A Bloodsmoor Romance by Joyce Carol Oates

continuing to fan her face. “To talk wildly of hurrying away home, through the woods, no doubt, trotting like a horse! Why, it would be amusing, if it were not repulsive: I am only grateful that all our guests, and our dear cousins, have departed.”
    â€œWhy cannot I go home by myself,” Samantha said, in a vexed voice, “for surely it is not dangerous? And I promise to carry my skirts, and train; and I will not—alas, I cannot —run.”
    Octavia shook her head so earnestly, her plump cheeks quivered. “But it is dangerous, Samantha. Alas, indeed it is.”
    â€œDangerous in what sense?” Samantha asked. “I do not understand you. Deer there may be, in Grandfather’s park; and smaller creatures like rabbits, woodchucks, raccoons, and opossum; yet I am reasonably certain that there are no bears any longer, and have not been any for many years—”
    â€œHold your tongue, Samantha,” Constance Philippa commanded. “You are very young, and very silly; and know not whereof you speak.”
    â€œIndeed, yes,” Octavia said sternly. “There is danger in the woods, and even along the riverbank path, and you are not to walk unescorted, and the subject is closed.”
    â€œWhy don’t we all walk together, then,” the willful child persisted, “arm in arm, as we did when we were little!”
    â€œImpossible,” Constance Philippa said, “and there’s an end of it.”
    â€œImpossible,” Octavia said, lowering her voice, “for we should still be in danger.”
    â€œImpossible,” Malvinia could not resist, “for, now, there are too many of us Zinn sisters, to comfortably navigate any path. ”
    Again there was a startl’d silence, and an intake of breath; and this time Deirdre roused herself to speak, with a toss of her head, and a perceptible trembling of her lower lip. “I did not—” the overwrought girl said, “I did not—I assure you, I did not ask to be born. ”
    This outburst struck the sisters as so piteous, and so lacking in any vestige of dignity, that, all ablush, they scarce knew how to reply: nor even where it might be most tactful to turn their eyes: toward one another; or at the fancywork in their laps; or up toward Kidde­master Hall, with the hope that Mrs. Zinn, or one of the servants, might now be summoning them.
    I did not ask to be born —the desperate words repeated in a hoarse whisper, or in an echo, issuing out of the very air itself?
    Thus another strained silence o’erswept the sisters, whilst, her small bosom heaving, Deirdre boldly stared at them, each in turn, as if daring them to reply; or even to meet her gaze fully. But Constance Philippa became, of a sudden, deeply absorbed in her pink yarn, which had gotten tangled—and Octavia closed her tear-brimming eyes, and clasped her small plump hands together, as if silently communing with her God—and Malvinia, flush-cheeked, her blue eyes bright with feeling, turned all her attention to her silken parasol, the carved ivory handle of which, just the day before, kindly Mr. Zinn had attempted to clean with a powerful chemical solution of his own formula—and Samantha gave the linen towel in her lap a nervous shake, and, with unusual zeal, again took up the embroidery needle, and spoke not a word.
    Indeed, for some minutes, naught was heard upon the great sloping lawn save the rapturous songs of birds; and the quaint cry of the cicada; and a faint breeze rustling the reeds and ornamental sere grasses, that grew close about the gazebo, and the old stone wishing well, and the picturesque river path: tho’, it may be, an ear of especial keenness, might have detected, from afar, an indistinct, tremulous murmur very much like thunder!
    Thus the minutes passed, and, after a great deal of pained silence, during which, as you can imagine, none of the sisters wished to confront Deirdre’s