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THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
AUTHOR OF THE "WIDE, WIDE WORLD.'
NEW" YOEK:
D. APPLETOH" AND COMPANY,
846 A 848 BEOiDWAT.
1666.
HcsledbyGoOgle
D, accordiog tn Act of Congrea, In tlio rear ISBfl, ij
D. APPLETUN & Ca,
.. .r th» THsiTlct Coutt of the TJnitsd Slatos for the Soiilben
HcsledbyGoOgle
CONTENTS.
CHAP, I. Looking oror Hie Hills 1
H. Footsteps following H
lU, The governor baking hoe-catss 17
IV. FiaMng, off Point Bluff, for mackerel and fortunes 36
v. Making a net of an old dictionary and grammar 40
VI. Conies back to common tackle 61
VII. Discnssion over a pan of potatoes ■ 62
Vin. Down to Cowslip's Mill, of a June eveniiig 73
IX. Bright Spot 83
X. Theories and Huckleberries 98
XL The ploughs and tile ladies 114
XII. Boxes packed for Shsgarack 123
Xin. Junior and Sophomore 188
XrV. A quotation from Plato, and a letter from home Ill
XV. Leaving the Hills ISO
XVI. Michael and the wheelbarrow 160
XVIL A little estra-strong machine ly 171
XVIIL Eufns in a ruffled ehirt, and Mr. Haye in oaineo 185
XIX. Catching a Clam 198
XX. As to monej-bags 218
XXI. The bursting of a shell 224
HcsledbyGoOgle
IV OOHTENTS.
CHAP. XXH, Tte govemor's palaoe 336
XXm. On self-command 245
XXrV. Mr. UnderhUl's mission 253
XXV. Clam and her mUtress 366
XXVI. The brother and aster 275
XXVIL Lawsuits, friendly and not 390
XXVm. Elizabetli goes to the UnWersity 306
XXIX. MooniightonthoShaterauc 820
XXX. DayBglitonWnt-aqnt^o 331
XXXI. The Cotton bosineaa 345
XXXII. Before ChanoeUor Justjoe 359
XXXin. Life work 363
XXXIV. Other wort 3'!5
XXXV. Another night en the Jolia Ann B92
XXXVI. Miss Hajo's breakfast 410
XXXVIL The governor's supper 436
XXXVin. Wood-cutting on Shahweetah 484
XXXIX Old Karen's song 443
XL. Proposals 458
XLI. FHnt and steel 463
XLIL Something wanted for company 484
XUIL Tbo oleotion for GoTemor 494
XLIV. General Kesiaw 505
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HIILS OF THE SHATEMUC.
CHAPTEE I.
The liglit of an early Spring morning, shining fair on upland and
lowland, promised a good day for tlie farmer's work. And where
a film of thin smoke stole np orer the tree-tops, into the eimsliiEe
which had not yet got so low, there stood the farmer's house.
It was a little hrown house, built surely when its owner's
means were not greater than his wishesj and prohably some time
before his family had reached the goodly growth it boasted now.
All of them were gathered at the breakfast-table.
" Boys, you may take the oxen, and finish ploughing that up-
land field — I shall be busy all day sowing wheat ia the bend
meadow."
" Then I'll bring the boat for you, papa, at noon," said a
child on the other side of the table.
" And see if you can keep those headlands as eloaa as I have
left them."
" Yes, sir. Shall you want the horses, father, or shall we
take both the oxen ? "
" Both ? — both pairs, you mean — yes ; I shall want the
horses. I mean to make a finish of that wheat lot."
" Mamma, you must send us our dinner," said a fourth
speaker, and the oldest of the boys ; — " it'll be too confoundedly
hot to come home."
HcsledbyGoOgle
3 THE iriLLa OF THl! SHATEMtJO.
" Yes, it's going to be a ■warm day," said tlie father.
" Who's to bring it to jou, Will? " said the mother.
" Asahel — can't he — when he brings the boat for papa ? "
" The boat won't go to the top of the hill," aaid Asahel; " and
it's aa hot for me as for other folia, I guess."
" You take the young oxen, Winthrop," said the farmer,
pushing back hia chair from the table,
" Why, air ?" said the eldest son promptly.
" I wast to give yon the best," answered his father, with a
touoh of eomieality about the lines of hia face.
" Are you afraid I shall work them too hard ? "
" Tiiat's just what I'm afraid they'd do for you."
Ho went out; and hia aon attended to his breakfast in si-
lence, with a raised eyebrow and a curved lip.
" What do you want, Winthrop ? " tho mother presently
called to her second son, who had disappeared, and was rummag-
ing somewhere behind the scenes.
" Only a basket, mamma," — came from the pantry.
His mother got up from table, and basket in hand followed
him, to where he was busy with a big knife in the midat of her
stores. Slices of bread were in course of buttering, and lay in
ominous number piled up on the yellow shelf. Hard by stood a
bowl of cold boiled potatoes. He was at work with dexterity aa
neat-handed and as quick aa a woman's.
" There's do pork there, Governor," Iiis mother whispered aa
he stooped to the cupboard, — "your father made an end of that
last night; — but aeo — here "
And from another quarter she brought out a pio. Being
made of dried apples, it was not too juicy to cut ; and being out
into huge pieces they were stowed into the basket, lapping over
caolt other, till little room was left ; and cheese and gingerbread
went in to fill that. And then aa her hands pressed the lid down
and hia hands took the baaket, the eyes met, and a quick little
smile of great brilliancy, that entirely broke up the former calm
lines of his face, answered her ; for be said nothing. And the
mother's " Now go ! " — was spoken as if she had enough of him left
at home to keep her heart warm for the rest of the day.
The two ploughmen set forth with their teams. Or ploughboys
rather ; for the younger of them as yet bad seen not sixteen years.
His brother must have been several in advance of him.
The farmhouse was placed on a little woody and rocky promon-
tory jutting out into a broad river from the east shore. Above il^
on the higher grounds of the ahoro, the main body of the farm
HcsledbyGoOgle
THS HILLS OF THE SHATEMPO. 3
lay, where a rich tableland sloped liaolc to a momitainouB ridge
that framed it in, about half a mile from the water. Cultivation
had stretched its hands pear to the top of this ridge and driven
back the old forest, that yet stood and looked over from the other
side. One or two fields were but newly cleared, as the black
fltumpa witnessed. Many another told of good farming, and of a
substantial reward for the farmer ; at what cost obtained they did
not tell.
Towards one of these upland fields, half made ready for a
crop of spring grain, the boys took their way. On first leaving
the house, the road led gently along round the edge of a little
bay, of which the promontory formed the northern horn. Just
before reaching 4,he head of the bay, whcro the road made a sharp
turn and began to ascend to the tableland, it passed what was
called the 'bmiimeo.dow.
It was a very lovely morning of early Spring, one of those
days when nature seems to have hushed herself to watch the buda
she has set a swelling. Promising to bo warm, though a little
freshness from the night still lingered in the air. Everywhere on
the hills the soft colours of the young Spring-time were starting
out, that delicate livery which is so soon worn. Ihey were more
soft to-day under a slight sultry haziness of the atmosphere — a
luxurious veil that Spring had coyly thrown over her ftee ; she
was always a shy damsel. It soothed the light, it bewitched the
distance, it lay ujion the water like a foil to its brightness, it lay
upon the mind with a subtle chasrra winning it to rest and enjoy.
It etherealized Earth till it was no place to work in. But there
went the osen, and the ploughmen.
The one as silently as the other; till the bay was left behind
nnd thsy came to the point where the road began to go up to the
tableland. Just under the hill here was a spring of delicious
water, always flowing ; and filling a little walled up basin.
"Will, or Will Rufus, as his father had long ago called him,
had passed on and begun to mount the hill. Winthrop stopped
his oxen till he should fill a large stone jug for the day. The jug
had a narrow neck, and he was stooping at the edge of the basin,
waiting for the water to flow in, when his head and shoulders
made a sudden plunge and the jug and he soused in together.
Not for any want of steadiness in either of them; the cause of
the plunge was a worthless fellow who was coming by at the mo-
ment. He had a house a little way off on the bay. He lived by
fishing aud farming alternately; and was often, and was then,
employed by Mr. Landholm as an assistant in his work. He was
HcsledbyGoOgle
4 THE Hir.LS OF THG 8HATEMU0.
on his way to the bend meadow, and passing elose by Winthrop at
the spring, the opportunity was too good to be resisted ; ho tipped
him oi'er into tlie water.
The boy soon scrambled out, and shaking himself like a great
water-dog, and with about as muoh seeming concern, fixed a calm
eye on hia delighted enemy.
" Well, Sam Doolittle,— what good has that done anybody ? "
" Ha'n't it done you none, Ciovernor ? "
" What do you think ? "
" Well 1 I think you be a cool one — and the easiest customer
ever / see."
"I've a mind it ebali do somebody good; so see you dont
give my father any occasion to be out with you; for if you do, I'U
give him more."
" Ay, ay," said the man comfortably, " you won't tell on me.
Hi ! here's somebody I "
It was Uufus who suddenly joined the group, whip in hand,
and looking like a young Achilles in ploughman's coat and trousers,
Not Achilles' port could be more lordly; the very 1iae_ bright
haael eye was on fire; the nostril spoke, and the lip quivered;
though he looked only at his brother.
" W hat'a the matter, Winthrop ? "
"I've been in the water, as you sec," said his brotlier com-
posedly. " I want a change of olotLes, rather."
" How did you get into the water ? "
" Why, head foremost — which wasn't what I meant to do."
"Sam, you put him in I "
" He, he I — well, Mr. Eufus, maybe I helped him a leetle." ^
" You scoundrel 1 " said Rufus, drawing the whip through his
fingers ; " what did you do it for ? "
" He, he ! — I didn't know but what it was you. Will."
For all answer, the ox-whip was laid about Sam's legs, with
the zest of furious indignation; a fury there was no standmg
agamst. It is true, Rufus's frame was no match for the hardened
one of Mr. Doolittle, though he might be four or five years the
elder of the two boys ; but the spirit that was in him cowed Sam,
in part, and in part amused him. He made no ofi'er to return the
blows ; he stood, or rather jumped, as the wliip slung itself round
his legs, crying out,
" Lay it on, WUl !— Lay it on ! Hi— That's right— Tuck it on,
Will ! "
Till Will's arm was tired ; and flinging away from thom, in a
towering passion still, he went up the nill after his oxen. Sam
rubbed his legs.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THK SHATI'MTJO, 5
" I say, Governor, we're quits now, ben't we ? " he said ia a
sort of laoek humble good-humour, as Winthrop was about to fol-
low his brothor.
" Yes, yes. Be off with, yourself 1 "
"I wish it had ha' been 'tother one, anyhow," muttered Sam,
Not a word passed between the brothers about either the
ducting or the flageDation. They spoke not but to their oson.
Rufus's mouth was in the heroic style yet, all the way up the
hill ; and the lips of the other only moved once or twice to
The day was sultry, as it had promised, and the uphill lay of
the ground made the ploughing heavy, and frequent rests of the
oxen were necessary. Little communication was held between
the ploughmen nevertheless ; the day wore on, and each kept
steadily to his work and seemingly to his own thoughts. The
beautiful scene below them, which they were alternately facing
and turning their backs upon, was too well known even to delay
their attention ; and for the greater part of the day probably
neither of them saw much beyond his plough and his furrow.
They were at work on a very elevated point of view, from which
the channel of the river and the high grounds on the other side
were escelleutly seen. Yalley there was hardly any ; the up-spring-
ing walls of green started from tho very border of the broad white
stream which made its way between them. They were nowhere les3
than two hundred feet high; above that, moulded in all manner
of heights and hollows; sometime reacliing up abruptly to
twelve or fourteen hundred feet, and sometimes stretching away
in long gorges and gentle declivities, — hUls grouping behind hills.
In Summer all these were a mass of living green, that tho eye
could hardly arrange; under Spring's delicate marshalling every
little hill took its own place, and the soft swells of ground stood
back the one from the other, in more and more tender colouring.
The eye leapt from ridge to ridge of beauty ; not green now, hut
in the very point of tho bursting leaf, taking what hue it pleased
the sun. It was a dainty day; and it grew more dainty as the
day drew towards its close and the lights and shadows stretched
athwart the landscape again. The sun-touchod lines and spots of
the mount^ns now, in some places, were of a bright orange, and
the shadows between them, deep neutral tint oi; blue. And tho
river, apparently, had stopped running to reflect.;
The oxen were takmg one of their r«its, in the latter part of
the day, and Winthrop was sitting on the beam of his plough,
when for the first time Eufus came and joined him. He sat
HcsledbyGoOgle
6 THE HILLS OF THE SHATliMUC.
down in silence and without so much as looking at hia brother j
and both in that warm and weary day sat a little while quietly
looliing over the water ; or porbaps at the little point of rest, the
little brown spot among the trees on the promontory, where home
and mother and little baby sister, and tbe end of the day, and the
heart's life, had their sole abiding-place. A poor little shrine, to
bold so much !
Wiathrop's eyes were there, bis brother's were on the dis-
tance. When did such two ever sit together on the beam of one
plough, before or since I Perhaps the eldest might hare seen
nineteen summersj^but bis face had notliing of the boy, beyond
the fresh colour and fine hue of youth. The features were ex-
ceedingly noble, and even classically defined ; the eye as beau-
tiful now in its grave thoughtfulness as it had been a few hours
before in its fire, Tlie moutli was never at rest; it was twitch-
ing or curving at tbe corners now with the worliing of some
bidden cogitations^ The frame of the younger brother was less
'developed; it promised to bo more athletic than that of tbe elder,
with perhaps somewhat less grace of outline ; and the face was not
80 regularly handsome. A very cool and clear grey eye aided the
impression of strength ; and the month, less beautifuUy moulded
.than that of Rufus, was also infinitely leas demonstrative. /Eufus'a
^moutb, in silence, w^for ever saying something Winthrop's for
tIie"most part kept its fine outlmes unbroten, toough when they
did give way it was to singular effect. The contrast between the
faces was striking, even now when ooth were in repose.
The elder was the first to break silence, speaking slowly and
without moving his eye from its bent.
" Governor, — what do you suppose lies behind those moun-
" What ? ' — said Winthrop quickly.
The other smiled,
" Your sltiv understanding can make a quick leap now and
" I can generally understand you," said bis brother quietly.
Kufus added no more for a little, and Winthrop let him
" We've got the farm in pretty good order now," bo re-
marked presently in a, considerate tone, folding bis arms and
looking about him. ■
" Papa has," oleerved Winthrop. " Yes-— if thos<: stumps
were out once. We ought to hare good crops this year, of most
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF Tllli aHATEMGC, (
" I aia aare I have spent four or five jeara of my life in hard
work upou it," said tlie other.
" Your life aui't much the worse of it," said Wiathrop, laugh-
E,"ufu3 did not answer the laugh. He looked off to the hills
again, and his lipa seemed to close ia upou his thoughts.
" Papa has spent more than that," said the younger brother
gravely. " How hard he haa worked— to make this farm I "
" Well, he has made it."
" Yes, but ho has paid a dozen years of his life for it. And
" It was a pretty tough subject to begin with," said the elder,
lookmg about him again. " But it's a nice farm now ; — it's the
handsomest farm ia the county ;— it ought to pay considerable
now, after this."
" It hasn't brought us in much so far," observed Wmthrop,
" except just to keep along ; — and a pretty^ tight fit at that"
" The house ought to be up here," said fiufus, considering
the little distant brown speck; — "it would be worth twice as
" What would ? "
" "Why ! — the farm ! "
" Tho honae wouldn't," said Winthrop,— " not to my notions.
« It's confoundedly out of the way, down there, a mile off
from the work." . , „,- i
" Only a quarter of that, and a little better," said Wmthrop
" A little worse !— There's a great loss of time. There would
be twice as much work done if the house was up here."
" I coulda't stand it," said Winthrop. " How came it the
house was put down there f "
" Papa bought the point first and buiit the house, before ever
he pushed his acquirements so far as this. He would be wise,
now, to let that, and build another up here somewhere.
" It wouldn't pay," said the younger brother ; " and for one,
I'm not sorry." ,,, , , ,
" If the farm was clear," said the elder, " I'd stand the chance
of it's paying; it's that keeps us down."
"What?"
" That debt."
« What debt ? "
" Why, the interest on the mortgage."
"I don't know what you are talking of."
HcsledbyGoOgle
8 THE HILLS OF THE SHATIiMDC.
" Why," said Rufus a little impiitiently, " doa't you know
that when papa bought the property lie couldn't pay off the whole
price right down, and so he was obliged to leave the rest owing,
imd giTe security."
" What security? "
" Why, a mortgage on the farm, aa I told you."
" What do you mean by a mortgage ? "
" Why he gare a right over the farm — a right to sell the
farm, at a certain time, if the debt was not paid and the interest
upon it."
" What ia the debt ? "
" Seyeral thousands, I believe."
" And how much does he have to pay upon that every year ? "
" I don't know exactly — one or two, two or three hundred
dollars; and that keeps us down, you see, till the mortgage is
paid off."
" I didn't know that."
They sat silent a little time. Then Wiiithrop said,
" You and I must pay that money off. Will."
" Ay ^but still there's a question which is the best way to
do it," said Kufus.
" The best way, I've a notion," said Winthrop iookiug round
at his cattle, — " is not to take too long noon-spells in the after-
noon."
" Stop a bit. Sit down ! — I want to speak to you. Do you
want to spend all your life following the oxen ? "
Wintkrop stopped certainly, but he waited in aUenoe.
"J don't!"
" What do you want to do ? "
" I don't know — something "
" What is tte matter, Will ? "
" Matter ? " — said the other, while his fine features shewed the
ohanmng lights and shadows of a summer day, — " why Winthrop,
that I am not willing to stay here and be a ploughman all my
life, when I might be something better ! "
The other's heart beat. Bat after an instant he answered
" How can you be anything better, Will ? "
" Do you think all the world lies under the shadow of Wuta-
qut-o ? "
" What do you mean ? "
" Do you tbmk all the world is like this little world which
those hills shut in ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE DILLS OF THE Sr.ATEMXTC. »
" No," — said WintLrop, liis eye going over to tte blue depths
and golden tidge-topa, which it did not see ; " — hut "'
"Where doea that river lead to?"
" It leads to Mannahatta. What of that ? "
" There is a world there, Winthrop, — another sort of world, —
where people fenow something; T?here other things are to be doHo
tlian running plough furrows ; where men may distinguish them-
selves ! — where men may read and write; and do something
great ; and grow to be something besides what nature made theml
— I want to be in that world."
They both paused,
" Bat what will you do, Eufus, to get into that world ? — wo
are slmt in here,"
" I am not shut in I " B^d the elder brother ; and brow aad
lip and nostril said it oyer again ; — " I will live for something
greater than this ! "
There was a deep-drawn breath from the boy at his side.
" So would I, if I eould. But what can wo do ? "
How dif&cult it was to do anything, both felt. But after a
ddiberato pause of some seconds, Uufus answered,
" There is only one thing to do. — ^I shall go to College."
" To College !— Will ? "
The ehauges in the face of the younger boy were sudden and
startling. One moment the coronation of hope ; the next mo-
ment despair bad thrown the coronet off; one more, and the hand
of determination, — like Napoleon's, — had placed it firmly on his
brow, and it was never shaken again. But he said nothing; and
both waited a little, till thoughts could find words.
" Rufus, — do papa and mamma know about this ? "
"Not yet."
" What will they thint of it ? "
I don't know — they must think of it as I do. My mind ia
made up. I can't stay here."
" But some preparation ia necessary, Kufus, ain't it ? — wo
must know more than we do before wo can go to College, mustn't
we ? How will you get that ? "
" I don't know, I will get it. Preparation ! — yes I "
" Father will want us both at home this summer,"
" Yea — this summer — ^I suppose we must. We must do some-
thing we must talk to them at bonie about it, — gradually."
" If we bad books, we could do a great deal at borne."
" Yes, if, But we haven't. And we must have more time.
We couldn't do it at home."
HcsledbyGoOgle
10 THE HILLS OF THE SIIATEMCO.
" Papa wants ua this Bummer. — And I don't see how lie aim
spare as at all, Ruiiis."
" I am sure he will let us go," said the other steadily, though
with a touch of trouble in his face.
" We are jnst beginDing to help him."
" We can hel(> him much better the other way," said Rnfus
quickly. " Farming is the most miserable slow way of making
money that ever was contrived."
" How do you propose to make money ? " inquired his brother
oooUy.
" I don't know ! I am not thinking of making money at prea-
" It takes a good deal to go to College, don't it ? "
" Yes."
And again there was a little silence. And the eyes of both
were fixed on the river and the opposite hills, while thoy saw
only that distant world and the vague barrier between.
" But I intend to go, Winthrop," said his brother looking at
him, with fire enough in his face to burn -up obstacles.
" Yea, you will go," the younger said calmly. The cool grey
eye did Dot speak the internal, "So will I ! " — which stamped it-
self upon his heart. They got up from the plough beam.
" I'll try for't," was Kufus's condition, as he shook himself.
" Toii?ll get U" said Winthrop.
There was much love as well as ambition in the delighted
look with which his brother rewarded him. They parted to their
work. They ploughed the rest of their field :— what did they
turn over besides the soil ?
They wended thoir slow way back with the oxen when the
evening fell; but the yoke was off their own necks. The linger-
ing western light coloured another world than the morning had
shmed upon. No longer bondsmen of the soil, they trodeft like
masters. They untackled their oxen and let them out, with the
spirit of men whose fature work was to be in a larger field.
Only Hope's little hand had lifted the weight from their heads.
And Hope's only resting point was determination.
HcsledbyGoOgle
OHAPTEE II.
A quiet BDiile played round bis lips.
As the eddies ana dimples of ihe ride
Flsy round the bowe of ships.
That Btesdllr at mohoi ride.
And wlEh a Toic« that wAa full or glee,
" The plougbing's all done ; thank fortuue ! " exclaimed RufiiB
as he came into the kitchen.
" Well, don't leave youi hat there in the middle of the floor,"
said hia mother.
" Yen, it just missed knockiug the tea-cupa and saucers off the
table," said little Asaiel.
" It hasn't missed knocking jou off jonr balance," said hia
brother tartly, " Do you know where your own hat is ? "
" It hain't knocked me off anything 1 " said Aaahel. " It
didn't toucii me ! "
" Do you know where your own hat is ? "
" No.'^
" What docs it matter_ WiH ?" said his mother.
" It's hanging out of doors, on tke handle of the grindstone."
"It ain't 1"
" Yes it is ; — on the grindstone."
" No it isn't," said Wiathrop coming in, " for I've got it here.
There — see to it Asahel. Mamma, papa's come. We've done
ploughing."
And down went his hat, but not on the floor.
" Look at Winifred, Governor — she has been calling for you
all day."
The hoy turned to a flaxen-haired, rosy-cheeked, little tod-
HcsledbyGoOgle
i^ THE HILLS OF THE SHATEM0C.
dIJDg thing of three or four jeara old, at his feet, and took her up,
to the perfect satisfaction of both parties. Her head nestled in
his neck and her little hand patted his cheek with great approval
and contentment.
" Mamma," said Asahel, " what makea you call Winthrop Gov-
ernor ? — he isn't a governor."
" Ask your father. And run and tell him tea's just ready."
The father came in ; and the tea was made, aad the whole
party sat down to table. A homely, hut a very cheerful and
happy board. The supper was Lad in the kitchen ; the little re-
mains of the fire that had boiled the kettle were not amiss after
the damps of evening fell ; and tke room itself, with its big fire-
place, high dark-painted wainscoting, and even the clean board
floor, was not the least agreeable in the house. And the feoea
and figures that surrounded the table were manly, comely, and
intelligent, in a high degree.
" Well, — I've cot through with that wheat field," said Mr.
Landholm, as he disposed of a chicken bono.
" Have you got through sowing ? " said hig wife.
" Sowing ! — no ! — Winthrop, I guess you must go into the
garden to-morrow — I can't attend to anything else till I get my
_ " Won't you plant some sweet corn tkisyear, Mr. Landholm ?
— ^it's a great deal better for cooking."
" Well, I dont know— I guess the field corn's sweot enough.
I haven't much time to attend to sugar things. What /look for
is substantials."
" Aren't sweet things substantial, sir ? " said Winthrop.
" Well — ^yes, — in a sort they are," said his father laughing,
and looking at the little fat creature who was still in her brother's
arms and giving hun the charge of her supper as well as his own,
" I know some sweet things I shouldn't Uko to do without,"
" Talking of substantials," said Mrs. Landholm, " there's wood
wanting to bo got. I am almost out. I had hardly enough to
cook supper."
" Don't want much fire in this weather," said the father-
" However — we can't get along very well without supper. — Rufus,
I guess you'll have to go op into the woods to-morrow with the
os-slcd — ^you and Sam Doolittle — back of the pme woud
you'll find enough dead trees there, I guess."
"I think," said Eufus, " that if you think of it, what are call-
ed substantial things are the least substantial of any — they are
only the scaffolding of the other."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEM0O. 13
" Of what other ? " said his father.
" Of the thiDga which really last, sir, — the things which belong
to the mind— thhigs which have to do with aomet£iug besides the
labour of to-day and the labour of to-morrow."
" The labour of to-day and the labour of to-morrow are pretty
necessary though," said his father dryly ; " we must eat, ia the
first plaee. You mnat keep the Iiody alive before the mind can
do mooh — at least I have found it bo in my own experience."
" But yon don't think the leas of the other kind of work, sir,
do joTi ? " said Winthrop looking up : — " when one can get at
it?"
" No my boy," said the fatlior, — " no. Governor ; no man thinks
more highly of it than I do. It has always been my desire that
yoa and Will should be better off in this respect than I have ever
been; — my great desire; and I haven't given it up, neither."
A iittle silence of all parties.
" What are the things which 'really last,' Bufus?" said hia
mother.
Buflis made some slight and not very direct answer, but the
question set Winthrop to thinking.
He thought all the evening ; or rather thonght and fancy
took a kind of whirligig dancej where it was hard to tell which
was which. Visions of better opportunities than his father ever
had ;^of rea«hmg a nobler scale of being than his own early life
had promised him ; — of higher walks than hia young feet had
trod : they made his heart big. There came the indistinct pos-
sibility of raising up with him the little sister he held in his arms,
not to the life of toil which their mother had led, but to some
airy unknown regioE of cultivation and refinement and elegant
leisure ; — hugely unknown, and yet surely laid hold of by the
mind's want. But though fancy saw her for a moment in some
strange travestie of years and education and oircumstanoes, that
was only a flash of fency — ^not dwelt upon. Other thoughts were
more near and pressing, though almost as vague, la vain he en-
deavoured to calculate expenses that he did not know, wants that
he could not estimate, difficulties that loomed up with no certain
outline, means that were far beyond ken. It waa but oonfusion ;
except his purpose, clear and steady as the sun, though as vet it
lighted not the way but only the distant goal ; that was always
in sight. And under all these thoughts, little looked at yot fully
rocogniifed, liis mother's question; and a certain security that she
had that which would ' really last.' He knew it. And oddly
enough, when he took his candle from her hand that night, Win-
HcsledbyGoOgle
Xi THE HILLS OF T
throp, thoTigli himaelf no believer unless with head bclid", thanked
God in his heart that his mother was a Christian.
Gradually the boys disclosed their plan; or rather the elder
of the boys ; for Winthrop being so mucli the younger, for the
present was content to bo silent. But their caution was little
needed. Kufus was hardly more ready to go than his parents
wore to send him, — if they could ; and in their case, as in his, the
lack of power was made up by will. Eufus shouldhave an educa-
tion. He slioald go to College. Not more cheerfully on his part
than on theirs the necessary privations wore met, the necessary
penalty submitted to. The son should stand on better grouud
than the father, thoughthe fathorwere himself the stepping-stone
that ho might reach it.
It had nothiHg to do with Winthrop, all this. Nothing was
said of him. To send one son to Oollogo was already a great
stretch of effort, and of possibility; to sead two was far beyond
both. Nobody thought of it. Except the one left out of their
thoughts.
The Bummer paased in the diligent companionship of the osen
and Sam Doolittle. But when the harvests were gathered, and
the fall work was pretty well done ; the winter grain ia the ground,
and the November winds rustling the dry leaves from tiie trees, —
the strongest branch was parted from the family tree, in the hope
that it might take root and thrive better on its own stock else-
where. It was cheerfully done, all roand. The father took
bravely the added burdea with the lessened means ; tlie mother
gave her strength and her eyesight to make the needed prepara-
tions ; and lo supply the moans for them, all pinched themselves ;
and Winthrop had laid upon him the threefold charge of his own,
his brother's, and his father's duty. For Mr. Landholm had
been chosen a member of the State Legislature ; and he too would
be away from home all winter. What sort of a winter it would
bo, no one stopped to think, but all were willing to bear.
The morning camo of the day before the dreaded Saturday,
and no one cared to look at another. It was a relief, though a
hated one, to see a neighbour come in. Even that, Winthrop
shunned ; he was cleaning the harness of the wagon, and he took
it out into the broad stoop outside of the kitchen door. His
mother and brother and the ohildren soon scattered to other parts
of the hoaae,
" So neighbour," said Mr. Underhill, — '' I hoar t«ll one of your
sons is goin' off, away from you ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE Hir.I.S OF THE SHATEMDC. .15
"Tee," — said Mr. Landholm, pride and sorrow struggling to-
gether ill his manner, — " I believe ho is,"
" Where's he goin' ? "
"To Asphodel — in the first plac
" Asphodel, eh ?— What's at i
" What do yon n
"Wlat'a he goin' there for?"
" To pursue his studies— there's an Academy at Asphodel."
" An Academy. — Hum. — And so he's goin' after larnin' is he ?
And what '11 the farmer do without him to hum ? "
"Do the best I can — send for you, neighbour Underbill."
" Ha, ha ! — well, I reckon I've got enough to do to attend to
my o
" Well, you see, I hain't a great deal of ground. You can't
run corn straight up a hill, can you ? — without somethin' to stand
on?"
" Not very well."
" There be folks that like that kind o' way o' fiirming — but I
never did myself."
" No, I'll warrant you," said Mr. Landholm, with a little at-
tempt at a Jaugh.
" Well — ^you say there's an Academy at Asphodel ; — then he
aint going to — a — what do you call it? — Collegiate Institu-
tion?"
" No, not just yet ; by and by he'll go to College, I espeet, —
That's what he wants to do."
" And you want it too, I suppose?"
" Yes — I'll do the best I can by my children. I can't do as
I would by them all," said the father, with a mixture of pride
expressed and pride not expressed, — " but I'll try to make a man
ofVmi"
" And t'other '11 make a man of himself," said Mr. TJnderhill,
as he saw Winthrop quit the stoop. "He'll never run a plough
up the side of a house. But what kind of a man are you going
to make of Will ? — a great man ? "
" Ah, I don't know 1 " said Mr. Landholm with a sigh.
" That must be as Providence directs."
" Hum — I should say that Providence directs yon to keep
'em both to hum," said Mr, TJnderhill; — "but that's not my affair.
Well, I'm going. — I hear you are goin' to be in Vantassel this
winter ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
lb THE HILLS Oy THE SaATEMUO.
" Yes— I'm going to make laws for you," Mr. Landliolm an-
swered laughing.
" Well—" said Mr. TJnderhill taking his hat, — " I wish they'd
put you up for President — I'd vote for you 1 "
"Thaokyou. Why?"
" 'Cause I should expect you'd give me eomethiu' nolher and
make a great maa of me!"
With a laugh at his own wit, Mr. Underbill departed.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER III.
The day eamo.
The fiirewell dinner was got ready — the bosfc of tie season it
must be, for the honour of all parties and the I(we of one ; but it
mocked them, Mrs. Landliolm'a noble roaat pigj aad sweet
chickens, and tea and fine bread ; they were somethmg to be re-
membered, not enjoyed, and to be remembered for ever, as part of
one strong drop of life's bittersweet mixture. The travellers, for
Mr. Landholm was to accompany hia son, had alroady dressed
themselves in their best; and the other eyes, when they could,
gaaed with almost wondering pride on the very fine and graceful
figure of the youngseeker of fortuue. But eyes could do little, and
lips worse tban little. The pang of quitting the table, and the hur-
ried and silent good-byos, were over at last ; and the wagon was gone.
It seemed that the whole household was gone. The little
ones had run to some corner to cry; Winthrop was nowhere; and
the mother of the family stood alone and still by the table in the
kitohen where they had left her.
An old black woman, the sole house servant of the family,
presently came in, and while takmg up two or three of the plates,
east looks of affectionate pity at her mistress and friend. She
had been crying herself, but her sorrow had taken a quiet
form.
"Don't yol" she said in a troubled voice, and laymg her
ahrivelled hand timid^ on Mrs. Landholm's shoulder, — " don't
ye. Mis' Landholm. He's in the Lord's hand, — and just you let
him bo there."
HcsledbyGoOgle
■L'HE aUATKMUC.
Mra Landholm throw her apron over her face and went out
of the kitchen into her own room. The old woman continued to
go round the table, gathering the plates, hut very evideutly busy
with something ebe ; and mdeed humming or talking to heraelf,
in a voice far from steady.
She hroke off and sat down and put her face in her hands and
" Oh Lord ! — oh good Lord !— I wish I was there 1 — Be still
Karen — that's very wicked — wait, wait. ' They shall not be
ashamed that wait for him,' he said, — They will not bo ashamed,"
she repeated, looking up, while the tears streamed down her
cheeks. " I will wait. But oh I — I wisht I had patienoe ! I want
to get straight out of trouble, — I do, Mot yet, Karen, — not yet.
' When he giveth quietness, then who can make trouble ? ' That's
it — that's my way."
She went about her businesa and quietly finished it.
It had long Ijpen done, and the afternoon was wearing well on,
when Mrs. Landholm eame into the kitchen again. Karen had
taken care of the children meanwhile. But where was "Winthrop ?
The mother, now quite herself, bethought her of him. Kaa'en
knew he was not about the house. But Mrs. Landholm saw that
one of the big barn doors was open, and crowed over to it. A
small field lay between that and the house. The great barn floor was
quite empty, as she entered, except of hay and grain, with which
the sides were tightly filled up to the top ; the euds were neatly
dressed off; the floor left clean and bare. It oddly and strongly
struck her, as she saw it, the thought of the hands that had lately
been bo busy there ; the work left, the bands gone ; and for a few
moments she stood absolutely still, feeling and putting away the
idea that made her heart ache. She had a battle to fight before
she was mistress of herself and could apeai Winthrop's name.
Nobody answered; and scolding herself for the tone of her
voice, Mrs. Landholm spoke again. A little rustling let her
know that she was heard; and presently Winthrop made his
appearance from below or from some distant corner behind
the hay, and came to meet her. He could not command his face
to his mother's eyes, and sorrow for Will for a moment was half
forgotten in sorrow for him. As they met she put both hands
upon his shoulders, and said wistfully, "My son?" — But that
little word silenced them both. I' -/as only to throw their arms
HcsledbyGoOgle
TOE HILLS OF TlIU: SilATKMDC. 19
about each, other and hide their faces ia each other's neck, and cry
strange tears ; tears that are drawn from the heart's deepest welL
Slight griefs flow over the surface, with fury perhaps; but the
purest and the sweetest waters are drawn silently.
Winthrop was the first to recover himself, and was kissing his
mother with manly quietness before she could raise her head at
all. When she did, it was to return his kisses, first on one cheek
and then on the other and then on his forehead, parting the hair
from it with both hands for the purpose. It seemed as if she
would have spoken, but she did not, dien, not in words.
" My boy," she said at last, " you have too hard measure laid
on you 1 "
. " No, mother — I don't think it so ; — there is nothing to make
mo sorry in that."
" Will his got his wish," she observed presently,
" Don't you approve of it mother ? "
" Yes — " she said, but as if there were many a thought before
and behind.
" DonH you approve of it mother f " Winthrop asked quickly.
" Yes, yes — I do, — in itself ; but you know there is one wish
before all others in my mind, for him and for you, Winthrop,"
He said nothing.
" Come," she said a moment after more cheerfully, " we must
go in and see Low cosy and sociable wo can make ourselves alone.
We must practise," — for nest winter, she was going to say, but
something warned her to stop. Winthrop turned away hia feoe,
though he answered manfully,
" Yes mother — I must just go over to the bank field and see
what Sam Doolittle has been at; and I've got to cut some wood;
then I'll be in."
" Will you be back by sundown ? "
" I'll not be long a.fter."
The mother gave a lojk t w 1 th n, already very near
tho high western horizon, an 1 th aft Winthrop who waa
moving off at a good pace ; 1 th 1 wly walked baok to the
house, one hand olasping its f I! w g fi ant expression.
Karen was sitting m her 1 kit h w h 'little Winifred on
her knees, and singing to her in a very sweet Methodist tune,
" There fairei' Cowers Hum Eden's tloom,
Nor aa nor Borrow know.
Blest Beats I — through mda and atormy seas,
I onward press to jon."
H™.db,Googlc
ZU THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMDC.
The mother stooped to take up the child.
" What put that into your head, Karen ? "
" Everything puts it in my head, missus," said the old womftn
with a smiling look at her ; " Boraetimes wlien I see tte sun go
down, I think bj'm-hy I won't see him get up again ; and times
when I lose something, I think by'm-ty I won't want it ; and
sometimes when somebody goes away, I think by'm-by we'll be
all gone, and then we'll be all together again; only I'd like some-
times to be all together without going first."
" Will you get down, Winnie f " said her motlier, " and let
mamma make a cake for brother Winthrop ? "
" A cako ? — for Governor ? "
" Tes , get down, and I'U make one of Governor's hoe-cakes."
The spirit of love and cheerfulness had got the upper hand
when the little family party gathered again ; at least that spirit
had rule of all that either eyes or ears could take not* of. They
gathered in the ' keeping-room,' as it was called ; the room used as
a common sitting room by tlie family, though it served also the
purpose of a sleeping chamber, and a bed aeeordingly in one cor-
ner formed part of the furniture. Their eyes were accustomed to
that. It did not hurt the general effect of comfort. There
the supper-tablo was set this evening; the paper wiadow-curtains
were let down, and a blazing fire sparkled and oraokled ; while be-
fore it, on the approved oakea barrel-head set up against the and-
irons, the delicate rye and Indian hoe-cake was toasting into
sweetness aod brownness, Asahcl keeping watoh on one side of the
fire, and Winifred at the other burning her little fair cheek in pre-
mature endeavours to see whether the cake was ready to be turned.
" What's going on here 1 " said Winthrop, oatohing her up in
his arms as he came in.
Winifrsd laughed and kissed him, and then with an earnest
slap of hei little hand on his cheek reijuested to be set down, that
she might see, " if that side wasn't done,"
" Yes, to be sure it's done," said Asahel. " Whore's mamma
to turn it ? "
" Here," said Wmthrop, taking up the barrel cover, — " do
you think nobody can turn a eake but mamma ? "
" Zow can't," said Asahct, — " you'll let it fall in the ashes, —
you will 1 — "
But tho slicQ of half baked dough was cleverly and neatly
slipped off the board and happily put in its place again with the
right side out ; and little Winifred, who had watched the opera-
tion anxiously, said with a breath of satisfaction and in her slow
otterance,
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL9 OF THE BHATTr.—r-. 21
" There — G-overnor can do anything 1 "
There were several cakes to take the benefit of the fire, one
after the other, and then to be Bplit and buttered, and then to be
eaten ; and cakes of Winthrop's baking and mamma's buttermg, the
children pronounced " as good as could be," Nothing could nave
better broken up the gloom of their little tea party than Win-
throp's hoe-cakes ; aad then the tea waa so good, for nobody had
eaten much dinner.
Th hildren were in excellent spirits, and Winthrop kept
th m play; and the conversation went on between the three
f 1 part of the evening. When the little ones were gone
t b 1 hen indeed it flagged; Winthrop and his mother sat
awh 1 1 ntly musing, and then the former bade her good night.
It was long before Mrs. Landholm thought of going to bed,
th ght of anything around her ; the fire was dead and her
dl 1 nt out, when at length sho roused herself. Tho cold
w d m d itself felt through many a crevice in the wooden frame
h d feeling too much of its work upon her, she went into
the kitchen to see if there were not some warmth stili lingering
about the covered-up fire. To her surprise, the fire was not cov-
ered up ; a glow came from it yet ; and Winthrop sat there on
the hearth, with his head leaning against the jamb and his eyes
intently studying the coals. He started, and jumped np.
" Winthrop I— what arc you here for, my dear ? "
" I came out to warm myself,"
" Havet't you been to bed ?
-No ma'am."
" Where have you been ? "
*' Only in my room, mother."
' Doing what, my son ? "
" Thinking—" he said a little unwillingly.
" Sit down and warm yourself," said his mother placing his
chair again ; — " Why, your hands are warm now ? "
" Yea ma'am — I have been here a good while."
He sat down, where she had put his chair in front of the fire-
place; and she stood warming herself before it, and looking at
him. His face was in its usual calmness, and she thought as she
looked it was an excellent face. Great strength of character —
great truth — beneath the broad brow high intellectual capacity, and
about the mouth a certain sweet seif-poasesaion ; to the ordinary
observer more eoo! than sweet, but his mother knew the sweetness.
"_What are you thinking about, Winthrop ? " she said softly,
bending down near enough to lay a loving band on his brow.
HcsledbyGoOgle
ay TIIK HILLS OF THIS eilATEMUO.
He looked up qiiiakly and amiled, one o£ those smiles which
Lis mother saw oftener than anybody, but she not often, — a smile
very revealing in its eharaoterj — and said,
" Don't ask me, mamma,"
" Who should ask you, if not I ? "
" There is no need to trouble you with it, mother."
" Ton can't help that — it will trouble me now, whether I
know it or not ; for I see it is something that troubles you."
" You have too good eyes, mother," he said smiling again, but
a different giaile.
" My ears are just as good."
" Mamma, I don't want to displease you," he said looking up.
" Tou ean't do that — you never did yet, Winthrop, my boy,"
she answered, bonding down again and this time her lips to hie
forehead, " Speak — I am not afraid,"
He was silent a moment, and then mastering himself as it
were with some difBculty, he said,
" Matnma, I want to be somebody ! "
The ooloui; flushed back and forth on his face, once and again,
but beyond that, every feature kept its usual calm,
A shadow fell on his mother's face, and for several minutes
she stood and he sat in perfect silence ; he not stirring his eyes
from the fire, she not moving hers from him. When she spoke,
the tone was changed, and though quiet he felt the trouble in it
" What sort of a somebody, Winthrop ? "
" Mamma," he said, " I ean't live here 1 I want to know more
and to be more tkan I ean here. I can, I am sure, if I only can
find a way ; and I am sure I can find a way. It is in me, and it
will eome out. I don't want anybody to give me any help, nor
to ihink of mo ; I cau work my own way, if you'll only let me
and not be troubled about me."
He had risen from hia chair to speak this. His mother kept
her face in the shadow and said quietly,
" What way ■will you take, Winthrop ? "
" I don't know, ma'am, yet ; I haven't found out."
" Do you know the diffieultiea in the way ? "
" No, mother."
It was said in the tone not of proud but of humble deter-
" My boy, they are greater than you think for, or than 1 like
to think of at aD."
" I dare say, mother."
" I don't see how it is possible for your father to do more than
|mt Will in the way he han ei)oson."
HcsledbyGoOgle
TJIE mLLS OF THE BHATEMUC. z6
" I know that, mother," Winthrop replied, with again the
calm face but the flushiDg colour ; — " ho said y eaterday — I heard
" What ? "
"He said he woitld try to make a man of Eufus! I must do
it for myself, motlier. And I will."
His motlier hardly doubted it. But she sighed as sho looked,
and sighed heavily.
"I ought to have made you promise not to be troubled,
mamma," he said with a relaxing face.
" I am more careful of ray promises than that," she answered.
" But Winthrop, my boy, what do yon want to do first ?"
" To learn, mamma, I" he said, with s, singular flash of fire in
his usual cool eye. " To get rid of ignorance, and then to get
the power that knowledge gives. Rufus said the other day that
knowledge is power, and I know he was right. I feel like a man
with hisTianda tied, because I am so ignorant."
" Toa are hardly a man yet, "Winthrop ; you are only a boy
" I am almost sixteen, mother, and I haven't taken the first
step yet."
What should the first step be? A question in the minds of
both ; the answer — a blank.
" How loBjt have you boon thinking of this ? "
" Since last spring, mother."
"Didn't Will's going put it in your head ? "
"That gave me the first thought; but it would have made no
difierence, mother; it would have come, sooner or later. I know
it would, by my feeling ever since."
Mrs. liandholm's eye wandered round the room, the very
walls in their humbleness and roughness reminding her anew of
the labour and self-denial it had cost to rear them, and then to
furnish them, and that was now expended in keeping the inside
warm. Every brown beam and little window^ash could witness
the story of privation and struggle, if she would let her mind go
back to it; the associations were on every hand ; neither was the
struggle over. She turned ber back upon the room, and sitting
down in Winthrop'a chair bent her look as he had done into the
decaying bed of coals.
