St. Elmo | Page 6

"Do you live near this place?"
"Yes, sir, very near."
"Is your father at home?"
"I have no father, but grandpa has not gone to the shop yet."
"Will you show me the way to the house?"
"Do you wish to carry him there?" she asked, glancing at the corpse,
and shuddering violently.
"Yes, I want some assistance from your grandfather."
"I will show you the way, sir."
The surgeon spoke hurriedly to the two remaining gentlemen, and
followed his guide. Slowly she retraced her steps, refilled her bucket at
the spring, and walked on before the stranger. But the glory of the
morning had passed away; a bloody mantle hung between the splendor
of summer sunshine and the chilled heart of the awe- struck girl. The
forehead of the radiant, holy June day had been suddenly red-branded
like Cain, to be henceforth an occasion of hideous reminiscences; and

with a blanched face and trembling limbs the child followed a narrow,
beaten path, which soon terminated at the gate of a rude,
unwhitewashed paling. A low, comfortless looking three-roomed house
stood within, and on the steps sat an elderly man, smoking a pipe, and
busily engaged in mending a bridle. The creaking of the gate attracted
his attention, and he looked up wonderingly at the advancing stranger.
"Oh, grandpa! there is a murdered man lying in the grass, under the
chestnut trees, down by the spring."
"Why! how do you know he was murdered?"
"Good morning, sir. Your granddaughter happened to witness a very
unfortunate and distressing affair. A duel was fought at sunrise, in the
edge of the woods yonder, and the challenged party, Mr. Dent, of
Georgia, was killed. I came to ask permission to bring the body here,
until arrangements can be made for its interment; and also to beg your
assistance in obtaining a coffin."
Edna passed on to the kitchen, and as she deposited the bucket on the
table, a tall, muscular, red-haired woman, who was stooping over the
fire, raised her flushed face, and exclaimed angrily:
"What upon earth have you been doing? I have been halfway to the
spring to call you, and hadn't a drop of water in the kitchen to make
coffee! A pretty time of day Aaron Hunt will get his breakfast! What do
you mean by such idleness?"
She advanced with threatening mien and gesture, but stopped suddenly.
"Edna, what ails you? Have you got an ague? You are as white as that
pan of flour. Are you scared or sick?"
"There was a man killed this morning, and the body will be brought
here directly. If you want to hear about it, you had better go out on the
porch. One of the gentlemen is talking to grandpa."
Stunned by what she had seen, and indisposed to narrate the horrid

details, the girl went to her own room, and seating herself in the
window, tried to collect her thoughts. She was tempted to believe the
whole affair a hideous dream, which would pass away with vigorous
rubbing of her eyes; but the crushed purple and scarlet flowers she took
from her forehead, her dripping hair and damp feet assured her of the
vivid reality of the vision. Every fibre of her frame had received a
terrible shock, and when noisy, bustling Mrs. Hunt ran from room to
room, ejaculating her astonishment, and calling on the child to assist in
putting the house in order, the latter obeyed silently, mechanically, as if
in a state of somnambulism.
Mr. Dent's body was brought up on a rude litter of boards, and
temporarily placed on Edna's bed, and toward evening when a coffin
arrived from Chattanooga, the remains were removed, and the coffin
rested on two chairs in the middle of the same room. The surgeon
insisted upon an immediate interment near the scene of combat; but the
gentleman who had officiated as second for the deceased expressed his
determination to carry the unfortunate man's body back to his home and
family, and the earliest train on the following day was appointed as the
time for their departure. Late in the afternoon Edna cautiously opened
the door of the room which she had hitherto avoided, and with her
apron full of lilies, while poppies and sprigs of rosemary, approached
the coffin, and looked at the rigid sleeper. Judging from his appearance,
not more than thirty years had gone over his handsome head; his placid
features were unusually regular, and a soft, silky brown beard fell upon
his pulseless breast. Fearful lest she should touch the icy form, the girl
timidly strewed her flowers in the coffin, and tears gathered and
dropped with the blossoms, as she noticed a plain gold ring on the little
finger, and wondered if he were married--if his death