There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of Whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repressionĪnd even a certain strength. Motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, asĪ child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams. She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite That had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds Notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly,Īnd countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. Were all aquiver with the new spring life. She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that This she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Had spent itself she went away to her room alone. Sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's arms. Paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a To forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message. To assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened

Mallard's name leading the list of 'killed.' He had only taken the time When intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently

It was he who had been in the newspaper office It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences veiled Was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care 'The Story of an Hour' 'The Story of An Hour' Kate Chopin (1894)

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