He was standing in the shadow of the mantelpiece, and look
ing down in his turn scanned her face and countenance as a little
wMle before she had scanned his. Hers was a fine face, in some
of the finest indications. It had not, probably it never had, the
HcsledbyGoOgle
2-!- Tin; HILLS of the siiATiJinrc.
extreme physical beauty of her first-born, nor tbe mark of intel-
lect that was upon the featiu-ea of the aecond. But there was
the nnmistaiable writing of calm good sense, a patient aad pos-
sessed mind, a strong power for the right, whether doing or sutfer-
iBg, a pure spirit; and that aameless beauty, earthly and un-
earthly, which looks oat of the eyes of a mother; a beauty like
which there is none. But more ; toil's work, and care's, were
there, very plain, on the figure and on the face, and on the coun-
tenance too ; he could not overlook it ; work tbat years had not
had time to do, nor sorrow permission. His heart smote him,
" Mamma," he said, " you have left out the hardest difUculty
of all. — How can I go and leave you and papa without me ? "
"How can you? Mychild, I canbear to dowithoutyouiniftw
world, if it is to be for your good or happiness. There is only
one thing, Winthrop, I cannot bear."
He was silent.
" I could bear anything — it would make my life a gai-den of
roses — if I were sure of having you with me in the next world.''
" Mamma — you know I would "
" I know you would, I believe, give your life to serve me, my
boy. But tin you love God as well as that, — you may be my
child, but you are not bis."
He was silent still ; and heaving a sigh, a weary one, that
came from very far down in her heart, she turned away again
and sat looking towards the fireplace. But not at it, nor at any-
thing else that mortal eyes could see. It was a look that left
the Slings around her, and passing present wants and future con-
tingencies, went beyond, to the issues, and to the secret springs
that move them. An earnest and painful look ; a look of patient
care and meek reliance ; so earnest, so intent, so distant in its
gaze, that told well it was a path the mind often travelled and
often in such wise, and with the self-same burden, Winthrop
watched the gentle grave face, so very grave then in its gentle-
ness, until be could not bear it; her cheek was growing pale, and
whether with cold or with thinking he did not care to know.
Ho came forward and gently touched his cheek to the pale
" Mamma, do not look so for me ! " he whispered.
She pulled him down beside her on the hearth, and nestled
her face on his shoulder and wrapped her arms round him. And
they strained him close, but he could not speak to her then.
" For whom should I look ? or for what do I live ? My boy 1
I would die to know that you loved Christ; — tbat my dear
Master was yours too I "
HcsledbyGoOgle
TJIE inLLS OF THE 81IATEIIUC. 25
Tlie geotlj-spoken words tied his tongue. He was mute;
(ill she had unloosed her arms from about him and sat with her
fa«e in her hands. Then his head sought her shoulder.
" Mafflma, I know jou are right, Z will do anything to pleaso
you — anything that 1 can," he said with a great force upon him-
self.
" What can you do, Wiothrop ? "
Ho did not answer again, and she looked up and looked into
his face,
" Can you take God for your Ood ? and give your heart and
your life, — all the knowledge you will e^er get and all the power
it will ever give you, — to he used for him ? "
" For him, mamma ? — "
" In doing his work— in doing his pleasure ? "
" Mamma — I am Eot a Chnstian," he said hesitatingly and
his eyo falling,
" And now you knowVhat a Christian is. Till jon can (!o
this, yon do nothing. Till you are Christ's after this whole-
hearted fashion you are not mine as I wish to see you, — you art'
not mine for ever, — my hoy — my dear Wintbrop — " she said,
again putting her arm round him and bowingher face to his breast.
Did he ever forget the moment her head lay there ? the mo-
ment when his arms held the dearest earthly thing life ever had
for him ? It was a quiet moment ; ahe was not crying ; no tears
had been dropped at all throughout their conversation; and
when she raised her face it was to kiss him quietly, — ^but twice,
on his lips and on his cheek, — and bid him good night. But bis
Boul was full of one meaning, as he shut his little bedroom door,
— that that face should never he paler or more care-worn for
anything of his doing ; — that he would give up anything, he would
never go from homa^ sooner than grieve her heart in a feather's
weight; nay, that rather than grieve her, ho would become a
Christian.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER IT.
The winter was a long one to tie separated family. Quietly
won ttrough, and busily. The fethor in the distant legislature ; the
brother away at hia studies; and the two or three lonely people at
Lome;— each in Lis place was earnestly aud constantly at work.
No doubt Mr. Landholm had more time to |)lay than the rest of
them, and his tusinoss eares did not press quite so heapily ; for he
wrote home of gay dinicgs-out, and familiar intercourse with this
and that member of the Senate and Assembly, and hospitable
houses that were open to him in Vantassel, where he had pleasant
friends and pleaaant times. But the home cares were upon him
even then; ho told how he longed for the Session to be over, that
he might be with his family; he sent dear lo¥e to little "Wmifred
and Asahel, and postscripts of fatherly charges to Winthrop,
recommending to him particularly the earo of the youna cattle
and to go on dressing the flas. And Winthrop, through the long
winter, bad taken care of the cattle and dressed the flax^ in the
same spirit with which ho shut his bedroom door that night; a
littlo calmer, not a whit the less strong.
He filled father's and brother's place— his mother knew how
well. Sara Doolittle knew, for he declared "there wa'n't a stake
in the fences that wa'n't looked after, as smart as if the old chap
was to hum." The grain was threshed as duly aa ever, though a
boy of sixteen had to stand m the shoes of a man of forty. Per-
haps Sam and Anderese wrought better than their wont, in
shame or In admiration. Karen never bad so good a woodpile, Mrs.
Landholm's meal bags were never better looked after; and little
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC, 27
Winifred and Aaahcl nevpr waoted their ridea in the snow, nor
liad more nuts cracked o' nights ; though they had only oni> tired
brother at home instead of two fresh ones. Truth to tell, how-
ever, one ride from Wiathrop would at aay time content them
better than two rides from Will. Winthrop never allowed that he
was tired, and never seemed so ; but his mother and Karen were
resolved that tired he must be.
" He had pretty strength to begin with," Karen said ; " that
was a good thing ; and he seemed to keep it up too ; he was
shootin' over everything."
If Winthrop kept his old plans of self-aggrandiaement, it waa
at the bottom of his heart ; he looked and acted nothing but the
fermer, all those months. There was a little visit from Kufua
too, at mid-winter, which must have wakened the spirit of other
things, if it had been at all laid to sleep. But if it waked it kept
still. It did not BO much as shew itself Unless indirectly.
" What have you been doing all to-day, G-ovornor ? " said his
little sister, meeting him with joyful arms as he came in one dark
February evening.
" What have i/ou been about all day ? " said her brother, tak-
ing her up to his shoulder. " Cold, isn't it? Have you got some
supper for mo?"
" No, / hav'n't, — " said the little girl. " Mamma 1 — Grovernor
wants his supper !''
" Hush, hush. Governor's not in a hurry."
" Where have you been all day ? " she repeated, putting her
little hand upon his cold face with a sort of tender considera-
" In the snow, and out of it."
" What were you doing in the snow ? "
" Walkbg."
"Was it cold?"
" What was stinging?"
" Why, the cold I "
She laughed a little, and went on stroking his face.
" What were you doing when you wa'n't in the snow ? "
" What do you want to know for ? "
" Tell me ! "
" I was scutching flax."
" What is that ? "
" Why, don't you know ? — didn't you see me beating flax in
the barn the other day? — beating it upon a board, with a bat ? —
that was scutching."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL8 OS THE SHATEIIUC.
" I think it is ¥ery likely."
" I thought wo were done dressing flax ? '' remarked Asa-
hel.
" We I — well, I suppose you have, for this season."
" Well, ain't you done dressing flax? "
" No air."
" I thought you said the flax was all done, Winthrop ? " said
his mother.
" My father's is all done, ma'am."
" And yet you have been dressing flax to-da.y ? " said Asahel ;
while his mother looked.
" Mamma," said Winthrop, " I wish Asahel was a little older. —
He would bo a help."
" Who have you been working for ? " said the child.
" For myself."
" Where have you been, Winthrop ? " said his mother in a
lower tone of inquiry,
" I have been over the mountain, mamma, — to Mr. Upshur's."
"Dressing flax?"
" Aod you have come oyer the mountain to-night ? "
" Yes, mother."
She stooped in silence to the fire to take up her tea-pot; but
Asahel exclaimed,
" It ain't right, mamma, is it, for Winthrop to be dressing Cax
for anybody else?"
" What 3 the wrong ? " said his brother.
But mamma was silent.
" What's the wrong 1 " repeated Winthrop.
" Because you oiwht to be doing your owu business,"
" Never did, if I didn't to-day," Winthrop remarked aa he
came to the table,
" For shame Asahel 1 " put in little Winifred with her child-
ish voice ; — "^ow don't know. Governor always is right."
It was a very cold February, and it was a very bleak walk
over the mountain; but Winthrop took it many a time. His
mother now and then said when she saw him come in or go out,
'■ Don't overtry yourself, my son ! — ^" but he answered her always
with his usual composure, or with one of those deep breaking-up
looks which acknowledged only her oare — ^not the need for it.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE 1IILL8 OF THE SHATEMUC. 29
Ab Karen saicl, " he had a pretty strength to begin with ; " and
it was so well begun tliat all the exposure aod hardship served
rather to its development and maturing.
Tiie snow melted ftom off the hills, and the winter blasts
came more fitfully, and were changed for soft south airs between
times. There was an end to dressing flas. The spring work waa
opening ; and Winthrop had enougli to do without working on bia
own score. Then Mr. Landholm came home; and the energies of
both the one and the other were fully taxed, at the plough and
the harrow, in the barnyard and In the forest, where in all the
want of Rufua made a great gap. Mrs. Landholm had more
reason now to distress herself, and distressed herself accordingly,
bnt it was of no use. Winthrop wrought early and late, and
threw himself into the gap with a desperate ardour that meant —
bis mother knew what.
They all wrought cheerfully and with good heart, for they
were together again; and the missing one was only thought of
as a stimulus to exertion, or its reward. Letters came from Ru-
fus, which were read and read, and though not much talked about,
secretly served the whole family for dessert at their dinner and
for sweetmeats to their tea. Letters which shewed that the far
tier's end was gaining, that the son's purpose was accomplishing;
Rufua would be a man ! They wero not very frequent, for they
ftTOided the post-office to save expense, and came by a chance
hand now and then; — "Favoured by Mr. Upshur," — or, " By
Uncle Absalom." They were written on great uncouth sheets of
letter-paper, yellow and coarse; but the handwriting grew bold
and firm, and the words and the thoughts were changing iaster
yet, from the rude and narrow mind of tbe boy, to the polish aud
the spread of knowledge. Perhaps the letters might be boyish
yet, iu another contrast ; but the home circle conld not see it; and if
they could, certainly the change already made was so swift as shewed
a great readiness for mora Mr, Landholm said little about these
letters; read them sometimes to Mr. Upshur, read them many
times to himself; and for his family, his face at those times waa
comment enough.
" Well ! — " he said one day, as ho folded up one of the uncouth
great shoeta and laid it on the table, — " the man that could write
that, was never made to hoc corn — that's certain,"
Winthrop beard it.
At midsummer Rufus came home for a little. He brought
news. He hoA got into the good graces of an uncle, a brother
of his father's, who lived at Little River, a town in the interior,
HcsledbyGoOgle
30 THE HILLS OF THE
forty miles off. This geutlomau, himself a farmer extremely
well to do in the world, aad with a small family, had invited
Bufus to come to his house aud carry on his studies there. Ths
invitation was pressed, and accmted, as it would be the means of
a great saving of outlay ; and Rufus came home in the interval
to see them all, and refit himself for the winter campaign.
No doubt he was changed and improved, like his letters ; and
fond eyes said that fond hopes had not been mistaken. If they
looked on him once with pride, they did now with a sort of insensi-
ble wonder. His whole air was that of a different nature, not at all,
from affectation, but by the necessity of the case ; and as noble and'
graceful as nature intended him to be, they delightedly confessed
that he was. Perhaps by the same necessity, 7iis view of things
was altered a little, as their view of him ; a little unconscious
change, it might be ; that nobody quarrelled with except the chil-
dren; but certain it is that Winifred did not draw up to him,
and Asahel stood in great doubt.
" Mamma," said he one day, " I wish Kufus would pull off
his fine clothes and help Winthrop."
" Fine clothes, my dear I " said his mother; "I don't think
your brother's clothes are very fine ; I wish they were finer. Do
you call patches fine ? "
" But anytow they are better than Winthrop's ? "
" Certainly — when Winthrop is at his work."
" Well, the other day ho said they were too good for him to
help Winthrop load the cart ; and I think he should pull them
off!"
" Did Winthrop ask him ? "
" No; but he know he was going to do it."
" Rufus must take care of his clothes, or he wouldn't be fit to
go to Little River, you know, '
" Then he ought to take them off," said Asahel.
" Ho did cut wood with Winthrop aD yesterday."
Asahel sat still in the corner, looking uncomfortable.
" Where are they now, mamma ? "
" Here they are," said Mrs. Landholm, as Rufua and Winthrop
opened the door.
The former met both pair of eyes directed to him, and instantly
asked,
" What are you talking of ? "
" Asahel don't understand why you are not more of a farmer,
when you aa-e in a farmhouse."
" Asahel had better mind his own business," was the some-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMPO. 31
ffbat aliarp retort ; and Rufus pulled a lock of tlie little boy s
hair iu a. manner to coiiTey a very decided notion of his judgment
Asahcl, resenting tMs handling, or touched by it, slipped off Ms
chair and took himself out of tie room,
" He thinks you ought to take off your fine clothes and help
Winthrop more than you do," said hia mother, going oa with a
shirt she was ironing,
"Fine clothes! " said the other with a very expressive breath,
— " I shall feel fine when I get that on, mother. Is that mine ? "
"Yes."
" Couldn't Karen do that ? "
"No," said Mrs. LaiidhoI[n,as she put down her iron and took
a, hot one. The tone said, " Yes- — hut not well enough."
Ho stood watching her neat work,
" I am ashamed of myself, mother, when I look at you."
"Why?"
" Because I don't deserve to have you do this for me."
She looked up and gave him oue of her grave clear glances, and
" WiU you deserve it, "Will ? "
He stood with full eyes and hushed tongue by her table, for
the space of five minutes. Then spoke with a change of tone,
" Well, I'm going down to help Winthrop catch some fisfi for
supper; and you sha'n't cook 'em, mamma, nor, Karen neither.
Karen's cooking is not perfection. By the by, there's one thing
more I do want, — and confoundedly too, — a pair of boots; — 1
really don't know how to do without them."
" Boots ? " — said his mother, in an accent that sounded a little
" Yes. — I can get capital ones at Asphodel — really stylish
ones — for five dollars ; — boots that would last me handsome a
groat while ; and that's a third less than I should have to give
anywhere else, — for such boots. You see I shall want them at
Littlo River — I shall be thrown more in the way of seeing peo-
ple— there's a great deal of society there. I don't see that I can
get along without them."
His mother was gomg on with her ironing.
" I don't know," she said, as her iron made passes up and down,
— " I don't know whether you can have them or not."
"I know," said Winthrop. " But I don't see the sense of
getting them at Asphodel."
" Because I tell you they are two dollars and a half cheaper.'
HcsledbyGoOgle
Ci THE HILLS OF THE BnATHMUC,
" And how much more will it cost yon to go round by the waj
of Asphodel than to go straight to Little River ? "
" I don't know," aaid the other, half careless, half displeased ; — ■
" I roally haven't calculated."
" Well, if you can get them for five dollars," said Winthrop,
" jou shall have them. I can lend you so much aa that."
" How did you come hy it ? " said his brother looking at hiai
curiously.
" I didn't come by it at alh"
" Where did it come from ? "
"Made it,"
" What do yoii want to know for ? I heat it out of some raw
flax."
" And carried it over the mountain, through the snow, winter
nights, " added his mother,
" You didn't know you were doing it for me," Eufua said laugh-
ing aa he took the money his brother handed him. But it was a
laugh assumed to hide some feeling. " Well, it shall get back to
yoii again somehow, Winthrop. Oome — are we ready for thia
piscatory excursion?"
" For what ? " said his mother.
"A Latin word, my dear mother, which I lately picked up
somewhere."
" Why not use English ? " said his mother.
A general little laugh, to which many an unexpressed thought
and feeling went, broke up the conference; and the two fishers
set forth on their errand; Rufua carrying the basket and fishing-
poles, and Wintlirop's abiulder bearing the oars. As they went
down in front of the house, little Winifred ran out.
" Governor, mayn't I go ? "
" No 1 " said Rufus.
" We are going to Point Bluff, Winnie," said Winthrop stop-
ping to kiss her, — "and I am afraid you would roll off on one
aide while I was pulling up a fish on the other."
She stood still, and looked after her two brothers as they wont
down to the water.
The house stood in a tiny little valley, a little basin in the
rocks, girdled about on all sides with low craggy heights covered
with evergreens. On all sides but one. To the south the view
opened full upon the river, a sharp angle of which lay there in a nook
like a mountain lake; its further course hid behind a headland of
' i shore; and only the bend and a little bit before the
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE Hilts OF THE BHATEMUO. 33
bend could bo seen from tLo Talley. The level spot about the
house gave perhaps half an acre of good garden ground j from the
very edge of that, tie grey rising ledges of granite and rank
greensward between held their undisputed domain. There the
wild rosea planted themselves ; there many a flourishing sweet-briar
flaunted in native gracefulness, or climbed up and hung about an
old oedar as if like a wilful child determined tJiat only itself should
be seen. Nature grew them and nature trained them; and sweet
wreaths, fluttering in the wind, gently warned the passer-by that
nature alone had to do there. Cedars, as soon as the bottom land
was cleared, stood the denizens of the soil on every side, lifting
their soft heads into the sliy. Little else was to be seen. Here
and there, a little further off, the lighter green of an oak shewed
itseif, or the tufts of a yellow pine ; but near at hand the cedars
held the ground, thick pyramids or cones of green, from the very
soil, smooth and tapered as if a shears had been there j but only
nature had managed it. They hid all else that they could; but
the grey rooks peeped under, and peeped through, and here and
there broke their ranks with a huge wall or ledge of granite, where
no tree could stand. Tho cedars had climbed round to the top
and went on again above tie ledge, more mingled there with decid-
uous trees, and losing the exceeding beauty of their supremacy in
the valley. In the valley it was not unshared ; for the Virginia
creeper and cat-briar mounted and flung their arms about tbem,
and the wild grape-vines took wild possession; and in the day of
their glory they challenged the bystander to admire anything
without ttem. But tho day of their glory was not now ; it came
when Autumn called them to shew themselves; and Autumn's
messenger was far oS. The cedars had it, and the roses, and the
eglantine, under Summer's rule.
It was in the prime of summer when the two fishers went
down to their boat. , The valley level was but a few feet above
the river ; on that side, with a more scattering growth of cedars,
the rooks and the greensward gently let themselves down to the
edge "of the water. The little dory was moored between two up-
rising beads of granite just off the shore. Stepping from rook to
rock the brothers reached her. Rufus placed himself in the stern
with the fishing tackle, and Winthrop pushed off.
There was not a stir in tte air; there was not a ripple on the
water, except those which the oars made, and the long widening
mark of disturbance the little boat left behind it. Still— still, —
surely it was Summer's siesta; the very birds were still; but it
was not the oppressive rest before a thunderstorm, only the pleas-
HcsledbyGoOgle
TUE IIILLB OF
84
antliushof a eummpr's day. The very air seemed blue— bluo
against the mountains, and kept hack the sun's fierceness with ita
light shield ; and even the eye was bid to rest, the distant land-
scape was so hidden under the same blue.
No distant landscape was to he seen until they had rowed for
eeveral minute" Winthr p had turned to the north and was
coasting the promontory edge winch m that direction stretched
along for more than a quarter of a mile It "tretched west as
well as north and the river s course heyond it was in a nortli-
easterly line; so that keeping close under the shore as they were,
the up view could not be had till the jomt was turned. First
they passed the rnck hound shore whieli fenced in the home val-
ley; then for i space the locto and the heights fell back and
Beveral acres ot arable t,round edged the river cut in two by a
small bolt of woods. These acres were not used except for
grazing cattle ; the first field was occupied with a grove of cylin-
drical cedars; in the second a soft growth of young pines sloped
up towards the height ; the ground there rising fast to a very
bluff and precipitous range which ended the promontory, and
pushed the river boldly into a curve, as abrupt almost as the one
it took in an opposite direction a quarter of a mile below. Hero
the shore was bold and beautiful. The sheer rock sprang up two
hundred feet from tlie very bosom of the river, a smooth perpen-
dicular wall; sometimes broken with a fissure and an out-jutting
ledgo.in other parts only roughened with lichens ; then breaking
away into a more irregular and wood-lined shore ; but with this
variety keeping its bold front to tbe river for many an oar'a length.
Probably as bold and more deep below the surface, for in this place
was the strength of the chajmcL The down tides rushed by here
furiously; but it was still water now, and the little boat went
smoothly and quietly on, the sound of the oara echoing back in sharp
quick return from the rock. It was all that was beard ; the silence
had made those in the boat silent; nothing but the dip of the
oars and that quick mockery of the rowlocks from the wall said
that anything was moving.
But as tbey crept thus along the foot of the precipice, the.
otter shore was unfolding itself. One .huge mountain had been
all along in sight, over against tiem, raising its towering head
straight up some fourteen hundred feet from tbe water's edge;
green, in the thick luxuriance of summer's clothing, except where
hero and there a blank precipice of many hundred feet shewed the
Bolid^ stone. Now the fellow mou:otain, close beyond, came rap-
idly in view, and, as tbepointof the promontory was gained, tbe
HcsledbyGoOgle
Tllii UILLS OF THE SII.Vi'ElILC. 35
whole broad north scene opened upon the eye. Two hilla of cq^aal
height on the cast shore looked over the river at tlieir neighhoura.
Above them, on bolb shores, the land fell, and at the distance of
about eight miles curved round to the east in an amphitheatre of
low hilla. There the river formed a sort of inland sea, and
from thonce swept down queen-like between its royal handmaida
on the right hand and on the loft, till it reached the promontory
point. This low distant shore and water was now masked with
blue, and only the nearer highlands shewed under the maBk their
fine outlines, and the Shatemuc its smooth face.
At tlie point of the promontory the rooky wall broke down
to a low easy shore, which stretched off easterly in a straight line
for half a mile, to the bottom of what was called the north bay.
Just beyond the point, a rounded mass of granite pushed itself
into the water out of reach of tjie trjes and shewed itself summer
and winter barefacedly. Thi3_j<j^j^as known at certain states^
of the tide to be in the way of the white mackereL Winthrop'
made fast bis little skiff between it and the shore, and climbing
upon the rock, he and Eufus sat down and fell to work ; for to
play tbey had not come hither, but to catch their supper.
The spirit of silence seemed to have poascssed them both, for
with very few words tbey left the boat and took their places, and
with no words at all for some time the hooks were baited aEd the
lines thrown. Profound stillness — and then the flutter of a poor
little fish as he struggled out of his clement, or the stir made by
one of the fishera in reaching after the bait-basket — and then all
was still again. The lines drooped motionless in the water; the
eyes of the fishers wandered off to the distant blue, and then came
back to their bobbing corks. Thinkmg, both the young men un-
doubtedly were, for it could not have been the mackerel that called
such grave contemplati:a into their faces.
" IPs confoundedly hot ! " said Rufus at length very expres-
sively.
His brother seemed amused.
" Wbat are you laughing at ? " said Eufus a little sharply.
" Nothing — 1 was thinking you had been in the shade lately.
We've got 'most enough, I guess."
" Shade ! — I wish there was such a thing. This is a pretty
place though, if it waan't August, — and if one was doing anything
but sitting on a rock fishing."
" Isn't it better than Asphodel ? " said Winthrop.
" Asphodel ! — ^^'hen are you going to got away from here
Winthrop ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
36 Tim HILLS OF TUB SilATEMCC.
" I don't know."
" Has anythiDg been done about it ? "
" No."
" It is time, Winthrop."
Winthrop was silent.
" We must manage it somehow. You ought not to be fidhing
hero any longer. I want you to get on the way."
" Ay — I must wait awhile," said the other with a sigh. "I
shall go — that's all I know, but I ciin't see a hit ahead. I'm
roimd there under the point now, and there's a big headland in
the way that hides the up view."
Again the ejes of the fishers were flsed on their corks, gravely,
and in the case of Bufus with a somewhat disturbed look.
" I wish 1 was clear of the headlands too," said be after a
short silence; "and there's one standing riglit across my way
now."
" What's that ? "
" Books."
" Books ? " said Winthrop.
■' Yes — books wbicb I haven't got,"
" Books ! " said his brother in astonishment.
"Yes — whyV"
" I thought you said looU," the other remarked simply, as he
disengaged a fish from the hook
"Well," said Rufus sharply, "what then? what if I did?
Can't a man want to furnish both ends of his house at once ? "
" I have heard of a man in his sleep getting himself turned
about with his head in the place of hi fctt f thought he was
dreaming."
"You may have your five dolhrs igiin if you think them
ill-bestowed," said the other putting his hand in his pocket; —
" There they are ! — I don't want them — I will find a way to stand
on my own lege — with boots or without, ^s the case may be."
" I don't Imow who has better legs," said Winthrop. " I can't
pity you."
" But seriously, Winthrop," said Rufus, smiling in spite of
himself,—" a man may go empty-headed, but he cannot go bare-
iooted into a library, nor into society."
" Did you go mucn into society at Asphodel ? " asked Win-
" Not near so much as I shall — and that's the very thing. I
canH do without these things, you see. They are necessary to me.
Even at Asphodel — but that was nothing. Asphodel will be a
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE BILLS OP THE SHATEMCC. 37
very good place for you to go to in the first instance. You won't
find yourself a Btranger,"
" Will you be ready for college nest year ? "
"Hum — don't know— it depends. I am not ansinus about
it — I shall be all the better prepared if I wait longer, and I
should like to have you with me. It will make no dilierence in
the end, for I can enter higher, and that will save espense.
Seriously Winthrop, you mvst get away,"
" I must catch tiiat fish," said Winthrop, — " if I can — "
" You won't—"
"I've got him."
" There's one place at Asphodel where I've heen a good
deal — Mr. Haye's — he's an old friend of my father and thinks
a world of lum. You'll like him — he's been very kind to
" What shall I like him for — besides that? " said Winthrop.
" 0 he's a man of great wealth, and has a beautiful place there,
and keeps a very fine house, and he's very hospitable. He's al-
ways very glad to see me; and it's rather a pleasant change
from Glanbally'a vis-A-vis and underdone apple-pies. Ho is one
of the rich, rich Mannahatta merchants, but he has a ta.'^te for
better things too. Father knows him — they met some years ago
in the Legislature, and father haa done him some service or other
since. He has no family — eseept one or two children not grown
up — his wife is dead — so I suppose he was glad of somebody to
help him eat his fine dinners. He said some very handsome
things to encourage me. He might have ofierod me the use of
his library — but he did not."
" Perhaps he hasn't one."
"Yes he has — a good one."
" It's got into the wrong hands, I'm afraid," said Winthrop,
" He has a liiile the character of being hard-fisted. At least
I think BO. He ha** a rich ward that ho is bringing up with his
daughter, — a niece of bis wife's — and people say be will take
his commission Out of her property; and there is nobody to look
after it."
" Well I shan't take the office," said Winthrop, getting np
"If the thought of Mr. Haye'a fine dinner hasn't taken away
your appetite, suppose we get home and see how these mack-
erel will loot fried."
" It's just getting pleasant now," said Eufus as he rose to his
feet. " There might be a worse ofliee to take, for she Will have s
pretty penny, they say."
HcsledbyGoOgle
88 THE nTLLa of the eiiATEJiuc.
"Do you think of it yourself?"
" There's two of them," said Eufus smiling.
" Well, yoTi take one and I'll take the other," said Winthrop
gravely. " That's settled. And here is something you had bet-
ter^ put in your pocket as we go — it may be useful in the mean-
He quietly gathered up the five dollars from the rock and
slipped them into the pocket of Jtufus's jacket as he spoke ; then
slipped himself off the rook, took the fishing tackle and basketa
into the boat, and then hia brother, and pushed out into the tide.
There was a strong ebb, and they ran swiftly down past rock and
mountain and valley, all in a cooler and fairer beauty than a few
lionrs before when they had gone up. Eufus took off his hat
and declared there was no place like home ; and Winthrop some-
times pulled a few strong strokes and then rested on his oars and
let the boat drop down with the tide.
" Winthrop," — said Eufus, as he sat paddling his hands in the
water over the side of the boat, — "you're a tremendous fine fel-
low! "
" Thank jou. — I wish you'd sit a little more in the middle."
" This is better than Asphodel jnst now," Eufua remarked as
he took hie hands out and straightened himself
" How do you like Mr. G-lanbally ? "
" Weil enough— he's a, very good man— not too bright ; hut
he's a very good man. He does very well. I must get yott
tiiere, Winthrop."
Winthrop shook his head and turned the conversation ; and
Eufus in fact went away from home without finding a due oppor-
tunity to apeak on the matter. But perhaps other agency was at
The summer was passed, and the fall nearly , swallowed up in
farm duty as the monthi before had been The cornstalks were
harveate'i and part of the gram threshed out November was on
its way.
" Governor," said Jus father one night, when Winthrop was
playing " even or odd " with Wmitred ind Asahcl, a great hand-
ful of chestnuts being the game, — "0-ovemor, have you a
mind to take Eufus'a place at Asphodel for a while this fall ? "
The blood rushed to Winthrop's feoe ; but he only forgot his
chestnuts and said, " Yes, sir."
" You may go, if you've a mind to, and as soon as yon like. —
Xt'a better travelling now than it will be by and by. I can get
along without you for a spell, I guess."
HcsledbyGoOgle
, IilLT.S OP TUE snATEMITC. 39
" Thank you, fatter."
But Winthrop's eyes sought his mother's face. In vain little
Winifred hammered upon his hand with her little douhled up fist,
and repeated, " even or odd ? " Ho threw down the chestnuts
and quitted the room hastilj.
HcsledbyGoOgle
OIIAPTEE ?
TiiE five dollars were gone. No matter — they could be wanted.
They must be. Wiuthrop had no hooka either. What had he?
A wardrobe large enougli to be tied up in tt pooket-handkerchief j
his fathor'a smile ; his mother'a tremulous Messicg; a,ad the tears
of Lis little brother and sister.
He set out with his wardrobe in Lia hand, and a dollar in his
pocket, to waik to Asphodel. It wm a walk of thirteen miles.
The afternoon was chill, misty and lowering; November's sad- colour
in the sky, and Winter's desolating heralds all over the ground. If
the sun ^oue anywhere, there was no sign of it ; and there was
no sign of it either in the traveller's heart. If furtune had
asked him to play " even or odd," he could hardly have answered
He was leaving home. They did not know it, but be did,
It was the first step over home's threshold, This little walk
was the beginning of a long race, of which as yet he knew only
the starting-point ; and for love of that starting-point and for
straitness of heart at turning his back upon it, he could have sat
down under the fence and cried. How long this absence from
home might be, he did not know. But it was the snapping of
the tie, — that he knew. He was setting his face to the world ;
and the world's face did not answer him very cheerftillj. And
that poor little pocket-handkerchief of things, which hia mother's
hands had tied up, he hardly dared glance at it ; it said so piti-
fully how much they would, how little they had the power to do
for him; she and his father; how little way that heart of love
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BJJATEMUC.
il
could reach, wlien once he had set oat on the cold journey of life
He had set out now, and he felt alone, — alone ;— his hest com-
pany was the remembrance of that whispered hlessing ; and that,
he knew, would abide with him. If the heart could have coined
the treasure it sent hack, his mother would have been poor no
He did not ait down, nor atop, nor shed a tear. It would
hare gone hard with him if he had been obliged to speak to any-
body ; but there was nohody to speak to. Few were abroad, at
that late season and unlovely time. Comfort had probably ro-
treatad to the harns and farmhouses — lo the homesteads, — for it
was a desolate road that he travelled; the very wagons and
horses that he met were going home, or would be. It was a long
road, and mile after mile was plodded over, and evening began to
say there was nothing so dark it might not bn darker. No Aa-
phodel yet.
It was by the lights that he saw it at length and guessed he
was near the end of his journey. It tonk some plodding then to
reach it. Then a few inquiries brought him where he might see
Mr. Glanbally,
It was a comer house, flush upon the road, hare a9 a poverty
of boards could make it, and brown with the weather. In the
twilight he could see that. Winthrop thought nothing of it ; he
was used to it ; his own honse at home was brown and bare ; but
alas ! this looked very little like his own bouse at home. There
wasn't penthouse enough to keep the rain from the knocker. He
knocked.
" la Mr. GlanbaUy at home ? "
" Yea — I 'spect he is — ^he eome in from school half an hour
ago, Tou go in there, and I guess you'll find him,"
' There,' indicated a door at right angles with the front and
about a yard behind it. The woman opened the door, and left
"Winthrop to shut it for himself.
In a hare room, at a bare table, by an ill-to-do dip candle,
sat Mr. Glanbally and his book. The book on the table, and
Mr. Glanhally's face on the book, as near as possible ; and both
as near as possible under the candle, Eeason enough for that,
when the very blaze^of a candle looked so little like giving light.
Was that why Mr. Glanhally's eyes almost touched the letters?
Winthrop wondered he could see them at all ; but probably he
did, for he did aot look up to see anything else. He had taken
the opening and shutting of the door to be by some wonted hand.
Winthrop stood still a minute. There was nothing remarkable
HcsledbyGoOgle
*2 THE HILLS OF TilJi 8HATKHUC.
aW his future preceptor, except his position. He was a little,
oldish man — that was all.
Wiiithrop moved a step or two, and then lookiDg hastily up,
the little man pasted the oaadle one way and the hook another
and peered at his visitor.
" Ah I — Do you wish to see me, sir ? "
" I wish to see Mr. Glanhally."
" That's my name, sir, — that's right."
T\ th p m step nearer and laid a letter on the table.
Th Id g tl m n took it up, examined the outside, and then
w 1 what was within, holding the lines in the same
f -ful J m ty t his face ; so near indeed, that to Wiathrop'a
to hm t wh n h got to the bottom of the page he made no
pl f t er the leaf with his nose. The iptter was
t Id d d th M Glanbally rose to his feet.
" Well sir, and so you have come to take a place in our Acad-
emy for a spell — I am glad to see you — sit down."
Which Winthrop did ; and Mr. Glanbally sat looking at him,
a little business-like, a little curious, a little benevolent.
" What have you studied ? "
" Very little, sir, — of anything."
" Your father says, his second son ^What was the name
of the other ? "
" William, sir."
"William what?"
"Landholm."
" William Landholm— yes, I reeollect^I couldn't malse out
exactly whether it was SandhaM or Lmdner—'M.T. Landholm—
Where is your brother now, sir? "
" He is at Little Elver, sir, going on with his studies."
" He made very good progress — very good indeed — he's a
young man of talent, your brother. He's a smart fellow. He's
going on to fit himself to enter colleee, ain't he ? "
" Yes sir."
" He'll do well — Jie can do what he's a mind. Weil, Mr.
Landholm — what are you going to turn your hand to ? "
" I have hardly determined, sir, yet."
" You'll see your brother — something, I don't know what, one
of these days, and you'll always be his brother, you know. Kow
what are you going to make of yourself? — merchant or far-
mer ? "
" Neither, sir."
" No ? "—said Mr. Glanbany. He looked a little i
for Mr. Landholm's letter had spoken of " a few weeks.'
HcsledbyGoOgle
Tllli HILLS OF THE SHATKUUC. 43
" Well, wliat then ? "
" I don't know what I shall like best, sir," said Winthrop.
" No, not yet ; perhaps not jet. You'll he a happy man if
ever jou do, sir. / never knew what I liked best, till 1 couldn't
have it, AVetl sit — what do you calculate to hegin upon ?— a
little arithmetic, I suppose, won't be out of the way."
" I should like — Latin, if you please, sir."
" Latin ! Then you're following your hrotter's steps ? I
am glad of it ! It does me good to see boys studying Latin.
That's right. Latiu. And Algebra, perhaps."
" Yes sir."
" I'll put you into Algebra, as soon as you like."
" I shall want books, I suppose, sir. Can I get them here ? "
" No ; you can't get 'em, I'm aii'aid, this side of Deerford."
" Deerford ? "
" That's six miles off, or so."
"Ican't walk there to-night," said Winthrop; " but I'll go
" Walk there to-night I no,- — but we'll see. 1 think you've
got the stuff in you, To-aight ! — Mayhe we can find some old
hooks that will do to hegin with ; and you can walk over there
some waste afternoon. How far have you come to-day ? "
" About thirteen miles, sir, from home."
" On foot ? "
" Yes sir."
" And you want half a dozen more to-night ? "
" No sir," said Winthrop, smiling, — " not if I might choose."
" You'll find a day. Your father spoke to me about your
lodgings. You can lodge here, where I do ; only twelve shil-
liuga a week. I'll speak to Mrs. Nelson ahout it; and you can
just make yourself at home. I'm very glad to see you."
' Make himself at homo ' 1 Winthrop'e heart gave an em-
phatic answer, as he drew up a chair the opposite sid^ of the fire-
place. Make himself at home. That might only he done by a
Bwift transport of thirteen miles. He could not do it, if he
would. Would he, if he could ? Nay ; he had set his face up
the mountain of learning, and not all the luring voices that might
sound behind and beside him could tempt him to turn back. He
must have the G-oIden Water that was at the top.
It was necessary to stuff cotton into his ears. Fancy had
obstinately a mind to bring his mother's gentle tread about him,
and to ring the sweet tones of home, and to shew him pictures of
r light OB the hills, and of the little snow-spread valley
HcsledbyGoOgle
a THE HILLS OF TOT: SHATEMDO.
of winter. Nay, by the aide of that cold fireplace, with Mr. G-Iaa
bally at one corner and himself at the other, she set the bright
hoartli of home, girdled with warm hearts and hands ; a sad break
in them now for his beiog away. Mr. Glanballyhad returned to
his book and waa turuing over the leaves of it with his nose;
and Winthrop waa left alone to his contemplations. How alone
the turning over of those leaves did make him feel. If Mr.
Glanbally would have held up hia head and used his fingers, like
a Christian man, it would not have been so dreary ; but that nose
said emphatioatly, " You never saw me before."
It was a help to him when somebody came in to spread that
bare table with supper. Fried pork, and cheese; and bread that
waa not his mother's sweet bakiug, and tea that was very " herb-
aceous." It was the fare he must expect up the mountain. He
did not mind that. He would have lived on bread and water.
The company were not fellow-travellers either, to judge by their
looks. No matter for that; he did not want company. He
would sing, " My mind to me a kingdom is; " but the kingdom
Lad to be conguered first; enough to do. He was thinking all
supper-time what waste ground it was. And after supper he was
taken to hia very spare room. It waa doubtful how the epithet
could possibly have been better deserved. That mattered not ;
the temple of Learning should cover his head by and by;
it signified little what shelter it took in the mean whUe. But
thougli he cared nothing for each of these things separately, they
all together told him he was a traveller ; and Winthrop's heart
owned itself overcome, whatever hia head said to it.
His was not a head to be ashamed of his heart ; and it was
with no self-reproach that he let tears come, and then wiped
them away. He slept at last and the sleep of a tired man
should be sweet. But "as he slept he dreamed." He fell to his
journeyings again. He thought himself back on the wearisome
road he had come that day, and it seemed that night and darkness
overtook him ; such night that his way was lost. And he was
sitting by the roadside, with his little bundle, stayed that he
could not go on, when his mother suddenly came, with a light,
and offered to lead him forward. But tho way by which she
would lead him was cot one he had ever travelled, for the dream
ended there. He awoke and knew it was a dream ; yet somewhat
in the sweet image, or in tho thoughts and afisoeiations it brought
back, touched him strangely ; and he wept upon his pillow with
the oonvulsive weeping of a little child. And prayed, that night,
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OE THE SIIATEMUC, 45
for the first time in his life, that in the journey before him his
mother's God might be his God. He slept ^t la-^t
He awoke to new thoughts and to tresh exertion. Action,
action, was the husinesa of the day ; to get up the hill of learn-
ing, the present aim of life ; and to that he hcnt himself
Whether or not Winthrop fancied this opportunity might be a
short one, it is certain he made the most of it Mi Glanbally
had for once his heart's desire of a pupil.
It was a week or two before the walk was taken to Deerford
and the books bought. At the end of those weeks the waste
afternoon fell out, and Mr. Glanbally got Winthrop a ride ia a
wagon for one half the way. Deerford waa quite a placo ; but
to Winthrop its great attraction was — a Latin dictionary ! He
found tbe right bookstore, and his dollar waa duly exchanged for
a second-hand Virgil, a good deal worn, and a dictionary, which
had likewise soen its best days ; and that was not saying much ;
for it was of very bad paper and in most miserable little type.
But it was a precious treasure to Winthrop. His heart yearned
after some Grook books, but hia hand was stayed ; there was
nothing more in it. He had only got the Virgil and dictionary
by favour eking out his eight shillings, for the books were de-
clared to be worth ten. So he trudged off home again with his
purchases under his arm, well content. That Virgil and diction-
ary were a guide of the way for a good piece of the mountaia
JJow to get up it.
He had got home and was turning the books over with Mr.
Glanbally, just in the edge of the eyening, when the door opened
a nick and a little female figure eame in. She came close up to
le table with the air of one quite at home.
" Good evening, Mr. Gknbally father t 11 m to ' y a
this letter. '
Winthrop looked at her, and Mr. Glanb lly 1 k 1 h
letter. She waa a slight little figure, a child, m 1 hir
teen or fourteen at the outside, perhaps not s m h b II f
her age. A face not like those of the Aspho 1 1 h Id Sh
did not once look towards him.
"Why I thought you were in Mannahatta, Miss Elizabeth.
" Just going there — we have just come from Little River on
our way."
" This letter is for you, Winthrop," said Mr. Glanbally, hand-
ing it over. " And Mr. Haye was kind enough to bring it from
Little Kiver ? "
" Yes sir — he siud it waa for somebody here."
HcsledbyGoOgle
4t> THE MILI.8 OF THE SUATEMTO.
" And now you are going to Mannaliatta ? "
" Yes air— to-morrow. Good bye, Mr. Glanbally."
" Are you alone, Mias Elizabeth ? "
" Yes sir."
" Where is Miss Cadwailader ? "
" She's at home. I've just been down to see nurse."
" But it's too late for you," said Mr. Glanbally, getting up,—
" it's too dark^ — it's too late for you to go home alone."
" 0 no sir, I'm not afraid."
" Stop, I'll go with you," said Mr, Glanbally, — " but I've been
riding till I'm as stiff os the tongs — Winthrop, are you too tired
to walk kome with this young lady ? — as her father has brought
you a letter you might do eo muck."
" Certainly, sir, — I am not tired."
" I don't want anybody. I'm not in the least afraid, Mr.
Glanbally," said tke little lady rather impatiently, and still not
glancing at her promised escort.
" But it's better. Miss Elizabeth "—
"No sir, it isn't."
" Your father will like it better, I know. This is Mr. Land
holm — the brother of the Mr. Landholm you used to see last
summer, — you remember."
Elizabeth 1 k d t h ^
member anyb dy f tl
room. Winth p ltd
and with s^m d fli Ity b
little lady, f o 1 h d 1 1 d t h d w m mg on at
a smart pace. H w y 1 d th m p tly t f th Uage and
along a lonely t y d "W th p th ^ht h was not a
needless convenience at that hour ; but it was doubtful wLat his
little charge thought. She took no manner of notice of him.
Wintkrop thought he would try to bring her out, for he was play-
ing the part of a shadow too literally.
" You are a good walker, Miss Elizabeth."
A slight glance at him, and no answer.
" Do you often go out alone so late ? "
" Whenever I want to."
" How do you like living in tke city ? "
" I ? — I don't know. I have never lived there."
" Have you lived here ? "
" Yes."
Tho tone was perfectly self-possessed and equally dry. H.
tried her again.
1 f k h I
m d to re-
d wth t m
d left tke
th t h w t
f 11 w, did 60,
t him If p 1
gs de of the
H™.db,Googlc
THE HILLS OF THE !
47
" My iDrotlier Bays you have a very pleasant place."
There was no answer at all thia time. Wiutlirop gave it up
It had grown nearly dark. She hurried on, aa mixah. a
consistent with a pace perfectly steady. About half a mile from
the village she came to a full stop, and looked towards him, al-
most for the first time.
" You oan leave me now. I can see the light in the wmdows.'
" Not yet," said Winthrop smiling — " Mr. Glanbally would
hardly think I liad done my duty."
" Mr. Glanbally needn't trouble himself about mc ! He has
nothing to do with it. This is far enough."
" I must go a little further."
She started forward again, and a moment after hardly made
her own words good. They encountered a large drove of cattle,
that spread all over the road. Little independence plainly Al-
tered here and was glad to walk behind hur guard, till they had
passed quite through. They flame then to the iron gate of her
grounds.
" You needn't come any further," she said. " Thank you.
And as she spoke she opened and shut the gate in his face.
Winthrop turned about and retraced his steps homeward, to
read his brother's letter. It was read by his little end of candle
after he went up to bed at night.
" Little Kiveb, Nov. 1807.
