At her funeral Silver’s children did not cry. Their grief was dry as pyre kindling. They said: “We will sail east past the border. We will search for our mother in the shoals of the dead. We will bring her home to the warmth of the sun. We will see her smile again.” They were Samry the brother, older and bolder; and Sellie his sister, smaller and smarter. They spoke such words, such oaths against nature. Their kinfolk shushed them quick. “Fool children! Do not blaspheme,” their kinf...
