03

Miss Emily was sick for a long time. When we saw her again, her hair was cut short. This made her look like a young girl, and she looked a little like the sad and peaceful angels in church windows.

That summer, after her father’s death, the town decided to fix the sidewalks. The construction company came to town with workers, mules, and machines. The leader of the workers was Homer Barron, a man from the North. He was big, dark, friendly, and had a loud voice. His eyes were lighter than his face. The young boys liked to follow him to hear him shout at the workers, who sang songs while they worked. Soon, Homer knew everyone in town. Whenever there was laughter in the town square, Homer was in the middle of it.

After some time, people saw Miss Emily and Homer Barron together on Sunday afternoons. They rode in a buggy with yellow wheels, pulled by horses from the town stable. At first, people were happy that Miss Emily had found something to care about. The ladies said, “Of course, a Grierson would never seriously consider marrying a man from the North who does hard labor.”

But some older people said a true lady would never forget her family’s honor, even when she was sad. They said, “Poor Emily. Her family should come help her.” She had family in Alabama, but her father had argued with them long ago about the property of her crazy great-aunt, old lady Wyatt. Because of that fight, they didn’t talk anymore. The Alabama family didn’t even come to her father’s funeral.

When people started saying, “Poor Emily,” they began whispering about her. “Do you think it’s true?” they asked each other. “Of course, it is. What else could it be?” They whispered behind their hands, and the older ladies in silk and satin dresses watched from their windows as Miss Emily’s buggy passed by. “Poor Emily,” they said.

But Miss Emily held her head high. Even when people thought she had fallen, she acted proud, as if she wanted everyone to respect her as the last member of the Grierson family. It was like she needed something real to remind everyone of her importance.

Then, she bought rat poison — arsenic. This happened over a year after people started saying “Poor Emily,” while her two female cousins were visiting her.

“I want some poison,” she told the druggist. She was over thirty now, still small and thin, with cold, proud black eyes. Her face looked tight and tired, like someone who lived alone in a lighthouse. “I want some poison,” she repeated.

“Yes, Miss Emily. What kind? For rats?” the druggist asked.

“I want the best you have. I don’t care what kind.”

The druggist listed some poisons. “These can kill anything up to an elephant. But maybe you need—”

“Arsenic,” Miss Emily said. “Is that a good one?”

“Arsenic? Yes, ma’am. But you need to say what it’s for.”

Miss Emily just stared at him with her head held high. The druggist looked away, got the arsenic, and wrapped it up.

The delivery boy brought her the package. When she opened it at home, she saw the box said: “For rats” with a skull and crossbones on it.

04

The next day, everyone said, “She will kill herself,” and we thought that might be the best thing. At first, when she started going out with Homer Barron, we thought, “She will marry him.” Then we thought, “She will convince him to marry her.” But Homer said he liked spending time with men, and he wasn’t the type to get married. He often drank with the younger men at the Elks’ Club.

When they rode together in the shiny buggy on Sunday afternoons, Miss Emily held her head high. Homer sat beside her, wearing his hat and holding a cigar, with the reins and whip in a yellow glove. Some women in the town began saying it was shameful and a bad example for young people. The men didn’t want to get involved, but the women pushed the Baptist minister to visit Miss Emily. He went, but he never told anyone what happened. He refused to go back again.

The next Sunday, Emily and Homer drove through the streets again. The minister’s wife decided to write to Emily’s family in Alabama. Soon, Emily’s cousins came to stay with her. We waited to see what would happen. At first, nothing changed. Then we thought they would get married. We found out that Emily had bought a silver set for a man, with the letters H.B. on it. Two days later, she bought men’s clothes and a nightshirt. We said, “They are married!” We were happy because the cousins seemed even stricter than Emily.

Then Homer Barron disappeared. The streets had been finished for a while, and we thought he might have gone to prepare for Emily to join him or to get away from the cousins. After another week, the cousins left town. Just as we thought, Homer came back three days later. A neighbor saw Emily’s servant let Homer in through the kitchen door at night.