" My dear Governor,
" For I expect you will hn all that, one of these days,
fa literal governor, I mean,) or in some other way assert your
supremacy over nineteen twentieths of the rest of the human
race. Methinks even now from afar I see Joseph's dream en-
acting, in your favour, only you will perforce lack something
of his baker's dozen of homages in your own family. Unless—
hut nobody can tell what may happen. B'or my part I am sin-
cerely willing to be surpassed, so it be only hij you ; and will
swing my cap and hurrah for yoa louder than anybody, the
first time you are elected. Do not think I am more than half
mad. In truth I espeet great things from you, and I expect
without any fear of disappomtment. You have an obstinacy of
perse veratice, under that calm face of yours, that will be more
than a match for all obstacles in your way ; indeed obstacles only
make the rush of the stream the greater, if once it get by them;
the very things which this minute threatened to check it, the next
HcsledbyGoOgle
48 TlIE HILLS OF THE BnATEMCC.
are but trophies in the foaming triumph of its onward course.
You can do what you will ; and you wiU aim high. Aim at the
highest.
" I am aiming aa hard as I ,can, and so fast that I can't see
whether my arrows hit. Not at the capture of any pretty face,
— though there are a few here that would be prizea worth captur-
ing; but really I am not skDled ia that kind of archery and on
the whole am not quite ready for it. An archer needs to be bet-
ter equipped, to enter those lista with any chance of success,
than alas ! I am at present. I am aiming hard at the dressing
up of my mind, in the sincere hope that the dressing up of my
person may have some place in the after-piece. In other words,
I am so busy that I don't know what X am doing. Asphodel was
a miserable place (though I am very glad yoii are in it) — my
chances of saccoss at Little River are much better, lodeed I
am very much to my mmd here; were I, as I said, a little better
equipped outwardly, and if my aunt Laadholm only had mam-
ma's recipe for making pumpkin pies; or, as an alternative, had
the pumpkin crop this season but failed. But alas 1 the huge
Dnmber of the copper-coloured tribe that lurked among the corn
forests a few weeks ago, forbid me to hope for any respite till St.
Nicholas jogs my aunt L.'s elbow.
"I tave left myself no room to say with how much delight I
received your letter, nor with what satisfaction I think of you as
having fairly started in the race. Yon have entered your plough,
now. Governor, — quick, quick, for the other side.
" Thine in the dearest rivalry,
"Will. Rdfiis Landholm.
" Ail manner of love to mamma, papa, and the little onea,
from Will."
In another corner, — " I am sorry Mr. Haye makes so little
stay at Asphodel at this time — you wili not see anythicff of him,
nor of his place."
" I can bear that," thought Winthrop,
He was much too busy to sec men or places. One fortnight
was given to the diligent study of Algebra; two other little fort-
nights to Latin; and then bis fitther came and took him home,
sooner than he expected. But he had " entered his plough."
Yet it was hard to leave it there just entered ; and the ride
borne was rather a thoughtful one. Little bis father knew what
be bad been about. He thought his son bad been " getting a.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMtTO. 49
little schooling; " he had no notion he had begun to fit himself
for College I
Jast as they reached the ri¥er, at a little hamlet under the
hill at the foot of the north bay, where the road branched off to
skirt the face of the tableland towards the home promontory, the
wagon was stopped by Mr. Underhiil. He came forward and
" Momin'. Whore' you been ? "
" A little way ba«k. 'Been to Asphodel, to fetch my son
Winthrop home,"
" Asphodel ? that's a good way back, ain't it ? "
" Well, a dozen miles or so," said Mr. Landholm laughing.
" Has he been to the 'cademy too ? "
" Yes — for a little while back, he haa."
" What are you going to make of your sons, neighbour Land-
holm ? "
" Ah 1 — I don't know," said Mr. Landholm, touching his whip
gently first oo one side and then on the other side of Lis off
horse ; — " I can't make much of 'em — they've got to make them-
selves."
Neighbour Underbill gave a sharp glance at Winthrop and
then came back again,
" What do yoti reckon's the use of all this edication, farmer ? "
" 0 — I guess it has its uses," said Mr. Landholm, smilmtr a
little bit. *
" Well, do you s'pose these boys are goln' to be smarter men
than you and I be ? "
" You do I Well, drive oa ! — " said he, taking his arms from
the top of the wheel But then replacing them before the wag-
on had time to move
" Where's Will ? "
" Will ? he's at Little Biver — doing well, as I hear."
" Doing what ? getting himself ready for College yet ? "
" Yes — he isn't ready yet."
" I say, neighbour, — it takes a power of time to get these fel-
lows ready to begin, don't it?"
" Yes," said Mr. Landholm with a sigL
" After they're gone you calculate to do all the work yonr-
self, I s'pose ? "
" 0 I've only lost one yet," said Mr. Landholm shaking the
reins; "and he'll help take care of me by and by, I expect. —
HcsledbyGoOgle
50 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMHO.
Again the other's hands slipped off the wheel, aad again
were put back.
" We're goin' to do without lamin' here," said he. " Lost
onr schoolmaster."
" That fellow Dolts gone ? "
" Last week."
" What's the matter ? "
" The place and him didn't fit somewherca, I s'pose ; at least
I don't know what 'twas if 'twa'n't that."
" What are yon going to do ? "
" Play marbles, I guess, — till some one comes along."
" WeU, my hands 'II be too cold to play marbles, if I sit here
much longer," said Mr. Laodholm laughing. " Good day to
ye I"
And the wheel unclogged, they drove on.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE VI.
Little could be done in tte winter. The days were short and
full of employment ; al! the more for Wiil's absence. What with
thresliing wheat and oats, foddering cattle, and dressing flax, driv-
ing to mill, cutting wood, and clearing snow, there was no time for
Virgil during the few hours of daylight; hardly time to repeat
a_ Latin verb. The evenings were long and bright, and the
kitchen cosy. But there were axe-helves to dress out, and oara,
and ox-yokes ; and corn to shell, and hemp to hackle ; and at which-
ever coruer of the fireplace Winthrop might set himself down, a
pair of little feet would come pattering round him, and petitions,
soft but strong, to cut an apple, or to play jackstraws, or to crack
hickory nuts, or to roast chestnuts, were sure to be preferred;
and if none of tliese, or if these were put off, there was still too
much of that sweet companionahip to suit with the rough road to
learning. Winnie w-vs rarely put off, and never rejected. And
the little garret room used by Winthrop and Will when the latter
was at home, and now by Winthrop alone, was too freezing cold
when he went up to bed to allow him more than a snatch at bis
longed-for work. A few words, a line or two, were all that could
be managed with safety to life; and the books had to be shut up
again, with bitter mortification that it must be so soon. The
winter passed and Virgil was not read. The spring brought
longer days, and more to do in them.
" Father," said Winthrop one night, " they have got no one
yot in Mr. Dolts' place."
HcsledbyGoOgle
52 THE HILLS OF THE
" What, at Mountain Spring ? I know tltey haven't. The fool-
ish man thought twelve dollars a month wa'n't enough for him, I
suppose,"
" Why was he foolish, Mr. Landholm ? "
" Because he greatly misstated his own value — which it isn't
the part of a wise man to do. I know he wasn't worth twelve
dollars."
" Do you think I am worth more than that, air ? "
" I don't know what you're worth," said his father' good-
humouredly. " 1 should he sorry to put a price upon you."
" Why, Winthrop 1 " — his mother said more anxiously
" Will you let me take Mr. Dolta' place, father ? "
" His place ? What, in the schoolhouse ? "
" Yes sir. If I can get it, I mean."
"What for?"
" The twelve dollars a month would hire a man to do my work
on the farm."
" Yes, aad I say, what for ? What do you want it for f "
" I think perhaps I might get more time to myself."
" Time ? — for what ? "
" Time to study, sir."
" To study ! — Teach others that you may teaoh yourself, eh ? "
said Mr. Landholm, with a breath that was drawn very much like
a sigh ; and he was silent and looked grave.
"'^ a afiaid you wouldn't like it, w inthrop," said his mother
" I should like the time, mamma."
" I wish I were a little richer," said Mr. Landholm, drawing
his breath, — " and my sons should have a better chance. I am
willing to work both my hands off — if that would be of any avail.
You may do as you please, my dear, about the school. I'll not
stand in your way."
" The twelve dollars would pay a man who would do as much
work as I could, father."
" Yes, yes, — that's all straight enough."
" Is Winthrop going to teach school ? " exclaimed Asahel.
" Perhaps so."
" Then I should go to school tfl Winthrop," said the little boy
clapping his hands, — " shouldn't I, mamma ? Wouldn't it be
"I too?" cried Winifred.
" Hush, hush. Hear what your lather sa^."
" T am only sorry you should have to resort to suoh expedi-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF TUB 8HATEMUC. 53
" Do you think they would take me, father ? "
" Take you ? yes 1 If they doa't, I'll make them."
"Thank you, sir."
Wiuthrop presently went with the children, who drew him
out into the kitchen, Mr. Landkolm aat a few momenta in silent
and seemingly disturbed thought.
*' That boy '11 be ofL to College too," he said, — " after hig
brother."
" He'll not be likely to go after anything wrong," said Mrs.
Landholm.
" No — that's pretty certain. Well, I'll do all I can for him I "
" Whatever ho undertakes I think he'll succeed in," the
mother went on remarking.
" I think SO too. He always did, from a child. It's his cha-
racter. There's a sharp edge to Rufua's metal, — but I think
Winthrop's ia the best stuff. Well I ain't ashamed of either one
Wiuthrop took the school. He found it numbering some
thirty heads or more. That is, it would count so many, though
in some instances the heads were merely nominal. There were
all sorts, from boys of fifteen and sixteen that wanted to learn the
Multiplication table, down to little bits of girls that did not know
A, B, aad 0. Rough heads, with thoughts as matted as their
hair ; lank heads, that reminded one irresistibly of blocks ; and
one fiery red shock, all of whose ideas seemed to be standing on
end. and ready to fty away, so little hold had they upon either
knowledge, wit, or experience. And every one of these wanted
different handling, and every oue called for diligent study and
patient pamstaking. There were often fine parts to be found
under that rouyh and untrained state of nature ; there were blocks
that could be waked into life by a little skill and kind manage-
ment and a good deal of time ; and even the £y-away shock could
be brought down to order and reason hj a long course of patience
and firmness. But the younger heads that bad no thoughts at
all, — the minds that were blank of intelligence, — the eyes that
opened but to stare at the new teacher I What amount of cul-
ture, what distance of days and months, would bring something
out of nothing !
It was hard, hard work. There was nobody to help the new
teacher ; he wrought alone ; that the teacher always did. The
days were days of constant, unintermitted labour ; the nights were
jaded and spiritless. After spelling a great deal in the course of
the day, and making up an indefinite number of sums in addition
HcsledbyGoOgle
6i THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMITO.
and multiplicatioQ, Wintbrop found hia stomach waa gone for
Latin and Virgil. Ears 3,r.d eyes and mirfij were siok of the dia
of repetitions, wearied with confusions of thought not his own ; he
was faia to let his own rest. The childroa "got on," the parents
said, " first-rate ■ " but the poor teacher was standing still. "Week
passed after week, and each Saturday night found him where he
was the last He had less time than on the farm. Fresh from
the plough, he could now and then snatch a half hour of study
to some purpose ; there was no " fresh from the school." Besides
all which, he still found himself or fancied himself needed by his
father, and whenever a pinch of work called for it be could not
hold back his hand,
" How does it go, Wlnthrop ? " said hia mother when she saw
him wearily sitting down one summer night.
" It doesu't go at all, mother."
" I was afraid that it would be so."
" How does what go ? " said Asahel.
"The school."
" Sow does it go ? "
" Upon my head ; and I am tired of carrying it."
" Don't you like being school-teacher ? "
" No."
" / do," said Asahel.
"I wouldn't stay in it, Winthrop," said his mother.
" I will not mamma, — only till winter. I'll manage it so
long. 'I
Eight months this experiment was tried, and then Wiathrop
came baek to the farm. Eight months thrown away! he sadly
said to himself. He was doubly needed at home now, for Mr.
Landholm had again been elected to the Legislature; and one of
the first uses oi Winthrop's freedom was to go with his father to
Vantassel and drive the wagon home again.
One thing was giioed by thi^ jojrajy. In Vantassel, Win-
throp contrived to j ossess himself of a Greek lexicon and a Grjeoa
Majora, and also a Greek grammar, though the only one he
could get that suited his purse was the Westminster grammar, in
which the alternativos of Greek were all Latin. 7%at did not
stagger him. He came home rich in his classical library, and very
resolved to do something for himself this winter.
The day after his return from Vantassel, just as they had done
supper, there was a knock at the front door. Winthrop went to
open it. There he found a man, tall and personable, well-dressed
though like a traveller, with a Uttle leathern valise in his hand.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OS THE 8IIATEMU0, 55
Winthiop bad bardly time to think he did not loot lite an Ameri-
can, wlieu his speech confiMued it,
_ " How-do-you-do ? " he said, using each word with a ceremony
which ahewed they were not denizens of his tongue, " I am
wanting to make some rea^rche in dis country, and I was directet
Wiuthrop asted him in, and then when he was seated, asked
him what he wanted.
" I am wishing to know if you could let me li^e wiz you a few
days — I am wanting to be busy in your mountaius, about my af-
fairs, and I just want to tnow If you can let me have a bed to
sleep on at night, and a little somet'ing to eat — I would be very
much obliged and I would pay you whatever you please "
" Mother," said Winthrop, " can jou let this gentleman stay
here a fjw days ? he has business in the mouctains, he says, aud
wants to stop here ? "
" I do not wish to be no trouble to no person," he said blandly,
" I was at a little bouse on de ozer side of de river, hut I was told
dere was no room for mo, and I come to an oier place and dey
told me to oome to dis place. I will not trouble no person — I
only want a place to put my head while my feet are going all
A moment's hesitation, and Mrs. Landholm agreed to this very
moderate request; aud Mr, Herder, as he gave his n^me, and bia
valise, were accommodated in the ' big bedroom,' This was t!ie
best room, occupying one corner of the front of the house, while
the ' teeping-p-om ' was at the other ; a tiny entry-way, of hardly
two square yards, lyin^ 1 'etween, with a door in each of three sides
and a stoep s'-aircase m the fourth.
Winthrop presently came to ast if the stranger had had
supper.
" I have not ! But I will take anysing, what yon please to
give me,"
Mr. Herder did not belie his beginning. He' made himself
much lited, both by the children and the grown people ; and as he
said, ho gave as little trouble as possible. He seemed a hearty
genial nature, excessively devoted to his pursuits, which were
those of a naturalist and kept him out of doors from morning till
night; and in the house he shewed a particular simplicity both of
politeness and kind feeling; in part springing perhaps from
his German nature, and in part from the honest truthful acquaint-
ance he was holding with the world of nature at large. " He
acted like a great boy," old Karen said in wondering ridicule, —
HcsledbyGoOgle
on THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUO.
" to be bringing in leaves, and slicks, and stones, ashe was every
night, and making his room sueh a mesa she nopor saw ! "
He hid sooti a marked liking and even marked respect for his
young host. With his usual good-humour Winthrop helped liim
in his quest ■ now and then ofi'ered to go with him on hia espedi-
tions ; tracked up the streams of brooks, shewed the paths of
the mountains, rowed up the rirer and down the river; and often
and often made hia uncommon strength and agility avail for some-
thing which the more burly frame of the naturalist could not have
attained. He was always ready ; be was never wearied ; and Mr.
Herder found him an assistant as acute as he was willing.
" You do know your own woods — better than I do I " — he re-
marked one day when Winthrop bad helped bim out of a botanical
difficulty.
" It's only the knowledge of the eye," Winthrop replied, with
a profound feeling of the difference.
" But you do seem to love knowledge — of every kmd," said
the naturalist, — "and that is what I like."
" I have very little," said Winthrop, " I ought to love what
I can get."
" That ia goot," said Mr. Herder ; — " that is do right way.
Ten I hear a man aay, ' I have much knowledge,' — I know be
never will have much more ; but ven I hear one say, ' I have a
little,' — I expect great things."
Wiotbrop was silent, and presently Mr. Herder went on.
' ' What kind of learning do you love de best ? "
" I don't know, sir, really."
" What have you studied ? "
Winthrop hesitated.
" A little Latin, air,"
" Latin ! — How much Latin have you read ? "
" The G-ospe! of John, and nearly the first book of tie ,^neid.
But I have rery little time."
" The Evangel of St. John, and tbe JEneii Are you going
on to study it now ? "
" Yea sir, — as much as I can find time."
" Greek too ? "
" No air. I am only beginning,"
" I ask, because I saw some Greek books on de table de ozer
night and I wondered — excuse me — who was reading them. You
do not know nothing of German ? "
"No sir."
" -^l^i you must learn de German — dat ia mi/ language,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
" I don't know my own language yet," said Winthrop.
" Vat is dat ? "
" English."
" English ! — Bat how do you do, here amongst de hills — ia
there aomehody to learn you ? "
" No sir."
"And you go by yourself? — Veil, I beKeve you will elimh
anything," said Mr. Herder, with a little smile ; " only it is goofc
to know what place to begin, — as I have found,"
" I must beeia where I can, sir."
" But you should get to de University ; from dere it is more
easy."
" I know that, sir ; that is what I am trying to fit myself
for."
" You do not need so much fitting — you will fit yourself
better there. I would get away to de Uni¥erait6. You will go
up — I see it id your face — you will go up, like you go up these
rooks ; it is pretty steep, but you know, vere ono person cannot
stand, anozer will mount; And what will you do wiz yourself
when you get to de top ? "
" I don't know yet, air," Winthrop said laughing.
" It ia just so goot not to know," said Mr. Herder, " What
thing a man may wiah to ni k him If matter what, he should
fit himself for aome oaer th g 0 1 he may be just one
thing — he might be poet, o m th m t or musioien maybe, —
and not be a whole man. Y d t d ? "
" Very well, sir."
" I did not know no mo wb t I w Id be, when I first went
to de Uuiveraitfi of Halle I h b t seven Universitfis."
Winthrop looked at him, aa if to see whether he were cased in
sevenfold learning.
" I am not so very wise, neizer," he said laughing. " And now
I am in de eight Universitii — in Maniiahatta — and if you will
oome dere I will be very glad to sop you."
" Thank you, air; — but I am afraid Mannahatta would bo too
expensive for me^"
" Perhaps. — But vere will you go ? "
" I don't know sir, yet."
" But ven you get through, you will come to Mannahatta and
let me see what you have made of yourself? "
Winthrop shook his head. " I don't know when that will be,
Mr. Herder."
They were walking through a tangled woodland, along one of
HcsledbyGoOgle
58 THE miXS OF THE SHATEMTTC.
the deep mountaiD gorges ; the naturalist stopping frequently to give
closer notice to somothiug. He atoud still here to examine a piece
of rooL
" Will you let me give you one little direction," said he pro-
ducing hia little hammer, — " two little direction, or I should call
them big direction, which may be of some goot to you ? "
" I wish you would, air."
" In de first place dea, don't never go half way through not-
ing. If some thing yoa want to know is in de middle of dat
rook," said he striking it, " knock de rock all to pieces but what
you will have it. I moan, when you begin, finish, and do it
" That is what I think, Mr. Herder."
" In de second place," continued Mr. Herder, illustrating part
of his former speech by hammeriog off some pieces of rock from
the mass, — " don't never think that no kind of knowledge is of no
use to you. Dere is noting dat it ia not goot to know. You
may say, it is no use to you to koow dat colour of de outside of
dis rook, and dis colour of de inside; you are wrong; you ought
to learn to know it if you can ; and you will find de use before
you die, wizout you be a very misfortunate man. Dere ia noziug
little in dia world; aU is truth, or it will help you find out truth;
and you cannot know too much."
"I believe that, sir; and I will remember it."
" And when you have learned English and Latin and Greek,
you will learn Gierman? " said the naturalist, putting the fragmeuta
of rock in hia pocket.
Winthrop laughed at his expression.
" Promise me dat you will. You will find it of use to you
too."
" But all useful things are not possible," said Winthrop.
" I wish it was possible for you to bring down that bird,"
said the naturalist, gazing up towards a pair of huge wings above
them ; — " It would be very useful to me." The creature was sail-
ing through the distant ether in majestic style, movii.g its wings
so Jittle that they seemed an emblem of powerful repose.
" That is a white-headed eagle," said Winthrop.
" I know him 1 " said the naturalist, still gazing. " I wish I had
him ; — but dat is a thing in which is no goot ; as he is too far
off for me to reach him. Better for him I And it will be better
for us to go home, for the day is not very long."
Neither was Mr. Herder's stay in the mountains after that.
HcsledbyGoOgle
59
At parting ho assured WiDthrop "he slwmld be very glad to do
him all the goot he could do, if he would only let him Liiow how,"
This was jiist after the fall of the leaf The winter was a
mild one, aod ko fruitfulin business belonging to the farm that
Winthrop's own private concerns had little chance. Latin was
pushed a little, and Greek entered upon; neither of them could
be forwarded much, with all the stress that hope or despair could
make. Sjowstorm, and thaw, and frost, and sun, came after asid
after each other, and as surely and constantly the various calls
upOQ Wiuthrop'a time; and every change aeemed to put itself be-
tween him aad his books. Mr. Landholm was kept late in Van-
tas^el, by a long s m
upon his son's banc
Letters were ra g
tit they usaally did g
March that the rar
the quiet little hou
Winthrop got o fE ta
and coming home
another in her ban m hi w p
studying.
" A letter, mamm
" Yes— from Will."
" How did it eorac ? "
" It Same hy Mr, Underbill."
" What's the matter ? what does he say 1 "
" Not much — you can see for yourself."
"And here's one from papa."
Mrs, Landholm took it, and Winthrop took Rufua's,
" Little Rjveh, March 18, 1809.
"What does papa mean tod3? Something must be done, for
I cannot stay here for ever ; neither in truth do I wish it. If I
am ever to make auythiiig, it is time now. I am twenty-one, and
ill mind and body prepared, I think, for any line of enterprise to
wliich fortune may call me. Or if nothing can he done with
me, — if what has been spent must be thrown away — it ia needleaa
1,0 throw away any more; it would be better for me to come
iiome and settle down to the lot for which I seemed to he born.
Nothing can be gained by waiting longer, but much lost.
'* I am not desponding, but seriously this transition life I am
leading at present is not very enlivening. I am neither one thing
nor the other; I am in a ohijsalis state, which is notoriously a
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE
dull one; and I have the further aggravation, which I suppose
never occurs to the nymph hona fide, of a miserable uncertainty
whether my folded-up wings are those of a purple butterfly or of
a poor drudge of a beetle. Besides, it is conceivable that the
chryaalis may get weary of his case, and mine is not a silken
one. I have been here long enough. My auut Landholm ia
very kind ; but I think she would like an increase of her house-
hold accommodations, and also that she would prefer working it
by the rule of subtraction rather than by the more usual and ob-
vioua way of addition. She is a good soul, but really I believe
her larder contains nothing but pork, and her pantry nothing but
^pumpkins 1 She has actually contrived, by some abomina-
ble mystery of the kitchen, to keep some of them over through a
period of frost and oblivion, and to-day they made their appear-
ance in due form on the table again ; my horror at which appear-
ance has I believe given me an indigestion, to which you may at-
tribute whatever of gloominess there may be contained in this let-
ter. I certainly felt very hcaft/ when I sat down; but the sight
of all your faces through fancy's sweet medium has greatly re-
ffer me speedily, for I am in earnest, al-
though i am. in jest.
" I intend to see you at all events soon.
" Love t ; the little ones and to dear ma and pa from
" EuruB."
"What does fether say, mother? "was all Winthrop's com-
mentary on this epistle. She gave hun the other letter, and he
yielded his brother's again to her stretched-out hand.
" Vahtcasski, March 23, 1809,
" Mt deae Orphah,
" I am really coming home I I never knew any
months so lon^, it seems to me, as these three. The business will be
finished I believe nest week, and the Session will rise, and the first
use I shall make of my recovered freedom will be— can you doubt
it ? — to hasten home to my family. My dear family — they are
closer to me all the time than you think, and for some weeks past it
seems to me they have had half of every thought. But I will be
with you now. Providence willing, by the middle of the week, I
hope, or as soon after as I can.
" The last fortnight has been spent in talimg — we have had a
very stormy discussion of that point I spoke to you of in my last
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HTLLS OF THE SHATEMtlC. 61
The Opposition of parties has run very high. It is gaining fearful
ground in tho country, I tremhle for what may be the issue.
" I am quite well again. Mr. Haye has been very atten-
tive and kind, and the Chaueeilor has shewn himself very
friendly.
" I expect Will will he at home aa soon as I am myself. I
wrote to him that he had better do so. I cannot afford to keep
him any longer there, and there seems nothing better for him to
do at present but to come home. I hope for better days.
" Love to all till I see you, my dear wife and children,
" W. Lanbholm.
" My son Winthrop, this word is for you. I am coming home
soon I hope to relie-pc you of so much care. Meanwhile a word.
I want Sara to go into the north hill-field with the plough, as soon
aa he can; I think the froat must be out of the ground with. you.
I intend to pat wheat there and in the big border meadow. The
bemj meadow is in no hurry ; it will take com, I guess. You had
better feed out the turnipa to the old black cow and the two
The letters were read at last, and folded up, by the respec-
tive hands that held them.
" Well, Will's coming home," the mother said, with half a
sigh.
Winthrop did not answer; he made over to her hand the let-
ter he held in his own.
" The north kiU-field is pretty much all ploughed already,"
he remarked,
"You're a good farmer, Governor," said his mother. 'Bttt
I am afraid that praise doesn't please you."
" Yes it does, mamma," he answered smiling a little.
" But it don't satisfy you ? "
" No more than it does you, mamma. It helps my hope of
being a good something else aome day."
" I don't care much what you are. Governor, if it is only some-
thing good," she said.
He met her grave, wistful eyes, but this time he did not smile ;
and a stranger might have thought he was exceedingly unim-
pressible. Both were ailent a bit.
" Well, it will be good to see them," Mrs. Landholm said,
again with that half aighiug breath ; " and now we must make
haste and get all ready to welcome them home."
HcsledbyGoOgle
OHAPTEK VII.
WriAT a coming home that was. Who couiJ have guessed that
any ungrateful cause had had anjthiDg to do with it. What
kisses, what smiles, what family rejoiciags at the table, what
endless talks rouud the fire. What delight in the returned Mem-
ber of Assembly ; what admiration of the fntnre Collegian. For
nobody had given that up; wishes were bidden to wait awhile,
that was all ; and as the waiting had procured them this dear
home-gathering, who could quarrel with it. Nay, there was no
eye shaded, there was no voice untuned for the glad music of
that time.
" Well i 's worth going away, to come back again, ain't it ? "
said Mr. Landholm, when they were gathered round the fire that
first evening.
" No," said bis wife.
" Well, I didn't think ao last winter," aaid the father of the
family, drawing his broad hand over his ejea.
" I can tell you, / haie thought so this great while," said
Kufus. " It's it's seven or eight months now since I have
been home."
" Papa," aaid little Winifred, squeezing in and climbing up
on her father's kne^s, — " we have wanted you every night."
"You did!" said her fetlier, bending his face conveniently
down to her golden curb; — "and what did you do by day?"
" 0 we wanted you ; but then yon know we were so busy in
the day-time."
"Busy I "said ber father, — "1 guess you were busy I"
She made herself bnay then, for putting both arms round hia.
HcsledbyGoOgle
neck she pressed and kissed hia face, till feeling grew too excited
■with the iudulgence of it, and she lay with liei liead <^a te still
upon hia shoulder where nobody could see her i,yea The father's
eyes told tales.
" I think Winifred has forgotten me," observed Rufus
But Winifred was in no condition to answer the ehaigo
" Winifred doesn't forget anybody," said her father londly.
" We're none of ua given to forgetting. I am (hanitul that we
Lave one thin^ that some richer folks want — we all loie one an-
other. Winitrcd, — I thought you were going to shew hil that
black kitten o' your'n ? "
" I haven't any kitten, papa, — it ia Asaliel's."
"Well let Asahel bring it then."
Which Asahel did.
" Have you looked at the cattle, Mr. Landholm ? " said his
wife.
" No— not yet— this is the first specimen of live stock I've
seen," said Mr. Landholm, viewing attentively a little black kitten
which was spiawLiog very uuoomt'ortably upon the painted floor.
" I've heard of 'era though. Asahei has been giving me a detail at
length of all the concern a of the farm. I think he'll make an
excellent corresponding aecretary by and by."
" I was only telling papa what Governor had been doing,"
said Asahel
" ^oa were afraid Tie would be forgotten. There, my dea.r,
I would let the little cat go back to its mother."
" No papa, — Asahel wanted you should know that Governor
didn't forget."
" Did you ever hear of the time, Aaahel," said hia elder
brother, " that a cat was sold by tha length of her tail ? "
" By the length of her tail ! " said Aaahel unbelievingly.
" Yes — for as much wheat a? would cover the tip of her tail
when she was held so "
And suiting the action to the word, Rufus suspended the
kitten with its nose to the floor and the point of its tail at the
utmost height it could reach above that level. Winifred aoreamed ;
Asahel sprang ; Rufus laughed and held fast.
" It's a sliame ! " said Winifred.
"You have no right to do it ! " said A.sahel. " It isnH the
law, if it was the law; and it was a very cruel law ! "
But Rufus only laughed; and there seeuied some danger of a
break in that kind line si of feeling which their father had vaunted,
till Mrs. Landholm spoke. A word and a look of hers, to one
HcsledbyGoOgle
64 THE HILLS OF THE SHATBMtTC.
and tbe other, made all smooth ; and they went on again talking,
of happy nothings, till it was time to separate for tbe night.
It was only then that Mr. Landholm touched on any matter of
more than slight interest,
"Well It uf US," he said when at last they rose from their
chairs, — " are you all ready for College ? "
"Yea sir."
A little shadow npon both faoes — a very little,
" I am glad of it. Well keep ready; — you'll go yet one of
these days — the time will come. You must seo if you can't he
contented to teep at home a spell. We'll shove you off by and
by."
Neither party very well satisfied with the decision, but there
was no more to be said.
To keep at home was plain enough ; to be contented was
another matter, Rufus joined again in the farm concerns ; the
well-worn Little River broadcloth was exchanged for homespun ;
and Winthrop'a plough, and hoe, and ase, were mated again as in
former time they used to be. This at least was greatly enjoyed
by the brothers. There was a constant and lively correspondence
tetween them, on all matters of interest, past, present, and future,
and on all matters of speculation attaiuable by either mind; and
though judgments and likings were often much at variance, and
the issues, to the same argument, were not always the same with
each; on one point, the delight of communication, they were
always at one, ClesTly Rufus had no love for the ase, nor for
the scythe, but he could endure both while talking with Winthrop ;
though many a time it would happen that ase and scythe would
be lost in the interest of other things ; and leaning on his snathe,
or flinging his axe into a cut, Rufus would stand to argue, or
demonstrate, or urge, somewhat just then possessing all his
faculties; till a quiet reminder of his brother's woUld set him to
laughing and to work again; and sweetly moved die scythes
through the grass, and cheerily rung the axes, for tbe winrows
were side by side and the ringing answered from tree to tree.
And the inside of home gave Rufus pleasure too. Yet there
were often times, — when talk was at a standstill, and mother's
" good things " were not on the table, with a string of happy faces
round it, and neither axe nor scythe kept him from a present
feeling of inaction, — that the shadow reappeared on Rufus's brow.
He would sit in the chimney corner, looking faa' down into the
hearth-stones, or walk moodily up and down the floor, behind the
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTJC. 65
backs of tlie other people, witli a face tliat seemed to belong to
some waste corner of society.
" My son," said Mrs. Landliolm, one evening when Mr, Land-
holm was out and the little ones in bed,—" what makes jon wear
BTioh a sober face ? "
" Hothing, mother, — only that I am doing nothing."
"Are you sure of that? Your father was saying that he
never saw anybody sow broadcast with a finer hand — he said
you had done a grand day's work to day."
An impatiently drawn breath was the answer,
" Rufus, nobody is doing nothing who is doing all that God
gives him leave to do."
■ " No mother and nobody ever will do much who does not
hold that leave is given him to make of himself the utmost that
he can."
" And what is that ? " she said quietly.
Nobody spoke ; and then Bafus said, not quietly,
" Depends on circumstances, ma'am ; — some one thing and
BOiae another."
" My son Rufus, — we all have the same interest at heart
with you."
"I am sorry for it, ma'am; I would rather be disappointed
alone.''
" I hope there will be no disappointment— I do not look for
any, in the end. Cannot you bear a little present disappoint-
" I do bear it, ma'am."
" But Winthrop has the Tery same things at stake as you
have, and I do not see him wear such a disconsolate face, — ever."
" Winthrop — " the speaker began, and paused, every feature
of his fine face working with emotion. His hearers waited, but
whatever lay behind, nothing more of his meaning came out.
" Winthrop what ? — " said his brother laughing,
" You are provokingly eool ! " said the other, Ms eye changing
again.
" You have a right to find fault with that," said Winthrop
still laughing, " for certainly it is a quality with which you never
provoked anybody."
Rufus seemed to be swallowing more provocation than he
had expressed,
" What were you going to say of me, Rufus ? " said the other
seriously.
" Nothing — "
HcsledbyGoOgle
66 THE HILLS OF THE
"If you meant to say that I have not the same reason tj bo
disappointed that yon have, yo i die {U te i ght
" I meant to say that; and I mtant t3 aaj that you d) not
feel any disappointment as much a^ I do
Winthrop did not attempt to mend tlii9 ] o«ition lie only
mended the fire.
"I wish you need not he d u appointed ' the mither jil
eighicg, lookiug at the fire witl i \ery earnest ftcc
"My dear mother," aald Wmthiop i,heerfully it is no uae
to wish that in this world."
"Yes it is — for there is a way to e^tiTe iisappomtments —
ifyou would take it."
escape disappointments said Rutug
" What is it ? "
" Will you promise to follow it ?"
" No mother," he said, with again a singular play of light and
shade over his face ; — " for it will be sure to be some impossible way.
I mean that an angel's wings may get over the rough ground
where poor human feet must stumble."
How much the eyes were saying that looked at each other!
" There is provision even for that," sbe answered. " ' As an
eagle stirreth up her nest, flattereth over her young, spreadeth
abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings,' so
the Lord declares he did once lead his people, — and he will airain,
— over rough ground oi" smooth."
" My dear mother," said Eufus, "you are very good, and
I am not very good."
" I don't know that that is much to the point," she said smi-
ling a little.
' Yes it is."
" Do you mean to aay you cannot go the road tliat others have
gone, with the same help r "
" If I ^ould say yes, I suppose you would disallow it," he
replied, beginning to walk up and down again ; " but my conaoioua-
ness remains the same."
There was both trouble and dissatisfaction in his faoo.
" Will your consoiousuesa stand thia ? — ' Even the youths shall
faint and be weary, a d the young men shall utterly fall; but
they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength : they
shall mouNt up with wings as eagles,' — ^just what you were wish-
ing for, Ilufus ;—' they shall run, and not bo weary; and they
shall walk, and not faint.' "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC, 67
He was silpot a minute; and then replied, "That will always
continue to be realizecl by some and not by others."
" If you were as easily disheartened in another line, Eufus,
you would never go through College."
" My daar mother I " ne said, " if yoa wero to knock all my
opinions to pieces with the Bible, it wouldn't change me."
" I know it I " she said.
There was extreme depression in Toiee and lip, and she bent
down her face on her hand.
Two turns the length of the room Eufus took; then lie came
to the back of her chair and laid his hand upon her sl.oulder.
"But mother,'' he said oheerfuDy, " you haveii't told us the
way to escape disappointments yet ; I didn't ucderataiid it. For
aught I see, everybody has his share. Even you — and I dou't
know who deserves them less— even you, I am afraid, are disap-
pointed, in me."
It was as much as he could do, evidently, to Bay that; his
eyes were brilliant through fire and water at once. She lifted up
ter head, but was quite silent.
" How is it, mamma ? or how can it be ? "
" I must take you to the Bible again, Bufus."
" Well ma'am, I'll go with you. Wbere f "
She turned over the leaves till she found the place, and giv-
ing it to him bade him read.
" ' Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the
ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the
seat of the scornful ; but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and in his law doth he meditate, day and night.
" ' And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water,
that bri. geth forth his fruit in due season ; his leaf also shall not
wither, and tekaisoever he doeth shall prosper.^ "
Bufus stopped and stood looking on the page.
" Beautiful words ! " he said.
"They will bear looking at," said Mrs. Landholm.
" But my dear mother, I never heard of anybody in my life
of whom this was true."
" How many people have yon heard of, iu your life, who an-
swered the description?"
liufus turned and began to walk up and down again.
"But suppose he were to undertake soraetJiing not well— not
" The security reaches further back," said Winthrop.
" You forget," said his mother, " he could not do that ; or
could not persist in it."
HcsledbyGoOgle
60 THE HILLS Off THE SHATEMITO.
Kufus walked, and the others sat still and looked at tie Are,
til! the opening of the doar let in BIr. Landholm and a cr>ld blast
of air ; which roussd the whole party, Wiuthrop put more wood
on the fire; Mr, Landholm sat down in the corner and made
himself comfortable ; and Mrs. Landholm fetched an enormous
tin pan of potjitoes and began paring them. Eufus presently
stopped behind her chair, and said softly, " What's that for
mother ? "
" For yonr breakfast to-morrow, sir."
" Where is Karen ? "
" In bed,"
" Why don't you let her do them, mother ? "
" She has not time, my son,"
Rufus stood still and looked with a diaeoatented face at the
thin blue-reined fingers in whioh the coarse dirty roots were turn-
ing over and over.
" I've got a letter from my friend Haye to-day," Mr. Land-
holm said.
" What Hajo ia that ?" said his wife.
" What Haye ? — there's only one that I know of; my old
friend Haye — you've heard me speak of him a hundred times. I
used to know hira long ago in Mannahatta when I lived at Pil-
licoddy ; and we have been in the Legislature together, time and
" I remember now," said Mrs. Landholm paring her potatoes.
" What does b: want ? "
" What do you guess he wants ? "
" Something from the farm, I suppose."
" Not a bit of it."
" Mr. Haye of Asphodel ? " said Rufus.
" Asphodel ? no, of Mannahatta ; — he used to be at AsphodeL"
" What does he want, sir ? "
" I am going to tell your mother hy and by. It's her con-
" Well tell it," said Mrs. Landholm.
" How would you like to have some company In the house
this summer ? "
Mrs. Landholm laid the potatoe and her knife and her hands
down in the pan, and looking up asked, " What sort of com-
" You know he has no wife this many years ? "
" Yes — "
" Well — ^he's a couple of little girls that he wants to put
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF T
BomewTiere in the country tliis summer, for tLeir health, I undei:-
Btand."
Mrs. Landholm took up her knife agaia and pared potatoes
diligently.
" Does he waiit to acnd them here ? "
" He intimates as much ; and I hGve no doubt he would be
Tevj glad. It wouldn't be a losing concern to us, neither. He
would be willing to paj well, and he can afford it."
" What haslie done with his own place, at Asphodel ? " said
Winthrop.
" Sold it, he tells me. Didn't agi'ce with his daughter, the
air there, or something, and he says he couldn't be at the bother
of two eat ablishments without a houaekeeper in nary one of 'em.
And I think he's right. I dou't see how he could."
Winthrop watched the quick mechanical way in which hia
mother's knife followed the paring round and round the potatoes,
and he longed to say something. " But it is not my afiair," he
thought ; " it is for Eufus, It is not my business to speak."
Nobody else spoke for a minute.
" What makes him want to send his children hero ? " swd
Mrs, Landholm without looking up from her work.
" Partly because he knows me, I suppose ; and maybe he has
heard of you. Partly because he knows this is just the finest
country in the world, and the finest air, and he wants them to
run over the hills and pick wild strawberries and drink counti-y
milk, and all that sort of thing. It's just the place for them, as
I told him once, I remember."
" You tnld him I "
" Yes. He was saying something about not knowing what to
do witli his girls last winter, and I remember I said to him that
he had better send them to me ; but I had no more idea of his
taking it up, at the time, than I have now of going to Egypt,"
Mrs. Landholm did not speak.
" You have somewhere yoa can put them, I suppose ? "
" There's nobody in the big bedroom."
" Well, do you think you can get along with it? or wifl it
give you too much trouble ? "
" I am afraid they would never be satisfied, Mr. Landbolm,
with tie way we live."
" Pho ! I'll engage they will. Satisfied ! they never saw
such butter and such bread in their lives, I'll be bound, as you
can give them. If they aren't satisfied it'll do 'em good."
HcsledbyGoOgle
YO THE HILL3 OF THE BHATEMUC.
"But bread and tutter isn't all, Mr, Landliolm.; ■what will
tliej do with our dinners, without I'resh meat ? "
" What will they do with tliem ? Eat 'em, fast enough, only
you have enough. I'll be bound their appetites will take care of
the rest, after they have been running over the mountains all the
morning. You've some chickens, hav'n't you? — and I could get
a lamb now and then from neighbour Upshur; and here's Win-
throp can get you birds and fish any day in the year."
"Wintirop will hardly have time."
" Yes he will ; and if he don't we can call in Andetese.
He's a pretty good hunter,"
" I'm not a bad one," said Eufus.
" And you have Karon to help you. I thitk it will be a very
fine thing, and be a good start maybe towards Rufus's going to
College,"
Another pause, during which nothing moved but the knife
and Mrs. Landholm's fingers.
" Well — what do you say ? " said her husband.
" If you think it will do — I am willing to try," she an-
swered.
" I know it will do ; and I'll go and write directly to Haye
1 suppose he'd like to know; and to-morrow my hands
wOl have something to hold besides pens."
There was profound silence again for a little after he went
" How old are these children ? " Mrs. Landholm said.
Neither answered promptly.
" I saw one of them when I was at Asphodel," said Win-
throp ; " and she was a pretty well grown girl ; she must have
been thirteen or fourteen."
" And that was a year and a half ago 1 Is her sister younger
or older ? "
" It isn't her sister," said Eaftis ; " it's her cousin, I believe ;
Mr. Haye is her guardian. She's older."
"How much?"
" A year or two — I dou't know exactly,"
Mrs. Landholm rose and took up her pan of potatoes with an
air that seemed to say Miss Haye and her cousin were botk in it,
and carried it out into the kitchen.
Some little time bad passed, and Winthrop went there to look
for her. She had put her pan down on the hearth, and herself
by it, and there she was sitting with her arms round her knees.
Winthrop softly came and placed himself beside her.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 71
" Mother — "
She laid her hand upon his knee, without speakiug to him or
looking at him.
" Mother — I'll be your provider."
" I would a great deal rather he yours, Governor," she said,
turning to him a somewhat wistful face.
" There isn't anything in the world I would rather," said he,
kissing her cheek.
Slie gave him a look that was reward enough.
" I wonder how soon they will como," she s; ' "■
" That is what I was just asking ; and pa si
soon as tlie weather was settled."
" That won't be yet awhile. You must see and have a good
garden, Governor. Perhaps it will be all for the best."
A he supposed as
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER VIII.
Thewilflerl.earlof man;
On); It bIi^I be eceean fkr
And gladder, thm heans etei sra
E. K C lowsme.
It was tlie first of June j a feir lovely Bummer morning,
Juue-liie,
" I suppose Mr. Haye will come witli them," said Mr. Land-
tolm, aa lie pushed back his chair from the breaifast-tahle ; —
" have yon anywhere you can put Lim ? "
" Ttere'a the little bedroom, he can have," said Mrs. Land-
holm. " Asahcl can go in the hoys' room."
" Very good. Winthrop, you had better take the hoat down
in good time this aftemoou so as to be sure and bo there — I can't
be spared a moment from the bend meadow. The grass there is
just ready to be laid. It's a very heavy swath. I guess there's
all of three tons to the acre."
" Take the boat down where ? " said Asohel.
" To Cowslip's mill," said his brother. " What time will the
stage be along, sir ? "
" Not muck before six, I expect You'll have the tide with
you to go down."
" It's well to look at the tah side of a subject," said Win
throp, as his father left the room.
" May I go with you. Governor ? " said Asaiel.
" No sir."
" Wliy y "
" Because I shall have the tide hard against me coming back."
" But I am not much, and your arms are strong," urged Aa-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATraiUC. Y3
" Tery true. Well — we'll see. Mother, do you want any
fish to-day ? "
A sort of comical taking of tlie whole subject somehow was
espreased under these words, and set the whole family a-laughicg.
All hut Kufus; he was impenetrahle. He sat finishing his
breakfast without a word, but with a certain significant air of the
lip and eyebrow, and dilating nostril, which said something was
It was the fairest of summer afternoons ; the sky June's deep
and full-coloured blue, the sun gay as a child, the bills in their
young summer dress, just put on; and the water, — well it was
running down very fast, but it was running quietly, and lymg un-
der the sky and the sunshine it sparkled back their spirit of life
and joy. The air was esceeding clear, and tie green outhues of
the hiUs rose sharp against the blue sky.
Winthrop stood a minute on one of the rocks at the water's
edge to look, and then stepped from that to the one where his
boat was moored, and began to undo the chain.
" Are you going down after those people? " said tie voice of
Kufus behind him. It sounded in considerable disgust.
" Wbat do you advise V " said Winthrop without looking up.
