And the tragedy of Hallowe’en had added years to his age in a night. The breakdown of that night had left him nervous and ill; too ill to go to the grave with Terry, when two days later they bore him solemnly to his long repose in the family burial ground on top of the hill, from whence the granite headstones of the family could be seen far in the distance shining in the sun.
Gran’ther could only sit by the window with a neighbor for company and watch the solemn funeral train driving away with the hoped-for prop of his old age hidden away under the black pall, and his heart sank with grief and despair, for his two best beloved grandchildren, Terry and Eva, were now gone from him forever—Terry to the lonesome grave; Eva, as he doubted not, to her rich father in New York, where she would have all the luxuries of life, except the love of her old grandfather, he thought, arguing to himself that no one else could ever love her as well as he had done before her sin turned his love to hate.
All the neighborhood, as well as himself, believed that Eva was indeed in New York.
There were three exceptions—the ones who had secretly appropriated the money given to Eva for her trip; but they kept their own counsel.
They sometimes wondered where the young girl had gone, and dreaded lest she should come back and be forgiven by the weak old man; but they remained as ignorant as any of her whereabouts until two weeks later old Sam Brown dismounted from his bay mare at their gate, and stalking into the warm kitchen, announced without preamble that Eva was at his house, mad as a March hare, and he was going to send her to Weston.
“’Cause how I’ve had two doctors setting on the case, and they both pernounce her crazy, poor little thing, and though not violent now, she may git so any time, and it’s better to let the State take care of her, unless you folkses want her back here!” he said pointedly.
“Oh, why did you blurt it out before gran’ther? ’Tis so dreadful, we didn’t want him to know!” frowned Patty. But she was too late. The old man had heard all.
He could not speak; he only gazed at his visitor with glazing eyes and a horrified face, while Patty, emboldened by his silence, added angrily:
“No, indeed, we don’t want her back here, she who caused our poor Terry to be murdered for her badness! Gran’ther drove her away, and he won’t never take her back. He hates her like poison! You can send her off to Weston to-morrow. We don’t want no crazy people at Stony Ledge!”
Cousin Tab and Lydia backed her up in her declaration so vehemently that the old farmer regretted he had ridden nine miles through nipping cold, on his errand of mercy.