That was the last time we saw Homer. After that, Emily stayed inside. Her servant went out to buy food, but the front door stayed closed. Sometimes we saw her at a window. For about six months, she didn’t go out at all. It seemed like she had become more stubborn, just like her father.

When we saw Emily again, she had gained weight and her hair was turning gray. Over the years, it became a mix of black and white, and then it stayed a strong, iron-gray color. When she died at seventy-four, her hair was still that color, like an older man’s hair.

Emily’s front door stayed closed, except for six or seven years when she taught China-painting. She set up a studio downstairs. Mothers sent their daughters and granddaughters to her, just like they sent them to church on Sundays. During this time, she didn’t have to pay taxes.

But then, a new generation took over the town. The girls who took lessons grew up, and no one sent their children to Emily anymore. Her door closed one last time. When the town got mail delivery, Emily refused to have a mailbox or house numbers put on her door.

The servant grew older and weaker. Every December, the town sent a tax notice, but it was always returned. Sometimes, we saw Emily looking out a downstairs window. She lived like this for years—quiet, proud, and strange.

One day, she died. She fell ill in her dusty, dark house. Only her old servant took care of her. We didn’t even know she was sick. The servant never talked to anyone. He probably didn’t talk to Emily either because his voice was rough from not being used. She died in a downstairs room, in a large, old bed. Her gray head rested on a pillow that was yellow and moldy from age and lack of sunlight.

05

The servant opened the front door and let the first of the ladies inside. They spoke softly and looked around with quick, curious glances. Then the servant walked through the house, went out the back door, and never returned.

Miss Emily’s two female cousins arrived immediately. The funeral was held the next day. The whole town came to see Miss Emily lying among many flowers. Above her was a picture of her father, looking thoughtful. The women whispered, and everything felt a bit strange and dark. On the porch and lawn, very old men, some wearing their Confederate uniforms, talked about Miss Emily. They spoke as if she had been their age, remembering times when they thought they danced with her or tried to date her. For these old men, the past did not feel like it was getting smaller. Instead, the past felt big, like a field that never ended.

We all knew there was one room upstairs that no one had seen in forty years. We knew the door would have to be forced open. After Miss Emily was buried, they finally opened the door.

Breaking the door down filled the room with dust. The room looked like a bridal bedroom, decorated long ago. Everything was covered in dust. The curtains and lights were a faded pink color. There were delicate things on the dressing table and silver items for a man, but the silver was so old and dark that the letters on it couldn’t be seen anymore. A collar and tie lay on the table, and when someone picked them up, they left a clear mark in the dust. A suit was hanging on a chair, neatly folded. Below the chair were shoes and socks.

Then we saw the man himself lying in the bed.

We stood there for a long time, looking at his grinning, dried-up face. It seemed like he had once been holding someone. But now, the long sleep of death had defeated everything, even love. His body was rotting under the nightshirt, stuck to the bed. Dust covered him and the pillow next to him.

Then we noticed the second pillow had a dent, as if someone’s head had rested there. One of us picked up something from the pillow. When we leaned closer, the dust was dry in our noses. We saw a long strand of iron-gray hair.

那年夏天，鎮上修路，北方來的工人領袖霍默吸引了鎮上年輕人的注意。

被看作"老姑娘"的艾米麗居然同他一起出現，他們在周日下午一起乘坐馬車。起初鎮上人對此感到高興，但一些老派人士認為她不應忘記家族榮譽。

艾米麗的家族在亞拉巴馬州，但因財產糾紛早已斷絕關系。隨著時間的推移，人們開始同情艾米麗，她卻始終高昂著頭，仿佛在提醒大家她是格里爾森家族的最后成員。

后來她購買了砒霜，鎮上人猜測她會自殺。霍默喜歡與男人交往，不愿結婚，但艾米麗似乎在為他準備婚禮。

接著霍默突然消失后，艾米麗的堂姐妹來訪之后，霍默又回來，但從此不再露面。

而艾米麗則逐漸閉門不出，頭發逐漸變灰。

直到她去世后，鎮上人發現她一直與霍默的尸體相伴，床上還有她的灰發，象征著她對過去的執著和對未來的絕望...