" I would see them at the bottom of the river first 1 "
" Bad advice," said Winthrop. " It would be a great deal
harder to go after them there."
" Do you know what effect your going now will have ? "
" Upon them ? "
" No, upon you."
"Well — no," said Winthrop looking at the river; " I shall
have a pull up, but I shall ha:dly hear any news of that to-mor-
row."
" It will make them despise you ! "
" That would be rather an effect upon them," said Winthrop,
throwing the loosened chain into the boat's head and stepping in
himself;—" as it strikes me."
" I wish you would take my advice," said Eufus.
" Which ? " said his brother.
" Let them alone ! "
" I will," said Winthrop ; " I mean that."
" You are excessively provoking ! "
" Are you sure ? " said Winthrop smiling, " What do you
propose that I should do, Kufus ? "
"Send Sam Doolittle in your place."
HcsledbyGoOgle
74: niE iHLi.s oi' the shatemuc.
" 'Willmgly ; but it tappena that he oouid not fill my place
Tou must see ttat."
" And are jou going to iDring up tlieir baggage and all ? "
" I must know the sum of two unknown quantities before I
oaa tell wtetter it is just equal to a boat-load."
Rufus stood on the shore, biting his lip. The little boat waa
silently slipping out from between flie rooks, after a light touch
or two of the oars, when Asahel came bounding down the road
and claimed Winthrop's promise for a place in it.
" Tou don't want thia child with you 1 " said Rufus.
But Winthrop gave one or two pushes in the reverse direction
and with great skill laid the skiff alongside of the rook. Aaahel
jumped in triumphantly, and again slowly clearing the rocks the
little boat took the tide and the impulse of a strong aim at once,
and shot off down the stream.
They kept the mid-ehannel, and with its swift current soon
came abreast of the high out-jutting headland behind which the
waters turned and hid themselves from the home Tiew. Diver's
Rock, it waa called, from some old legend now forgotten. A few
minutes more, and the whole long range of the river below was
plain in sight, down to a mountain several miles oif, behind which
it made yet another sharp turn and was agaia lost. In that
range the river ran a little west of south ; just before rounding
Diver's Bock its direction waa near due east, so that the down
tide at the tura carried them well over towards the eastern shore.
That was what they wanted, as Cowslip's mill was on that side. So
keeping just fax enough from the shore to have the full benefit of
the ebb, they fell softly and quick down the river ; with a changing
panorama of rocla and foliage at thoir side, the home promontory
of Shahweetah lying in sight just north of them, and over it the
heads of the northern mountams , while a few miles below,
where the river made its last turn, the mountains oa either side
locked into one another and at once checked and reited the eye
Th r f g d th w b autiful, the western light
p dm h m d Img h 1 f m hill, and crowning their
h d w h b h gl y I was the dynasty of the Eit,t,
J h -Th m in stitely pride, and their
h w d d wn h water side, glittered in the
1 d f h fresh unsullied leaves the
Ig pi dwhmy 1 The other shore was bright
enough atiil , but the shadows were getting long and the sun was
getting low, and the contrast was softly and constantly growing.
" It's pretty, aiat it, Winthrop ? " said Aaahel.
HcsledbyGoOgle
"Yes." , ,
"I wonder what's tlie reason jou n,« so much better than
Eufus — Rttfus bites bis lip, and works bo, and makes suck a
gplash, — and you don't seem as if you wurked dt all."
" Perhaps because I am stronger," said Wijthrop.
" Eufus is strong enough. But thai can't be the reasou you
do eyerjthing better than he does."
" That don't happen to be the state of the case,"
" Yes it does ; for you always eateh the most fish, and papa
said last summer he never saw any one bind and tie as fast as you
did." ,. ,
Again silently the boat fell down along the shore, a little
dark speek amidst the glow of air and water.
" How nice you look in your white jacket and trousers," said
Asahel.
" I am glad tt liear it," said Winthrop laughing, " Is it such
an uncommon thing ? "
" It is uncommon for you to look so nice. You must take
great care of them, Winthrop ; — it took motter so long to make
them." , . ,.
" I have another pair, boy," said Winthrop, biting his lips, as
the boat rounded to the little flight of steps at Cowslip's mill.
" Yes, but then you know, Karen There's the stage, Gov-
ernor I— and the folks are come, I guess. Ho you see tiiose heads
poking out of the windows ? " —
" You stay here and mind the boat, Asahel."
And Winthrop sprang ashore and went up to the crossing
■where the stage-ooach bad stopped.
At 'Cowslip's mill' there was a sloop landing; a sort of
wharf wi^ built there : and close upon the wharf the mill and
storage house kept and owned by Mr. Cowslip. From this cen-
tral point a load ran back over the hills into the country, and at
a little distance it was out by the high road from VantasseL
Here the sUge had stopped.
By the time Winthrop got there, most of the effects he was-
te take charge of had been safely deposited on the ground. Two
young ladies, and a gentleman seeming not far from young, stood
at the end of the coach to watch the success of the driver and
Mr Cowslip in disinterring sundry trunks and boxes from under
the boot and a load of other trunks and boxes.
" Where's Mr. Landhohn f isn't Mr. Landholm here ? " said
the gentleman impatiently.
HcsledbyGoOgle
76 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTTC.
" There's somebody from Mr. Landholm ahint you," remarkod
Mr. Cowslip in tlie course of tugging out one of the trunks.
The gentleman tiimed,
" Mr. Landholm could not be bere, sii-," said Wintbrop ;
" but bis boat is here, and he lias sent me to take care of it."
" He has ! Couldn't come himself, eh ? I'm sorry for that.
— The box from the top of the stage, driver — that's all. — Do you
uuderstand the management of a boat ? " said he eyeing Win-
tbrop a little anxiously.
" Cevtainly, sir," said "Wintbrop. " I am accustomed to aot
as Mr. Landholm's boatman. I am his son."
" His son, are yon ! Ah well, that makes al. straight. I can
trust you. Not kis eldest son? "
" No sir."
" I thought it couldn't be tbe same. Well he's a deuced
handsome pair of sons, tell bim. I'm very sorry I can't stop, —
I am obliged to go on now, and I must pnt my daughter and
Miss Cadwallader in your charge, and trust you to get them safe
home. I will be along and come to see you in a few days."
" Tbe trunks is all out, sir," said the driver. " We oughtn't
to stop no longer. It's a bad piece atwoen bere and Bearfoot."
" I leave it all to you, then," said Mr. Haye, " Elizabeth,
this young gentleman will see you and your baggage safe home.
You won't want me. I'll see you next week,"
He shook bands and was off, stage-coaob and all And Mr,
Cowslip and Wintbrop were left mounting guard over the bag-
gage and the ladies. Elizabeth gave a comprehensive glance at
tbe " young gentleman " designated by ber father, and then turned
it upon tbe black leather and boards which waited to be d'
" You won't want tbe hull o' this for ballast, I guess, Win-
tbrop, this arternoon," remarked Mr. Cowslip. " You'll bave to
leave some of it 'long o' me."
" Can't it all go ? " said Elizabeth.
" It would be too much for the boat," said Wintbrop.
" K 'twouldn't for you," — Mr. Cowslip remarked in a kind of
aside,
" Isn't there another boat ? "
" There is another boat," said Mr. Cowslip — " there's mine
— ^but she's up stream somewheres ; comin' along, I gueiss, but she
won't be bere time enough for your purposes."
It was nee^ai'y to make a selection. The seleotion was
made, and two stout trunks were successively borne down to the
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUO. 77
sbore by tlie hands of Winthrop and Mr. Cowslip and stowed in
tte boat's bow. The two girls had walked down and stood look-
ing on.
" But I baven't got any books I " said Elizaoetb suddenly
when slie was invited to get in beraalf. '■ Won't the book-bos
" Is it that 'ere big board bos ? " inijuired Mr. Cowslip.
" Won't do I It's as heavy as all the nation."
" It will not do to put anything more ia the boat," said Wiu-
" I can't go without books," said Elizabeth.
" You'll have 'em in the mornin'," suggested the miller.
" 0 leave it, Lizzie, and come along P' said her companion.
" See how late it's getting."
" I can't go without some books," said Elizabetb; "I shouldn't
know what to do with myself. You are sure you can't take the
bos '? "
" Certainly," said Winthrop smiling. " She would draw too
muob water, with this tide."
" Yea, you'd be on the bottom and no mistake, when you got
in the bay," said Mr. Cowslip.
Elizabeth looked from one to the other.
" Tncn just get sometliing and open the box if you please,"
she said, indicating her command to Winthrop; "and I will
take out a few, till I get the vest."
" 0 LiiBie 1 " urged her companion, — " let the books wait ! "
But she and her expostulation got bo sort of attention. Miss
Lizzie walked up the hill again to await the unpacking of the bos,
Misa Oadwallader straightened herself against a post. While
Mr. Cowslip and Winthrop went to the store for a hammer.
" She's got spunk in her, ha'n't she, that little one ? " said
the miller. " She's a likely lookin' little gal, too. But I never
seen any one so fierce arter books, yet."
Tools were soon found, in Mr. Cowslip's store, but the box waa
strongly put together and the opening of it was not a very speedy
business. The little proprietor looked on patiently. When it
was open, Miss Lizzie waa not very easy to suit. With great
coolness she stood and piled up book after book on the uncovered
portion of the bos, till she had got at those she wanted. She
pleased herself with two or three, and then the others wore care-
fully put back again ; and she stood to watch the fastening up
of the bos as it was before,
" It will be safe here ? " she said to the miller.
HcsledbyGoOgle
78 THE HILLS OF THE eHATEMUO.
" Safe enough ! " he answered. " There's nobody here'll want
to pry open these here books, agin this night."
" And will the other things be safe ? " aaid Mias OadwaHader,
who tad come up the hUl again iu despair. The miller glanced
" Safe as your hair in ourl-papors. You can be comfortable.
Now then — "
The sun was not far from the mountain tops, when at last Misa
Lizzie stood again at the water's edge with her volumes. Miss
Cadwallader grumbled a little, but it met the utmost carelessne^.
The tide was very low ; but by the help of Winthrop in the boat
and Mr. Cowslip on the muddy steps, the young ladies were
safely passed down aud seated in the stern-sheets, not without
two or three little screams oa the part of Miss Cadwallader.
The other, c[iiite silent, looted a little straogtly at the water
coming within three or four mches of her dress, an expression of
grave timidity becoming her dark eye much better than the loot
it had worn a few minutes before. As the boat lurched a little
on pushing off, the colour started to her clieeks, and she asked
" if there was any danger ? "
" Not the leaat," Winthrop aaid.
Elizabeth gave another look at the very self-possessed calm
face of her boatman, and then settled herself in her place with the
unmistakable air of a mind at ease.
The boat had rounded the corner of the wharf and fell into
its upward track, owing all its speed now to the rower's good
arm ; for a very strong down tide was running agaiuat thorn.
They crept up, close under the shore, the oars almost touching
the rocks; but always, as if a spiritof divination were in her, the
little boat turned iti head from the threatened danger, edged in
and out of the mimic bays and hollows in the shores, and kept its
steady onward way. The scene was a fairy-land scene now.
Earth, water, and air, were sparkling with freshness aud light.
The sunlight lay joyously in the neat of the southern mountains,
and looked over the East, and smiled on the heads of the hills in
the north ; while cool shadows began to walk along the western
shore. Far np, a broad shoulder of the mountain stood out in
bright relief under the sun's pencil; then lower down, the same
pencil put a glory round the heads of the valley cedara ; the val-
l&y was in shadow. Sharp and clear shewed sun-touohed points
of rock on the cast shore, in glowing colours ; and on the west the
hills raised huge shadowy sides towards the sun, whom they
threatened they would hide from his pensioners. And the sun
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 79
stood on the mountain's brow and blinked at tbe world, and then
dropped down ; and the West had it ! Not yet, but soon.
The two girls were not unmindful of all the brightness about
them, for their eyes made themaelTOS very busy with it, and little
low-toned talks were held which now and then let a word escape,
of " pretty I " — and " lovely I " — and " wouldn't it be lovely to
have a tittle boat here ? — ^I'll ask papa I " —
'" la it hard to row ? " asked the last speater suddenly of
Winthrop.
" No," he said, " not at all, wind and water quiet."
" Aren't they <juiet to-night ? "
" The tide is running down very strong. Asahel, trim the
" How on earth can such a child do anything to the boat ? '
said Miss Cadwallader. " What do you want done, sir ? "
" Nothing," he said. " It is done."
" What is done ? " said the youug lady, with a wondering
face to her companion, " Oh aren't you hungry ?" she added
with a yawn. " I am, dreadfully. I hope we shall get a good
supper."
" Whereabouts is Mr. Landholm'a house ? " said Elizabetli
presently. Winthrop lay on his oars to point it out to her.
" Thai ' " she said, somewhat expresaively.
" Then why don't you go straight there ? " mquired her com-
panion. " You are going directly the other way."
A slight fiction; but the boat had turned into the bay, and
was following the curve of its shores, which certainly led down
deep into the land from the farmhouse point.
" I go here for the eddy."
" He is going richt," siud Asaliel, who was sitting on the
thwart next to the ladies.
" Eddy ? " said Miss Cadwallader, with a blank look at her
" What is an eddy ? '' said Elizabeth.
" The return water from a point the tide strikes against."
Elizabeth eyod the water, the channel, and the points, and
was evidently studying the matter out.
" What a lovely place 1 " she said.
" I wonder if the strawberries are ripe," said Miss Cadwallader.
" Little boy, are there any strawberries in your woods ? "
" My name is Asahel," said the ' little boy ' gravely.
" la it ? I am very glad indeed to know it. Are there any
strawberries ia the woods here ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
80 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMIfC,
" Lota of 'em," said Asaliel.
" Are they ripe yet ? "
" I haven't seen more than talf a dozen," said Asahel.
" They arc just beginning in the sunny spots," said his brothel
smiling.
" Aod do you have anything else here besides strawberries ? "
The question was put to Asahel. Ho looked a little blank.
It was a broad one.
" Any other fruit," said Eliaabeth.
" Plenty," said Asahel.
" What I " said Miss Cadvfallader ; " tell us, will you ; for IVe
come here to live upon wild fruit."
" Yea, ma'am," said Asahel staring a little ; — " there's red rasp-
berries, and black raspberries, and low-bosK blackberries and high
blaokberries, and huotle berries, and bearberries, and cranberries :
besides nuts, and apples. I guess that ain't all."
" Thank you," said his questioner. " That will do. I don't
intend to stay till nut-time. Oil what a way it is round this
bay ! "
" I wish it was longer," said Elizabeth.
The sun had left all the earth and betaken himself to tht
clouds; and there he seemed to be disporting himself with all th(
colours of his palette. There were half a dozen at a time flung on
his vapoury canvass, and those were changed and shaded, and
mixed and deepened, — till the eye could but confess there wae
only one sock storehouse of glory. And when tho painting had
faded, and the soft scattering masses were left to their natural
grey, here a little silvered and there a little reddened yet, — the
whole West was still lit up with a clear white radiaoce that shewed
how hardly the sun's bright track could be forgotten.
" Are we here ! " said Elizabeth with a half sigh, as the boat
touched the rocks. .
" Yes, to be sure," said her cousin. " "Where have you been ? '■
" In the olouds; and I am sorry to come down again."
Mr. Laadholm was standing on the rocks, and a very frank
and hearty reception he gave them. With him they walked up to
the house ; Asahel staid behind to wait till Winthrop had made
fast the boat.
" How do you like 'em, Grovomor? " whispered the little boy
crouching upon the rocks to get nearer his brother's ear.
" How do I like 'eoi ? " said Winthrop ;— " I can't like any-
body upon five minutes' notice."
"One of 'em's pretty, ain't she?-— the one with the light,
coloured hair ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMiTC. 81
" I suppose SO," said Winthrop, tying hia cLain.
" I guess thej like it here pretty well," Asahel went on.
" Didn't yoa see how they looked at everythiug ? "
"No."
" They looked up, and they looked down, and on one side and
the other side ; aod every now and then they looked at you."
" And what did you look at ? "
" I looked at them, — some."
" Well," said Wiuthrop Jaughing, " don't look at them too
much, Asahel."
" Why not ? "
" Why, you wouldn't want to do anything ioo much, would
" No. But what would be too much ? "
" So much that they would find it out."
" Well, they didn't find it out this evening," said Asahe!.
But that little speech went home, and for half the way as he
walked up to the house holding Asaliel's hand, there was some-
thing like bitterness in the heart of the elder hrothcr. So long,
but no longer. Tliey had got only so far when h.e looked down at
the little boy beside him and spoke with his usual calm clearness
of tone, entire and unchanged.
" Then they aren't as ciear-sighted as I am, Asahel, for I al-
ways know when you are lookmg at me."
" Ah, I don't believe you dol" said Asahel laughing up at
him ; " I very often look at you when you don't look at me."
" Don't triffit to that," said Winthtop.
There was in the little boy's laugh, aud in the way he wagged
his brother's hand haokwards and forwards, a happy aud confident
assurance that Winthrop could do anything, that it was good to
^"- , . .
Everybody was at the supper-tablo ; there was nothing for
Wintkrop then to do but to take his place ; but his countenance
to his mother, all supper-time, was worth a great deal. His cool
collectod face at her side heartened her constantly, though he
scarcely spoke at all. Mr. Landholm played the part of host
with no drawback to his cheerfulness ; talked a great deal, and
pressed all the good things of the table upon Miss Cadwallader ;
who laughing, taining, and eating, managed to do her fuU share of all
throe. Shb was certainly very pretty. Her ' light coloured ' hair
was not so light as to be uncomely, and fell in luxuriant ringlets
ftll round the sides of her pretty head ; and the head moved about
enough to shake the ringlets, till they threatened to form a maaj
HcsledbyGoOgle
82 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMCC.
not to catch men's eyes. The prettiest mouth in the world, set
with two little rows of the most kissahle teeth, if that feature
ever is contemplated in a kiss; and like the ringlets, the lips
seemed to be in a compact to do as much mischief as they could ;
to keep together and mind their own husiness was the last thing
thought of Yet it was wonderful how much business they man-
aged tfl transact on their own account, too. The other giri sat
grave and reserved, even almost with an air of shyness, eat much
less, and talked none at al! ; and indeed her face was pale and
thin, and justified what her father had said about her wanting the
country. Eufus seemed to have got hack his good-hnmour. He
quite kept up the credit of his side of the table.
Immediately after supper the two girls went to their room.
" Weil, how do you like 'em ? " said Mr. Landholm. " Did ye
ever see a prettier creature, now, than that Rose ? Her face
IB like a rose itself."
" It m more like a peach-blossom," said Euftia.
" The little one don't look well," said Mrs, Landholm.
" I wonder who'll go strawberrying with them," said AsaheL
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER IX.
-HetsofarusUci
faahiira.
• lb. Mr. MatthBv
The ' big bedroom,' which belonged to the strangers by right
of usage, opened from the kitchen- with another door upon the
tiny entry-way once described. It had a fireplace, at present full
of green pine bushes; a very clean bed covered with patchwork;
the plainest of chairs and a table ; and a little bit of carpet on one
Spot of the floor; the rest was painted. One little window looked
to the south ; another to the east ; the woodwork, of doors and
windows, exceeding homely and wwpainted. An extraordinary
gay satin toilet-cushion ; and over it a little looking-glass, sur-
rounded and surmounted with more than an ecLUal surface of dark
carved wooden framing.
It was to this unwonted prospect that the early June sun
opened the young ladies' eyes the nest morning, Elizabeth had
surveyed it quietly a few minutes, when a little rustling of the
patchwork called her attention to the shaking shoulders of her
companion. Misa Cadwallader's pretty face lay back on the pil-
low, her eyes shut tight, and her open mouth expressing all the
ecstatic delight that could be expressed without sound.
" What is the matter? " said Elizabeth.
Her cousin only laughed the harder and clapped her hands
over her eyes, as if tjuite beyond control of herself. Elizabeth did
not ask again.
" Isn't this a funny place we've come to ! " said Miss Cadwal-
lader at last, relapsing,
" I don't see anything very laughable," said Elizabeth.
" But isn't it a quizzical place ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
84 THE HILLS OF THE SHA'IEMTJC.
" I dare say. Every place ia."
" Pshaw ! don't be obstinate, — wlien you think just as I
do."
" I never did yet, about anything," said Elizahstb.
" Well, how do yov. like eating in a room with, a great dresser
of tin dishes on one side and the fire where your meat was cooked
on the other ? — in June ? "
"I didn't see the tin dishes; andtherewasn't any fire, of coa-
sequence."
" But did yon ever see such a gallant old farmer ? Isn't he
comical ? didn't he keep it np ? "
" Not better than you di^" said Eliaabeth.
"But isn't he comical?"
" No i neither comical nor old. I thought you seemed to
like him very well."
" O, one must do something. La ! you aren't going to get up
But EliEabeth was already at the south window and had it
open. Early it was ; the sun not more than half an hour high, and
aikiug hia work coolly, like one wbo meaat to do a great deal be-
fore the day was ended. A faint dewy sparkle on the grass and
the sweetbriars; thi song sparrows giving good-morrow to each
Other and tuning their throats for the day ; and a few wood
thrushes now and then telling of their shyer and rarer neighbour-
hood. The river was asleep, it seemed, it lay so still.
" Lizzie I — you ought to be in bed yet these two hours — I
shall tell Mr. Uaye, if you don't take care of yourself."
" Have the goodness to go to sleep, and let me and Mr. Haye
take care of each other," said the girl dryly.
Her eouain looked at her a minute,and then turning her eyee
from the light, obeyed her first rec[uest and went fast asleep,
A Utile while aft^r the door opened and Elizabeth stood in
the kitchen. It was already in beautiful order. She could set
the big dresser now, but the tin and crockery and almost th(
wooden pelves shone, they were ao clean. And they shone in the
light of an opposite fire ; but though the second of June, the ab
so early in the morning was very fresh ; Elizabeth found it pleas-
ant to take her stand on the hearth, near the warm blaze. And
while she stood there, first earae in Karen and put on the big iron tea-
kettle ; and then came Mrs. Landholm with a table-eloth and be-
gan to set the table. Elizabeth looked alternately at her and al
me tea-kettle; both almost equally strange; she rather took a
&moy to both. Certainly to the former. Her gown waa spare,
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE eHATEMtrO.
g that means were bo, and her cap was
lin caps, without lace or bedeekiag; yet in the .juiet ordering of
gown and cap and the neat hair, a quiet and ordered mitd waa
almoflt confessed; and not many glances at the calm mouth and
frave brow and thoughtful eye, would make the opinion good.
t was a very comfortable home picture, Elisabeth thought, in a
different line of life from that she waa accustompd to, — the farm-
er's wife and the tea-kettle, the dresser and the breakfast table,
and the wooden kitclien floor and the stone hearth. She did not
know what a contrast she made in it ; her dainiy little figure, very
nicely dressed, standing on the flag-stones before the fire. Mrs.
Landholm felt it, and doubted.
" How do you like the place, Mias Haye ? " she ventured.
To her surprise the answer was an energetic, " Very much."
" Then you are not a&aid of living in a farm-house ? "
" If I don't like living in it, I'll live out of it," said Elizabeth,
returning a very dignified answer to Winthrop's ' good-morning '
as he passed through the kitehen.
" Are you going down to Cowslip's mill. Governor ? " said
Mrs. Landholm.
" You will lose your breakfast."
" I must take the turn of the tide. Never mind breakfast."
" Going down after my trunks ? " said Elizabeth.
" I'll go too. Wait a minute ! "
And slie was in her room before a word could be said.
" Hut Miss Haye," said Mrs. Landholm, as she came out with
bonnet and shawl, ' jou mon't go without your breaiifast? It
will be ready long before you can get back."
" Breakfast oan wait."
" But you will want it."
" No — I don't care if I do,"
And down she ran to the rooks, followed by Asahel.
There was a singular still sweetness in the early summer
morning on the water. The air seemed to have twice the life it had
the evening before; the light waa fair, beyond words to tell. Here
its fresh gilding was upon a mmintain slope; there it stretched in
a loog misty beam athwart a deep valley; it touched the broken
points of rook, and glanced on the river, and seemed to make
merry with the birds ; fresli, gladsome and pure as their aong.
No token of man's busy life yet in the air ; tlie birds had it.
Only over Shahweetah valley, and &om Mr. Underhill's chimney
HcsledbyGoOgle
86 THE HILLS OF THE 6HATEMUC.
on the other side of the river, and from Sam Doolittle'a in the bay,
thin wreaths of hlue smoke sbwlj went up, telling that there, —
and there, — and there, — man was getting ready for his day'a
work, and woman bad begun hers ! Only those, and the soft stroke
of Winthrop's oars; but to JElizabeth that seemed only play. She
sat perfectly still, her eye varying from their regular dip to the
sunny rocka of the headland, to the coloured mountaia heads, the
trees, the river, the curling smoke, — and baek again to the oars ;
with a 'grave, intent, deep notice-taking. The water was neither
for nor against them n, w ; and with its light load and its good oars
the boat fiew. Diver's Sack was pasisd; then, they got out of
the sunshine into the cool shadow of the eastern shore below the
bay, and fell down the river fast to the mill. Not a word was
spoken by anybody till they got there.
Nor then by Elizabeth, till she saw Mr. Cowslip and Winthrop
bringing her trunks and boxes to the boat-side.
" Hollo I you've got live cargo too. Governor," said the old
miller. " That aint fair,— Mornin' !— The bos is safe."
" Are you going to put those things in here ? " said Elizabeth.
" Sartain," said Mr. Cowslip ; — " book-bos and all."
" But they'll be too much for the boat ? "
" Not at all," said Winthrop ; " it was only because the tide
was so low last night — there wasn't water enough in the bay. I
am not going in the bay this morning."
" No," said Mr. Cowslip, — " tide's just settin' up along shore
— you can fc*ep along the edge of the flats."
" You have load enougb without them. Don't put 'cm in
here, sir ! " Elizabeth exclaimed ; — " let them go in the other bottt
— your boat — you said you had a boat — it's at home now, isn't
it ? "
" Sartain,'' said Mr. Cowslip, " it's to hum, so it can start off
again as soon as you like. My boy Hild can fetch up the things
for you — if you think it's wortu while to have it cost you a dollar."
" I don't care wbat it costs," said Elizabeth. " Send 'em up
right away, and I'll pay for it."
So Winthrop dropped into his place again, and lightly and
swiftly as before the boat went on ber way back towards the blue
smoke that curled up over Shabweetah; and Elizabeth's eyes
again roved silently and enjoyingly from one thing to another.
But they returned oftener to the oars, and rested there, and at
last when they were about half way home, she said,
" I want to learn how to manage an oar — will you let me
take one and try ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL9 OF THE BHATEMUC. 87
Winthrop helped her to change lier seat and pat an oar into
her hand, and gave her directions. The first attempts took effect
upon nothing but Asahel'a face, which ga¥e witness to his amuse-
ment ; and perhaps Winthrop's dress, which was largely splashed
in the course of a few minutes. But Elizabeth did not seem to
heed or care for either ; she was intent upon the great problem of
making her oar feel the water ; and as gravely, if not quite so
coolly, as Winthrop's instructions were delivered, she worked at
her oar to follow them. A few random strokes, which did not
seem to discriminate very justly between water and air, and then
her oar had got hold of the water and was telling, though irregu-
larly and fltlally, upon the boat. The difficulty was mastered ;
and she pulled with might and main for half the rest of the
way home ; Winthrop having nothing to do with his one oar
hut to keep the two aides of the boat together, till her arm
was tired.
" Nest time I'll take both oars," she said witli a face of great
satisfaction as She put herself hack in her old seat. Asahel
thought it would cure her of wearing pale cheeks, but he did not
venture to make any remark.
Eose was waiting for them, sitting crouched discontentedly
on the rocks.
" It's eight o'clock I " — said she, — " and I'm as hungry as a
" So am I," said Elizabeth springing ashore.
" What have you been doing ? — keeping breakfast waiting
this age ? "
■* " I never saw any thing so delicious in all my life," said
Elizabeth emphatically, before condes65nding to say what.
"I shall teli Mr. Haye you are beginning a flirtation al-
ready," whispered Miss Cadwallader laughing as they went up to
the house.
But the cheek of the other at that became like a thunder- cloud.
She turned her back upon her cousin and walked from her to the
house, with a step as fine and firm as that of the Belvidere Apollo
and a figure like a young pine tree. Bufus, who met her at the
door, was astounded with a salutation such as a queen might bestow
on a discarded courtier ; but by the time the little lady came to
the table she had got back her usual air,
"Well, how do you like boating before breakfast? " said Mr
Landholm.
" Vm-%1 much," Elizabeth said.
" I dont like it very much," said he, " for I ought to have
HcsledbyGoOgle
00 THE HIL1.S OF THE eilATEMOO.
mowed half an acre by thia time, instead of being here at mj
bread and butter."
" It was not my fault, sir."
" No, no; it'a all riglit, I am glad you went. I should have
taken my breakfast and been off, long ago ; but I waited out of
pure civility to you, to see how you did. 'Pon my word, I think
you have gained half a pound of flesh already."
" She looks a great deal better," said Asahel,
Elizabeth laughed a little, but entered into no discussion of
the subject.
After breakfast the trunks arrived and the young ladies
were busy; aud two or three days passed quietly in getting
wonted.
" Mr. Landholm," said Miss Cadwallader, a few moraiuga af-
ter, " will you do one thing for me ? "
" A great many, Miss Rose," he said, stopping with his hands
on his knees as he was about to leave the table, and looking at
her attentively.
" I want you to send somebody to shew me where the straw-
berries are."
" Strawberries I Do you want to go and pick strawberries ? "
" To be sure I do. That's what I came here for."
" Strawberries, eh," said Mr. Landholm. " Well, I gnesa
you'll have to wait a little. There aint a soul that can go with
you this morning. Besides, I don't believe there are any ripe
yet."
" 0 yes there are, papa ! " said Asahel.
" I guess Bright Spot's full of them," said Mrs. Landholm.
" Bright Spot I ' said the farmer. " Well, i':e must be all off
to the hay-field. Tou see, there's some grass, Miss Rose, stand-
ing ready to be cut, that canH wait; so you'll have to."
" What if it wasn't cut ? " said Miss Cadwallader pouting.
" What if it wasn't cut ! — then the cattle would have nothing
to eat next winter, and that would be worse than your wanting
strawberries. No — I'l! tell you, — -It'll he a fine afternoon ; and
you keep yourself quiet, out of the sun, till it gets towards even-
ing ; aud V\i contrive to spare one of the boys to go with you
The strawberries will be all the riper, and you can get as many
as you want in an hour or two."
So upon that the party scattered, and the house was deserted
to the ' women-folks ; ' with the exception of little Asahel ; and
»ven he was despatched in a few hours to the field with the diu-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTJO. 89
ner of his father and brothers. The girls betook themselves to
their room, and wore out the long day as they could.
It grew to the tempting time of the afternoon.
" Here they are 1 " said Rose who eat at tho east window.
" Now for it I That farmer is a very good man. I really didu't
expect it."
" They ? " said Elizabeth.
" Tea — -both the ' boys,' as the farmer ealls them."
" I should thiok one might have been enough," said Elizabeth.
" We!! there's no harm in having two. Isn't the eldest one
"1 don't know."
" You do know."
" I don't I for I haven't thought about it."
" Do you have to think before you can tell whether a person
is handsome ? "
" Yea ; — before I can tel! whether I think he is."
" Well look at him, — I tell you he has the most splendid
" Rose Cadwallader I " said hor cousin laying down her book,
" what is it to you or me if all the farmer's sons ia the land have
splendid eyes?"
Eliiabeth's eyebrows said it was very little to her.
" I like to look at a handsome face anywhere," said Rose
pouting. " Come— will you."
Elizabeth did come, but with a very uncompromising set of
the said eyebrows.
It appeared that everybody was going strawberry ins, except
Mrs. Landholm and Winthrop ; at least the former had not her
bonnet on, and the latter was not in the company at all. The
children found this out and raised a cry of dismay, which was
changed into a cry of entreaty as Winthrop came in. Winthrop
was going after fish. But Winifred got hold of his haijd, and
A sahel withstood him with arguments; and at last Mrs. Land-
holm put in her gentlo word, that strawberries would dc just as
well as fish, and better. So Winthrop put up his fishmg-rod and
shouldered the oars, and armed with baskets of all sizes the whole
party trooped after him.
In the boat Elizabeth might have had a good opportunity to act
upon her cousin's request ; for Rufus sat in the stern with them and
talked, while Winthrop handled the oars. But Rufus and her
oouBin had the talk all to themselves; Elizabeth held off from it,
and gave her eyes to nothing but the river and the hills.
HcsledbyGoOgle
90
HILLS OF THE
Ttey crossed the river, goiDg a little up, to a tiny green val-
ley juat at the water's edge. Ou every side but the river it was-
sheltered and shut in by woody walls nigh two hundred feet in
height. The bottom of the valley was a fine greensward, only
aprinkled with trees; while from the edge of it the virgin forest
rose steeply to the first height, and then following the broken
ground stretched away up to the top of the neighhoiirlng moun-
tains. From the valley bottom, however, nothing of tlieae could
be seen ; nothing was to be seen but its own leafy walls and the
blue sky above them.
" la this the place where we are to find strawberries ? " said
Miss Cadwallader.
" This is the place," said ilufua; " this is Bright Spot, from
time out of mind lie place for strawberries ; nobody ever comes
here but to pick them. The vines cover the ground."
" The sun won't be on it long," said Elizabeth ; " I don't see
why you caU it Bright Spot."
" You won't often see a brighter spot when the sun is on it,"
said Winthrop. " It gets in the aiadow of Wut-a-qut-o once in a
" The grass is kept very fresh here," said Eufus. " But the
strawberry vines are all over in it."
So it was proved. The valley was not a smooth level as it
had looked from the river, but broken into little waves and hol-
lows of ground ; in parts, near the woods, a good deal strewn with
loose rooks and grown with low clumpy bushea of different species
of cornus, and buckthorn, and sweetbriar. In these nooks and
hollows, and indeed over the whole surface of the ground the
vmcs ran thick, and the berries, huge, rich and rare, pretended to
hide themselves, while the whole air was alive with their sweet-
The party landed and scattered with cries of delight far and
near over the valley. Even Elizabeth's composure gave way.
For a little while they did nothing hut scatter ; to sit atill and
pick was impossible ; for the novelty and richness of the store
seemed made for the eye as much as for anything else, and be the
berries never so red in one place they seemed redder in another,
Winthrop and Asahel, however, were soon steadily at work, and
then little Winifred ; and after a time Mies Cadwallader found that
the berries were good for more than to look at, and Rufus had
less trouble to keep in her neighbourhood. But it was a good
while before Elizabeth began to pick either for lip or basket ;
she stood on the viney knolls, and looked, and smelled the air,
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HTLtS OF THE BHATEattTO. 01
and searolied with her eye the openings in the luxuriant foliage
that walled in the Talley At last, mining a review of the living
members of the picture, the young lady oeth ought herself, and
Bet to work with great steadiness to cover the bottom of her
basket.
In the course of this business, moving hither ;ind thither as
the bunches of red fruit tempted her, and without raising an
eye beyond them, she was picking close to one of the parties be-
fore she knew whom she was near; and as they were in like igno-
rance she heard Asahel say,
" I wish Rufus would pick — he does nothing but eat, ever
since be came ; he and Miss Rose."
" You don't espect her to pick for you, do you ? " said
Winthrop.
" She might just as well as for me to pick for her," said
Asabel.
" Do you think we'll get enough for mamma, Governor ? "
said little Winifred in a very sweet, and a little anxious, voice.
" We'll try," said her brother.
" 0 you've got a great parcel 1 — but I have only so many, —
Grovemor ? "
" There's more where those came from, Winnie."
" Here are some to help," said Elizabeth coming up and
emptying her own strawberries into the little girl's basket. Wini-
fred looked down at the fresh supply and up into the young lady's
face, and then gave her an " Oh thank you ! " of such frank
pleasure and astonishment that Elizabeth's energies were at once
nerved. But first of all she went to see what Miss Cadwallader
was about.
Miss Cadwallader was squatting in a nest of strawberries, with
red finger-ends.
" Rose — how many have you picked ? "
" I haven't the least idea. Aren't they splendid ? "
" Haven't you any in your basket ? "
" Basket ?— no,— where is my basket?" said she looking
round. " No, to be sure I haven't. I don't want any basket"
" Why don't you help ? "
" Help ? I've been helping myself, till I'm tired. Come here
and sit down, Bess. Aren't they splendid ? Don't you want to
rest ? "
" No."
Miss Rose, however, quitted the strawberries and placed her-
self on a. rook.
HcsledbyGoOgle
92 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO.
" Where's my helper? — 0 yonder, — somehody'a got hold of
him. Lizzio, — who'd have thought we should be ao well off for
beaus here in the mouiitaius ? "
The other's brow and lip changed, but she stood silent.
" They don't act like farmer's sous, do they ? 1 never should
have guessed it if I had seen them anywhere else. Look, Liazie,
■ — now isn't he handsome? I never saw such eyes."
Elizabeth did not look, but she apoke, and the words lacked
so point that lips could give them.
" I am thankful, Rose, that my head does not run upon the
things that yours does I "
" What does yours run upon then ? " said Kose pouting.
" The other one, I suppose. That's the one you were helping
with jour sti'awberriea just now. I dout think it is tho wisest
thing Mr. Haye has ever done, to send you and md here ; — it's a
pity there wasn't somebody to warn him."
" Rose I " — said the other, and her eyes seemed to lighten, ono
to the other, as she spoke,—" you know I don't like such talk —
I detest and despise it I — it is utterly beneath me. You may in-
dulge in all the nonsense you please, and descend to what you
please ; — but pleasa to utderstaad, / wUl not hear it."
Miss Gadwallader's eye fairly gave way under the lightning.
Elizabeth's words were delivered with an intensity that kept them
quiet, though with the last degree of clear utterance; and turn-
ing, as Rufua came up, she give him a glare of her da,rk brown
eyea that astonished him, and made off with a quick step to a
part of the field where she could pick strawberries at a distance
from everybody. She picked them somehow by instinct; she
did not know what she was doing ; her face rivalled their red
bunches, and she picked with a kind of fury. That being the
only way ahe had of venting her indignation, she threw it into her
baaket along with the strawberries. She hadn't worked ao hard
the whole afternoon. She edged away from the rest towards a
wild corner, where amid rocks and bushes the strawberry vinea
spread rich and rank and the berries were larger and finer than
any she had seen. She was determined to have a fine basket-
ful for Winifred.
But she was unused to such stooping and steady work, and
as she cooled down she grew very tired. She was in a rough
grown place and she mounted on a rock and stood up to rest hor-
ijelf and look.
Pretty — pretty, it was. It was almost time to j- o home, for the
sun was out of their strawberry patch and the woody walls were a
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE lULLe OF THB SHATEMUC. 93
few shades deeper coloured than they had been ; while over the
river, od the other aide, the steep rocks of the home point sent
hack a warm glow yet. The hills beyond them stood ia the sun,
and in close contrast was the little deep green patch of fore-
gronad, lit up witb the white or tlie gay dresses of the strawberry
pickers. The sweet river, a bit of it, in the middle of the
picture, half in sunshine, half in shade. It was like a little nest
of &iry-land ; so laughed the sunshine so dwelt the shade, in
this spot and in that one. Elizabeth stood fast. It was bewitch-
ing to the eyes. And while she looked, the shadow of Wut-a-qut-o
was creeping over the river, and now ready to take off the warm
browns of the rocky point.
She was thinking it was bewitching, and drinking it in, when
slie felt two hands claap her by the waist, and suddenly, swiftly,
without a word of warning, she was swung off, clear to another
rock about two yards distant, and there set down, " aU standing."
In bewildered astonishment, that only waited to become indigna-
tion, she turned to see whom she was to be angry with. Nobody
was near her but Winthrop, and he had disappeared behind the
rock on which she had just been standing. Elizabeth was not
precisely in a mood for coo! judgment; she stood like an of-
fended brood-^en, with ruffted feathers, waiting to fly at the first
likely offender. The rest of the party began to draw near.
" Gome Lizzie, we're going home," said her cousin.
" I am not," said Elizabeth,
"Why?"
" What's the matter V "
" Nothing — only I am not ready."
" The sun's out of Bright Spot now, Miss Haye," said Bufus,
with a Somewhat mischievous play of feature.
Elizabeth was deaf.
" Wiuthrop has killed a rattlesnake I " exclaimed Asahel from
the rock ; — " Wiuthrop has killed a rattlesnake ! "
And Winthrop came round the bushes bringing his trophy;
a large snake that counted nine rattles. They all pressed round,
aa near as they dared, to look and admire ; all but Elizabeth, who
Stood on her rock and did not stir.
" Where was it ? where was it ? " —
" When I first saw him, he was curled up on the rock very
near to Miss Haye, but he slid down among the bushes before I
could catob him. We must take care wbef we come here now,
for the mate must be somewhere."
HcsledbyGoOgle
94 THE HILLS OF T
"Fll never eome here again," B<ttd Miss Cadwallader. "0
eome ! — let as go 1 "
" Did you move me ? " said Elizabeth, with the air of a judge
putting a query.
Winthrop looked up, and answered yea.
" Why didn't jon ask me to move myself? "
"I would," said Wiathrop calmly, — "if I could have got
word to the snake to keep quiet "
Elizabeth dd tknwp lywhtt yhr eouain
was looking asto Im t d h w h f Rufus's
mouth twitch ^ h hth Ip 1 ly df Uowed the
party to the t t
The talk g d 1 ^b j, w g 1 m tb m on the
way home, w b 11 b t h h w th k g fab tu forgot
ber strawberr f 1 ttl W f d, wb b b m 1 1 have given
her in full view of her cousin. She held her basket on her lap,
and looked at the water and didn't see the sunset.
The sun's proper setting was not to be seen, for he went down
far behind Wut-a-qut-o, Wnt-a-qa1>o'a shade was all over the
river and bad mounted near to the top of the opposite bills; but
from peak to peak of them the sunlight glittered still, and over-
head the sun threw down broad remembrancers of where he was
and where he had been. The low hills in the distant north were
all in sunlight ; as the little boat pnlled over the river they
were lost behind the point of Shahweetah, and the last ray was
gone from the last mount^n ridge in view. Cool shadows and
hghts were over the land, a flood of beauty overhead in the sky.
It waa agreed on all bands that they had been very snooess-
ful ; and little Winifred openly rejoiced over the quantity they
had brought home for ' mother ' ; but still Elizabeth did not add
her store, and had nothiag to say. When they got to the landing-
place, she would stay on the rocks to see bow the boat was made
fast. Winifred ran up to the house with ber basket, Miss Cad-
wallader went to get ready for supper, Rufus followed in her
steps. Asahel and Elizabeth stayed in the sunset glow to see
Wiuthrop finish bis part of the work ; and then they walked up
together. Elizabeth kept her position on one side of the oars,
but seemed as moody ^ ever, till they were about half way from
the rocks; then suddenly she looked up into Winthrop's face and
said,
" Thank you. I ought to have said it before."
Ho bowed a littl-j and smiled, in a way that set Elizabeth a
thinking. It was not like a common farmer's boy. It spoke him
HcsledbyGoOgle
83 quiet in his own standing as she was in Lera ; and yet hfi cer-
tainly had come home that day in liis shirt sleeves, and with his
mower's jacket over Ms arm ? It was very odd.
" What was it you said that strawherrj-pUce was in the
etadow of sometimes ? "
" Wut-a-qut-o ? "
" What's that ? "
" Thehig mountain over there. TMs was in the shadow of it
a little while ago,"
" What a queer name ! What does it mean ? "
" It is Indian. I have heard that it means, the whole name,
— ' He that catches ike douds.''
"That is beautiful 1 —
" You must be tremendously strong," she added presently, as
if not satisfied that she had said enou^, — " for you lifted me aa
if I had been no more than a featherweight."
" You did not seem much more," Le said.
" Strong I — '' said Asahel —
Bat Elizabeth escaped from AsaheVs exposition of the subject,
into her room.
She had regained her good-humour, and everybody at the
table said she had improved fifty per cent, since her coming to
Shabweetah. Which opinion Mr. Hayo eonlirmed when he camu
a day or two afterward.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEK X.
Ir nn£. my aansen, bvtter pte?ja£<L with madness.
Do bid It welomiie. Wibtkb-b TiLt
The yonng ladiea' summering in the country had he^un with
good promise; there was no danger thej would tire of it. Mr.
Haje gave it as hia judgmeut that tia daughter had come to tie
riglit place ; and he waa willing to apare no pains to keep her in
the same mind. He brought up a little boat with him the nest
time he eame, and a delicate pair of oars; aud Elizabeth took to
boating with great zeal. She aaked for very little teaching ; she
had used her eyes, and now she patiently exercised her arms, till
her eyes were satisfied ; and after that the " Merry-go-round " had
very soon earned a right to its name. Her father sent her a
horse ; and near every morning her blue habit waa fluttering along
the roads, to Hie great admiration of the country people who had
never seen a long skirt before. And every afternoon, as aoon as
the sun hid himself behind the great western mountain, her little
white boat stole out from the rooka and coasted about under the
point or lay in the bay, wandering through sunshine and shade ;
■ g where the north wind blew softly, or resting with poiaed
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL8 OF THE BHATEMDC. 97
Cadwallader would neitter row nor ridcj and waa very apt to
eschew walking, unless a party were going along.
