Chapter 15

Trifles, light as air,
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.

--_Othello_.

The weather, which had been mild and clear since the storm, now changed
with the suddenness of the American climate. Towards evening the cold
blasts poured down from the mountains, and flurries of snow plainly
indicated that the month of November had arrived; a season whose
temperature varies from the heats of summer to the cold of winter.
Frances had stood at the window of her own apartment, watching the slow
progress of the funeral procession, with a melancholy that was too deep
to be excited by the spectacle. There was something in the sad office
that was in unison with her feelings. As she gazed around, she saw the
trees bending to the force of the wind, that swept through the valley
with an impetuosity that shook even the buildings; and the forest, that
had so lately glittered in the sun with its variegated hues, was fast
losing its loveliness, as the leaves were torn from the branches, and
were driving irregularly before the eddies of the blast. A few of the
Southern dragoons, who were patrolling the passes which led to the
encampment of the corps, could be distinguished at a distance on the
heights, bending to their pommels as they faced the keen air which had
so lately traversed the great fresh-water lakes, and drawing their watch
coats about them in tighter folds.

Frances witnessed the disappearance of the wooden tenement of the
deceased, as it was slowly lowered from the light of day; and the sight
added to the chilling dreariness of the view. Captain Singleton was
sleeping under the care of his own man, while his sister had been
persuaded to take possession of her room, for the purpose of obtaining
the repose of which her last night's journeying had robbed her. The
apartment of Miss Singleton communicated with the room occupied by the
sisters, through a private door, as well as through the ordinary passage
of the house; this door was partly open, and Frances moved towards it,
with the benevolent intention of ascertaining the situation of her
guest, when the surprised girl saw her whom she had thought to be
sleeping, not only awake, but employed in a manner that banished all
probability of present repose. The black tresses, that during the dinner
had been drawn in close folds over the crown of the head, were now
loosened, and fell in profusion over her shoulders and bosom, imparting
a slight degree of wildness to her countenance; the chilling white of
her complexion was strongly contrasted with eyes of the deepest black,
that were fixed in rooted attention on a picture she held in her hand.
Frances hardly breathed, as she was enabled, by a movement of Isabella,
to see that it