborah sat still,keenly watching the Quaker's face.Of all the crowd there that day,this woman alone had not spoken to her,--only once or twice had put some cordial to her lips.After they all were gone,the woman,in the same still,gentle way,brought a vase of wood-leaves and berries,and placed it by the pallet,then opened the narrow window.The fresh air blew in,and swept the woody fragrance over the dead face,Deborah looked up with a quick wonder.
"Did hur know my boy wud like it?Did hur know Hugh?""I know Hugh now."
The white fingers passed in a slow,pitiful way over the dead,worn face.There was a heavy shadow in the quiet eyes.
"Did hur know where they'll bury Hugh?"said Deborah in a shrill tone,catching her arm.
This had been the question hanging on her lips all day.
"In t'town-yard?Under t'mud and ash?T'lad'll smother,woman!He wur born in t'lane moor,where t'air is frick and strong.Take hur out,for God's sake,take hur out where t'air blows!"The Quaker hesitated,but only for a moment.She put her strong arm around Deborah and led her to the window.
"Thee sees the hills,friend,over the river?Thee sees how the light lies warm there,and the winds of God blow all the day?
I live there,--where the blue smoke is,by the trees.Look at me,"She turned Deborah's face to her own,clear and earnest,"Thee will believe me?I will take Hugh and bury him there to-morrow."
Deborah did not doubt her.As the evening wore on,she leaned against the iron bars,looking at the hills that rose far off,through the thick sodden clouds,like a bright,unattainable calm.As she looked,a shadow of their solemn repose fell on her face;its fierce discontent faded into a pitiful,humble quiet.Slow,solemn tears gathered in her eyes:the poor weak eyes turned so hopelessly to the place where Hugh was to rest,the grave heights looking higher and brighter and more solemn than ever before.The Quaker watched her keenly.She came to her at last,and touched her arm.