Over her books Elizabeth luxuriated ail the rest of the time.
Morning, noon, and night. The labour o£ talking she left to her
cousin, who took to it kindly, and speedily made herself very
popular. And there was certainly something very pleasant in
her bright smile, always ready, and in her lovely face ; and some-
thing pleasant too in her exceeding dainty and pretty manner of
dressing. She fascinated the ehildren's eyes, and if truth be
told, more than the children. She seemed to have a universal
Bpirit of good-humour. She never was so fast in a book but she
would leave it to talk to the old or play with the yonng ; and her
politeness was unfailing. Elizabeth gave no trouble, but she
seemed to have as little notion of giving pleasure ; except to her-
self That she did perfectly and without stop. For the rest,
half the time she hardly seemed to know what was going on with
the rest of the world.
So the summer wore on, with great comfort to most parties.
Perhaps Winthrop was an exception. He had given comfort, if
he had not found it. He Lad been his mother's secret stand-by;
he had been her fishmonger, her gamekeeper, her head gardener,
her man-at-need in all manner of occasions. His own darling
objects meanwhile were laid upon the shelf. He did his best.
But after a day's work in tlie harvest field, and fishing for eels
off the rocks till tiine o'clock at night, what time was there for
Virgil or Grreea Minora ? Sometimes he must draw up bis nets
in the morning before he went to the field; and the fish must be
cleaned after they were taken. Sometimes a half day must be
spent in going after fruit. And whenever the farm could spare
him for a longer time, he was off to the woods with his gun ; to
fetch home rabbits at least, if no other game was to be had.
Bat all the while his own ground lay waste. To whomsoever the
summer was good, he reckoned it a fruitless summer to him.
In the multitude of their enjoyments of out-door things, the
girls took very naturally to the unwonted ways and usages of the
country household. The farm living and the farm hours seemed
to have no disgust for them. In the hot weather the doors often
all stood open; and they sat in the keeping-room, and in the
kitchen, and in their own room, and seemed to find all pleasant.
So one night Elizabeth and Mrs. Landholm were alone in the
kitchen. It was a cool evening, though in midsummer, and they
had gathered round the kitchen fire as being tbe most agreeable
place. The children were long gone to bed ; the rest of the family
HcsledbyGoOgle
98 THE MILLS OF THE SMATl^MUO.
liad at lengtli followed them ; Elizabetli and Mrs. Landholm alouo
kept tbeir place. The oae was darning some desperate-looking
soeks ; the other, as usual, deep in a book. They had beea very
still and busy for a long time ; and then as Elizabeth looked up
for a moment and glanced at the stooking-covered hand of her
neighbour, Mrs. Landholm looked up; their eyes met. Mrs.
Landiolm smiled.
" Do you like anything so well as reading, Miss Elizabeth ?
" NotMng in the world t What are you doing, Mrs. Laad-
" Mending some of the boys' soeks," she said cheerfully ;
" farmers are hard upon their feet."
"Mending that?" said EUaabeth. "What an endless
work I "
"No, aot endless," said the mother quietly. "Thiok shoes
and a great deal of stepping about, make pretty hard work with
stockings."
" But Mrs. Landholm ! — it would be better to buy now ones,
than to try to mend such boles."
Krs. Landholm smiled again a smile of gra^e and sweet,
iifs- wisdom.
" Did it ever happen to you to want anything you eould not
have. Miss Eliaaheth ? "
■I j(o — never," said Elizabeth slowly.
" Yoa have a lesson to learn yet."
" I hope I sha'n't learn it," said Elizabeth.
" It must be learned," said Mrs. Landholm gently. " Life
would not be life witbbut it. It is not a bad lesson either."
" It isn't a very pleasant one, Mrs. Landholm," said Eliza-
beth, And she went back to her reading.
" You don't read my book, Miss Elizabeth," the other re-
marked preseatly.
" What is that ? "
Mrs. Landholm looked up agam, and tie look caught Eliza-
beth's eye, as she answered,
" The Bible."
"The Bible! — no, I don't read it much," said Elizabeth.
" Why, Mrs. Landholm ? "
" Why, my dear ? — I hope you will know some day why,
she answered, her voice a little changed.
" But that is not exactly an answer, Mrs. Landholm," said
Elizabeth with some curiosity.
Mrs. Landholm dropped her hands and her stocking into her
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HIIJ.S OF THE SHATEMUC. 99
lap, and looked at the face opposite her. It waa an honest and
intelligent face, very innocent in its igaoraace of life and life-
work.
" What should we do witliout the Bible ? " she asked.
" Do without it 1 Why I have done without it all my days,
Mrs. Landhobn,"
_ " You are mistaken even in that," she said ; " but Miss
Elizabeth, do you think you have lived a hlamelesB life all your
UFq till v.^,r.9 I. ; J O ., •"
life till n
e you never done wrong ?
Why no, I don't think that, — of course I have," Elizabeth ,
answered gravely, and not without a shade of displeasure at the
question.
" Do you know that for every one of those wrong doings vour
life is forfeit ? " & b J
" Why no I "
" And that you are living and Bitting there, only because
Jesus Christ paid his blood for your life ? — Your time is bought
time; — and he has written the Bible to tell you what to°do
_ " Am I not to do what I like with my own time ? " thought
Elizabeth. The thought was exceeding disagreeable; but be-
fore she or anybody had spoken again, the door of the big
bed-room opened geatly, and Miss Cadwallader's pretty face
peeped out.
" Are they all gone to hei ? — are they all gone to bod ? " she
said ; — " may I come, Mrs Landholm ? — "
She was in her dressing-gown, and tripping across the floor
with the prettiest little bare feet in tho world, she took a chair in
the corner of the fireplace.
" 'I^ey got so cold," she said, — " I thought I would come out
and warm them. How cosy aad delightful you do loot here.
Dear Mrs. Landholm, do stop working. What are you talking
about ? "
There was a minute's hesitation, and then Elizabeth said,
" Of reading the Bible."
" The Bible ! oh wliy should one read the Bible ? " she said,
huddling herself up in the corner. " It's very tiresome 1 "
" Do you ever I'ead it, Miss Rose ? "
" I ? — 10, indeed I don't. I am sorry, I dare say you will
think me very wrong, Mrs. Landholm."
" Then how do you know it is tiresome ? "
"01 know it is — I have read it ; and one hears it read, you
know ; but I never want to."
HcsledbyGoOgle
100 THE HILLS OF THE
Her words gratod, perhaps on both her hearers ; but neither
of them answered.
" There was a man oneo," said Mrs. Landholm, " who read it
a great deal ; and he said that it was sweeter than honey and
the honey- comb."
" Who was that ? "
" You may read about him if you wish to," said Mrs. Land-
" But Mrs. Landholm," said Elizabeth, " do you think it is
an interesting book ? "
" Not to those who are not interested in the thin^, Miss
Elizabeth."
" What things ? "
Mrs. Landholm paused a bit.
" A friend to go with you through life's journey — a sure
friend and a strong one; a home ready at the journey's end;
the name and the love of forgiven children, instead of the banish-
ment of offenders ; a clean heart and a right spirit ia place of this
sickly and sin-stricken uatuie I — a Saviour and a Father instead
of a Judge."
It was impossible to forget the reddening eyes and trembling
lips which kept the words company. Elizabeth found her own
quivering for sympathy ; why, she could not imagine. But there
was so much in that face, — of patience and gladness, of strength
and weakness, — it was no wonder it touched her. Mrs. Land-
holm's eyes fell to her work and she took up her stocking again
aud went on darning ; but there was a (|uick motion of her needle
that told how the spirits were moving.
Elizabeth sat still and did not look at her book. Miss Cad-
wallader hugged herself in hor wrapper aud muttered under her
breath something about " stupid."
" Are jour feet warm ? " said Elizabetk.
" Yes."
"Then cornel—"
Within their own room, she shut the door and without speak-
ing went about with a certain quick energy which she accompanied
with more than her usual dignified isolation.
" Who are you angry with now ? " said her cousin.
" Nobody."
" Yes you are, you are angry with me."
" It is of no sort of use to be angry with you."
" Why ? "
"Because I believe you could not he wise if you were to try."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niXLS OF TIIE SHATEMCC. 101
"I think it ia my place to be angry now," said Miss Rose;
giving no otlier inaication of it liowever than a very slight pout-
ing of her under Up. " And alt because I said ' stupid I ' Well I
don't care — they are all stupid — Rufus was as stupid this after-
noon as he could be ; and there is no aeed, for he can be anything
else. He was as stupid ss, he could be."
" What hava you to do with Eufus ? " said Elizabeth stamp-
ing slightly.
" Just what you have to do with Wintlirop — amuse rayself,"
" You know I don't 1 " said Elizabeth, " How dare you say
it 1 I do not choose to have such things said to me. You hnoio,
if that was all, that Wintlirop does not amuse anybody — nobody
ever sees him from meal-time to meal-time. Ton find Rufus very
amusing, and he can talk very well, considering ; but nobody
know3 whether the other one can be amusing for ho never tried,
so far as I know."
" I know," said her couein ; " they are a stupid set, all of
" They are not a stupid set," said Elizabeth ; " there is not
a stupid one of them, from the father down. Tliey are anything
but stupid."
"What does Winthrop do with himself? Eufua isn't so
busy."
" I don't know," said Elizabeth ; " and I am sure I don't care.
He goes for eels, I think, every other night. He has been after
them to-night. He is always after birds or fish or rabbits, when
he isn't on the farm."
" I wonder vrhat people find so much to do on a farm. I
should think they d grow stupid. — It is fanny," said Miss Cad-
wailader as she got into bed, " how people in the country always
think you must read the Bible."
Elizabeth lay a little while thinking about it and then fell
asleep. She bad slept, by tbe mind's unconscious measurement, a
good white, when she awoke again. It startled her to see that a
Tight came flickering through tbe cracks of her door from the
kitchen. She slipped out of bed and softty and quickly lifted the
latch. But it was not the house on firo. The light came from
Mrs. Landholm's candle dying in its socket ; beyond the candle,
on the hearth, was the mistress of the house on her knees. Eliza-
beth would have doubted even thea what she w&s about, but for
the soft whisper of words which came to her ear. She shut tbe
door tis softly and quickly again, and got into bed with a kind of
awe upon her. She bad certainly heard people stand up ia the
HcsledbyGoOgle
102 THE UILLS OF THE 8HATEMU0.
pulpit and mate prayers, and it seemed suitable that other people
should hend upon cushions and bow heads while they did so ; but
that in a common-roofed house, on no particular occasion, any-
body should kneel down to pray when he was alone and for his
own sake, was something that had never come under her know-
ledge ; and it gave her a disagreeable sort of shock. Sho lay
awake and watched to see how soon Mrs. Landholm's light would
go away ; it died, the faint moonlight stole in through the window
unhindered; and still there was no istir in the next room. Eliza-
beth watched and wondered; till after a long half hour sho heard
a light step m the kitchen and then a very light fall of the latch.
She sprang np to look at the moon ; it had but little risen ; she
calealated the time of its rising for eeveral nights back, and
made up her mind that it must be long past twelve. And this a
woman who was tired CTery day with her day's work and had
been particularly tired to-night ! for Elisabeth had noticed it.
It made her uncomfortable. Why should she spend her tired
minutes in praying, after the whole house waa asleep ? and why
was it that Elizabeth could not set her down as a fool for her
pains ? And on the contrary there grew up in her mind, on the
instant, a respect for the whole family that wrapped them about
like a halo.
One morning when Elizabeth came through the kitchen to
mount her horse, Mrs. Landholm was doing some fine ironing.
The blue habit stopped a moment by the iioning-tahle.
" How dreadfully busy you are, Mrs. Landholm."
" Kjt so busy that I shall not come out and see you start,"
she answered. " I always love to do that."
" Winnie," said Elizabeth putting a bank bill into the little
^rl's hand, " I shall make you my messenger. Will you give
fljat to the man who takes care of my horse, for I never see him,
and tell him I say he dora his work beautifully."
Winifred bliwhed and hesitated, and handing the note back
said that she had rather not.
" Won't you give it to him I "
The little girl coloured still more. " He don't want it."
" Keep your money, my dear," said Mrs. Landholm ; " there
is no necessity for your giving him anything."
'■ But why shouldn't I give it to him if I like it ? " said Eliza-
beth in great wonderment.
" It is a boy that works for my father, Miss Haje," said Win-
throp gravely ; " your money would be thrown away upon him."
" But in this ho works for me."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE inLLS OF THli; SllATEMUC. 103
" He don't know that."
" If te don't — M oney isn't thrown away upon anybody, that
ever I heard of," said Elizabeth ; " and besides, what if I choose
to throw it away ? "
" You can. Only that it is doubtful whether it would be
picked up."
" You thini he wouldn't take it? "
" I think it is very likely."
" What a fool ! — Then I shall send away my horse I " said
Elizabeth ; " for either he must he under obligation to me, or I to
him ; and I don't choose the latter."
" Do you espeet to get through the world without being under
obligation to anybody ? " said "Winthrop smiling.
But Elizabeth had turned, and marching out of the house did
not make any reply.
" What's the objection to being under obligation, Miss Eliza-
beth ? " said Mra. Landholm. Elizabeth was mounting her horse,
in which operation Winthrop aseisted her,
" It don't suit me ! "
" Eortune'e suits do not always fit," said Winthrop. " Eat
tLen — "
" Then what ? "—
" She never alters tiem."
Elizabeth's eyes fired, and an answer was on her lip, but
meeting the very composed face of the last speaker, as he put her
foot in the stirrup, she thought better of it. She looliod at him
and asked,
'' What if one does not choose to wear them ? "
" Nothing for it but to fight Fortune," said Winthrop smiling ;
— " or go without any.'
" I would rather go anyhow I " said Elizabeth, — " than be
obliged to anybody, — of course except to my father."
" How if you had a husband ? " inquired Mrs. Landholm with
a good-humoured face.
It was a turn Elizabeth did not like ; she did not answer
Mrs. Landholm as she would have answered her cousin. She
hesitated,
" I neter talk about that, Mrs. Landholm," she said a little
haughtily, with a very pretty tioge upon her cheek; — " I would
not be obliged to anybody but my father; — never,"
" Why?" said Mrs. Landholm. "I don't understand."
" Don't you see, Mrs, Landholm, — the person nnder obliga-
tion is always the inferior,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
104 THE HILLS OF THE
" I never felt It so," ahe replied.
Her guest could not feel, wtat her son did, the strong con-
trast they made. One little head was held as if certainly the
neck had never been bowed under any sort of pressure ; the other,
in its meek dignity, spoke the mind of too noble a level to be
either raised or lowered by an accident.
"It is another meaning of the word, mother, from that you
lire accustomed to," Winthrop said.
Elizabeth looked at him, but nothing was to bo gained from
his face.
" Will you have the goodn^s to hand me ra) riding-whip,"
she said shortly.
" You will have to he obliged to me for that," he said as he
picked it up.
" Yes," said Elizabeth ; " but I pay for this obligation with a
'thank youM"
So she did, and with a bow at once a little haughty and not a
little graceful. It was the pure grace of nature, the very speak-
ing of her mind at the moment. Turning her horse's head she
trotted off, her blue habit fluttering and her little head carried
very gracefully to the wind and her horse's motion. They stood
and looked after her.
" Poor child I " said Mrs. Landholm, — " she has BOmethiDg to
learn. There is good in her too."
" Aj," said her eon, " and there is gold in the earth ; but it
wants hajids."
" Yes," said Mrs. Landholm, — " if she only fell into good
hands — "
It might have been tempting, to a certain class of minds, to
look at that pretty little figure flying off at full trot ia all the
riot of self-guidance, and to know that it only wanted good hands
to train her into something really fine. But Mrs. Landholm went
back to her ironing, and Winthrop to drive his oxen a field.
Elizabeth trotted till she had left them out of sight; and then
walked her horse slowly while she thought what had been meant
by that queer speech of Winthrop's. Then she reminded herself
that it was of no sort of conseijuence what had been meant by it,
and she trotted on again.
Asahel as usual came out to hold her bridle when she re-
turned.
" Asahel, who takes care of my horse ? " she said as she was
dismounting.
" Ain't it handsomely done ? " said Asahel.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE
" Yes, — ^beautifully, Wio does it ? "
" It's somebody that always does things go," said Aaahel orac-
ularly, ft little ill doubt how he should answer.
"Well, who?"
" Don't you know ? "
" Of course I don't I Who is it ? "
" It's Winthrop."
" Winthrop ! "
" Yes. He does it."
Elizabeth's ohoeks burnt.
" Where's that man of yours — whj don't he do it ? "
" Sam ?-— 0 he don't kaoir — I guess he ain't up to it."
Asahel led away the horse, and Elizabeth went into the house,
ready to cry with vesation. But it was cot generally her fashion
to Tcnt vexation so.
" What's the matter now ? " said her cousin. " What adyen-
ture have you met with this morning ? "
"Nothing at all."
" Well what's the matter ? "
"Nothing — ouly I want to lay my whip about somebcJy's
shoulders, — if I could find the right person."
" Well 'taint me," said Rose shrinking. "Look here — I've
got a delicious plaa in my hoad — I'm going to make them take us
in the boat round the bay, after huckleberries."
" Absurd ! "
" What's absurd ? "
" That."
" Why ? "
" Who'll take you ? "
" No matter — somebody, J" don't kuow who ;— Eufus. But
you'll go ? "
"Indeed I won't."
"Why?"
" The best reason in the world. I don't want to."
" But I want jou to go — for my sate, Lizzie,"
" I won't do it for anybody's sake. And Rose — I think you
take a great deal too much of Rufus's time. I don't believe he
does his duty on the farm, and he can't, if you will call upon him
" He's not obliged to do what I ask him," said Rose pouting;
" and I'm not going to stay here if I can't amuse myself. But
come ! — you'll go in the bay after huckleberries ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
lUb THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTJO.
" I Bhall not stir. You muat make up your mind to so with-
out me,"
Which Rose declared was very disagrecahle of her cousin,
and sheeven slied a few tears; hut a rock eould not have received
them with more stony indifference, and thoy were soon dried.
The huckleterry expedition was agreed upon at dinner, Mr,
Landholm heing, as he always was when he could, very agreeable.
In the mean time Wiathrop took the fcoat and went out on the bay
to catch some fish.
It was near the time for him to be back again, and the
whole party were gathered in the keeping-room and in tie door-
way; Elizabeth and Mrs. Landholm with their respective books
and work, the others, children and all, rather on the expecting
order and not doing much of anything; when a quick springy
footstep came round the house comer. Not Winthrop's, they all
knew ; his step was slower and more firm ; and Winthrop's fea-
tures were very little like the round good-humoured handsome
face which presented itself at the front door.
" Mr, Herder I " cried the children. Bat Eose waa fivKt in
his way,
" Miss Cadval-lader 1 " said the gentleman, — " I did not expect
—Mrs, Landhobn, how do you do?— -Miss filisabet' I did not
look for this pleasure. Who would have expect' to see you
" Nobody I suppose," said Elizabeth. " Isn't it pleasant, Mr.
Herder?"
There was a great laughing and shaking of hands between
them; and then Mr. Herder went again to Mrs, Landholm, and
gave the children his cordial greeting. And was made to know
Rufus.
" But where is Wint'rop ? " said Mr. Herder, after they had
done a great deal of talking in ten minutes..
"Wiathrop is gone a filing. Wo expect him home soon."
" Where is he ? Tell mo iriiere he is gone and I will go after
him and bring him back, I know de country, I did not come
to see you, Miss lilisabet' — I have come to see my friend Wint'rop,
And I do not want to stay in de house, never, while it is so
isant wizout,"
" But we are going in the bay after huckleberries," said Rose,
• — -won't you go with us, Mr, Herder?"
" After huckle-berry 1 do not know what is that — yes, I
will go wiz you, and I will go find Wint'rop and bring him home
to go too,"
" He is out on the bay," said Elisabeth ; " I'll take you to him
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMrC. 107
in my boat, Oome Mr. Herder, — I don't want you, Eose ; 111
take nobody but Mr. Herdor ; — we'll go after him."
She ran for her bonnet, seized her oars, and drew Mr. Herder
with her down to the rocks.
It was a soft grey day ; pleasant boating at that or at any
hour, the aun waa so obscured with light clouds. Elizabeth
seated Mr. Herder in the stern of the ' Morry-go-round,' and
pulled out lightly into the bay; he very much amused with her
water-craft.
They presently caught sight of the other boat, moored a little
distance out from the land, behind a poinC
"There he is I" — said Mr. Herder. "But what is be doing?
Ho is not fishing. E.ow your boat soft, Miss Elisabet' hush !
— do not speak wiz your — what is it you call ? — We will catch
iiim — we have the wind — unless he be liko a wild duck — — "
Winthrop'a boat lay still upon the sleepy water, — his fishing rod
dipped its end lazily in, — the cork floated at rest; and the fisher
seated in his boat, was giving his whole attention seemingly to
something in his boat. Very softly and pretty skilfully they
stole up.
He had something of the wild duck about him ; for before
they could get more than near at hand, be had looked up, looked
round, and risen to greet them. By his help the boats were laid
close alongside of each other; and while Winthrop and Mr.
Herder were shaking hands across them, Elizabeth c[uietly leaned
over into the stern of the fishing-boat and took up one or two
books which lay there. The first proved to be an ill-bound, ill
printed, Greek and Latin dictionary ; the other was a Homer !
Elizabeth laid them down again greatly amazed, and wondering
what kind of people she had got among.
" What brings you here now, Mr. Herder ? " said Winthi-op.
" Have you come to look after the American Eagle ? "
" Hal — no — I have not come to look after no eagle; and
yet I do not know — I have come to see you, and I do not know
what you will turn to be — the eagle flics high, you know."
Winthrop was preparing to tie the two boats together, and
did not answer. Mr. Herder stepped from the one he was in and
took a seat in Winthrop's. Elizabeth would not leave her own,
though she permitted Winthrop to attach it to his and to do the
rowing for both ; she sat afar off among her cushions, alone.
" I am not very gallant, Miss Elisabet'," said the naturalist;
" but if you will not come, I will not come back to you. I did
not come to see you this time — I want to speak to this young
American Eagle."
HcsledbyGoOgle
lOS THE UILI-S OF THE SHATEMUO.
And lie settled himself comfortably with hig back to Eliza
beth, and turned to talk to Winttrop, aa ansvrering to his strong
arm the two boats began to fly over tlie water.
" Yon see," he said, " I haye stopped here jnst to see you.
You have not change yonr mind, I hope, about going to de tJni-
veraite ? "
" No sir."
" Goot, In de TJniTersitS where I am, there is a foundation
— I mean by that, the College has monies, that she is iu right to
spead to help those student^ that are not quite rich enough —
if they have a leetle, she gives them a leetle more, till they ean
get through and come out wiz their studies. This Universiti^
has a foundation ; and it is full ; but the President is my friend,
and he knows that I have a friend ; and he said to me that he
would make room for one more, though we are very full, and
take you in; so that it will cost you very little. I apeak that,
for I know that yon could not wish to spend so much as some."
It was a golden chance— if it could but he given to Rufus I
That was not possible ; and still less was it possible that Winthrop
should take it and so make hia brother's ease hopeless, by swallow-
ing np all the little means that of right must go to set him for-
ward first. There was a strong heaving of motives agmnst each
other in Winthrop's bosom. But Ha face did not shew it ; there
was no change in his cool grey eye ; after a minute's hesitation
he answered, lying on his oars,
"I thank yon very much Mr. Herder — I would do it gladly
— hut I am so tied at home that it is impossible. I cannot go."
" Yon can not ? " said the naturalist.
" I cannot — ^not at present — my duty keeps me at home.
You will see me in Mannahatta by and by," he added with a faint
smile and beginning to row again ;— " but I don't know when."
" I wish it womd bo soon," said the naturalist. " I should
like to have you there wiz me. But you must not give np for
difSculties. Yon must come ? "
" I shall come," said Winthrop.
" How would you like this? " said Mr. Herder after ponder-
mg a little. " I have a friend who is an excellent — ^what you
call him ? — ^bookseller — ^Would you like a place wiz him, to keep
his books and attend to his busine^, for a while, and so get up
by degree ? I could get you a place wiz him."
" No sir," said Winthrop smiling; — " the eagle never begins
by being something else."
" Dat is true," said the naturalist. " Well — I wish I could do
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE TTTT,T.H OF THE BHATEMUC. 109
you some goot, but you will not let me ; — and I trust you that
you are right."
"You are a good friend, sir," said Winthrop grateftilly.
"Well — I mean to be," said the otterj nodding tis good-
humoured head.
Elizabeth was too fer off to hear any of this dialogue ; and
she was a little astonished again when they reached the land to
see her boatman grasp her friend's Land and give it a very hearty
shake.
" I shall never forget it, sir," she heard Winthrop say.
" I do not wish that," said the naturalist. " Wliat for should
you remember it ? it is good for nozing."
" Is that boy studying Latin and Greek ? " said Elizabeth as
she and Mr. Herder walked up to the house together.
" That hoy ? That hoy is a very smart boy."
" But is he studying Greek ? "
" What makes you ask so ? "
" Because there was a Greek book and a dictionary there m
the boat with him."
" Then I suppose he is studying it," said Mr. Herder.
Elizabeth changed her mind and agreed to go with the huckle-
berry party ; but she carried a book with her and sat in a comer
with it, seldom giving her eyes to anything beside.
Yet there was enough on every hand to call them away. The
soft grey sky and grey water, the deep heavy-green foliage of the
banla, and the fine quiet outlines of the further mountains, set off
by no brilliant points of light and shade,— made a picture rare in
its kind of beauty. Its eofouring was not the cold grey of the au-
tumn, only a soft mellow chastening of Bummor^B gorgeousncsa.
A little ripple on the water,— a little fleckinesa in the cloud, — a
quiet air ; it was one of summer's choice days, when she escapes
from the sun's fierce watch and sits down to rest herself. But
Elizabeth's eyes, if they wavered at all, were called off by some
burst of the noisy Bociability of the party, in which she deigned
not to share. Her cousin, Mr. Herder, Bufus, Asahel, and
Winifred, were in full cry after pleasure ; and a cheeiy hunt they
made of it,
" Miss filisabet' doM look grave at us," said the naturalist, —
" she is the only ono wise of us all ; she does nothing but read.
What are jou reading, Miss Slisabet' ? "
" Something you don't know, Mr. Herder."
" 0 it's only a novel," said her cousin; " she reads nothing
bnt novels,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
110 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO.
" That's not true, Rose Cadwallader, and jou know it."
" A novel I " said Mr. Herder. " Ak I — yes — ^that is wtat
bhe ladies read — they do not trouble themselves wiz ugly hig dic-
tionaries—thoy have easy times."
He did not mean any reproof; hut Elizaheth's check coloured
exceedingly and for aeveral minutes kept its glow; and thougli
her eyes stiU held to the hook, her mind had lost it.
The boat coasted along the shore, down to the bitad of the bay,
where the huckleberry region began ; and then drew as close in
to the bank as possible. No more was necessary to got at the
fruit, for the bushes grew domi to tbe very water's edge and hung
over, black with berries, though us Asahel remarked, a great
many of them were blue. Everybody had baskets, and now the
fun was to hold the baskets under and fill ffaem from the over-
hanging bunches as fast as they conld; though in the case of one
or two of the party the more summary way of carrying the bushes
off bodily seemed to be preferred.
" And this is huckle-berry," said Mr, Herder, with a bush in
his hand and a berry in his mouth. " Well — it is sweet — a little ;
— it is not goot for much."
"Why Mr. Herder!" said Rose;— " They make excellent
pies, and Mrs. Landhohn has promised to make us some, if we
get enough."
" Pies ! " said the naturalist, — " lot us get a great many huckle-
berry then — ^but I am very sorry I shall not be here to eat the
pies wiz you. PuU us a little, Wint'rop — we have picked every-
thing. Stop !— I see, — I wU! get you some pies I—"
He jumped from the boat and away he went up the bank,
through a thick growth of young wood and undergrowth of alder
and dogwood and bucktho:,^! and maple and hucfleberry bushes.
He scrambled on up hiU, and in a little while came down agam
with a load of fruity branches, which he threw into the boat.
While the others were gathering them up, he gtood still near tlie
edge of the water, looking abroad over the scene. The whole
little bay, with its high green border, the further river-channel
with Diver's Kock setting out into it, and above, below, and over
against him the high broken horizon line of the mountains ; the
flecked grey cloud and the ripply grey water.
" This is a pretty place ! " said the naturalist. " I have seen
no srish pretty place in America. I should love to live here. I
should be a happy man ! — But one does not live for to be hapnv."
he said with half a sigh.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE UILLS OK 'JHE HHATEMUC. Ill
"Odb doesn't live to be happy, Mr. Herder 1 " said Eliaabeth.
" Wtat does one live for, then ? I am sure / live to be happy."
" And I am sure I do," said Eose,
"Ah, jes — you, — ^you may," said the naturalist good-humour-
" When happiness can be foimd ao near the surface," said
Eufus with a satiric glance at the coyer of Elizabeth's book, —
" it would be folly to go further."
" What do you live for, Mr. Herder ? " said Elizabeth, giving
Rafus's words a cool go-by,
" I ? — 0 I live to do my work," said the naturalist.
" And what ia that ? "
" I live to find out the truth — to get at de truth. It is for
that I spend my days and my nights, I have found out some —
I will find out more."
" And what is the purpose of finding out this truth, Mr, Her-
der ?" said Kufus;. — "what isthattoi'! doesn't that make you
happy ? "
" No," said the naturalist with a serious air,—" it does not
make me happy. I must find it out— since it is there — and I
could not be happy if I did not find it ; — but if dere was no
truth to be found, I could mate myself more lappy in some oaer
way."
The fine comers of the youug man's mouth stewed that he
thought Mr. Herdor was a little confused in his philosophy,
" You think one ought to live to be happy, don't you, Mr,
Rufus ? " said Miss Eose.
" No I " said Kufns, with a fire in his eye and lip, and making
at the same time an energetic effort after a difficult branch of
huokleberries, — " no I— -not in the ordinary way ! "
" In what way then f " said the young lady with her favourite
" He has just shewed you, Miss Hose," said Winthrop ; — " in
getting the highest huckleberry bush. It don't make him happy
— only he tad rather have that than another."
"Lot us have your sense of the matter, then," said his brother.
" But Mr. Herdor," said Elizabeth, " why do you want to find
out truth ? — what is it for ? "
" For science — for knowledge ; — that ia what will do goot to
the world and make ozer bappy. It is not to live like a man to
live for him self."
" Then what shovJd one live for," said Elizabeth a little im-
patiently,— " if it isn't to be happy ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
112 THE HILLS OF THE ettATEMUC,
" I would ratlier not live at all," said Rose, her pretty llpa
blaok with huckleberries, which indeed was the ease with the
^'hole party.
" You yourself, Mr. Herder, that is your happiness — to find
out truth, as you say~to advance soience a,iid learning and do
good to other people; you find your own pleasure in it."
" Yes, Mr. Herder," chimed in Rose,—" don't you love flowers
and Btonea and birds and fishes, and beetles, and animals — don't
you lo¥e them as much aa we do doga and horses ? — don't you
love that little black monkey you shewed us the other day ? "
" No, Miss Kose," said the naturalist,—" no, I do not love
them — I do not care for them ; — I love what is back of those
things; dat is what I want."
" And that is your pleasure, Mr. Herder ? "
" I do not know," said the puzzled naturalist, — " maybe it
is — if I could speak German, I would tell you; — Wint'rop, yon
do say nozing ; and you are not eating huckleberries neizer ; —
what do you live for ? "
" I am at cross-purposes with life, just now, sir."
" Cross ? " — said the naturalist.
" Wiuthrop is never cross," responded Aaahel from behind a
thick branch of huckleberry,
" Dat is to the point I " said Mr. Herder.
" Well, speak to the point," said Enfus.
" I think the point is now — or will be presently — to get home."
" But to the first point — what should a man live for ? "
" It's against the law to commit suicide."
" Pish I " said Kufus.
" Come tell ns what you think, Wint'rop," said Mr. Herder.
"I think, sir, I should live to be happy."
" You do I " said the naturalist.
" And I think happiness should be sought in doing aU one
can, first for oneself, and then for other people."
" That win do," said Mr. Herder. " I agree wiz you."
" You are not apt to do first for yourself," said Rufus, with a
tender sort of admission-making.
"I am not sure that first for oneself," said the naturalist
musing.
" Yes sir — or could one ever do much for the world ? "
" Dat is true ; yon are right ! "
" Then at any rate one is to put other people's happiness be-
fore one's own ? " said Elizabeth with a mixed expression of in-
credulity and discontent.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE
113
" It does not seem jaat reasoD, does it?" said Mr. Herder.
" It's what nobody acts up to," said Rose.
" 0 Miss Cadwalladcr," said Asahel,— " mother doea it al-
For which he was rewarded with an inexpressible glance, which
lit upon nothing, however, hut the huckbherries.
" Is that your doctrine, Mr. "Winthrop ? " said Elizabeth.
" No," ho said smiling,—" not mine. Will you sit a little
more in the comer, Miaa Elizaheth ? — "
Eliaaheth took up her book again, and gave eo token of at-
tention to anything else, good or had, till the boat aeared the
rooks of the landing at Shahweetah.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XI.
One day in September it chanced that the house was ieft en-
tirely to the womeiikind. Even Asahel had been taken off by
his father to help in some light matter which his strength was
equal to. Eufus and Winthrop were on the upland, busy with
the fall ploughing; and it fell to little Winifred to carry them
their dinner.
Tho doors stood open, as usua), for it was stOl warm weather,
and the rest of the family were all scattered at their seyeral oc-
cupations. Miss Cadwalladei on the bed, asleep; Karen some-
where in her distant promises out of hearing; Elizabeth sat with
her book in the little passage-way by the open front door, screened
however by amother open door from the keeping-room where Mrs.
Landholm sat alone at her sewing. By and by came in Winifred,
through the kitchen She came in and stood by the fireplace sl-
" Well dear," said the mother looking up from her work, —
" did you find them ? "
The child's answer was to spring to her side, throw her aims
round her neck, and burst into convalsive teara
" Winifred I " — said Mrs. Landholm, putting an arm round
the trembling child, and dropping her work, — " what aila you,
dear?— tell me."
The little girl only .clung closer to her neck and shook in a
passion of feeling, speechless; till the mother's tone became
alarmed and imperative.
" It's nothing, mother, it's nothing," she said, clasping her
bard, — " only — only —
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHA.TEMUC. 116
Tte words were lost again ia what seemed to be uocoutrolla-
fcle weeping.
" Onlj what, dear ? — what ? "
" Winthrop was crying."
And having said tkat, searee audibly, Winifred gave way and
cried aloud.
" Winthrop crying ! — Nonsense, dear, — ^you were mistaken."
" I wasn't— I saw him."
" What was the matter ? "
"I don't know."
" What made you think he was crying 1 "
" I saw him .' " cried the ehOd, who seemed as if she could
hardly bear the question and answer,
" You were mistaken, daughter; — ^he would not' have let you
see him."
" He didn't — ^ho didn't know I was there."
" Where were you? "
" I was behind the fence — I stopped to look at him — ^he didn't
see me."
" Where was he ? "
" He was plongMng."
" What did you see, Winifred ?"
"I saw him — oh mamma ! — I saw him put his hand to hia
eyes, — aud I saw the tears fall — "
Her little head was pressed against her mother's bosom, and
many more tears fell for his than his had been.
Mrs. Landholm was silent a mmute or two, stroking Wini-
fred's head and kissing her.
" And when you went into the field, Winifred, — ^how was he
then ? "
" Just as always."
" Where was Rufus? "
" He was on the other side."
Ag^n Mra. Landholm was sOent.
" Cheer up, daughter," she said tenderly ;— " I think I know
what was the matter with Winthryi, and it's uothmg so very bad
— it'll be set right by and by, I hope. Don't cry any more
about it."
" What is the matter with Mm, mamma ? " said the child look-
ing up with eyes of great anxiety and intentness.
" He wants to read and to learn, aud I think it troubles him
that he can't do that."
HcsledbyGoOgle
116 THE HILLS OF THE
" Is that it ? But mamma, can't he ? " said hia sister with a
face not at all lightened of itg eare.
" He can't just now very well — jau know he must help papa
on the faiin."
" Bat ean't he hy and by, mamma ? "
" I hope so ; — we will try to have him," said the mother, while
tears gathered now in hor grave eyes as her little daughter's were
dried. " But you know, dear Winnie, that God knows host what
is good for dear Governor, and for us; and wo must just ask him
to do that, and not what we fancy."
" But mother," said the little girl, " isn't it right for me to
ask hioi to let Winthrop go to school and learn, as he wants to ? "
" Yes daughter," said the mother, bending forward till her
face rested on the little brow upturned to her, and the gathered
tears falling,—" let us thank God that wo a.ay ask him anything
— we have that comfort — 'In everything, by prayer and suppli-
cation, with thanksgiving,' we may make our requests known unto
him — only we must be willing after all to have him judge and
choose for us."
The child clasped her mother's neok and kbaed her again and
" Then I won't cry any more, mamma, now that I know what
the matter is,"
But Elizabeth noticed when Winthrop came in at night, how
his little sister attached herself to his side, and with what a loving
lip and longing eye.
" Your little sister is very fond of you," she could not help
saying, one moment when Winifred had ruu oE
" Too fond," he said.
" She has a most sensitive organization," said Rufus. " She
is too fond of everything that she loves."
" She is not too fond of you," thought EliBabeth, as Winifi-ed
came back to her other brother, with some little matter which she
thought concerned her and him. ' Sensitive organization I '
What cjueer people these are ! "
Xhey were so queer, that Elizabeth thought she would like to
see what was the farming work with which their bands were filled
and which swallowed up the daily life of these people ; and the
nest day she proposed to go with Winifred when she went the
rounds again with her baskets of dinner. Miss Cadwallader was
glad of any thing that promised a little variety, so sho very will-
ingly made one.
It was a pleasant September day, the great heats gone, a gen-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP TDE B11A.TBMUC. 117
tier state of the air and tbe light; Bummer was just falling graceful-
ly into her place behind the advancing autumn. It was exceeding
pleasant walking, through the still air, and Eliaahetii and her
cousin enjoyed it. But little Winifred was loaded down with
two baskets, one in each Land. They went so for some time.
" Winnie," said Elizabeth at last, " give me one of those — I'll
carry it."
" 0 no ! " said the little girl looting up in some surprise,-—
" they're not very heavy — I don't want any help.''
" G-ive it to me ; you shan't carry 'em both."
" Then take the other one," said Winifred, — "thank you, Mim
Elizabeth— I'm just going to tate this in to father, in the field
here."
" In the field where ? I don't see aaybodj ."
" 0 because the com is so high. You'll 6«e 'em directly.
This is the bend-meadow lot. Father's getting in the corn."
A few more steps accordingly brought them to a cleared part
of the field, where the tall and thick oornstalks were laid on the
ground. There, at some distance, they saw the group of workers,
picking and husking the yellow com, the farm wagon standing by.
Little Winifred crept under the fence and went to them with her
basket, and her companions stood at the fence looking. There
were Mr. Landholm, and Asaliel, Mr. Doolittle and another man,
seen here and there through the rows of corn, Asahel sat by a
heap, busking ; Mr. Landholm was cutting down stalks ; and
bushel baskets 'stood about, empty, or with their yellow burden
shewing above the top.
" I should thinli farmer's work would be pleasant enough,"
Eo3e remarked, as they stood leaning over the fence.
" It looks pretty " said Elizabeth. " But I shouldn't like to
pull com from morning to night ; and I don't believe you would."
" 0, but men have to work, you know," said Miss Cadwallader.
Winifred came baek to them and they went on their way, but
Elizabeth would not let her take the b^ket again. It was a
pretty way ; past the spring where Sam Doolittle had pushed
Winthrop in and Rufus had avenged him; and then up the rather
steep woody road that led to the plam of the tableland. The
trees stood thick, but the ascent was so rapid that they could only
in places hinder the view; and as the travellers went up, the river
spread itself out more broad, and Shahweetah lay below them,
its boundaries traced out as on a map. A more commanding view
of the opposite shore, a new sight of the southern monntains, a
deeper draught from natmre's free onp, they gained as they went
HcsledbyGoOgle
118 I'HE HILLS OF '1
up higher and higher. Eliaaheth had seen it oftea before; she
looked and drank in silence; thongh to-day September was peep-
ing between the hills and shaking his sunny hair ia the Tallies; — ■
not crowned like the receding summer with insupportable bril-
liants.
"I am sorry papa is coming so soon 1" said Elizabeth, after
ehe had stood awhile near the top, looking,
" Why I thought you ■wanted to go home," said her cousin.
" So I do ; — but I don't waut to go away from here."
" What do you want to stay for ? "
" It is so lovely ! — "
" What is 80 lovely f " asked Miss Cadwallader with a tone
of mischief.
Elizabeth turaed away aad began to walk on, an espression of
great disgust upon her face.
" I wish I waa hle^ed with a companion who had thrs b gcaias
of wit ! " she said.
Miss Cadwallader'a light cloud of ill-humoar, it seldom looked
more, came on at this ; and alio pouted till they reached the fence
of the ploughed field where the young men were at work. Here
Elizabeth gave up her basket to Winifred ; and creeping through
the bars they all made for the nearest plough. It happened to
be Winthrop's.
"What's the matter?" said he as they came up. "Am I
wanted for guard or for oarsman ? "
" Neither — for nothing," said Elizabeth. " Go on, won't you ?
I want to see what you are doing."
" Ploughing ? " said he. " Have you never seen it ? "
He went on and they walked beside him ; "Winifred laughing,
while the others watched, at least Elizabeth did minutely, the
process of the share in turning up the soil.
" Is it hard work ? " she asked.
" No, not here ; not when the business is understood."
" Like rowina, I suppose there is a sleight in it ? "
"A good deal so,"
"What has been growing here ? "
"Com."
" And now when you get to the fence you must just turn about
;md make another ridge close along by this one f "
"Yes."
" Goodness ! — ^What's going to be sown here ? "
" Wheat."
" And all this work is just to make the ground soft for the
seeds 1 "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THK HLLLH OF THE SIIATEMDC, 119
" Why woulda't it do just as well to make holes in the groimd
and put the seeds in ? " said Misa Oadwallader;— " without taking
so much trouble ? "
" It ia not merely to make the ground soft," said Winthrop
gravely, while Elizabeth's bright eye glanced at him to mark his
behaviour. " The soil might he broken without being bo thorough-
ly turned. If you see, Miss Elizabeth, — the slice taken off by
the stare ia laid bottom upwards."
" I see— well, what is that for ? "
" To give it the beaefit of the air."
" The benefit of the air I—"
" The air has a sort of eniiching and quickening influence
upon the soil ; — if the land has time and chance, it can get back
from the air a great deal of what it lost in .he growing of crops."
" The soil lofios, then ? "
" Certainly; it loses a great deal to some crops."
" What, for instance '( "
"Wheatis a great feeder," said Winthrop; "so is Indian corn."
" By its being ' a great feeder', you niean that it takes a great
deal of the nourishing quality of the soil ? "
" Yes."
" How many things I do not know ! " said Elizabeth wistfully.
In the little pause which ensued, Winifred took her chance
to say,
" Here's your dinner. Governor."
" Then when the ground is ploughed, is there anything else to
he done before it is ready for the wheat ? "
"Only harrowing."
Elizabeth mused a little while.
" And how much will the wheat he worth, Winthrop, from all
thia field 1 "
" Perhaps two hundred dollars ; or two hundred and fifty."
" Two hundred and fifty. — And then the expenses are some-
" Less to us," said Winthrop, '■ because we do so much of the
labour ourselves."
" Here's your dinner, Winthrop," said Winifred ; — " shall I
set it under tho tree ? "
" Jfes no, Winifred, — you may leave it here."
" Then stop and eat it now. Governor, won't you ? — don't
wait any longer."
He gave his little sister a look and a little smile, that told of
an entirely other page of his life, folded in with the ploughing
HcsledbyGoOgle
120 THE mLLB OF THB SHATEMDC.
experience ; a word and look very different from any he had
given his questioners. Other indications Elizabeth's eye had
caught under ' the tree,' — a single large beech tree which stood
by the fence some dietanee off. Two or three books lay there.
" Do you find time for reading here m the midst of your
ighiog, Mr. Winthrop ? "
" Not much — sometimes a little in the noon-speU," he an-
swered, colouring slightly,
Thoy left him and walked on to visit Rufua. Elizabeth led
near enough to the tree to make sure, what her keen eye knew
pretty well already, that one of the books was the very identical
old brown-covered Greek and Latin dictionary that she had seen
in the boat. She passed on and stood silent by Rufua's plough.
" Well, we've come to see yoa, Rufus," said Miss Cad-
wallader.
' I thought you had conce to see my brother," said he.
" I didn't come to see either one or the other," said Elizabeth
" I came to see what you are doing."
" I hope you are gratified," said the young man a little tartly.
" What's the use of taking so much trouble to break up the
ground ? " said Rose.
" Because, unfortunately, there is no way of doing it without
trouble," said Rufus, looking unspoken bright things into the fur-
row at his feet.
