The dense and early darkness which usually follows such unseasonable
mildness had already begun to cut short the pleasures of this
spring-like day, when a young woman, who carried a child in her arms,
turned from a main road of Oldfields into a foot-path which led
southward across the fields and pastures. She seemed sure of her way,
and kept the path without difficulty, though a stranger might easily
have lost it here and there, where it led among the patches of
sweet-fern or bayberry bushes, or through shadowy tracts of small
white-pines. She stopped sometimes to rest, and walked more and more
wearily, with increasing effort; but she kept on her way desperately,
as if it would not do to arrive much later at the place which she was
seeking. The child seemed to be asleep; it looked too heavy for so
slight a woman to carry.
The path led after a while to a more open country, there was a low
hill to be climbed, and at its top the slender figure stopped and
seemed to be panting for breath. A follower might have noticed that it
bent its head over the child's for a moment as it stood, dark against
the darkening sky. There had formerly been a defense against the
Indians on this hill, which in the daytime commanded a fine view of
the surrounding country, and the low earthworks or foundations of the
garrison were still plainly to be seen. The woman seated herself on
the sunken wall in spite of the dampness and increasing chill, still
holding the child, and rocking to and fro like one in despair.
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