The hearse destined to convey the remains of my dear mother to their last, long resting-place, was drawn up at the door.

I saw it looming through the fog, with its tall, black shadowy plumes, like some ghostly and monstrous thing.

A hitherto unknown feeling of dread stole over me.

My life had been all sunshine up to the present moment--the sight of that mournful funeral array swept like a dark cloud over the smiling sky, blotting out all that was bright and beautiful from my eyes and heart.
I screamed in terror and despair, and hid my face in the lap of my old nurse to shut out the frightful vision, and shed torrents of tears.
The good woman tried to soothe me while she adjusted my black dress, as I was to form one in that doleful procession as chief mourner--I was my mother's only child.

The only real mourner there.
The door which led into the next room was partly open.