" But why couldn't you just make holes in the ground and put
the seed in ? "
" For a reason that you will appreciate. Miss Rose, if you will
put on your bonnet the wrong way, with the front precisely
where the back should be."
" I don't imderstand," — said the young lady, with something
of an inclination to pout, Will's face was so full of understanding.
" It isn't necessary that you should understand such a busi-
ness," he said, becoming grave. " It is our fortune to do it, and
it is yours to have nothing to do with it, — which is much better."
" I have the happiness to disagi-ee with you, Mr. Rufus,"
said Elizabeth.
" In what?"
" In thinking that we have nothing to do with it, or that it is
not neoessary we should understand it "
" I don't seo the happiness, Miss Elizabeth ; for your disagree-
ment imposes upon you a necessity which I should think better
avoided,"
" Which ploughs the best, Rufus ? " aaid Rose ; — " you or
Winthrop ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HTT.T,S OF THE SHATEMTO. 121
" There is one kind of ploughing," said Eufus biting his lip,
" which Wiuthrop doesn't understand at all,"
" Aad jou understand them all, I suppose ? "
He didn t answer.
" What is the kind he does aot understand, Mr. Bufus? "
said Elizaheth.
" Ploughing with another man's heifer."
" Why what's that, Rafus ? I don't know what jou meau,"
said Miss Cadwallader.
No more did Elizabeth, and she Lad no mind tn engage the
speaker on unequal terms. She called her cousin off and took
the road home, leaving Winifred to speak to hei brother and
follow at her leisure.
" How different those two people are," she remarked.
" Which one do you like best r "
" Winthrop, a great deal,"
" I know you like him the best," said her cousin wilfully.
" Of eouxse you do, for I tell you,"
" I don't. I like the other a great deal the best."
" He wasn't very glad to see us," said Eliaabetli.
"Why wasn'- ■ - " '
" The other o
" Aad what did this one care
" He oared, — " said Elizabeth.
"Well I like ho should — the other one don't care about
anything.'
" Yes he does," said Elizabeth.
" I shall give Mr. Ilaye a hint — that he had better not send
you here another summer," said Eoso wittily ; — " there is no
telling what anybody will care for. I wouldn't have thought it
" Can't you bo sensible about anything ! " said Elizabeth, with
a sort of contemptuous impatience. " If I had anybody else to
talk to, I would not give you the benefit of my thoughts. I tell
them to yoTi because I have nobody else ; and I really wish you
could make up your mind to answer me as I deserve ;— or not
" You are a strange girl," said Miss Cadwallader, when they
had walked in company with ill-humour as far as the brow of
the hilL
" I am glad you think so."
" Yoa are a great deal too old for your age."
3 he was. Ho was as glad as the
idn't cai-e twopence about it."
HcsledbyGoOgle
133 THE HILLS or THE eHATEMlTC.
" I am not I " said Elizabeth, wlio shadiEg ter eyes witli her
hand had again stopped to look over the landsoape, " I should he
very sorry to think that. You are two years older, Rose, in body,
than I am ; and tea years older in spirit, this minute."
" Does the spirit grow old faster than the hody ? " said Rose
laughing.
" Yes — sometimes. — How pretty all that is I "
' That ' meant the wide view, below and before them, of river
and hill and meadow. It was said with a little breath of a sigh,
and Elizabeth turned away and began to go down the road.
Winifred gave it as her opinion to her mother privately,
after they got home, that iliss Haye was a very ill-behaved
young lady.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEK SII.
The IhlTLg WB long for, tiat we are,
For ooe tranEcaident moment,
Belbie tlie Pieudt, poor and bun,
Can nuk« iU UMtjiig somioent
sua tbroDsb oai.pclDy aUr and ulrUb
GlcnvB down tbe vi^d LJeal,
And Longliig monMa )o day yiiat Lil
Mr. Have came the latter part of September to fetch his
daughter and his charge home; and spent a day or two ia going
over the ferm and making himself acquainted with the rivor.
He ■maa a handsome man, and very comfortahle in face and figure.
The wave of prosperity had risen up to his very lips, and its rip-
ples were forever breaking there ia a succession of easy smilea.
He made himself readily at home in the family ; with a well-
mannered sort of good-humour, which seemed to belong to his
fine broadcloth and beautifully plaited ruffles. Mr. Landholm
was not the only one who enjoyed his company. Between him
and Eufus and Miss Cadwallader and Mr. Haye, tfao round game
of society was kept up with great spirit.
One morniug Mr, Haye was resting himself with a book in
•his daughter's roomj he had had a long tramp with the farmer.
Rose went oat in search of something more amusing. Elizabeth
sat over her book for awhile, then looked up.
" Father," she said, " I wish you could do something to help
that young man."
" What young man ? "
" Winthrop Landholm."
" What does he want help for ? "
" He ia trying to get an education — trying hard, I fancy," said
Elizabeth, putting down her book and looking at her father, —
"he wants to make himself something more than a farmer."
HcsledbyGoOgle
124 THE HILLB OF THE SHATEMTIO.
" Why ehoTiId he want to make liimself anything more than a
farmer ? " said Mr. Haje without looking off his book.
" Why would you, sir ? "
" I would just as lief be a farmer as anything else," said Mr.
Eaye, " if I had happened t« be bom in that line. It's as good
a way of life as any other."
" Why father ! — ^You would rather be what you are aow V
" Well— I wasn't horn a farmer," said Mr. Ilaye conclu-
sively. , , ,
" Then you would have eyerybody stay where he happens to
"I wouldn't have anything about it," said Mr. Haye.
" That's what I want for myself— let other people do what they
will"
"But some people can't do what they will."
I' Well— Be thankful you're not one of 'em."
" Father, if I can havo what I will, I would have you help
this young man."
" I don't know how to help him, child ;— he's not m my yraj.
If he wanted to go into business, there would be something in it,
but T have nothing to do with schools and Colleges."
Elizabeth's cheek lit up with one of the prettiest colours a wo-
man's cheek ever wears,— the light of generous indignation.
" I wish J had the means ! " she said.
" What would you do with it ? "
" I would help him, somehow." ,
" My dear, you could not do it ; they would not let you ; their
pride would stand in the way of everything of the kind."
" I don't believe it," said Eiizabeth, the fire of her eye shin-
ing now through drops that made it brighter ; — " I am sure
something could be done."
" It's just as well undone," said Mr, Haye calmly.
" Why, sir ? "—his daughter asked almost fiercely.
"What put this young fellow's head upon Colleges, and all
that ? "
" I don't know, sir ! — how should I ?
" It won't last — it's just a freak to he a great man and get
out of hob-nailed shoes— he'll get over it; and much better he
should. It's much better he should stay hero aud help his father,
and that's what he's made for. He'll never be anythmg else.
Mr. Haye threw down his hook and left the room; and his
daughter stood at the window with her heart swelling.
" He wiU he something else, and he'll not get over it," she
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMtlC. 125
eaad to herself, while ter eyes were too full to let her see a single
tMng outside the window. " He is fit for something else, andlie
will have it, hard or easy, short or long; and I hope he will ! —
and oh, I wish father had done what would be for his honour in
thia thing ! — "
There was a bitter taste to the last sentence, and tears would
not wash it out. Elizabeth was more superb than ordinary that
night at supper, and had neither smiles nor words for anybody.
A day or two after they were going away.
" Winthrop," she said at parting, (not at all by familiarity,
but because she did not in oommon grant them a right to any
title whatsoever) — ■" may I leave you my little Metry-go-round ?
— and will you let nobody have the charge of it except yourself ? "
He smiled and thanted her,
" 'Tisn't much thanks," she s^d ; meaning thanks' worth.
"It is I who have to thank you."
For she felt that she could not send any money to the boy
who had taken oare of her horse.
The family party gathered that night round the supportable
with a feeling of relief upon several of them. Mr. LandhoJm'a
face looked satisfied, aa of a man who had got a difficult job well
over; Mrs. Lacdiioim's took time to be tired; Winthrop's was as
usual, though remembering with some comfort that there would
not be so many wantings of fish, nor so many calls upon his
strength of arm for boat exercise. Rufna was serious and
thoughtful ; the children disposed to be congratulatory.
" It's good I can sit somewhere but on the corner," s^d Aaa-
hel, — " and be by ourselves."
" It's good I can have my old place again," said Winifred,
" and sit by Governor."
Her brother rewarded her by drawing lip her chair and draw-
ing it closer.
" I am glad they are gone, for your sake, mamma," he said.
" Well, we haven t ni^de a bad summer of it," said Mr. Land-
Hia wife thought in her secret soul it had been a busy one.
Winthrop thought it had been a barren one. Eufus — was not
ready to say quite that
" Not a bad summer," repeated Mr. Landholm. " The next
thing is to see wh it we will do with the winter."
" Or what the winter wOl do with us," said Kufus after a mo-
" If you like it so," said his father ; " but I prefer the other
HcsledbyGoOgle
126 THE HILL8 OF THE 8HATEMUC.
mode of putting it. I'd keep the upper hand of time always ; —
I apeak it reverently,"
Winthrop thought how completely the summer had got tha
better of him.
" My friend Ilaye is a good fellow — a good follow. I like
' ' He and I wore always together in the legislature. He's a
" He is a gentlemam," said Eufus.
" Ay — Wei! he has money enough to be. That don't always
do it, though. A man and his coat aren't always off the same
piece. Those are nice girk of hie, too ; — pretty girls. That
Rose is a pretty creature I — I don't know but 1 like t'other one as
well in the long tub though, — come to know her."
"I do — better," said Mrs. Landhobn, "There is good in
her."
"A Bound stock, only grown a little too rank," said Win-
" Yes, that's it. She's a little overtopping. Well, there will
come a drought by and by that will cure that."
" Why sir ? " said Rufus.
" The odds aro that way," said his father, " 'Taint a stand-still
world, this ; what's up to-day is down to-morrow. Mr. Haye
may hold his owa, though ; and I am sure I hope he will — for his
sak:e and her sake, both."
" He is a good bu.sineas man, isn't he, sir ? "
" There aint a better business man, I'll engage, than he is, in
the whole city of Mannabatta ; and that numbers now, — sixty odd
thousand, by the last census. He knows how to take care of
himself, as well as any man I ever saw."
" Then he bids fair to stand 1 "
" I don't believe auybody bids fairer. He was trying to make
a business man of you, wa'n't he, the other day ? "
" He was saying something about it^"
" Would you like that ? "
" Not in the first place, sir."
" No. Ah well — we'll see, — ^we'U see," said Mr. Landholm
rising up ; — " we'll try and do the best we can."
What was that ? A question much mooted, by different peo-
ple and in very differect moods; but perhaps most anxiously and
carefully by the iather and mother. And the end was, that he
would borrow money of somebody, — say of Mr, Haye, — and they
would let both the boys go that fall to College. If this were not
the best, it was the only thing they could do ; so it seemed to
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 127
them, and 80 ttey spoke of it. How the young men were to be
k^t at College, no mortal knew ; the father aad mother did not;
but the preeaure of aecessitj and the strength of will took and
carried the whole burden. The boja must go ; they should go ;
and go they did.
In a strong yearning that the minds of their children should
not lack bread, in the self-denjing love that would risk any hard-
^ip to give it them, — the father and mother found their way
Elain if not easy before them. If his sons were to mount to _a
igher scale of existence and fit themselves for nobler work in
life than he had done, his shoulders must thenceforth bear a
double burden ; but they were wiiling to bear it. She must lose,
not only, the nurtured joys of her hearthstone, but strain every
long-strained nerve afresh to keep them where she could not
see and could but dimly enjoy them; but she was willing.
There were no words of regret; and thoughts of sorrow
lay with thoughts of love at the bottom of their hearts, too
fast-bound together and too mighty to shew themselves except
in action.
The money was borrowed easily, upon a mortgage of the
farm. President Tuttle was written to, and a favourable answer
received. There was a foundation at Shagaraek, as well as at
Mannahatta; and Will and Winthrop could be admitted there
on somewhat easier terms than were granted to those who could
afford better. Some additions were made to their scanty ward-
robe from Mr. Cowslip's store; and at home unwearied days and
nights were mven to making up the new, and renewing and refur-
bishing the oid and the worn. Old aocks were re-toed and re-
footed ; old trousers patched so that the patch could not be seen j
the time-telling edg;B of collars and wristbands done over, so
that they would last awhile yet; mittens knitted, and shirts
made. It was a little wardrobe when all was done; yet how
much time and care had been needed to bring it together. _ It
was a dear one too, though it had cost little money; for it might
almost be said to have been made of the heart's gold. Poor
Winifred's love was less wise than her mother's, for it could not
keep sorrow down. As yet she did not know that it was not bet-
ter to sit at her father's board end than at either end of tie
highest form at Shagaraek. She knitted, socks and stockmgs, all
the day long, when her mother did not want her ; but into them
she dropped so many tears that the wool was sometimes wet with
them; and as Karen said, half mournfully and half to Mde
her mourning, " they wouldn't want shriokiug." Winthrop
HcsledbyGoOgle
128 THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUO.
came in one day and found her crying in the chimney corner,
and taking the half-knit stocking from her hand he felt her
tears in it.
" My little Winnie ! — " he said, in that voice with which he
sometimes spoke his whole heart.
Winifred sprang to his neck and closing her arms there, wept
as if she would weep her life away. And Sufua who had followed
Winthrop in, stood beside them, tear after tear falling quietly on
the hearth. Winthrop's tears nobody knew but Winifred, and
even in the bitterness of her distress she felt and tasted them
all.
The November days seemed to grow short and drear with
deeper shadows thaa eommoa, as the last were to see the boys go
off for Shagarack. The fiagers that knitted grew more tremu-
lous, and the eyes that wrought early and late were dim with more
than weariness ; but neither fingers nor eyes gave themselves any
holiday. The work was done at last ; the boxes were packed ;
those poor little boxes ! They were but little, and they had
seen service already. Of themselves they told a story. And
they held now, safely packed up, the College fit-out of the two
young men.
"I wonder if Shagarack is a very smart place, mamma?"
said Winifred, as she crouched beside the boxes watching the
packing,
" Why ? "
Winifred was silent and looked thoughtfully into the box.
" Bufua and Governor will not care if it is."
" They needn't eare " said Asahel, who was also at the box
side. " They can bear lo be not quite so smart as other folks.
Mr. Haye saii he never saw such a pair of young men; and I
guess he didn't."
Winifred sighed and still looked into the box, with a face
that said plainly s?ie would like tn have them smart.
" 0 well, mamma," she said presently, " I guess they will
look pretty nice, with all those new things; and the socks are
nice, aren't they ? If it was only summer — nobody can look
nicer than Winthrop when he has his white clothes on."
" It will be summer by and by," said Mrs. Landholm.
The evening came at last; the supper was over; and the
whole family drew together round the fire. It was not a very
talkative evening. They looked at each other more than they
spoke ; and they looked at the fire more than they did either.
&.t last Mr. Landholm went off, recommending to all of them to
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMrC. 139
go to bed. Asahel, who Lad been in good spirits on tiie matt«r
all along, followed his father. Tbe motter and daughter and the
two boys were left alone round tho kitchen fire.
They were more silent than ever then, for a good space; and
four pair of eyes were bent diligently on the rising and falling
flames. Only Winifred's sometimes wandered to the face of one
or the other of her brothers, but they never could abide long, It
was Mrs. Landholm's gentle voice that broke tlie silence.
" What mark are jou aiming at, boys ? — what are you setting
before you as the object of life?"
" What mark, mother ? " said Eufus after an instant's pause.
" Yes."
" To make something of mjfself 1 " he said rising, and with
that fire-flaahing nostril and lip that spoke his whole soul at work.
" I have a chance now, and it will go hard but I will accomplish
it"
The mother's eye turned to her other son,
" I believe I must say the same, mother," he replied gravely.
" I have perhaps some notion of doing, afterwards ; but the first
thing is to be myself what I can bd. I am DOt, I feel, a tithe of
"I agree with you — you are right, so far," answered the
mother, turning her face again to the fire ; — " but in the end,
what is it you would do, and would be ? "
" Profession, do you mean, mamma ? " said Bufus.
" No," she said , and he needed not to ask any more.
" I mean, what is all this for ? — what purpose lies behind all
this ? "
"To distinguish myself!" said Rufua, — "if I can, — in some
way."
" I am. afraid it is no better thau that with me, mother," said
Winthrop ; " though perhaps I should rather say my desire is to
" What's the difference ? " said his brother.
" I don't know. I think I feel a difference."
" I am not going to preach to you now," said Mrs. Landholm,
and yet the slight failing of her voice did it — how lastingly 1 —
" I cannot, — and I need not. Only one word. If you sow and
reap a crop that will perish in the using, what will you do when
it is gone ? — and remember it is said of the redeemed, that their
works do follow them. Eemember that. One word more,"
she said after a pause. " Let me have it to say in that day, —
' Of all which thou gavest me have I lost none ' I. "
6*
HcsledbyGoOgle
130 THE HILLS OJf Tllli SHATBlIirC-
Not preach to them ? And what was her hidden face and
bowed head ? — a preaching the like of whicli they were never to
hear from mortal voices. But not a word, not a lisp, fell from one
of them, Wini&ed had run off; the rest hardly stirred ; till
Mrs. Landtolm rose up, and gravely kissing one and the other
prepared to leave the room,
" Where is Winifred ? " said her brother suddenly missing her.
" I don't know. I am sure she is somowhere praying for
They said no more, even to each other, that night.
Nor much the next day. It was the time for doing, not think-
ing. There was not indeed much to do, except to get oif; hut
that seemed a great deal. It was done at last, Mrs, Land-
holm from the window of the kitchen watched them get into
the wagon and drive off; and then she sat down by the window
Asahel had gone to ride as far as the mountain's foot with hia
father and brothers; and Winifred knelt down beside her mother
to lean her head upon her ; they could not get near enough just
then. It waa only to Lclp each other weep, for neither could
comfort the other nor be comforted, for a time. Yet the feeling
of the two, like as it seemed outwardly, was far unlike within. In
the child it was the spring flood of a little brook, bringing, to be
sure, momentary desolation ; in the mother it was the flow of the
great sea-, still and mighty. And when it grew outwardly ijuiet,
the Bsxae depth was there.
They got into each other's arms at last, and pressed cheek to
cheek and kissed each other many times ; but the first word was
Mrs. Landholm's, saying,
" Come — we had better go and get tea — Asahel will ho back
directly."
Asahel came back in good spirits, having had his cry on the
road, and they all took tea with what cheerfulness they might.
But after tea Winifred sat in the chimney corner gaaing into the
fire, very still and pale and worn-looking; her sober blue eyes
intently fixed on something that was not there. Very intently,
so that it troubled her mother; for Winifred had not strength of
frame to bear strong mind-working. She watched her,
" What, mamma ? " said the little girl with a half start, as
a hand was laid gently and remindingly upon her shoulder,
" I should rather ask you what," said her mother tenderly.
" Best, daughter, can't you ? "
" I wasn't worrying, i
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 131
" Wa'n't you ? "
" I was thinking of ' They have washed tiieir rohes and mado
tliem white in the blood of the Lamh.' "
" Why, dear 1 "
" I am BO glad I can wash mine, mother."
" Yes — Why, my dear ehild ? "
" There are so many spots on them."
Her mother stooped down beside her aad spoke oheerfiilly,
" What are you thinking of now, Winnie ? "
" Only, mamma, I am glad to think of it," she said, nestling
her sunny Jittle head in her mother's neck. " I wanted yesterday
that Will and Governor should have better clothes."
" Well Winnie, I wanted it too — I would have givea them
belter if I liad had them."
" But mamma, ought I to have wished that ? "
" Why yes, dear Winnie ; it ia a pleasant thing to have com-
fortable clothes, and it is right to wish for them, provided we
oan he patient when wo doa't get them. But still I think dear
Governor and Will will be pretty comfortable this winter. We
will try to make them so,"
" Yea mamma, — but I wanted them to be smart."
" It is right to bo smart, Winnie, if we aren't too smart."
" I wish I could bo always just right, mamma."
" The Tightest thing will bo for you to go to sleep," said her
mother, kissing her eyes and cheeks. " I'll be through my
work directly and then you shall sit in my lap and rest — I don't
want to sew to-night. Winnie, the good Shepherd will gather
my little lamb with hia arm and carry her in his bosom, if she
niinds his voice ; and then he will bring her by and by where she
shall walk with him in white, and there will bs no spots on the
white any more."
" I know. Make haste, mother, and let us sit down together
and talk."
So they did, with Asahel at their feet ; but they didn't talk
much. They kept each other silent and soft companionship, till
Winifred's breathing told that she had lost her troubles in sleep
on her mother's bosom.
" Poor little aoul 1 she takes it hard," said Karen. " She's
'most as old aa her mother now."
" You must get her to play with you, Asahel, as muoh as you
can," Mrs. Landholm said in a whisper.
" Why mamma? aint she well ? "
" I don't know — I'm afraid she wont keep so."
HcsledbyGoOgle
133 THE niLLS OF TIIK BHATEMEIC.
" She's too good to le well," said Karen.
Which waa something like true. Not in the vulgar preju-
dice, as Karen understood it. It was not Winifred's goodness
whicli threatened her well-being; but the very delicate spirits
which answered too promptly and strongly c¥ery touch; too
strong in theii acting for a bodily frame in ]"' ' "
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XIII.
jBsss.— Ho Iiati iodeed, better belterefl eipeotallDn, than jon mtit espeot me la tell
Ifdnf— ne liath sn imds here In Messina will be very mnoh glad nf It,
Me. Landholm came back in excellent spirits from Stagaraok.
The boys were well entered. Will Junior and Winthrop Sopho-
more, and with very good credit to tliemselves. This had been
their hope and intention, with the view of escaping the cost of
one and two years of a college life. President Tuttle had received
them very kindly, and everything was promising; the hoya in
good heart, and tiieir father a proud man.
" Aint it queer, now," he said that evening of his return, aa
he sot warming his hands before the blaze, " aint it queer tiat
those two fellows should go in like that — one Junior and t'other
Sophomore, and when they've had BO chance at all beforehand,
you may say. Will has been a little better, to be sure ; but
Low on earth Winthrop ever prepared himself I can't imagine.
Why the fellow read off Greek there, and I didn't know he had
ever seen a word of it."
" He used to learn up in his room o' nights, father," said
Asahel.
" He used to carry his books to the field and study while the
oxen were resting," said Winifred.
"He did! — Well, he'll get along. I aint afeard of him.
He won't be the last man in tne College, I guess."
" 1 guess not, father," said Asahel.
And now the months sped along with slow step, bringing toil-
work for every day. It was cheerfully taken, and patiently
wrought through; both at Shagaraok and in the little valley at
home ; but those were doing for themselves, and these were truly
HcsledbyGoOgle
134 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
doing love's work, for them. All was for them. The crops were
grown and the sheep sheared, that Rufus and Winthrop might,
not eat and be clothed,— that was a trifle, — but have the full
good of a College education. The burden and the joy of the
toilers was the same. There were delightful speculations round
the fireside about the professions the youBg men would choose ;
what profound lawyers, what brilliant ministers, should come
forth from the learned groves of Shagarack; perhaps, the father
hinted, — statesmen. There were letters from both the boys, to
be read and re-read, and loved and prided in, as once those of
Eufus. And clothes eame home to mend, and new and nice knit-
ted socks went now and then to replace the worn ones; but that
commerce was not frequent nor large ; where there was so little
to make, it was of necessity that there should not be too much
to mend; and alas! if shirt-bosoms gave out, the boys buttoned
their eoats over tbem and studied the harder. There were wants
they did not tell ; those that were guessed at, they knew, cost
many a strain at home ; and were not al! met then. But they
had not gone to Shagarack to be 'smart,' — except mentallv.
That they were. ^
They were favourites, notwithstanding. Their superiors de-
lighted in their intellectual prominence; their fellows forgave
it. Quietly and irresistibly they had won to the head of their
respective portions of the establishment, and stayed there ; but
the brilliancy and fire of Bufus and the manliness and temper
of his brother gained them the general good-will, and general
consent to the place from which it was impossible to dislodge
them. Admiration first followed the elder brother, and liking
the younger; till it was found that Winthrop was as uncon-
querable as be was unassuming; as sure to be ready as to be
right; and a very thorough and large respect presently fell into
the train of his deservings. The faculty confided in him ; his
mates looked up to him. There was happily no danger of any
affront to Winthrop which might have called fiufus's fire disa-
greeably into play. And for himself, be was too universaOy
popular. If he was always in the foreground, everybody knew
it was because he could not be anywiiere else. If Winthrop was
often brought into the foreground, on great occasions, every soul
of them knew it was because no other would have dignified it so
well. And besides, neither Winthrop nor Bufus forgot or seemed
to forget the grand business for which he was there. With all
their diversity of manner and disposition, each was intent on the
same thing, — to do what he bad come there to do. Lasting emi-
HcsledbyGoOgle
TEE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 135
nence, not momentary pre-eminence, was what they sought ; and
that was an ambition which moat of tkeir compeers had no care
to dispute with thom.
" Poor fellows i " said a gay young money-purser ; " they aro
working hard, I suppose, to get themaekes a place in the eye of
the world,"
" Yes sir," said the President, who overheard this speech ; —
" and they will by and by be where you can't see tliem."
Ttey came home for a few weeks in the summer, to the un-
speakable rejoicing of the whole family ; but it was a break of
light in a olo\idyday; the clouds closed again. Only now and
then a stray sunbeam of a letter found its way through.
One year had gone since the boys went to College, and it was
late in the fall again. Mr. Underbill, who had been on a jour-
ney hack into the country, came over one morning to Mr. Land-
" Good morning 1 " said the farmer, " Well, you've got
back from your journey into the interior."
" Yes," said Mr. Underbill, — " I've got back."
" How did you find tliiDgs looking, out there ? "
" Middlmg ; — thoir winter crops are higher up than yours
and mine be."
''Ay. I suppose they've a little the start of us with the sun.
X)'ii you come through Shagarack?"
" Yes — I stopped there a uight,"
" Did you see my boys ? "
" Yes — I see 'em."
""Welt — what did they say? "said the father, with his eye
alive.
" Well — ^not much," said Mr, Underhill.
" They were well, I suppose ? "
" Firstrate — only Winthrop looked to me as if he was workin'
pretty hard. He's poorer, by some pounds, I guess, than he waa
when ho was to hum last August."
" Didn't he look as usual? " said the father with a smothered
%nxiety.
" There wa'n't no other change ii
kind. I didn't know as Rufus was
first."
" He hasn't seen much of you for some time."
" No ; and folks lose their memory," said Mr. Underbill. " I
saw the — ^what do you call bim ? — tlie boss of the eoueern —
president! — President Tuttle. I saw liim and had quite a talk
frith him."
HcsledbyGoOgle
136 THE Tni.T.a OF THE SHATEMtlC.
" The president 1 How came you to see him ? "
"Well, 'taint much to see a man, I a'pose, — is it? I took a
notiou I'dsee him. I wanted to ask him how Will and Winthrop
waa a getting along, I told him I was a friend o' yourc."
" Well did you ask him ? "
« Yea I did.
" WJiat did he say ? " said Mr. Landholm, half laughing,
" I asked him how they were getting along."
" Ay, and what did he answer to that ? "
" He wanted to know if Mr. Landholm had any more sons ? "
" Was that all? " said the farmer, laughing quite,
" That was tho huU he said, with a kind of kink of his eye
that wa'u't too hig a sum for me to cast up. He didn't give me
no more eatisfeetion than that."
" And what did you tell him — to Lis question ? "
"If — I told him that two such plants took a mighty sight
of room to grow, and that the hull county was clean used i^."
" You did 1 " said Mr. Landholm laughing heartily. " Pretty
well ! — ^prcttj^ good ! — Have some tobacco, neighbour ? "
" How is it ? " said Mr. Underhill taking a bunch gravely,
" Firat-ratCj— / think. Try."
Which Mr. Underhill did, with slow and careful considera-
tion. Mr, Landholm watched him eomplaeently.
" I've seen worse," he remarked dryly at length. " Where
did you get it, squire ? "
"Kowhere short of the great city, neighbour. It came from
Mannahatta."
" Did, hey ? Well, I reckon it might. Will you trade ? "
" With what ? " said Mr. Landholm.
" Some of this here."
"With you?"
" Yea,"
" Well — let's hear," said the farmer.
"Don't you think the post ought to be paid ? " said Mr, Un-
derbill, diving intfl some far-down pockets.
" Why, are you the post ? "
" Don't you think that two sealed letters, now, would be worth
a leetle box o' that 'ere f
" Have you brought 1 tt f m th I y
" Well I don't know wh w t m d Mr. Underhill ;-
" they guT 'em to me."
Mr. Landholm took th 1 tt d w th ery willing face
went for a 'little box,' wh hh fill Iw th tJ M nahatta tobacco.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATESHJO. 137
" Old Cowslip don't keep anything like this," Mr. UnderBil!
said as he received it and atowed it coolly away in Bis pocket.
" I mean to shew it to him."
" Will you stay to dinner, neighbour ? "
" No thank 'ee — IVe got to get over the river ; and my little
Woman'll have aomething cooked for me ; and if I wa'n't there
to eat it I shouldn't hear the last of my wastefuinesa."
" Ay? is that the way she does ? " said Mr. Landholm laugh-
ing,
" Something like it. A tight grip, I tell ye I "
And with these words Mr. Underbill took hiroself out of the
house.
" Where's your mother, Aaabel f call her and tell her what's
here," said Mr. Landholm, aa he broke one of the seals.
"Shaoaback, Dee. 3, 1810.
" My dear Parents,
" I take the opportunity of friend Underbill's going home
to send joii a word — I can't write roucb more than a word, I'm
SO busy. I never drove my plough at home half so industriously
as now I am trying to break up and sow the barren fields of mind.
But oh, this is sweeter labour than that. How ahall I ever repay
you, my dear father and dear mother, for the efforts you are ma-
king— and enduring — to give me this blessing. I feel them to
my very heart— I know them much better than from your words.
And perhaps thra poor return of words is all I shall ever be
able to make you, — when it aeema to me aometimes as if I could
spill my very Leairt t* thank you. But if success can thank you,
you nhall be thanked. I feel that within me which saya I shall
Lave it. Tell mother the box came safe, and was gladly received.
The aooks &o. are as nice aa possible, and very comfortable this
weather ; and the mittens, toil Winnie, are like no other mittens
that ever were knit ; but I wish I could have hold of the dear
little hands that knit them for a minute instead — she knows what
would come next.
" You bid me aay if I want anything — sometimes I think I
want nothing but to hear from you a little oftener — or to aee you !
— that would be too pleasant. But I am doing very well, though
I da want to know that ma is not working so nard. I shall re-
lieve pa from any further charge of me aiter this. I consulted
the President ; and he has given me a form in the grammar school
to take care of— I believe pa knows there is a grammar school
connected with the Institution. This will pay my bills, and to
HcsledbyGoOgle
138 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
my great joy relieye my father from doing eo any more. This
arraagcmout leaves me but half of the usual study hours (by
day) for myself; eo you seo I have not much leisure to write let
terB, and must close.
" Your affectionate son,
" WiKTHEop Lamdholm.
" I don't forget Asahel, though I haven't said a word of him ;
and gire my love to Karen."
Mr, and Mrs. Landholm looked up with pleasant faces at
each other and eschanged letters. She took Winthrop's and her
husband began upon the other, which was from Kufus. Asahel
and Winifred were standing anxiously hy.
" What do they say ? "
" You shall ]iear directly."
" Does he say any thing about me ? " said Winifred.
But father and mother were deep in the precious despatches,
and the answer had to be waited for.
" Shaoarack Colleoe, Dee. 1810.
" My dear friends at home
" This fuEEj little man says he will take letters
to you ; — so as it is a pity not to cultivate any good disposition.
Governor and I have determined to favour him. But really thero
is not much to write about. Our prospects are as hare as your
garden in November — nothing but roots above ground or under —
some thrown together, and some, alas 1 to he dog for; only oura
are not parsnips and earrola hut a particularly tasteless kind
called Oreek roots ; with a variety denominated algebraic, of
which there are quantities. At these roots, or at some branches
from the same, Governor and I are tugging as for dear life, so it
ia no wonder if oar very hands smell of them. I am eu»e I eat them
every day with my dinner, and ruminate upon them afterwards.
In the midst of all this we are as well as usual. Governor is
getting along splendidly ; and I am not much amiss ; at least so they
say. The weather is pretty stinging these few days, and I find
father's old cloak very useful. I think Winthrop wants something
of the sort, though he is as stiff as a pine tree, bodily and men-
tally, and won't own that he wants any thing. He won't want
any thing long, that he can get He is working confoundedly
hard. I beg mamma's pardon— I wouldn't have said that if I
had thought of her — and I would write over my letter now, if I
were not short of tune, and to tell truth, of paper. This is my
HcsledbyGOOglC
THE HILLS OF THE enATEMUC. 139
last sheet, and a Tillainous bad one it is ; but I can't get any bet-
ter at the little storekeeper's here, and that at a horridly high
_"_Aa Governor ja writing to you, he -will give you all the sense,
so it is leas matter that there is absolutely nothing in this epistle.
Only believe me, my dear father and mother and Winnie and
Aaahel, ever your most dutiful, grateful, and affectionate son and
brother,
" Will. K.tjftj8 Landholm,
" My dear mother, the box was most aeeeptabie,"
After being once read in prirate, the letters were given aloud
to the children ; and then studied over and again by the lather
and mother to themselves, Winifred was satisfied with the men-
tion of her name ; notwithstanding whinli, she sat with a very
wistful face the rest of the afternoon. She was longing for her
brother's hand and kiss.
" Have your brothers' letters made you feel sober, Winnie ? "
said her mother.
" I want to see him mamma ! "
" Who ? "
" Governor. — "
It was the utmost word Winifred's lips could speak,
_'■ But dear Winnie," said her mother sorrowiullj, " it is for
their good and their pleasure they are away."
" I know it, mamma, — I know I am very selfish — "
" I don't think you are," said her mother. " Winnie, remem-
ber that they are getting knowledge and fitting themselves to bo
better and stronger men than they could be if they lived here
and learnt nothing."
" Mamma," said Wmifred looking up as if deflaiug her posi-
tion, " I don't think it is right, but I can't always help it."
" We have one friend never far off,"
" Oh mamma, I remember that all the while."
" Then can't jou look happy ? "
_ " Not always, mamma," said the little girl covering her face
quickly. The mother stooped down and put her arms round her.
" You muat ask him, and he will teach you to be happy al-
ways."
" But I can't, mamma, unless I could be right always," said
poor Winifred.
Mrs. Landholm was silent, but kissed her with those soft
motherly kisses which had comfort and love in every touch of
HcsledbyGoOgle
140 THE BUAB OB THE 8HATEMU0.
them. Soon answered, for Winifred lifted up her head and kissed
her again.
" How much longer must they he there, mamma? " she asked
more cheerfiiUy,
" Two years," Mrs. Landholm answered, with a sigh that be-
longed to what was not spoken.
" Mamma," said Winifred again presently, trying not to shew
from tow deep her question came, " aint you afraid Winthrop
wants something more to wear f "
And Mrs. Landholm did not shew how deep the question
went, but she said lightly,
" We'll see ahout it. Well get papa to write and make him
tell us what he wants."
" Maybe he won't tell," said Winifred thoughtfully. " I wish
I could write."
" Then why don't you set to and learn? Hothing would
please Governor so much."
" Would it! " said Winifred with a brightened face.
" Asahei," she said, as Asahel came in a few minutes after,
" mamma says G-ovemor would like nothing so well as to have me
learn to write."
" I knew that before," said Asahel eoolly. " He was talking
to me last summer ahout learning you."
" Was he ! Then will you Asahel ? Do you know yourself? "
" I know how to begin," said Asahol.
And after that manj a sorrowful feeling was wrought into
trammels and pothooks.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XIV,
" To Mr. Winthkop Lambholm, Shagarack College.
"Dee. 10, 1810.
" My teak. Son,
" We received joars of the third, per Mr. Undecliill, wtieh
was very gratifying to your motter and myself, as also Will's of
the same date. We cannot help wishing we could hear a little
oftener, aa these are the first we have had for several weets. But
we rememher your occupations, and I assure you make due al-
lowances; yet we cannot help thinking a little more time might
be given to pa and ma. This is a burdensome world, and every
one must bear their own burdens ; yet I think it must be con-
ceded it is right for every individual to do what may be in bis
power towards making the lot of others pleasanter. This I am
sure you believe, for you act upon it ; and you kuow that nothing
so lightens our load as to know that Will and Governor are doing
weD. It is a world of uncertainties ; and we cannot know this
unless you will tell us.
" My dear eons, I do not mean to chide you, and I have said
more on this subject than I had any intention to do. But it is
very natural, when a subject lies so near the heart, that I should
exceed the allotted bounds.
" Winthrop, your mother is afraid, from something in Will's
letter, that you are in want of an overcoat. Tell us if you are,
and we will do our best to endeavour to supply the deficiency. I
thought you had one ; but I suppose it must be pretty old by
this time. My dear son, we have all one interest ; if you want
anything, let us know, and if it can be had you know enough
of us to know you shall not want it. We have not much to spare
HcsledbyGoOgle
l*-^ Tm; HILLS OF THE eHA'IEMUO.
certainly, but neceasariea we will try to procure ; and so long as
we need not groan about tie present it is not my way to gmiable
about the future. We shall get along, aomeliow, I trust,
" I shall send this by post, as I do not know of any opportu-
nity, and do not thint it best to wait for one."
" Your loving father,
„ „, " W. Lahdholm.
" WiKTHKop AKi) Will."
Mt hear Boys,
It is very late to-night, and I shall not have any time
m h m ing, so must scratch a word as well as I can to-
n ght— y know my fingers are not very well accustomed to
ha dl n pen. It gives me the greatest pleasure I can have
n h w 1 1 when I hear that you are getting along eo well
I p I Id hear one other thing of you, — and that would be
» pleasure beyond anything in this world. Let us know every-
thmg you want— and wo will try to send it to you, and if we can't
we will all want it together, — We are all well — Winifred mourns
for you all the while, in spite of trying not to do it. What the
rest of us do is no matter. I shall send a box, if I can, before
New Year, with some cakes and apples^write us before that, in
time, all you ivant. Yo¥R Mother,"
This double letter, being duly put in the post according to
Mr. Landholm's promise, in the course of time and the post came
safe to the Shagarack post-office; from whence it was drawn one
evening by its owner, and carried tn a little upper room where
Eufus aat, or rather stood, at his books. There was not a great
deal there beside Rnfus and the books; a little iron stove looked
as if it disdained to make anybody comfortable, and hinted that
much persuasion was not tried with it ; a bed was in one comer,
and a deal table in the middle of the floor, at which Winthrop
sat down and read his letters.
He was longer over them than was necessary to read them,
by a good deal. So Rufus thought, and glanced at him sundry
times, though he did not think fit to interrupt him. He lifted his
bead at last and passing them over tooUy to Rufus, drew his
book near and opened his dictionary. He did not look up while
Eufus read, nor when after reading he began to walk with
thoughtful large strides up and down the little room.
" Governor I " said Eufus suddenly and without looking at
him, " sometimes I am half tempted to think T will take Mr.
Haye's offer."
HcsledbyGoOgle
TUB HILLS OF THE EHATEMUC. 143
" Did he make you an offer ? "
" He said what was near enough to it,"
" What tempts you, WiU? "
" Poveitj. It is only, after all, taking a short road instead
of a long one to the same end."
" The end of what ? " said Winthrop.
" Of painstaking and struggling."
There was silence, during which Kufus continued his strides
through the room, and the leaves of Winthrop's books ever and
anon turned and rustled.
" What do vou thick of it f "
" Nothing."
" Why ? "
" I don't helieve in drinking of a roiled stream because it
happens to be the first one you come to."
" Not if you are dry ? "
" No, — not unless everything else is, too,"
" But merchandise is a very honourable pursuit," said Rufus,
walking and studying the floor,
" Certainly.— Twelve feet is a good growth for dogwood, isn't
it?" said Winthrop gravely, looking up and meeting his cool
groy eye with that of his hrother.
Rufus first stared, and then answered, and then hurst into a
fit of laughter. Then he grew quite grave again and went on
walking up and down.
" The fact is," ho said a little while after, — " I don't know
exactly what I am fittest fur."
" You would be fit for anything if you did," answered his
brother.
" Why ? "
" You would be an uncommonly wise man."
" You might he that with ver^ little trouble, for you are the
fittest for everything of anybody I know."
Winthrop studied his books, an! Eufus walked perse veringly.
" You hold to taking up law ? "
" I will, when I begin it," said Winthrop.
" Where ? "
" Where what?"
" Whore will you take it up ? "
" In Manoahatta."
"And then you will rise to the top of the treol" said his
brother half admiringly, half sadly.
" That I may catch a glimpse of you in the top of some other
tree," said Winthrop.
HcsledbyGoOgle
14i THE HILLS OF THE eilATEMrC.
" But tliia want of money is such a confounded drag ! " &aid
Eufus after a few minutes.
" Let it drag you up hill, then. A loaded arrow fliea beat
against the wind."
" Wintbrop, I wonder wliat you are roade of ! " said Kufus
stopping short and looking at him and his books. " The toughest,
the sturdiest "
But Wintlirop lifted up bis face and gave his brother one of
those smiles, which were somewhat as if the sturdy young ash
to which ho likened him had of a sudden put forth its flowers
and made one forgot its strength in its beauty. Kufus stopped,
and smiled a little himseif.
" My choice would be engineering," he said doubtfully.
" Stick to your choice," said Wintbrop.
" That's a yery good business for making money," Kufus went
on, beginning to walk again; — " and there is a variety about it I
should like."
" Are you in correspondence with Mr. Have ? "
" No. Why ? "
" You seem to be adopting his end of life."
" I tell you, Wintbrop," said Kufus stopping short again,
" whatever else you may have is of very little consequence if you
haven't money with it ! You may raise your head like Mont
Blanc, above the rest of the world; and if you have nothing to
show but your emiuenoc, people will look at you, and go and live
somewhere else."
" You don't see the snow yet, do you ? " said Wbthrop, so
dryly that Kufus laughed again, and drawing to him his book sat
down and left his brother to study in peace.
The peace was not of long lasting, for at the end of half or
three quarters of an hour Wintbrop had another interruption.
The door opened briskly and there came in a young man, — hardly
that,— -a boy,_ but manly, well grown, fine and fresh featured, all
alive in spirits and intellect. He came in with a rush, acknow-
ledged Bufus's presence slightly, and drawing a stool close by
Wintbrop, bent his head in yet closer neighbourhood. The col-
loquy which followed was carried on half under breath, on his
part, but with great eagerness.
" Governor, I want you to go homo with me Christmas,"
" I can't, Bob."
" Why ? "
Winthrop answered with soft whistling.
"Why?"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHiTEMnjC. 145
" I must wort,"
"You can work there."
"No I can't."
" Why not ? "
" I must work here."
" Yoa can work afterwards."
" Yes, I espect to."
" But Governor, what have you got to keep you ? "
"Some old gentlemen who lived in learned times a great
while ago, are very pressing in their desires to be acquainted
with mc— one Plato, one Thucydldes, and one Mr. Tacitus, for
in stance."
" You'll sec enougli of them, Gfovernor ; — you don't like them
better than me, do yoa ? "
" Yes, Boh, — I expect they'll do more for me than ever vou
win." ■*
" I'il do a great deal for you. Governor, — I want you to come
with lue to Coldstream — I want you to see thorn all at home;
we'll have a good time. — Come I "
" How do you suppose tJiat old heathen over got hold of such
a thought as this?" — said Winthrop composedly; and he read,
without minding his auditors
" Tt's S' oXSeu, (i TO (rjif ii.i]/ eoT-t Ka.TSo.vt.Zv,
To K,s.-,Ao.vdv &i &iv;"*
" Who knoivs if to live is not 1o die, and dying hut io Kve."
" I should think he had a had time in this world, " said Bob ■
J' and maybe he thought ApoUo would make intcrost for his verses
in the land of shades."
" But Plato echoes the sentiment, — look here, — and he was no
believer in the old system. Where do you suppose he got his
light on the subject?"
" Out of a dark lantern. I say, Winthrop, I want light on
my subject — Will you come to Coldstream ? "
" I don't see any light that way, Bob ;— I must stick fast by
my dark lantern."
" Are you going to stay in Shagarack ? "
"Yes."
it follow SQ illastrious
H™.db,Googlc
146 THE HILLS OF THE
" It's a deuced shame ! — "
" What do you make of this sentence, Mr. Cool ? "
But Bob declined to oonstnie, and took himself off, with a
hearty slap oa Wiathrop's shoulder, and a hearty shake of his
" He's so strong, there's no use in trying to fight him into
reason," he remarked to Rufus as he went off.
" What do you suppose Bob Cool would make of your
Platonic quotation ? " said Rufus.
" What do you make of it ? " said Winthrop after a slight
pause.
" Eromitieal philosophy !— Do you admire it ? "
" I was thinking mamma would," said Winthrop.
