Grandmother: The Story of a Life That Never Was Lived

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

“Are you there, Mary?” asked the old man impatiently. “‘Tis so dark I can’t see you.”

“Yes, I am here!” said Grandmother.

“‘Tis time to light up!” said Grandfather. “We mustn’t sit here in the dark like old folks, Mary. Let me get up and light the lamps.”

The afternoon light fell clear on his face with its open sightless eyes, and on the angel face turned up to it in faithful love.

“Wait just a little, John,” said Grandmother. “I—I love the twilight; ’tis restful. Let—let me rest a bit before we light up, won’t you?”

“Surely, Mary; surely, my dear. We’ll rest together then; I—I am tired too, I—think.”

There was a long silence. The light was growing softer, fainter; the old clock ticked steadily; a coal tinkled from the fire.

“Mary—you are there?”

“Yes, dear!”