One day he told her he was coming the next day to ask A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION , and he wanted to find her under the birches when he came . Emily promised to meet him there . I am sure she stayed awake that night , thinking about it , and wondering what the important question would be , although she knew perfectly well . I would have . And the next day she dressed herself beautifully in her best pale blue muslin and sleeked her curls and went smiling to the birches . And while she was waiting there , thinking such lovely thoughts , a neighbour 's boy came running up -- a boy who did n't know about her romance -- and cried out that Malcolm Ward had been killed by his gun going off accidentally . Emily just put her hands to her heart -- so -- and fell , all white and broken among the ferns . And when she came back to life she never cried or lamented . She was CHANGED . She was never , never like herself again ; and she was never contented unless she was dressed in her blue muslin and waiting under the birches . She got paler and paler every day , but the pink butterfly grew redder , until it looked just like a stain of blood on her white cheek . When the winter came she died . But next spring '' -- the Story Girl dropped her voice to a whisper that was as audible and thrilling as her louder tones -- `` people began to tell that Emily was sometimes seen waiting under the birches still . Nobody knew just who told it first . But more than one person saw her . Grandfather saw her when he was a little boy . And my mother saw her once . '' `` Did YOU ever see her ? '' asked Felix skeptically . `` No , but I shall some day , if I keep on believing in her , '' said the Story Girl confidently .
`` I would n't like XXXXX see her .
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