That year came to ita end, not only the solar but the collegi-
ate. Eufus took his degree brilliantly; was loaded with compli-
ments; went to spend a while at home, and then went to Maiina-
hatta ; to make some preparatory arrangements for entering upon
a piece of employment to which President Tuttle had kindly
opened him a way. Winthrop changed his form in the grammar
school for the Junior Greek class, which happened to he left with-
out any teacher by the removal of the Greek professor to the
headship of another College. To this charge he proved himself
fully competent. It made the same hreaehee Upon his time, and
gave him rather more amends than his form in the grammar
school. And amid his various ocoiipations, Winthrop probably
kept himself warm without a new overcoat; for he had none.
■ It was dif&cult at home, by this time, to do more than make
ends meet. They hardly did that. The borrowed hundreds
were of necessity yet unpaid ; there was interest on them that
must be kept down ; and the failure of Bufus and Winthrop from
the farm duty told severely upon the profits of the farm ; and
that after it had told upon the energies and strength of the whole
little femily that were left behind to do all that was done. There
was never a complaint nor a rogret, even to each other; mnch
leas to those for whom they toiled ; but often there -was a shad-
owed look, a breath of weariness and care, that spoke from hus-
band to wife, from parent to child, and nerved — ^or unnerved
them. Still, Rufus had graduated; be was a splendid young
man; all, as well as the parents' hearts, knew that; and Win-
throp, he was never thought of, their miods and speech never
went out to him, but the brows unbent, the lips relaxed, and
their eyes said that their hearts sat down to rest. Winthrop ?
He never could do anything but well ; he never had since he
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO. 147
was a child. He would take hig degree now in a few montts and
he would take it hocoarably ; and then he would be off to the
ffl'eat city — that was said with a tliroe of pain and joy 1 — and
there Le would certainly rise to be the greatest of all. To their
eye_s could he ever he anything else ? But they were as certain
of it as Winthrop himself; and Winthrop was not without his
share of that quality which Dr. Johnson declared to be the first
requisite to great undertakings; though to do him justice the
matter always lay in his mind without the use of comparatives or
superlatives. And while they sat round the fire talking of him,
and of RufuSj the images of their coming success quite displaced
the images of weary days and careful nights with which that suc-
cess had been bought.
It was not however to be quite so speedily attained as they
had looked for.
The time of examination came, and Winthrop passed through
it, as President Tuttle told his father, " as well as a man could ■ "
and took honours and dislinetions with a calm mattcr-of fact man-
ner, that somehow rather damped the ardour of congratulation.
" He take's everything as if he had a right to it," observed a
gentleman of the company who had been making some flattering
epeeehes which eeemed to hit no particular mark.
" I don't know who has a better right," said the President.
" He's not so brilliant as his brother," the gentleman went oa.
"Do you think 80? That can only have been because yon
did not understand him," said the President equivocally. " Ha
will never flash in the pan, I promise you,"
" But dang it, sir 1 " cried the other, " it is a little cxtraordf-
naryto see two brothers, out of the same family, for two years
running, take the first honours over the head of the whole Col-
lege. What is a man to think, sir ? "
" That the College has not graduated two young men with
more honour to herself and them in any two years of my Presi-
dency, sir. Allow me to introduce you to the fortunate father
of these young gentlemen — Mr, Landholm."
This story Mr. Landholm used afterwards often to repeat,
with infinite delight and exultation.
Kufus waa not at Shagarack at this tune. Instead thereof
,, ,^ ^ " M,iNKAiiATrA, Aug. £6, 1813.
My dear Goveknor,
"It baa cost me more than I can tell you, that
I have not been able to witness your triumph. Nothmg could
HcsledbyGoOgle
148 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
hinder my shariDg it. I shared it even before I heard a wnrd of
it. I sliared it all latit week, while the ecenea were enacting; but
when papa's letter came, it made an old boy of me — I would
have thrown off loy bat and hurrahed, if I bad not been afraid
to trust four walls with ray feelings ; and I finally took up with
the safer indulgence of some very sweet tears. I told you it cost
me a great deal to stay away from Shagarack. Mj sole reason
for staying was, tbat^ it would have cost me more to go. The
fact is, I had not the wherewithal — a most stupid reason, but for
that very cause, a reason that you cannot argue with. I am just
clearing for the North — but not, alas I your way — and I covld
not take out of my little funds what would carry me to Shaga-
rack and back ,■ aiid back I should have had to come. So I have
lost what would have been one of the rare joys of my life. But
I shaU have another chance. — This is but yonrjirst degree, Gov-
ernor ; — your initial step towards great thiugs ; and you are
not one to lag by the way.
" As for me, I am off to the regions of wildneas, to see what
I can do with tie roeks and the hills of rude Nature — or what they
will do with me, which is perhaps nearer the truth. Not very
inviting, after this gay and brilliant city, where certainly the soci-
ety is very bewitching. I have happened to see a good deal, and
some of the beat of it. Mr. Haye has been very attentive to me,
and I believe would really like to renew his old offer. He lives
here en prince ; with every thing to make his house attractive
besides the two little princesses who tenant it ; and who make it
I think the pleasantest house in Mannahatta. Your friend is
amazingly improved, though she is rather more of a Queen than,
a princes ; but the other is the most splendid little creature I
ever saw. ThSj were very gracious to your bumble servant. I
have seen a good deal of them and like them better and better.
Herder is charming. He has introduced me to a capital set —
men really worth knowing — they have also been very kind to me,
and I have enjoyed them greatly ; — but from all this I am obliged
to break away, — and from you ; for I have no more room. I
will write you when I get to the N. W. L.
" P. S. When you come hither, take up jour quarters with
my landlord, Greorge Inchbald — cor. Beaver and Little South
Sts. He loves me and will welcome yoo. Inchbald is an Eng-
lishman, with a heart larger than his means, and a very kind wid-
owed sister."
Winthrop read this letter gravely through, folded it up, and
took hold of the next business in baud.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP THE BHATEMtJC. 149
He could not go yet to the great city. Tte future risicg
etepa to whicli Rufus looked forward so confideutly, were yet far
away. He owed a bill at the tailor's ; and had besides one or
two other little aceounts ansettled, which it liad been impossible
to avoid, aud was now impossible to leave. Therefore lie must
not leave Shagaraok. The first thing to do waa to clear these
hindrances from his way. So he entered his name as law-reader
at the little office of Mr. Shamminy, to save time, and took a tutor-
ship in the College to earn money. Ho had the tntorahip of the
Junior Greek class, which his father loved to toll he carried fur-
ther than ever a class had been carried before ; but that was not
all ; be had a number of other recitations to attend which left
him, with the necessary studies, scant ticae for reading law. That
little was made the most of aud the year was gained.
All the year waa needed to free himself from these cobweb
bindings that held him fast at Shagaraek, Another Commeuee-
m^nt over, his debts paid, he wect home ; to make a little pause
on that landiug-plaee of life's journey before taking his last start
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XY.
That little space of time was an escDeding sweet one. Got-
cmor was at borne again, — and Governor was going away again.
If anything had been needed to enhance his preoiousne^, those
two little tacts would have doBC it. Such an idea entered no-
Irody's head. He was the very same Winthrop, they all said,
that had left them four years ago ; only taller, and stronger, and
" He's a beautiful strong man ! " said Karen, stopping in the
act of rolling lier cakes, to peer at him out of the kitchen window.
" Aint lie a handsome feller. Mis' Landholm ? "
" Handsome is that handsome does, Karen."
" Don't he do handsome ? " said Karen, flouring her roller.
" His mother knows he does, I wish I knowed my shortcake 'd
be arter the same pattern,"
Winthrop pulled off his coat and went into the fields as
heartily as if he had done nothing but farming all his days ; and
harvests that autumn came cheerily in. The corn seemed yel-
lower and the apples redder tlian they had been for a long time.
Asahel, now a fine hoy of fifteen, was good aid in whatever was
going on, without or within doors. Kufus wrote cheerfully from
the North, where he still was; and there was hardly a drawback
to the enjoyment of the little family at home.
There was one ; and as often happens it had grown out of the
family's greatest delight. Winifred was not the Winifred of
former days. The rosy-cheeked, fat, laoghinglittleroll-aboat of five
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE nlLLS OF THE SffATEMUC. 151
years old, had charged by degrees into a slim, pale, very delieate-
iooking child of twelve. Great nervous irritability, and weak-
ness, they feared of the spine, had displaced the jocund health
and Bweet spirits which nerer knew a cloud. It was a burden to
them all, tlie change ; and yet — so strangely things are tempered
— the afieotions mustered round the family hearth to bide or re-
pair the damage disease had done there, till it could scarcely be
said to be poorer or worse off than before. There did come a
Eang to every heart but Winifred's own, when they looked upon
er ; but with that rose so sweet and rare charities, blessing both
the giver and the receiver, that neither ])erhapa was le^ blessed
than of old. Winthrop s feee never shewed that there was any-
thing at home to trouble him, unless at times when Winifred was
not rear; his voice never changed from ite cool cheerfulness; and
yet his voice had a great deal to say to her, and bis face Winifred
lived upon all the while he was at home. He never seemed to
know that she was weaker than she used to be ; but his arm was
always round her, or it might be under her, whenever need was;
and to be helped by his strength was more pleasant to Winifred
than to have etrength of her own.
She was sitting on his knee one day, and they were picking
out nuts together ; when she looked up and spoke, as if the words
could not be kept in.
" What shall I do when you are gone I "
" Help mother, and keep Asahel in spirits."
Winifred could not help laughing a little at this idea.
" I wonder if anything could trouble Asahel much," she said,
" 1 suppose he has his weak point — like the rest of us," said
Winthrop.
" You haven't."
" How do you know ? "
" I don't know, but I think so, ' said Winifred, touching her
hand to his cheek, and then kissing him.
" What's your weak point ? "
" They're all over," said Winifred, with a little change of
voice ; " I haven't a bit of strength about anything. I don't think
anybody's weak but me."
" Nobody ought to be weak but you," said her brother, with
no change in his.
" I oughtn't to be weak," said Winifred ; " but I can't
help it."
"It doMn't matter, Winnie," said her brother; "yon shall
have the advantage of the strength of all the reat."
HcsledbyGoOgle
152 THE HUXB OF THE SHATEMnC.
" That woulda't be enough," said Winifred, gently leaning
her head upon tho broad breast which she knew was hers for
Btrungth and defence,
" Not, Winnie ? — What will you have ? "
" I'll have the Bible," said the child, her thin intelligent face
looking at him with all its intelligence.
" The Bible, Winnie?" said Winthrop cheerfully.
" Yes, because there I can get strength that isn't my own,
and that is better tJian yours, or anybody's."
" That's true, Winnie ; but what do yon want so much
strength for ? " he said coolly.
Sue looked at him again, a look very hard indeed to hear.
"01 know, Winthrop," she said ; — " I want it, — I want it
now for your going away."
Her voice was a little checked, and again she leaned forward
upon him, this time so as to hide her face.
Winthrop set down the nuts and drew her more close, and
his lips kissed the little blue and white temple which was all of
her face he could get at,
" It's best I should go, Winnie," he said.
"01 know you must."
" I will have a house one of these days and you shall come
and keep it for me."
She sat up and shook away a tear or two, and laughed, but
her speech was not as jocular as she meant it to be,
" What a funny housekeeper I should make 1 "
" The beat in the world. You shall study, and I will knit
the socks."
" O Governor ! What do you know about knitting socks ? "
" I know who has knit mine ever since I have been at Shaga-
" Did mamma tell you?" said the cjiild with a bright sharp
" I found it out."
" And were they all right ? Because I am going to keep on
doing it. Governor."
" Till you come to be my housekeeper."
" I don't believe that'll ever be," said Winifred.
" Why not ? "
"It seems so funny, to think of your ever having a house in
Mannahatta ! "
" Will you come, Winnie ? "
" 0 Governor I- -I doiit know," she said, her face full of a
world of uncertainties.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS or THE eHATEMUU. 153
" What don't you linow ? "
" I don't know auj thing; and you don't. 0 GoTOrnor "
and she flurg her arms roiiLd his ncek, and spoko words coined
out of her heart, — " I wiah you were a Christian I "
For a minute only he did not speak; and then he said calmly
in her ear,
" I shall be — I mean to be one, Winnie."
Hei- little head lay very still and silent a few minutes more;
and when ehe lifted it she did not carry on the subject ; unless
the kisses she gave him, only too strong la tieir meaning, might
be interpreted,
" I should feel so much better if you knew somebody in Man-
nahatta," she said presently.
" I do. I know Mr. Herder."
"Oyps; but I mean more than that; somebody where you
could stay and be nice."
" I shall not stay where I cannot be nice."
" I know that," said Winifred ; " but you don't know any-
where to go, do J'ou? "
" Yes, Uncle Forriner's,"
" Uncle Forriaer, You don't know him, do you ? "
" Not yet."
"Did you ever see him?"
"No."
" Maybe you won't like him."
" Then it h ill matter the lesa about his liking me,"
" He can't help that," said Winifred,
" You think so ? "
" But Rufus didn't stay with him ? "
" No — Mr. Forriner only moved to Mannaiatta about a year
ago."
" Have you ever seen Aunt Forriner?
" Yes — oBCo."
" Well — is she good ? "
"I hope so."
" You don't know, Goyemor ? "
"I don't know, Winnie."
Winifred waited a little,
"What are you going to do. Governor, when you first get
" I suppose the first thing will be to go and examine Uncle
Forriner and see if I like him."
Winifred laughed.
HcsledbyGoOgle
164 THE HILI.8 OP THE
"Nojlio, l)ut I moan business — what you aio going to Mas-
nahatta for — what will be the first thing ? "
" To shew myself to Mr. De Wort."
"Who's he?"
■' He is a lawyer in Mannahatta,"
" Do you know where he lives ? "
"Mo, Winnie; but other people do."
" What are you going to see him for, GoYBrnor ? "
" To ask him if he will let me read law in hia office."
" Will he want to be paid for it ? "
" I don't know."
" Suppose tie should, Governor ? "
" Then I will pay him, Winifred."
" How can you ? "
Her brother smiled a little. " My eyes are not far-sighted
enough to tell you, Winnie. I ean only give you the fact."
Winifred smiled too, but in her heart believed him.
« Did you ever see Mr. De Wort ? "
" Never."
" Then what makes you choose him ? "
" Because he is said to be the best lawyer in the city,"
Winifred put her fingers thoughtfully through and through
the short dark wavy brown hair which graced her brother's broad
brow, and wondered with herself whether there would not be a
better lawyer in the city before long. And then in a sweet kind
of security laid her head down again upon his breast.
" I'll have a bouse for you there, by and by, Winnie," he
said, as his arm drew round her.
"01 couldn't leave mother, you know," she answered.
Hor mother called her at this instant, and she rau off, leav-
ing him alone.
He had spoken to her all the while with no change on his
wonted calm brow and lip ; but wlien she left the room he left it ;
aud wandering down to some hiding place on the rooky shore,
where only the silent cedars stood witnesses, he wept there till his
strong frame shook, with what he no more than the rocks would
shew anywhere else. It never was shewn. He was just as he had
been. Nobody guessed, unless his mother, the feeling that had
wrought and was working within him ; and she only from general
knowledge of his nature. But the purpose of life had grown yet
stronger and struck yet deeper roots instead of being shaken by
this storm. The day of his setting off for Mannahatta was not
unce changed after it had been once fised upon.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 155
And it came. Almost at the end of November; a true child
of the raodth ; it was dark, chill, gloomy. The wind bore little
foretokona of raia in every puff that made ita way up the river,
slowly, as if the sea had charged it too heavily, or as if it came
through the fringe of the low grey cloud which tung upon the tops
of the mottitains. But nobody apoke of Winthrop's staying his
journey. Perhaps everybody thought, that the day before, and
the night before, and eo much of the morning, it were better not
to go over again.
" Eli 1 " sighed old Karen, as she took the coffee-pot off the
hearth and wiped the aahes from it, — " it's a heavy place for our
feet, just this here; — I wonder why the Lord sends 'em. Me
knows."
" Why he sends what, Karen ? " said Winifred, taking the
coffee-pot from her, and waiting to hear the answer.
" Oh go 'long, dear," said the old woman; — " I was quarrel-
ling with tie Lord's doinga, that's all."
"■He knows 1 " repeated Winnie, turning away and bending
her faoa down t[H hot tears fell on tlio cover of the coffee-pot
She stopped at the door of the keeping-room and fought the tears
with her little hand desperately, for they were too ready to come ;
once and again the hand was passed hard over chceka and eyes,
before it would do and she could open the door.
" Well mother," said Mr. Landholm, coming back from a
look at the weather, — " let's see what comfort can be got out of
breakfast ! "
None, that morning. It was but a sham, the biscuits and
coffee. They were all feeding on the fruits of life-trials, strug-
gles and cares, past aud eoniing ; and though some wild grown
flowers of hope mingled their sweetness with the harsh things,
they could not hide nor smother the taste of them. That taste
was io Mr. Landholm 'a coffee; the way in which he set down
the cup and put the spoon in, said ao; it was in Winthrop's
biscuit, for they were broken and not eaten ; it seemed to be in
the very light, to Winifred's eyes, by the wistful unmarking look
she gave to everything the light ^ined upon.
It was over ; and Mrs. Landholm had risen from the tea-
board and stood by the window. There Winthrop parted from
her, aftfir some tremulous kiaaes, and with only ^e low, short,
" G-ood bye, mother ! " He turned to meet the arms of his little
sister, which held him like some preeioua thing that they might
not hold. It was hard to bear, but he bore it ; till she snatched
her arms away from hia neck and ran out of the room. Yet she
HcsledbyGoOgle
156 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
had not bid him good bye and he stood in douLt, looking after
lier. Tbea remembered Karen.
lie went into the kitchen and shook the old shrivelled hand
■which was associated in ias memory with many an old act of kind-
ness, many a time of help in days of need.
" Good bye, Karen."
" Wei! — good bye, — " said the old woman slowly, and hold-
ing hia hand. " I sometimes wonder what ever you were brought
into tbe world for, Mr. Wintbrop."
" Why, Karen ? "
" Because I aint much better than a fool," she said, putting
her other hand to her eyes. " But ye're one of the Lord's pre-
cious ones, Governor; he wOl have service of ye, wherever
ye be."
Wintkrop wrung her hand. Quitting her, be sair his sister
waiting for him at the kitchen door. Ske let him come within
it, and then holding up ber Bible which had bung in one band,
she pointed with her finger to these words where she had it
" God now eommandetk all men everywhere to repent."
Her finger was under the word 'now.' She added nothing,
except with her eyes, which went wistfully, Bcarchingly, beggingly,
into his; tiU a film of tears gathered, and the book fell, and her
arms went round him again and her face was hid.
" I know, dear Winnie," he said softly, stooping to her after
tbe silent embrace had lasted aminute. — " I must bo — kiss me."
There was a great deal in her kiss, of hope auS despair; and
then he was goae ; and she stood at the wmdow looking after him
as long as a bit of him could be seen ; clearing away the tears
from her eyes that she migLt watch the little black speck of the
boat, as it grew less and less, further and further off down tbe
river. Little speck as it was, he was in it.
The world seemed to ^ow dark as she looked, — in two ways.
The heavy rain clouds that covered the sky stooped lower down and
hung their grey drapery on the mountains more thick and dark.
But it did not rain yet, nor tdl Winifred turned wearily away
from the window, saying that "they bad got there; " — meaning
that the little black speck on the water had reaebed the little white
and brown spot on the shore which marked the place of Cowslip's
Mill. Theo the clouds began to fringe themselves ofF into rain,
and Cowslip's Mill was soon hid, and river and hills were all
grey under their thick waterj veil. " But Governor will be in
the stage, mamma," said Winifred. " He won't mmd it."
HcsledbyGoOgle
; HILLS OF THE
157
Poor Wiuifrecl! Poor Governor I — H w li
There was no room for him. His on h w
beside the driver, unless he would h d y d h
Tieyer thought of waiting. He mou d np b d h
Btago-coach went away with him; wh m wy d b y
the little boat set its head homeward dp d up h ugh h
driving rain.
It rained steadily, and all things wn d h d n
of the watery clouds. The horse d h
stage-coach, and the two outsiders, wh bm d g
tance in like silence and ijuiet j though with tiie oue_ it was the
quiet of habit and with the other the quiet of necessity. Or it
might be of abstraction ; for "Winthrop's mind took little heed to
the condition of his body.
It was busy with many gfeater things. And among them the
little word to which his sister's finger had pointed, lodged ilself
whether he would or no, and often when he would not. Now
Kow, — " (lod NOW commacdeth all men everywhere to repent."
It was at the back of Winthrop's thoughts, wherever they might
be; it hang over his mental landscape like the rain-cloud; he
could look at nothing, as it were, but across the gentle shadows
of that truth falling upon his conscience. The rain-drops dim-
pled it into the water, when the road lay by the river-side;
and the bare tree-stems tliey were passing, that said so much of
the past and the future, said also quietly ai.d soburly, "now."
Tiie very stage-coach reminded him he was on a journey to the
end of which the stage-coach conld not brii g him, and for the
end of wliich he had no plans nor no preparations made. And
the sweet images of home said, " now — make them." And yet
all this, though true and real in his spirit, was so stiU and so
softly defined, that,— like th.' reflection of the hills in the aniooth
water of the river, — he noted without noting, he saw without
dwelling upon it. It was the depth of the picture, and his mind
chose the stronger outlines. And then the water ruffled, and the
rotiection was lost.
The ride was in dull silenco, till after some hours the coach-
man stopped to give his horses water; though he remarked, " it
was contrary in them to want it." But after that his tongue
seemed loosed. ,1-1,
" Dampish I " be remarked to his fellow-traveller, as he olimh-
ed up to his place agaui and took the reins.
" Can you stand it ? " said Winthrop.
" Stand what ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
158 THF, HII.LS OB' Till'; sHATKMCC.
" Being wet througli at this rate? "
" Don't signify wlietlier a man's killed one way or another,"
waa the somewhat unhopeful answer. " Oome to the same thing
in the loTig run, I expect."
" Might as well maite as long a run as j-ou can of it. Why
don't you wear some sort of an overcoat 'i "
" I keep it— ^ame way you do yourn. — No use to spoil a thing
for nothing. There's no good of an overcoat but to hold so much
heft of water, and a man goes lighter without it. As long as
you've got to he soaked through, what's the odds ? "
" I didn't lay my account with this sort of thing when I set
out," said Wiuthrop.
" 0 / did. I have it atout a third of the time, I gue^s.
This and March is the plaguiest mouths in the hull year. They
do u3e up a man."
Some thread of association brought his little sister's open
book and pointed finger on the sudden before Wintkrop, and for
a moment he was silent.
" Yours is rather had business this time of year," he remarked.
" Lite all other business," said the man; " aintmuoh choice.
There's a wet and a dry to most things. What's yourn? if I
may ask."
" Wet," said Wiothrop.
" How ? — " said the man.
" You need ouly look at me to see," said Winthrop.
" Weil — I thought — " said his companion, looking at him
again- — " Be you a dominie ? "
" No."
" Going to be ? — Hum ! — Get ap I — " said the driver touching
up one of his horses.
" What makes you think so ? " smd Winthrop.
" Can't tell- — ^took a notion. I can mostly tell folks, whether
they are one thing or another."
" But you are wrong about me," said WintJirop ; " I am
neither one thing nor the other."
" I'll be shot if you aint, then," said his friend after taking
another look at hun. " Ben't you ? — You're either a dominie or
II. lawyer — one of the sis."
" 1 should like to know what you judge from. Are clergy-
men and lawyers so much alike ? "
" I guess 1 aint fur wrong," said the man, with again a
glance, a very benign one, of curiosity. " I should say, your eye
was a lawyer and your mouth a clergyman."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE TTTT-TJi OF THE SHATEMTJC. io»
" You can't tell what a man is wlierL lie is as wet as I am,"
said Winthrop.
" Can't tell what he's goin' to be, nother. Well, if the rain
don't stop, we will, that's one thing."
The rain did not stop; and though the coaeh did, it was
not til! evening had get in. And that Was too late. The wet
and cold had wrought for more days than one; they brought on
disease from which CTen Winthrop's strong frame and spirit could
not immediately free him. He lay miserably ill all the nest day
and the next night, and yet another twelve hours ; and then find-
ing that Ms dues paid would leave him but one dollar unbroken,
Winthrop dragged himself as he might out of bed and got into
the stage-coaoh for Maanahatta which set off that same evening.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XVI.
What a journey that was, of weariness and pair and si
Unfit, and almost uitable to travel, empty of means and
almost alike, he would go, — and he was going ; and sheer deter-
mination stood in the place a.nd filled the want of all things be-
si(Je. It was means and resources both ; for both are at the com-
mand of him who knows how to oammand them. But though
tjhe will stand firm, it may staud very bare of cheering or help-
ing, thoughts ; and so did Wintbrop's that live-long night. T]<ere
was no wavering, but there was some sadness that kept him com-
The morning broke as cheerless as bis mood. It bad rained
during the night and was still raining, or slecijng, and freezing as
fast as it fell. The sky was a leaden grey; the drops that eamo
down oiily went to thicken the sheet of ice that lay upon every-
thing. No face of the outer world could be more unpromising
than that which slowly greeted him, as the night withdrew her
veil aud the stealthy steps of the dawn said that no bright day
was chasing her forward. Past enough it lighted up the slippery
way, the glistenirg ftnccs, the falling sleet which sheathed fields
and houses with ^are ice. And the city, when they came to it,
was no better. It wafi worse; for the dolefulness was positive
here, which before in the broad open country was only negative.
The ioj sheath was now upon things less pure thaa itself. The sleet
fell where cold and oheerlessness seemed to be the natural state
of things. Few people ventured into the streets, and those few
looked and moved as if they felt it a sad morning, which proba-
bly they did. The very horses stumbled along their way, and here
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE aHATElITJO, 161
and there a poor creature liad lost footing entirely and gone down
on the ice. Slowly and carefully picking its way along, the
Btage-eoach drew up at last at its p. ace in Court St.
The disease had spent itself, or Winthrop'a excellent consti-
tution had made good its rights; for he got out of the coach feel-
ing free from pain, though weak and unsteady as if he had been
much longer ill. It would have bECn pleasant to take the refresh-
ment of brashes and cold water, for his first step; hut it must
have been a pleasure paid for; so be did not go into the house.
For the same reasoa he did not agree to the offer of the stage-
driver to carry him and his haggage to the ei.d of his journey.
He looked about for some more'liuinble way of getting his triiuk
thither, meaning to take the humblest of all for himself. But
porters seemed all to have gone off to breakfest or to have de-
spaired of a job. None were in sight. Only a man was shuf-
fling along on the other side of the way, looking over at the stage-
coach.
"Here, Jem — Tom — Patrick I "—cried the stage-driver, —
" cant you take the gentleman'a trunk for him ? "
" Miohael, at your service, and if it's all one t' ye," said the
person called, coming over. "I'm the boy I Will this be the
box?"
" That is it ; but how will you take it ? " said Winthrop.
" Sure I'll carry it — asy — some kind of a way," said Michael,
handling the trunk about in an unsettled fashion and seeming to
meditate a hoist of it to his shoulders. " Where will it go, sir-r ? "
"gtop, — that won't do — that haodle won't hold," said the
trunk's master. " Haven't you a wheelbarrow here ? "
" Well that's a fact," said Michael, letting the end of the
trunk down into the street with a force that tlireatened its frail
constitution ; — " if the handle wouldn't hould, there'd be no hoult
onto it, at all. Here ! — can't you let ua have a barrow, some one
amongst ye ? — I'll be back with it afore you'll be wanting it, I'll
Winthrop seconded the application ; and the wheelbarrow
after a littk delay came forth. The trunk was bestowed on it bj
the united efforts of the Irishman and the ostler.
" Now, don't let it mn away from you, Pat," said the latter.
" It'll not run away from iMichael, I'll engage," said that per-
sonage with a. capable air, pulling up flr*t his trowsers band and
then the wheelbarrow handles, to be ready for a start. " W hieh
way, then, sir, will I turn ? "
Winthrop silently motioned him on, for in spite of weatness
HcsledbyGoOgle
162 THE UILLS OF IHE 6HATEMUC.
of body and weariness of apirit lie folt too nerrously inclmed to
laugh, to trust his niOutii with auj demonstrations. Michael and
the wbeeliiai-fow went on ahead and he followed, both taking the
middle of the street where the ice was somewhat broken up, for
on the sidewalk there was ao safety for anybody. Indeed safety
anywhere needed to be eared for. And every now and then some
involuntary movement of Michael and the barrow, together with
some equally unlooked-for exclamation of the former, hy way of
comment or explanation, startled Winthrop's eye and ear, and
kept up the odd contrast of the light with the heavy in his mind's
musmgs. It had ceased to rain, but the sky was as leaden grey
aa ever, and still left its own dull look on all below it. Win-
throp's walk along the streets was a poor emblem of his mind's
travelling at the time ; — a painful picking the way among difficul-
ties, a struggle to secure a footing where foothoJd there was not ;
the uncertain touch and feeling of a cold and slippery world.
All true, — ^not more literally than figuratively. And upon this
would come, with a momentary stop and puah forward of the
wheelbarrow, —
" 'Faith, it's asier going backwards nor for'ards I — Which
way wiU I turp, yer honour f Is it up or down ? "
" Straight ahead."
" Och, but I'd rather the heaviest wheeling that ever was ia-
vinted, sooner nor this little slide of a place. — Here we go ! —
Oeh, stop us ! — Och, hut the little carriage has taken me to itself
intirely. It was all I could do to run ahint and keep up wid
the same. Would there be much more of the hills to go down,
yer honour, the way we're going?"
" I don't know. Keep in the middle of the street."
" Sure I'm blessed if I can keep any place ! " said Michael,
whose movements were truly ao erratic and uncertain that Win-
throp's mood of thoughtfulness was more than once run down by
them. — " The trunk's too weighty for me, yer honour, — it will
have its own way and mo after it — here wo go I — Och, it wouldn't
turn out if it was for an angel itself. Maybe yer honour wouldn't
go ahead and stop it?"
" No chance, I'm afraid," said Winthrop, whose mouth was
twitching at the trot of the Irishman's feet after tie wheelbai-
" Och, but we'll never get down there ! " he said as he paused
at the top of a long slope. " Then I never knew before what a
hard time the carriage has to go after the horses 1 We'll never
get djwn tiere, yer honour?"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUC. i^DtS
" Never's a great word, Michael."
" It ie, sir I" —
" I think you can get down there if you try.'
" Very well, sir I — I suppose I will."
But he ELuttered Irish blessings or cursings to himseK as he
took np his trowsers and wheelbarrow handles again.
" Yer honour, do ye think we'll ever keep on our feet till the
bottom ? " T f 1.
" If you don't come down the wheelbarrow won t, I thmk,
Michael,"
" Then I suppose we'll both be to come," said the man resign-
edly, " Yer honour '11 consider the bad way, I expict,"
'Hie honour' had reason to remember it. They were going
down Bank St., where the fall of ground was rather rapid, and
the travel of the morning had not yet been enough to break up
the smooth glare of the frozen sleet. The Irishman and the bar-
row got upon a run, the former crying out, " Ooh, it vdll go, yer
honour ! "—and as it would go, it chose its own courtte, which was
to run full tilt agamat a cart wh eh stotd quietly 1 y the sidewalk.
Ntither Michaels gravity nor that of the wheelbirrcw could
stand the shock Bolh went over and the unlucky trunk waa
tumbled out nto the middle of the street But the days when
the old trunk could have stoid such u^a^e were Ions; pist The
ha,Bp and hmgc gave waj the cover S] rant ind many a thmg
thej should have guirded from publi cyea flbw or rolled from
its hiding place out ujon the oi en street
Wmthrop from higher ground had beheld the overthrow, and
knew what he must hnd when le got to the bottom l^^^ o^
three rair of the socks little Wmnie had knittel for him had
bounced out and scattered themselv.8 far and wide one even
reaching the gutter Some sheets oi manuscript lay mglonousiy
upon the wheelbarrow or were gettmg wet on the ice One
mcely "done up' shirt waa hopelessly done for, an<l au old
coat had unfolded itself upon the pavement, and was fearlessly
telling its own and its master's condition to ail the passers-
by Two or three books and soveTal clean pockethandkerchiefs
lay about indifferently, and were getting no good; an old shoe
on the contrary seemed to be at home. A paper of gingercaJies,
eiviiijf way to the suggestions of the brother shoe, had be-
stowed a quarter of its contents all abroad ; and the open face of
the trunk offered a variety of other matters to the curiosity of
whom it might concern ; the broken cover giving but very par-
tial hindrance.
HcsledbyGoOgle
164 THE HILLS OF THE
The Irishman had gathered himself, and himself only, out of
the fallen couditiou in which all things were.
" Bad luck to the ould thiog, then ! " — was his soiiBe of the
matter.
" You needn't wish that," said Winthrop.
" Then, yer honour, I woaldn't wish anything bettor to meself,
if I could ha' helped it. If iacself had been in the bos, I
couldn't ha' taken it more tinder, till we began to go, and then,
plase yer honour, I hadn't no hoult of anything at all at all."
"_ Take hold now, then," said Winthrop, " and set this up
straiglit; and then see if jou can get a sixpenny worth of rope
anywhere,"
The man went off, and Winthrop gathered up his stray pos-
sessions from the street and the gutter aud with some diifieulty
got them in their places again; aud then stood mounting guard
over the wheelbarrow and baggage until the coming of the rope;
thinking perhaps how little ue had to take care of and how
strange it was there should be any difficulty in his doing it.
More care, or an eveiier way, brought them at last, without
further mishap, to Diamond St., and along Diamond St. to Mr.
Forriner'8 house and store. Both in the same building ; large
and handsome enough, at least as large aud handsome as its
neighbours ; the store taking the frout of the ground floor. Mr.
I'orriiier stood in the doorway taking a look at the day, which
probably he thought promised him little custom ; for his face
was very much the colour of the weather.
Winthrop stopped the wheelbarrow before the house; went
up and named his name.
" Winthrop Landholml " — the touch of Mr. Fowiner's hand
said nothing ai all unless it were in the negative ; — " how d'ye
do, sir. Come to make a visit in Mannahatta?"
" No, sir. 1 have come here to stay."
" Ah !— hum. Sister well ? "
"Very well, sir."
" Left home yesterday ? "
" No sir— three days ago."
Ah ? where have you been ? "
" In bed, sir — caught cold in the rain Tuesday."
" Tuesday !— yes, it did rain considerable all along Tuesday,
Where were you ? "
"By the way, sir,"
" Just got here, eh ? — bad time."
"I could not wait for a good one."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 163
"What are you calculating to do tore ? "
" Studj law, air."
" Law ! — hum. Do you expect to make money by that ? "
" If I don't, I am afraid I shall not make money by aDything,"
said WintLrop
" Hum ! — I guess there aint much money made by the law,"
said Mr. Forriner taking a pinch of snuff. " It's a good trade to
siarTe by. How long liave you to study?"
" All the time I have to live, sir."
" Ell ?— and how do you expect to lire in the meantime ? "
" I shall manage to live as long as I study."
" Well I hope you" will — I Lope you will," said Mr. Forriner.
" You'll come in aud take breakfast with us V "
" If you will allow me, sii\"
" You haven't had breakfast yet ? "
"No sir, nor supper."
'• Well I guess wife's got enough for you. If that's your box
you'd better get the man to help you in with it. You can set it
down here behind the door,"
" la it the right place, sir f " inquired Michael as Wiuthrop
came out to him.
" No," said Winthrop. " But you may help me in with the
trunk."
Michael was satisfied that be had the right money, and de-
parted ; and Whitbrop followed Mr. Forriner through a narrow
entry cut off from the store, to a little back room, which was tlie
first of the domestic premises. Here stood a table, and Mrs.
Forriner; a hard-featured lady, in a muslin cap likewise hard-
featured; there was a " not-give-in " look, very marked, in both,
cap and lady. A look that Wintbrop recognized at once, and
which her husband seamed to have recognized a great while.
" Mrs. Forriner I " said that gentleman to his nephew. " My
dear, this is Cousin Winthrop Landholm — Orphah's son."
" How do you do, sir ? " said Mrs. Forriner's eyes and cap ;
her tongue moved not.
'' Ju^t come in town," pursued her husband ; " and has come
to take breakfast with us."
" Have you come in to stay, cousin? or are you going back
again to the North ? "
" I am not going back at present — I am going to stay," said
Winthrop.
The lady was standing up v/aiting the instant arrival of
breakfast, or not enough at ease in her mind to sit down. The
HcsledbyGoOgle
166 THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUC.
table and room and furniture, thougt plain enough and evoa mean
in tlieir character, had notwithstanding a sufEciont look of home-
ly comfort.
" You didn't like it up there where you were ? " she went on,
changing the places of things on the table with a dissatisfied air.
" Up where, ma'am ? "
" 0 this is not Kufus, — this is Winthrop, my dear," said Mr.
Forriner, " Cousin Winthrop has just come down from — I forget
—from home. What does brother LandhoLm call his place,
" We sometimes call it after our mouutain, ' Wut-a-qut-o.' "
How sweet the syllables seemed in Winthrop's lips '
" What ? " put in the lady.
Winthrop repeated.
" I should never remember it. — Then this is aoother cousin ? "
she remarked to Mr. Forriner; — " and not the one that was here
before ? "
" No, my dear. It is Rufus that is in the country up North
somewhere — Cousin Winthrop is coming horc to be a lawyer, he
tells me."
"Will you sit up, cousin?" said the lady somewhat dryly,
after a minute's pause, as her handmaid set a Britannia metal
tea-pot on the board. The meaning of the reijuest being that he
should move his chair up to the table, Winthrop did so ; for to
do the family justice he had eat down some time before.
" How will your mother do without you at home ? " inquired
Mrs. Forriner, when she had successfully apportioned the milk and
sugar in the cups.
" I have not been at home for three years past."
" Has she other sons with her ? "
" Not another so old as myself."
" It'i pretty hard on her, aint it, to have her two eldest eo
off?" ^
"Whore have you been these three years?" put in Uncle
Forriner.
" At Shaearack, sir."
" Ah ! — Brother Landholm is bringing up all his sons to be
oivilians, it seems."
Winthrop was not very clear what his questioner meant ; but
as it v!&s probable Mr. Forriner himself was in the same condi-
tion of darkness, he refrained from asking.
" What's at Sbagarack?" said Mrs. Forriner.
" A College, my dear."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF TOE eHATEMUl
16T
« OoUege !— Have you just comt i« the city, cousin ? "
" He cauglit cold in the raia last Tuesday aud Las been lying
by ever sino.;, and only got in town this morniag."
" Have you got a place to stay ? "
" Not yet, mft'ain. I have been but two houra here.
" Well you had better see to that the first thing, and come
here and take dinner— that'll give you a chance. You'll easily
find what you want."
" Not this morning, I thint, unless it is to be found very near
by," said "Winthrop; "for my feet would hardly carry me a
hundred yards." _ .
" You see, he'a weat yet," put in Mr. Forrmer.
" Didn't yon walk here, cousin ? " said the lady.
" Unfortuuately, I did, ma'am ; for I have not strength to
walk anywhere else."
" 0 well, you can go up stairs and lie down and get some rest ;
you'll be better by afternoon I dare say. Will you have another
cup of tea ? "
But Winthrop declined it.
" He djn't look right smart," aaid Mr. Forriner. " I reckon
he'll have to go to bed for a while Cousin, if you'll come up
stairs, I'll shew you a place where you oan sleep."
They went up accordingly.
" Mr. Forriner — " called hia wife from the bottom of the
stairs when he and Winthrop had rea:,hed the tjp — Mr For-
riner ! — the »n.d room — ^put him in the end room
" Yea — it isn't very big, but you wont mind th^t to tike a
nap in," said Mr. Forriner, opening the duor aud ushermg Win-
Where he left him ; and what mecrets 'ft mthr p s piU w knew
were known to none but hia pillow. But the mo ning wai not
all lost in sleep ; and home's fair imager did c me m st sweet
about him before sleep came at all.
He waa called to dinner, but chose leep ratbi.r and slept
well all the afternoon. Towards evei mg he r ise 1 himself and
though feeling very little strength to boj&t of he diessid himself
and went out.
The day had changed. A warmer temperature hdd thawed
off the thin sleet, and the pavements were drying. The raiii-
eloud of the morning waa broken up and scattering hither and
thither, and througu the clefts of it the sun came blinking in
upon the world. The light was pleaaaat upon the wet strjeta
and the long stacks of building and the rolling clouds ; and the
HcsledbyGoOgle
168 THE EILLB OF TUE 9IIATEMCC.
change ia the air was most aoothing and mild after the morning's
Lar&ti breath. Wiathrop tasted and felt it as he walked up the
street ; but how eau the outer world be enjoyed bj a mao to
whom, the world is all out«r ? It o:ily quickened his sense of
the necessity there was he should find another climate for his
mind to live in. But hia body was in no state to carry him
about to make discoveries. He must care for that in the first
place. After some int[uiries and wandering about, he at last made
his way into Bank St. and foand an eating-house, very near the
scone of his morning's disaster. Wiotlirop had very few shil-
lings to be extravagant with ; he laid dowa two of them in ex-
change for a small mutton chop aud some bread ; and tben, some-
what heartened, set out upon his travels again, crossing over to
tlie west side of the city. He felt glad, as be went, that his
mother — and bis little sister — did not know at that moment how
utterly alone and fuuudationless he and hia undertaking were
standing in the place ho had chosen for the scene of hia labours
and the home of his future life. Yet he corrected himself. Not
' foundation less,' while his strong will stood unmoved and un
touched by circumstance. Let that not be conquered, it would
surely be conqueror, in the long run ; and he determined it
should have as long a run as was necessary. He could not help
the coming to his mind, as he slowly walked up Beavor St., of
his mother's recipe against disappoin(!ment, and the conversation
had about it years before ; and the words, " Whatsoever he doeth
shall prosper," as Kafus's voice had given them, came back fresh
and with a momeat'e singular doubt and yearning touching their
faithfulness. , Himself, in that fiash of light, he saw to be weak,
aud not strong. What if it should be so indeed ? " Whatsoever
he doetk — SHALL peospbr." Upon the uncertainty of human
things, upon the tumult of human difficulties aod resolves, the
words came like a strange breath of peace, from somewhere un-
known, but felt to be a region of health and strength. Yet the
qualifications to take the promise were not in Wiuthrop's baud ;
to seek them seemed to be a one fide of his purpose; he left
them ou one side, and went on.
He was bending his steps towards the meeting of Beaver and
Little South Sts., the sole point of light which ho knew in the
city. It seemed to him that rather less of tho sun's cheer got
into Diamond St. thau anywhere else. Bank St. was a lieartsome
place in comparison. He made his way slowly up Beaver St.
looking for Little South, and passing what to him were a great
many streets without finding that one. As he drew neaj still
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMtJC, 169
another, hia eye was taken with a man gtanding on the sidewalk
before the coraer house ; a tall, personable, clean-looking man ;
who on his part looked first Bteadily at Winthrop and then came
down to meet him, laughing and holding out hia hand before he
got near,
" How do you do ? " was his first cordial salutation. — " It's
Mr. Landholm ! — I knew it ! — I knew jou, from your likeness to
your brother. We've been looking for you. Come in, come in !
How is your brother, Mr. Landholm ? "
Wiathrop was taken by surprise and could hardly say.
" I knew you as far off as I could see you — I said to myself,
' That's Mr Landholm I ' I am very glad to see you, sir. You've
juat got here '
" This morninf B )t what r ght have I to be expected ? "
" 0 we knew yo were <, m ng Your room's ready for you
— empty and wi t n^ a d we le be n waiting and lonesome too,
ever since "Mr Will dm went away How is Mr. William, Mr.
Landholm .*
" Well, sir and full of k n lly remembrances of you."
" Ah, he s not forj^otten hero said Mr. Inchhald. " He
TTon't be forgotten anywhere Here's my sister, Mr, Landholm,
— my sister M s Nettley — Now my dear sir, beforo wo sit
down, tell me, — ^jou haven t any other place to stay ? "
" I have not, Mr. Inehbaid, indeed."
" Then come up and see what we have to give you, before we
strike a bargain. DoU — won't you give us a tup nf te^ by the
time we come down? Mr. Landholm will be the better of the
refreshment. You have had a tiresome journey tliis weather, Mr.
Landholm ? "
As they mounted the stairs he listened to Winthrop s account
of his iUneas, and looked at him when they got to the top, with
a grave face of concern it was pleasant to meet They had come
up to the very top; the house was a small and insignificant
wooden one, of two stories.
" This is your room," said Mr. Inchbald, opening the door
of the front attic, — " this is the room your brother had , it's not
much, and there's not mtieh in it; but now mj deir friend, till
you find something better, will you keep possession of it ? and
give ns the pleasure of having you ? — and one thing more, will
you apeak of pay when you are perfectly at leisure to think of
it, and not before, or never, just as it happens; — will you? "
" I'll take you at your word, sir; and you shall take mo tX
mine, when the time comes."
HcsledbyGoOgle
lit) THE iriLLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
"TTiai I'll do," said Mr. Inchbald. "And now it's a liar-
gain. Shake hands, — aad come let's go down and have some tea.
— Doll, I hope your tea is good to-night, for Mr. Laadholm is far
from well. Sit down — I wiali jour brother had tlie other place."
