nly she seemed to hear a low breathing. She bent to the pale lips--no--not the faintest breath came from them. The blood had dried on temple and cheek. She gazed at the eyes, the half-closed eyes, and shuddered. Why couldn't she believe it?... It must be true--this was Death! A shiver ran through her--she felt but one thing--"This is a corpse. I am here alone with a corpse!--a corpse that rests on my lap!" With trembling hands she pushed the head away, until it rested on the ground. Then a feeling of horrible alone-ness came over her. Why had she sent the coachman away? What should she do here all alone with this dead man in the darkness? If only some one would come--but what was she to do then if anybody did come? How long would she have to wait here? She looked down at the corpse again. "But I'm not alone with him," she thought, "the light is there." And the light seemed to her to become alive, something sweet and friendly, to which she owed gratitude. There was more life in this little flame than in all th
On a blustery night near the end of the 19th century, two lovers meet for an illicit carriage ride (she is married.) Staying to the dark streets and then the countryside, the pair are trying to decide what to do when a freak accident happens.
The descriptions, settings, and thought processes in the story are well done. It is more of a psychological story than anything else, and pretty much runs on until it ends.