Neither did she leave the room, but stood still and waited as Susannah’s sobbing lessened, then weakened and finally ceased. Then did Mother move forward to Susannah upon her bed, and pulled straight the covers, smoothing the rumpus in her old way, as comfort had come to us when we were very small, wordlessly. Susannah laid her head back upon the pillows and let Mother cover her.

And then Mother turned round to look at me where I sat, knees up against my chest; I saw she did not need to ask the question, for my face must have left imprinted there the certainty of my belief. She nodded once at me and then took up her candle from Susannah’s night table to depart our shared room, putting her finger to her lips to cover her smile.

“Hush, hush now.” She turned to go, opening our bedroom door quietly. But through the closing crack in the door, she gave me a single warning nod, then vanished backward into the dim light of the passage.

19 December

Winter draws around us, the mornings rising dimly through the fog. Mother seems herself once more—though the drops are so increased! Tonight, Susannah has said she gave one hundred.

I doubt, however, that this can last. I sense she plays a part; there is too little ease in her walk. And last night as I bid her good night, her eyes lingered on me, so that I turned again to see what she might utter. The look remaining was not the one with which she had bidden me good night—the light smile stood upon her face like the stump remaining long after a tree is cut. But Sue’s step in the passage erased what I saw.

I am distracted from thoughts of Ludlow.

20 December

A half hour past, I awoke in utter darkness, my head raised above my pillow to listen to a sound that must have reached me while I dreamed. There was nothing. I lowered my head. But there came a little rustling in the passage, and then a faint groan of wood, as though someone pushed slightly against our bedroom door. For a long while, there was silence all about. I imagined what I thought I heard was the echo of my dream hovering in my ears. I closed my eyes again.

And now, I am sure of it, I heard somebody softly breathing on the other side the door. For what seemed a long time, I listened to the breathing; then the clock struck on the stairs. The breathing stopped and I heard faint footfalls departing down the passage.

I do not like to wake Sue only to frighten her, so I have written this down.

21 December