Still, years went on, and still she followed funerals, and was not yet
summoned to her own festival of death. One afternoon, the great
street of the town was all alive with business and bustle, though the
sun now gilded only the upper half of the church-spire, having left
the housetops and loftiest trees in shadow. The scene was cheerful
and animated, in spite of the sombre shade between the high brick
buildings. Here were pompous merchants, in white wigs and laced
velvet; the bronzed faces of sea-captains; the foreign garb and air of
Spanish creoles; and the disdainful port of natives of Old England;
all contrasted with the rough aspect of one or two hack settlers,
negotiating sales of timber, from forests where axe had never sounded.
Sometimes a lady passed, swelling roundly forth in an embroidered
petticoat, balancing her steps in high-heeled shoes, and courtesying,
with lofty grace, to the punctilious obeisances of the gentlemen. The
life of the town seemed to have its very centre not far from an old
mansion, that stood somewhat back from the pavement, surrounded by
neglected grass, with a strange air of loneliness, rather deepened
than dispelled by the throng so near it. Its site would have been
suitably occupied by a magnificent Exchange, or a brick block,
lettered all over with various signs; or the large house itself might
have made a noble tavern, with the "King's Arms" swinging before it,
and guests in every chamber, instead of the present solitude. But,
owing to some dispute about the right of inheritance, the mansion had
been long without a tenant, decaying from year to year, and throwing
the stately gloom of its shadow over the busiest part of the town.
Such was the scene, and such the time, when a figure, unlike any that
have been described, was observed at a distance down the street.

"I espy a strange sail, yonder," remarked a Liverpool captain; "that
woman in the long, white garment!"