Here Marthy again covered her face with her hands, and Mrs. Chilton took up the tale: 

“I can see her now, up thar on the hill-shoulder, betwixt you and John on the front log, by Evy’s grave-house, and Uncle Joshuay a-hollering and weeping and denouncing like he does, and her setting through it like a rock.  Then finally Uncle Joshuay he thundered at her the third time, ’Hain’t it the truth, Sister Dalmanuthy, that the judgment and the curse of God has fell on you for your rebelliousness, like I prophesied, and that you hain’t able to see John thar or Marthy thar or the hand thar before your face thar?’ when Aunt Dalmanuthy riz up sudden, and clinched her hands, and says slow and fierce:  ’Man, it is the truth you speak.  The curse has fell; and I hain’t able to see John here or Marthy here or the hand here before my face here.  But listen what I got to say about it.  I’m able to hate and to curse as good as God.  And I do!  I hate and curse the Hand that, after taking all else I loved, snatched from my bosom the one little yoe lamb I treasured thar; I hate and curse Him that expected me to set down tame and quiet under such cruelty and onjestice; I hate and curse and defy the Power that hated and spited me enough, atter darkening the light of my life, to put out the sight of my eyes!  Now,’ she says, ’you lay claim to being mighty familiar with the Lord; take that message to Him!’ she says.

“Women, that whole funeral meeting kotch its breath at them awful words, and sot there rooted and grounded; and she turnt and looked around defiant-like with them sightless eyes, and strode off down the hill, John and Marthy follering.”

[Illustration:  “Aunt Dalmanuthy riz up sudden, and clinched her hands”]

After a somewhat protracted silence, Marthy’s gentle voice resumed: 

“And from that day to this John and me hain’t left her sence.  We shet up our house and moved down to hern; and she tuck to setting by the fire or out on the porch, allus a-knitting, and seldom speaking a word in all them years about Evy or her sorrow or her curse.  When my first little gal come along, I named it Evy, thinking to give her some easement or pleasure; but small notice has she ever showed.  ’Pears like my young uns don’t do much but bother her, her hearing and scent being so powerful’ keen.  I have allus allowed if she could git her feelings turnt loose one time, and bile over good and strong, it might benefit her; but thar she sets, day in, day out, proud and restless, a-bottling it all up inside.”

“She biles over a right smart on you, Marthy, I should say,” remarked the hostess.

“No, now, Susan, she don’t, neither, considering her provocations.  She were the smartest, most managing woman in these parts, and I never did have no faculty, and don’t run her house like I ought; and John is a puny man and not able to do all her bidding; and the young uns they gits terrible noisy and feisty at times, all but Evy.”