That tea waa a refreshment. It was served in the little back
room of the first floor, which had very much the seeming of being
Mrs. Hettley's cooking room too. The appointments were on no
higher scale of pretension than Mrs. Forriner's, yet they gave a
far higher impression of the people that used them ; why, belongs
to the private m^tery of cups and saucers and chairs, which
have an odd obstinate way of their own of telling the truth,
' Doll ' was the very contrast to the lady of the other tea-table.
A littlo woman, rather fleshy, ia a close cap and neat spare gown,
with a face which seemed a compound of benevolent good-will,
and anxious care lest everybody should not get the full benefit of
it. It had known care of another kind too. If her brother
had, tis jovial, healthy, hearty face gave no sign.
After tea Wiuthrop went back to Diamond St.
" Wo didn't wait for you," said Mr. Pon-lner as he came in,
— "for we thought you didn't intend probably to be back to tea."
" What succe^ have you had ? " inu[nired hia better half.
" I have had tea, ma'am," said Winthrop,
" Have you found any place ? "
" Or the place found me."
" You have got one ! — Where is it? "
" la Beaver St. — the place where my brother used to be."
" What's the name ? " said Mr. Forriner.
" Inchhald."
" What is he ? " asked Mrs. Forriner,
" An Englishman — a miniature painter by profession."
" I wonder if he makes his living at that ? " said Mrs. For-
riner.
" What do you have to pay ? " said her husband.
" A iair rent, sir. And now I will pay my thanks for storage
and take away my trunk."
" To-night ? " said Mr. Forriner.
" Well, cousin, we shall be glad to see you sometimes," said
Mrs. Korriner.
" At what times, ma'am ? " said Winthrop,
He spoke with a straightforward simplicity which a little
daunted her,
" 0," she said colouring, " come when you have an hour to
spare — any time when you have nothing better to do."
" I will oome then," he said smiling.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEK XYII.
» Mannaihtta, Dec, — , 1813.
" My deae friends at home,
" I am as well and as happy as I can be anywHero
away from you. That to bo sure ia but a modicum of buppiness
and good condition — very far from tlie full perfection wliieh I
have known is possible; but you wUl all be contented, wilt you
not, to hear tbat I have so much, and thai I have no more? I
don't know — I think of your dear circle at home — and though I
cannot wish the hearen oyer your heads to be a whit lesa bright,
I cannot help wiahing that you may misa one constellation. You
can't have any more than that from poor human nature — selfish
in the midst of its best generosity. And yet, mother and Wini-
fred, your faces rise up to shame me ; and I must correct my
speech and say man's nature ; I do believe that some at least
of your side of the world are made of better stuff than mine.
" Bnt you want to hear of me rather than of yourselves, and
I come back to where I b^an.
" I went to see Mr. De Wort the day after I reached here.
I like him very well. He received me politely, and very hand-
somely waived the customary fee ($250) and admitted me to the
privileges of his office upon working terms. So I am working
now, for him and for myself, as diligently as I ever worked in
my life — in a fair way to be a lawyer, Winnie. By day engross-
ing deeds and copying long-winded papers, about the quarrels
and wrongs of Mr, A. and Mr. B. — and at night digging into
HcsledbyGoOgle
112 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEHUC.
parcliment-covo-red booka, a dryer and barrencr soil than any
nuar Wut-a-ijiit-o or on the old moujitain itself, and which must
nevertheless bo digged into for certain dry and musty fruits of
knowledge to be fetched out of them, I am too busy to get the
blues, but when I go out to take an exercise walk now and then
at dusk or dawn, I do wish I could transport myself to the
neighbourhood of that same mountain, and handle the axe till I
had filled mother's fireplace, or take a turn in the barn at father's
wheat or flas. I should accomplish a good deal before you were
up; but I wouldn't go away without looking in at you.
" I am in the same house where Eufus lived when he was in
Mannahatta, with his friend Mr. Inchbald; and a kinder friend
I do not wish for. He is an Englishman — a fine-looking and
fine-hearted fellow — ^ready to do everything for me, and putting
me upon terms almost too easy for my comfort. He is a minia-
ture painter, by profession, but I fear does not make much of a
living. That does not hinder his being as generous as if he had
thousands to dispose of. Hia heart does not take counsel with
hip purse, nor with, anything but his heart. He lives with a wid-
owed sister who keeps his house ; and she is as kind in her way
as he is in his, though the ways are different. I am. as much at
home here as I can be. I have Rnfus's old room ; it is a very pleas-
ant one, and if there is not much furniture, neither do I want
much. It holds my bed and my books ; and my wardrobe at present
does not require very extensive accommodations; and when I am
in the middle of one of those said paruhment-covered tomes, it
signifies very little indeed what is outside of them or of me, at
the moment. So you may think of me as having all I desire, so
fer as I myself am concerned; for my license and my use of it,
must be worked and waited for. I shall not be a great lawyer,
dear Winnie, under three years at least.
" For you all, I desire so mucL. that my heart almost shuts up
its store and says nothing. So much that for a long time, it may
be, I can have no means of helping you to enjoy. Dear father
and mother, I hope I have not on the whole lessened your means
of enjoyment by striking out this path for myself. I trust it will
in the end be found to be the best foe us all I have acted under
the pressure of an impulse that seemed strong as life. I could
do no other than as I have done. Yet I can hardly bear to
think of you at home sometimes. Dear Winnie and AsaJiel,
Jour images rise up and lie down with me. Asahel must study
ard every minute of time ho can get. And Winnie, you mnat
study too every minute that it doea not tire you, and when
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE EHATEMUC. i-io
mother doea not want you. And write to me. Tliat will do you
good, and it will do me good too.
" Give my love to Karen,
" Yours all, faithfully,
" WiNTHROP Landholm.
" p. S. — I have seen nobody yet but Mr. Herder,"
When Wintbrop went to put thia letter in the post, he drew
out the following :
" To WiNTHROP Landholm, Esq. :
" At Mr, Geokqe Ischbald's,
" Cor, Beaver and Littla South St!., Mannahatla.
" I am 80 tired, Governor, with the world and myself to-night,
that I purpose resting myself at your expense, — in other words,
to pour over all my roiled feelings from my own heart into yours,
hoping benevolently to find my own thereby cleared. What wiil
he the case with yours, I don't like to stop to think; but incline
to the opmion, which I have for many years held, that nothing
can roil it. You are infinitely better than I, Governor ; you de-
serve to be very much happier; and I hope you are. The truth
is, for I may as well come to it, — I am h^f sick of my work. I
eau see your face from here, and know just what its want of es-
presaion expresses. But stop. You are not in my place, and
don't know anything about it. You are qualifying yourself for
one of the first literary professions — and it is one of the greatest
matters of joy to mo to think that you aro. You are bidding
fair to stand, where no doubt you will stand, at the head of so-
ciety. Nothing is beyond your powers ; and your powers will
stop short of nothing within their reach. I know you, and hug
myself (not having you at hand) every day to think what sort of
a brother I have got.
" Governor, I have something in me too, and I am just now
in a place net calculated to developo or cultivate the finer part
of a man'a nature. My associates, without an exception, aro
boors and donkeys, not unfrequently oombming the agreeable pro-
perties of both in one anomalous animal yclept a clown. With
them my days, for the greater part, are spent; and my nights in
a series of calculations almost equally extinguishing to any
brightness of mind or spirit. The consequence is I feel my light
put out! — not hid under a bushel, but absolutely quenched in its
proper existence. I felt so when I began to write thia letter;
HcsledbyGoOgle
174 THE HTLLS OF THE
but by dint of looiing steadily for so long a time towards you,
I perceivo a reflection of light and ■warmth coming back upon me
and beginning to take effect upon my own tinder, whereby I
gather that it ia capable of being ignited again. Seriously, Win-
throp, I am sick of tlis. This was not what wo left home for.
I suppose in time, and with business enoagh, one might make
money in this way, but money is not our object in life. It can-
not satisfy me,"and I trust aot you. What shall I do ? I mast
finish this piece of work — that will keep me in the wilds and
fiistnesses of this beautiful region (for it is a superb country,
Winthrop; nature goes far here to make up for the want of all
other discoursera whatever. I have sometimes felt as if she
would make a poet of me, would I, nold I,) the finishing of my
work here will detain me in the North at least till June or July
of the coming summer ; perhaps August. And then it ia inti-
mated to me my services would be acceptable out West — some-
where near Sawcuato. I have a great mind to come to Manna-
hatta — perhaps take a tutorship till something better offers —
Herder said I would have no sort of difficulty in getting one, or
at least he said what amounted to that— and perhaps, eventually,
enter the political line. I am undecided, except in my disappro-
bation and dislike of what and where I now am. I have half an
inclination to study law with you. It is hard to do anything
with Fortune's wheel when one ia at the very bottom ; and the
jade seems to act as if you were a drag upon her. And it is
hard that you and I should be at opposite sides of the world
while we are both tugging at said wheel. 1 sometimes think we
could work to mare advantage nearer together; we could work
with somewhat more comfort. I am in exile here. Write me as
soon as yon can.
" My pleasanteat thoughts are of yon. Herder is as good as
he can be, and yon are his favourite ; you will presently have the
best literary society, through his means. You don't speak of
Haye. Don't you go there ? Tou had better, Winthrop ; — you
may find a short cut to tiie top of Fortune's wheel through the
front door of his house. At any rate, there are two very pretty
girls there and a number of other pleasant things, with which
you will do well to make yourself acquainted, come thereafter
what may. I wrote to them at home a week or two ago.
W. Laudholm.
" P. S. Isn't Inehbald a good fellow ? "
The next post went out with the answer.
HcsledbyGoOgle
■ITIK HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC, 175
" To WiLLLiM LSNDHOLir, EilJ., NOKTH LvTILKTOK, SASSAFRAS Co.
" My sear Rupub,
" Stick to jour olioice. G-o West, and do not come
Lore. Do not be discouraged by the fact of makiug money.
And don't try to turn Eortunc's wheel by force, for it will break
your aims.
" Yours ever,
" WlKTHP.OP La>)dhoi.m,"
Wintbrop did not toll ttem at home tbat be was giving les-
sons in the classics several hours daily, in order to live while he
was carrying on his own studies ; nor that, to keep the burden
of his kind boats, as well as his own burden, from growing any
heavier, he had refused to eat with them; and was keeping him-
self in the most frugal manner, partly by the kelp of a ebop-
bouse, and partly by the count«nance and support of a very hum-
ble little tin coffee-pot and saucepan in hii; own attic at home.
Mr. Haye's front door he had never entered, and was more than
indifferent where or what it led to,
" Why for do you not come to your friend, Mr. Haye, ever ? "
said Mr. Herder to him one day.
" I am short of time, Mr. Herder,"
" Time ! — But you come to see me ? "
" I have time for tbat."
"I am glad of it," said the naturalist, "for there is no person
I like to see better come into my room ; but ozer people would
like to see yon come in too."
" I am not sure of that, Mr. Herder,"
" I am sure," said Ms friend looking kindly at him. " You
are working too much."
" I can't do that, sir."
" Oome wia me to Mr. Haye to-niglit I "
" ;^"o sir, thank you."
" What for do you say that ?
" Because it is kind in you to ask me," said Wintbrop smi-
ling.
" You will not let nobody be of no use to you; " said the
naturalist.
Wintbrop replied by a question about a new specimen; and
the whole world of animate nature was presently buried in the
bowels of the earth, or in the depths of philosophy, which comes
to about the same thing.
HcsledbyGoOgle
i7ti THE HILLS OF 1i£S SHATEMUC.
But it fell out that same day that Winthrop, going into the
!hop-house to fit himself for hard work with a somewhat better
Jiuner than usual, planted himself just opposite a table which
five minutes after was taken by Mr. Haye. It happened then
tliat after the usual soKiary and aelflsh wont of such places, the
meals were near over oefore either of the gentlemen found out he
had ever eeea the other. But in the course of Mr. Haye's second
glass of wine, his eye took a satisfied fit of roving over the com-
pany; and presently d sc dm thing it had seen before in
the figure and face oip t to hun and in the eye which was
somewhat carelessly nmn ng o th columns of a newspaper.
Glass in hand Mr. Hay and the next instant Winthrop felt
a hand on his shoulder
" Mr. Landholm^ n t t I th ught so. Why I've been
on the point of coming t 1 olc aft y u this last fortnight past,
Mr. Landholm, but business held lue so tight by the button —
I'm very glad to meet yoa — Will you join me ? "
" Thauk you, sir — t must not; for business holds me by tbe
hand at this moment."
" A glass of wine ? "_— —
" Thank you sir, agaiu."
" You will not ? "
" No, sir, I have no acquaintance in that quarter, and do
not wish to bo introduced."
" But my dear Mr. Landholm ! — are you serious ? "
_ " Moat estraordinary I — But can't you be persuaded ? I
think you are wrong."
" I must abide the consec[uences, I am afraid."
" Well, stay ! — Will you come to my house to-night and let
me give you some other introductions ? "
" I cannot refuse that, sir."
" Then come up to tea. How's your father? — "
So Winthrop was in for it, and went about his afternoon busi-
ness with the feeling that none would be done in the evening.
Which did not make him more diligent, because it could not.
Mr. Haye's house was near the lower end of the Parade, and
one of the best in the city. It was a very handsome room in
which Winthrop found the family ; as luxuriously fitt«d up as the
fashion of those times permitted ; and the little group gathered
there did certainly look as if all the business of the world was
done without them, and a good part of it for them; so undoubt-
edly eaay and comfortable was the flow of tlieir hiees and the
HcsledbyGoOgle
TBB aiLLB OP THE SSATEMCO. 177
sweep of their silk gowns; so questionless of toil or endurance
was the position of each little figure npon soft cushions, and the
play of pretty fingers with delicate do-nothing bohhins and thread.
Rose waa literally playing witt hers, for the true business of the
hour seemed to be a gentleman who eat at her feet on an ottoman,
and who was introduced to Winthrop as Mr. Satterthwaite.
Elizabeth according to her fashion sat a little apart and seemed
to be earnestly intent upon some sort of fine net manufacture.
They three were all.
Winthrop's reception was after the former manner ; from Eoso
extremely and sweetly free and cordial ; from Elizabeth grave
and matter-of-fact. She went back to her net-work ; and Boso
presently found Mr. Satterthwaite very interesting again, and
went hack to him, so fe,r as looks and talk were concerned. Win-
throp could but conclude that ho was not interesting, for neither
of the ladies certainly found him so. He had an excellent chance
to make up hia mind about the whole party ; for none of them
gave him any tiling else to do with it.
K(«e was a piece of loveliness, to the eye, such as one would
not see in many a summer day ; with all the sweet flush of youth
and health she waa not ill-named. Fre.th as a rose, fresh-col-
oui'ed, bright, blooming; sweet too, one would say, for a very
pretty smile seemed ever at home on the lips ; — to see her but
once, she would be noted and remembered as a most rare picture
of humanity. But Winthrop had seen her more than once. Hia
eye passed on.
Her cousin had changed for the better; though it might be
only the change which years make in a girl at that age, rather
than any real difference of character. She had grown handsomer.
The cheek was well rounded out now, and had a cleai- healthy
tinge, though not at all Rose's white and red. Elizabeth's colour
only came when there was a call for it and then it came promptly.
And she was not very apt to smile; when she did, it was more
often with a cardess or scornful turn, or full and bright with a
sense of the ludicrous; never a loving or benevolent smile, such
as those that constantly graced Rose's pretty lip. Her mouth
kept its old cut of grave independence, Winthrop saw at a glance ;
and her eye, when by chance she lifted it and it met hia, was the
very same mixture of coolness and fire that it had been of old ;
the fire for horself, the coolness for all the rest of the world.
She looked down again at her netting immediately, but the
look had probably reminded her that nobody in her father's house
was playing tbe hostess at the moment, A disagreeable reminder
HcsledbyGoOgle
178 THE JIlLta OF TitE SHATEIIUC.
it is likely, for she worted aivay at Lei- nettiDg moro vigorously
than ever, and it was two or three mimitea before her eyes left it
again to take note of what Rose and Mr. Satterthwaite were think-
ing about. Her look amused Winthrop, it was so plain an expres-
ehn of impatient indignation that they did not do what they left her
to do. But seeing they were a hopeless case, after another min-
ute or two of pulling at her netting, she changed her seat for one
on bis side of the room. Winthrop gave her no help, and ehe
followed up her duty move with a duty commonplace.
" How do you like Mannahatta, Mr, Landholm ? "
" I have hardly asked myself the question, Miss Haye."
" Does that mean you don't know ? ''
" I cannot say that. I like it as a place of business."
" And not as a place of pleasure ? "
" Ho. Except in so far as the pushing on of business may be
pleasure."
" You are drawing a distinction in one breath whith you con-
found in the nest," said Elizabeth.
" 1 didn't know that you would detect it," he said with a half
smile.
"Detect what?"
" The distinction between businesa and pleasure."
" Do you think I don't know the difi'erence ? "
" You cannot know the difference, without knowing the things
to be c^*"-"'^'""^ ''
" The things to be compared ! — " said she, with a good look
at him out of her dark eyes. " And which of them do you think
I don't know ? "
" I supposed you were too busy to have mucli time for plea-
sure," he said quietly.
" It is possible tu be busy in more ways than one," said Eliz
abeth, after a minute of not knowing how to take him up.
" That is just what 1 was thinking."
"What are i/om busy about, Mr. Landholm, in this place of
business ? "
" I am only learning niy trade," he answered.
" A trade f— May I ask what f " she said, with another sur-
prised and inijuisitive look.
" A sort of cobbling trade, Miss Elizabeth — the trade of the
" What does the law cobble ? "
" People's name and estate."
Cobble?" said Elizabeth, "What ia the meaning of
cobble ?
HcsledbyGoOgle
179
" I don't recollect," eaid WmUirop, " What meaoiiig do you
givo it, Misa Haye ? "
" I tliouglit it was a poor kind of meadiEg."
" I s.m afraid there is some of that work done in the pro-
fesaioD," said Winthrop smiling. " Occasionally. But it ia the
profession and not the law that ia chargeable, for the most part."
" I wouldn't be a lawyer if that were not so," said Elizabeth,
" I wouldn't be a cobbler of anything."
" To be anything else might depend on a person's faculties."
" I don't care," said Elizabeth, — " I would not be. If I
could not mend, I would let alone. I wouldn't oobblo."
" What if one could neitter mend nor let alone ? "
" One would have less power over himself than I have, or
than you have, Mr. Landholm."
" One thing at least doesn't need cobbling," he said with a
" I never heard such a belittling character ;f the profession,"
she went on. " Your mother would have given it a very dif-
ferent one, Mr. Landholm. She would have told you, ' Open
thy mouth, judge '—what ia it ? — * and plead the cause of the
poor.' "
Whether it were the unexpected bringing np of hia mother's
name, or tlie remembrance of her spirit, something procured Miss
Elizabeth a quick little bright smile of answer, very different
from anything she had had from Winthrop before. So different,
that her eyes went down to her work for several minutes, and she
forgot everything else in a sort of wonder at the change and at
the beauty of expression his face could put on.
" I didn't find those words myself," she added presently ; —
" a foolish man was siiewing me the other day what he said
was my verse in some chapter ot Pioverbs , and it happened to
be that."
But Winthrop's answer went to something in. her former
speech, for it was made with a bf tie breath of a sigh.
"I think Wut-a-qut-o is a pleasanter place tban this, Miss
Haye."
" 0, so do I ! — at least — I don't know that it signifies much to
me what sort of a place I am in. If I can only have the things I
want around me, I don't think I eare much."
" How many things do you want to be comfortable ? "
" 0, — books, — and the conveniences of life ; and one or two
friends that one cares about."
" Cut off two of those preliminaries, — and which one would
you keep for comfort, Misa Elizabeth ?"
HcsledbyGoOgle
180 THE niLLS OF THE BHATEMUC.
" Oottlda't do without either of 'em. What's become of my
Merry-go-rouud, Mr, Winthrop ? "
" It lies in the upper loft of the barn, with all the seams
"Why?"
" You remember, nobody was to use it but me."
A curious recollection of the time when it was given and of the
feeling, half condesc ending, half haaghty, with which it had been
giyea, came over Elizabeth ; aud for a moment or two she was a
little confused. Whether Winthrop recollected it too or whether
he had a mischievous mind that sfie should, he said presently,
" And what's becwme of your horse, Miss Elizabeth ? "
" He's very well," she said. " At least — I don't know I am
sure how he isj for he is up in the country."
Winthrop rose at the instant to greet Mr. Herder, and Eliza-
beth did not know whether the smile on his lips was for him or
at her.
" Ah ! Wint'rop," said the new-comer, " how do you do I I
thought you would not come here win me liis morning ? "
" I thought not too, sir."
" How did you come? MiBS filisabet' did make you."
"Miss Elizabeth's Either."
"He is a strange man, Miss filiaabct' ! — ^he would not come
for me^I could not bring him — neizer for de love of me, nor for
de love o'" you, nor for love of himself. Ho does like to have
his way. And now he is here — I do not know what for ; but I
am very glad to see him."
Ho walked Winthrop off.
" He is a strange man," thought Elizabeth ; — " he don't seem
to care iu the least what he ever did or may do ; he would jusi
as lief remind me of it as not. It is veij odd that ho shouldn'i
want to come hero, too."
She sat still and worked alone. When Mr. Haye by and bj
came in, he joined Winthrop and Mr. Herder, and they thret
formed a group which even the serving of tea and coffee dio
not break up. Elizabeth's eye glanced over now and then to-
wards the interested heads of the talkers, and then at Kose and
Mr. Satterthwaite, who on the other side were also OEOugh foi
each other's contentment and seemed to care for no interruption.
Elizabeth interrupted nobody.
But so soon as awhile after tea Mr. Satterthwaite left the
company, Kose tripped across to the other group and placed her
pretty person over against the naturalist and his young friend.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS Off THE BHATEMUC. 181
" Mr. Herder, jou are taking tip all of Mi'. Landiolm — I
haven't seen him or spoken to him the whole evening,"
" Dere he is, Miss Rose," said the Eaturalist. " Do vfhat
you like wiz him."
" But you don't give a ehance. Mr. Landholm, are you as
great a favourite with everybody as you are with Mr. Herder ? "
" Everybody does not monopolize me, Miss Cadwallader."
" I wished so much you would come over our aide— I wanted
to make you acquainted with Mr. Satterthwaite."
Winthrop bowed, and Mr. Haye remarked that Mr. Satter-
thwaite was not much to be aoc[uainted with.
" No, but still — he's very pleasant," Kose saiJ. " And how
is evei^thing up at your lovely place, Mr. Landholm ? "
" Cold, at present, Miss Cadwallader."
" 0 yes, of course ; but thea I should think it would bo lovely
at all times. Isn't it a beautiful place, Mr. Herder ? "
" Which place, Miss Rose ? "
" Why, Mr. Landholm's place, up the river, where we were
that summer. And how's your mother, Mr. Landholm, and your
sister ? — so kind Mrs. Landholm is ! And have you left thera
entirely, Mr. Landholm ? "
" I have brought all of myself away that I could," he said
with a smile.
" Don't you wish yourself back there every day ? "
" No."
"Don't you I I should think you would. How's your brother,
Mr, Landholm, and where is he ? "
" He is well, and in the North yet."
" la he coming back to Mannahatta soon ? "
"I have no reason to think so."
" I wish he would. I want to see him again. He ia such
good company."
"Mr. Wint'rop will do so well, Miss Rose," said the
natnralist.
" I dare say he will," said Rose with a very sweet face.
" He won't if he goes on as he has begun," said Mr. Haye.
" I asked him to dine nere the day after to-morrow. Rose,"
" He'll come ?— "
But Mr. Landholm's face said no, and said it with a eool
certainty,
" Why, Mr. Landhohn I—"
" He is very — you cannot do uozing wiz him, Misa Rose,"
said the naturalist. " Miss filisabet' ! — "
HcsledbyGoOgle
182 THK niLLS OF THE 6HATEMUC.
" Well, Mr. Herder ? "
" I wish you would come over here and see wliat you can do."
" About what, Mr. Herder f "
" Wiz Mr. Wiat'rop here."
" I just heard you say that nobody can do anything with him,
Mr. Herder."
" Here he has refuse to come to dinner wiz all of us."
" It' he can't come for his own pleasure, I don't suppose he
would come for anybody else's," said Elizabeth.
She left her solitary chair however, and came up and stood
behind Mr. Herder.
" He pleads business," said Mr. Haye.
" Mias Elisabet', we want your help," eaid Mr. Herder. " He
is working too hard."
" I am not supposed to know what that means, sir."
" What ? " said Mr. Haye.
" Working too hard."
" Work I said Mr. Haye. " What do you know about
work ¥ "
" The personal experience of a life-time, sir," said Winthrop
gravely. " Not much of the theory, but a good deal of the
practice."
" 111 bear her witness of one thing," said Mr. Haye ; " if she
can't work herself, she ean make work for other people."
" You've got it, Lizzie," said her cousin, clapping hei' hands.
" I don't take it," said Elizabeth. " For whom do I make
work, father?"
" For me, or whoever has the care of you."
Elizabeth's cheek burned now, and her eye too, with a fire
which she strove to keep under.
" It's not fair 1 " she exclaimed. " If I make work for yon,
I am sure it is work that nobody takes up."
" That's true," said her lather laughing, — " it would be too
much trouble to pretend to take it all up."
" Then you shouldn't hring it up I " said Elizabeth, trembling.
" It's nothing very bad to bring up," said her father. " It's
only a little extra strong machinery tl^t wants a good engineer,"
" That's no fault in the machinery, sir," said Winthrop.
" And all you have to do," suggested Mr. Herder, " is to find
a good engineer."
" I am my own engineer ! " said Elizabeth, a little soothed by
the first remark and made desperate by the second.
" So you are ! " said her cousin. " There's no doubt of that."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE mitS Off THE BHATEMCC, 1S3
" Are you a good one, Miss Elieabet' ? " said the naturalist,
sailing at her.
"You must presume not! — after what you have heard," sho
answered with abundant haughtineaa.
" It is one mark of a good engineer to be a mateh for Lis
maohiuery," said Winthrop quietly.
It was said so coolly and simply that Elizabeth did not take
offence. She stood, rather cooled down and thoughtful, etill at
the hack of Mr. Herder's ehair. Wmtlirop rose to take leave, and
Mr. Haye repeated his invitation.
" I will venture ao far as to say I will come if I can, sir."
" I shall expect you," said the other, shaking his hand
cordially.
Mr. Herder went with his friend, Mr, Haye sooa himself
followed, leaving the two ladies alone. Both sat down in silence
at the table ; Elizabeth with a hoot. Miss Oadwallader with her
fancy work ; but neither of them seemed very intent on what she
was about. Xhe work wont on lazily, and the leaves of the book
were not turned over.
" I wish I was Wicthrop Laudholm," said Rose at length.
" Why ? " — said her cousin, after a sufficient time had marked
her utter carelessness of what the meaning might have been.
" I should have such a good chance."
" Of what ? " — said Elizabeth dryly enough.
" Of a certain lady's favour, whose favour is not very easy to
" Tou don't care much for ray favour," said Elizabeth.
" I should, if I were Winthrop Landholm."
'• If you were he, you wouldn't get it, any more than you
" 0 no. I mean, I wish I were he and not myself, yor
" You must think well enough of him, I am sure no _
inducement could make me wish myself Mr. Satterthwaite, for a
moment."
" I don't care for Mr. Satterthwaite," said Rose coolly. " But
how Mr. Haye takes to him, don't he ? "
"To whom?"
" Winthrop Landholm."
" I don't see how he sliowa it,"
"Why, the way he was asking him to dinner."
" It is nothing very uncommon for Mr. Haye to ask people
to dinner."
" Ko, hut BHoh a person."
HcsledbyGoOgle
1S4 THE H1LL8 OF THE SIIATEMtlC.
" What ' such a person ? "
" 0, a farmer's boy. Mr. Haye wouldn't have done It onoe
But that's the way he always cornea round to people when they
get up in the world."
" This one hasn't got much up in tlie world yet."
" He is going to, you know. Mr. Herder says so ; and Presi-
dent Darcy gays there are not two such young men aeen in half a
century as he and his brother."
Elizabeth laid down her book and looked over at her com-
panion, with an eye the other just met and turned away from.
" Rose, — how dare you talk to me so ! "
" So how? " said the other, pouting and reddening, but with-
out lifting her face from her work,
" You know, — about my father. No matter what he does, if
it were the worst thing in the world, your iipa have no business
to mention it to my ears."
" I wasn't saymg anything had" said Rose.
" Your notions of bad and good, and honourable and dishon-
ourable, are very different from mine I If he did aa you say, I
should be bitterly ashamed."
" I don't see why."
"I will not have such things Broken of to me, — Rose, do
you understand ? What my father does, no human being has &
right to comment upon to me ; and none shall I "
"You think you may talk as you like to me," said Kose,
between pouting and crying. " I waa only laughing."
" Laugh about something else."
" I wish "Winthrop Landholm had been here."
" Why ? "
" He'd have given you another speech about engineering,"
Elizabeth took her candle and book and marched out of the
room.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XVIII.
WiNTHROP found he could go. So aecorcling to tis promise
he dressed himself, and was looking out a pockethandkerchicf
fcom the small store in his trunk, when the door opened.
" Rufus ! "
" Ah ! — you didn't expect to see me, did you ? " said that
gentleman, taking off his hat and coining in and closing the door
with a face of great life and glee.—" Here I am, Governor 1 "
" What hrought you here ? " said hia brother shaking his
" What brought me here ? — why, t!ie stage-coach, to be sure ;
except five miles, that I rode on horseback. What should bring
" Something of the nature of a centrifugal force, I should
"Centrifugal! — You are my centre, (rovemor, — don't you
know that ? I tend to you as naturally as the poor earth does to
the Bun. That's why I am here — ^I couldn't keep at a distance
any linger."
" My dear sir, at that rate you are running to destruction."
" No, no," said Eufus laughing, — " there's a certain degree
of lioense in our moral planetary system I'm going away
again as soon as I am rightly refreshed with the communication
of your light and warmth."
" Well," said Winthrop untying his neckcloth, " it would seem
but courtesy in the sun to stand still to reeeive his visitor
I'm very glad to see you, Will."
" What's the matter ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
InO THE HTT.T.a Off THE eHATEMOO,
" The sun waa goiog out to dinner — ttat'a all, — ^but you af e a
BttfSoient excuse for me,"
" Going to dinner ? — where ? "
"No. 11, on the Parade."
" No. 11 ?— Mr. Haje's ? were you ? I'll go too. I won't
hinder jou."
" I am not sorry to ho hindered," said Winthrop.
" But I am !— at least, I should be. We'll both go. How
soon, Governor ? "
" Presently."
" I'll be ready," said Eufus, — " here's my valise — but my shirt
ruffles, I fear, are in a state of impoverished elcganee. 1 speak
not in respect of one or two holes, of which they are the worse,
— but solely in refereneo to the coercive power of narrow oir-
cumstances which nobody knows anything of that hasu't er-
periecced it," said Rufua, looking up from his valise to his brother
with an expression half earnest, half comical.
" You are not suffering under it at this moment," said Win-
" Yes I am — in the form of my frills. Look there ! I'll
teli you what I'll do— I'll invoke the charities of my good friend,
Mrs. Nettley. Is she down stairs ? — I'll be baok in a moment,
Winthrop."
Down stairs, shirt in hand, went Kufus, and tapped at Mrs.
Nettlej's door. That is, the door of the room where she usually
lived, a sort of better class kitchen, which held the place of what
in houses of more pretension is called the 'back parlour,' Mrs.
Nettley's own hand opened the door at his tap.
She was a strong contrast to her brother, with her rather
small person and a face all the lines of which, were like a cobweb
set to catch every care that was flying; but woven by no malev-
olent spider ; it was a very nest of kindliness and good-will.
" How d'ye do, Mrs. Nettley," said Eufus softly.
" Why Mr. Landholm ! — are you there ? Come in — how good
it is to see jou again ! but I didn't espect it."
" Didn't expect to see me again ? "
" No — 0 yes, of course, Mr. William," said Mrs. Nettley
laughing, — " I expected to see you again ; but not now — I didn't
expect to see you wlien I opened the door."
" I bad the advantage, for I did espeot to sec you."
" How do JOU do, Mr, Landholm ? "
" Why, as well as a man can do, in want of a shirt," said
Rufus comically.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE IIILLB OS THE BHATEML'O, 187
" Mr. Landhoim ?— "
" You Bee, Mrs. Nettlcy," Eufus went on, " I liave come all
the way from North Lyttleton to dine witli a friend and my
brother here; and now I am come, I find that without your good
offices I haven't a rutSe to ruffle myself withal ; or in other words,
I am afraid people wonld think I had packed myself bodily into
my valise, and thereby conclude I was a smaller affair thau they
had thought me."
" Mr. Landhoim ! — how you do talk ! — but can I do any-
" Why yes, ma'am,— -or your irons can, if you have any hot,"
" 0 that's it 1 " exclaimed Mrs. Nettley as Eufus held out the
crumpled frills, — " It's to smooth them, — yes sir, my fire is all
out a'most, but I can iron them in the oven. I'll do it directly
Mr. Landhoim,"
" Well," said Kufus with a c[uizzical face, — " any way — if
you'll ensure them against damages, Mrs. Nettley — I don't
understand all the possibilities of an oven."
" We are very glad to have your brother in your room, Mr,
Landhoim," the good lady went on, as she placed one of her irons
in the oven's mouth, where a brilliant fire was at work.
" I should think jou would, ma'am ; he can fil! it much bet-
ter tJian I,"
" Why Mr. LandboJm ! — I should think 1 shouldn't think,
to look at you, that your brother would weigh much more than
you — he's broader shouldered, something, but you're the tallest,
I'm sure. But you didn't mean that."
" I won't dispute the palm of beauty with him, Mrs. Nettley,
nor of ponderosity. I am willing he should exceed rae ia both."
" Why Mr. Landhoim ! — dear, I wish this iron wonld get
hot; but- there's no hurrying it; — -I think it's the wood — I told
George I think this wood does not give out the heat it ought to
do. It makes it very extravagant wood. One has to burn so
much more, and then it doesn't do the work — Why Mr. Land-
holm— you must have patience, air Your brother is excellent,
every way, and he's veiy good looking, but you are the hand-
somest."
" Everybody don't think so," Eufus said, but with a play of
lip and brow that was not on the whole unsatisfied. Mrs. Ncttley's
attention however was now fastened upon the frills. And then
came in Mr. Inchbald ; and they talked, a sort of whirlwind of
talk, as his sister not unaptly described it; and then, the rufSes
HcsledbyGoOgle
ISO THK HILLS OF TUB SHATEMTJC.
being in order Kafus put liimeelf so, and Winthrop and Iw talked
themselves all tte way down to No. 11, on the Parade.
Their welcome wan most hearty, though the company were al-
ready at tahle. Place was speedily made for them ; and Bufus
hardly waited to take tis before he beeame the life and spirit of
the party. He continued to be that through the whole entertain-
ment, delighting everybody's eye and ear. Winthrop laughed at
his brother and with him, but himself played a very quiet part ;
putting in now and then a word that toid, but doing it rarely
and carelessly; the flow and freshness of the oonversatioa calling
for no particular help from him.
Mr. Herder was there ; also Mr. Satterthwaite, who sat nest
to Winthrop and addressed several confidential and very unim-
portant remarks to him, and seemed to look upon his brother as
a sort of meteoric phenomenon. President Darcy, of Mr. Her-
der's College, was the only other guest. Elizabeth sat next to
Winthrop, but after the first formal greeting vouchsafed not a
single look his way ; she was in a dignified mood for all the com-
pany generally, and Kose's were the only feminine words that
mixed with the talk during dinner. Very feminine they were, if
that word implies a want of strength ; but coming from such rosy
lips, set round about with such smiles of winningness, they won
their way and made easy eutraDce into all the ears at table.
With the trifling exception of a pair or two.
" What is the matter with you ? " said Rose, when she and
her cousin had left the gentlemen and were alone in the drawing-
" JSTotiing at ail."
" You don't say a word '
" I will, when I have a word to say."
" I thought yoa always had words enough," said Rose.
" Not when I haven't time too."
" Time ? what, for words ? "
"What was the matter with the time?"
" It was filled up."
" Well, you might have helped fill it."
" Nothing can be more than full, very well," said Elizabeth
contemptuously. " I never want my words to be lost on the out-
side of a conversation."
" You think a great deal of your words," said her cousin.
" I want other people should."
"You do] WeU— I never expect ttem to think much of
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLB OP THE 6HATEMITC. 189
" That's not true, Eoae."
"It isn't?"
" No; and your smile wlien you said it spoke that it wasn't."
" Well, I don't care, they are thought enough of," said Eose,
half crying.
Eliaahett walked to the window and stood within the cur-
tain, boiling out into the street ; and Eose bestowed her pouting
lipa and hrimfu! eyes upon the full view of the fire.
" What's made you so cross ? " she said after a quarter of an
hour, when the t^ars were dried.
" I am not cross."
" Did you over see anybody so amusing asEufus Landholm?"
" Yes, he's amusing.—-! don't like people that are too amusing."
" How can anybody be too amusing ? "
" He can make it too much of his business."
" Who ?— Eufus ? "
" No, anybody. You asked how anybody could."
" Well I dont see how you can think he is too amusing."
" Why that is all you care for in a man."
" It isn't ! I care for a ereat deal else. What do you care
for ? "
" I don't know, I am sure," said Elizabeth ; " but I should
say, everything olae."
" Well I &ink people are very stupid that aren't amusing,"
said Eose.
Which proposition the ladies illustrated for another quarter
of an houi.
The gentlemen came in then, one after another, but Elizabeth
did not move from her window.
" I have something of yours in my possession. Miss Haye,"
said Eufus, coming to the outside of the curtain within which she
stood.
" What ? " said Elizabeth unceremoniously.
" Your father."
" What are you going to do with him ? "
Bufus langlied a little ; and Winthrop remarked there was
nothing hke straightforward dealing to confound a mauceuvrer.
" I have a desire to put him out of my hands, into yours,"
8aid Eufus; — "but then, I have also a desire to make him fast
there."
" My bracelet ! " said Elizabeth.
It had a likeness of Mr. Haye in cameo.
" Where did you get it ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
190 THE HILLS Of T
" Where you left it."
" Where was that ? "
" On the table, at the left hand of your plate, covered hy
your napkin."
Elizabeth stretched out her hand for it,
"Not so fast — I have it in my possession, as I told you,
and I claim, a reward for recovering it from its ignoble eon-
" I shall set my owa conditions then," said Elizabeth. " I
will let anybody put it on, who will do me the pleasure to ex-
plain it first." .
" Explain ? " said Rufua, looking in a, sort of comical doubt at
the cameo; — " I see the features of Mr. Haye, which never need
explanation to me,"
" Not in nature ; but do you understand them when they look
BO brown on a white ground ? "
" They look very natural ! " said Rufus eyeing the cameo.
" That is to say, you do not understand them ? "
" Pardon me, you arc the person most difBonlt to understand."
" 1 don't ask that of you," said Elizabeth. " I want to know
about this cameo, for I confess I don't."
" And I confess I don't," said Bufus. " I didn't even know
it had any other name but Mr. Haye."
" What's all this 1 " said Kose, — " what are you talking about
" We are talking about, we don't know what," said Kufua.
" What is it ? "
" That's the question ; — ^nobody knows."
" What is the fjuestion ? "
" Who shall put on Miss Elizabeth's bracelet."
" Give it to me — I'll do it."
" Pardon me — there ii said to bo reason in the roasting of
eggs, and there must be a good deal of reason before this bracelet
" I want somebody to tell me about the cameo," said Eliza-
beth.
" Well, won't somebody do it ? "
" Mr. Landliolm can't— I haven't asked Mr, Winthrop."
" Will you ? " said Rose turning to him,
" I wasn't asked," said Winthrop.
"But I asked you."
" Do you wish to know. Miss Cadwallader ? "
"No I don't. What's the use of knowing about everything?
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTJO. 191
Do leave the cameos, and come over tere and sit. down and talk
and be comfortable 1 "
" It's impossiblo for me to be comfortable," said Kufus.
"I've got Mr. Haye on ray hands and I don't know what to do
with him."
" Mr, Herder 1 " — Hose called out to him, — " do come here
and t<!ll us about cameos, that wo can sit down and be com-
fortable."
Very good-hnmouvedly the naturalist left Wr. Haye and
came to liem, and presently was deep in quartz and silica, and
onyx and chalcedony, and all manner of atones that are precious.
He told all that Elizabeth wanted to know, and much more than
she had dreamed of knowing. Even Rose listened ; and Eufus
was eagerly attentive ; and Elizabeth after she had asked questions
as far as her knowledge allowed her to push them, sighed and
wished she knew everything.
" Then you would be more wise than anybody. Miss Elisabet'
— you would be too wise. The man who knows the most, knows
that he knows little."
" Is that your opinion of yourself, Mr. Herder ? " said Rufus.
" Certamly. I do know very little ; — I will know more, I
" 0 Mr. Herder, you know enougli," said Rose. " I shouldn't
think you would want to study any more."
" If I was to say, I kuow enough, — that would be to say that
I do not know nozing at all."
" Mr. Wiuthrop, you don't seem as interested as the rest of
US," said Elizabeth, perhaps with a little curiosity; for he bad
stood quietly by, letting even Mr. Satterthwaite push himself in
between.
" 0 he," said the naturalist,^ — -" he fenows it all before."
" Then why didn't you tell me ! " said Elizabeth.
" I wasn't asked," said Winthrop smiling.
" Wint'rop comes to my room the nights," Mr. Herder went
on, — " and ho knows pretty well all what is in it, by this time.
When be is tired himself wiz work at his books and his writings,
he comes and gets rested wiz my stones and my preparations. If
you will come there, Miss Elisabet', I will shew you crystals of
quartz, and onyx, and all the kinds of chalcedony, and ozer
things."
"And I too, Mr, Herder?" said Rose.
"Wiz pleasure. Miss Rose, — if you like."
" Mr. Herder," said the young lady, " don't you lovQ every-
thing very much?"
HcsledbyGoOgle
192 THE HILLS Oy THE BHATBinJO.
" I love you very mucli, Miss Hose," said the naturalist, turn-
ing his good-humourod handsome face full upon her, — " I do not
know about every zing."
" No, but 1 mcaa all animals and insects, and eTorything
that lives ? "
" I do not love everyzing that lives," said the naturalist
smiling, " I do not love Mr. Ileinfelt."
" Who ia Mr. Heinfelt ? " said Eose.
" He is a man what I do not love."
" No, hut Mr. Herder, I mean, don't you love other things
very much — animals, and such things ? You hare so muck to do
with them."
" No — 1 have no love to spare for animals," he said witb a
grave face.
" Don't you love birds and animals, that you are always after
and busy with ? "
" No," said the naturalist, — " I do not love them — I love
what is hack of all that — not the animals. I keep my love for
" Do you think you have any more in that direction, for keep-
ing it from the others ? " said Elizabeth.
" I do not understand — "
" Do you think you love men any better because you don't
give animals any love at all ? "
" I do love some animals," said Mr. Herder. " I had a horse
once, when I lived in Germany, that I did love. I loved him so
well, that when a man did insult my horse, I made him fight
Eose exclaimed ; Elizabeth smiled significantly ; and Win-
tbrop remarked,
" So that's the way your love for men shews itself ! "
" No," said the naturalist, — " no, — I never did ask a man to
meet mo more than that one time. And I did not hurt him
much. I only want to punish him a little."
" Wby Mr. Herder 1 " Kose repeated. " I didn't think you
would do such a thing."
" Everybody fight in Germany," said the naturalist; they all
fight at the Universitfs — they must fight. I found the only way
was to make myself SO good swordsman that I should be safe."
" And have you fou^t many duels ? " said Elizahetli.
" Yes— I have fought— I have been obliged by circumstances
to fight a good many. 1 have seen two hundred."
" Two nundred du'_4s, Mr. Herder ! "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS or TIIE BHATEMITC. 19S
" Yes. — I have seen four men killed."
" Were you ever hurt, Mr. Hordcr ? " said Eose.
" No — I never was wounded. I saw how it was — ^that tie
only thing to do was to excel ozers ; eo as in ozer tilings, I did in
this."
" But how oame jou, who love men so well, to have so much
to do with hurting them, Mr. Herder f "
"Yon cannot help it, Miss Eliaabet'," said the naturalist.
" They fight for nozing — they fight for nozing. I never asked one,
but I have been oblige to fight a good many. The students make
tbemselves into clubs; and the way is, when two students of dif-
ferent clubs, get in a quarrel, their presidents ^ust fight it out ;
— so they meet people in duels that they have never spoken to,
nor seen. I will give you an instance. — One of these fellows —
a great fighter — he had fought perhaps forty times,— he was brag-
ging about it , 'he had. fought such one and such one,' ho said ;
— ' perhaps he ought to have fought Herder, in order to say that
he was the best man with the sword of all the German students,
— ■perhaps he ought to have met Herder, but he didn't care about
it f' And a young fellow that heard him, that was by, be took
it up; ' Sir,' said he, ' Herder is my friend — you must fight him
— come to my room to-morrow morning at seven o'clock — he will
meet you;' — 'very well,' they agree upon the matter togezer.
The next morning he come bouncing into my room at a quarter
after seven — ' Herder I Herder 1 come on ! — Lessing is waiting to
fight you in my room.'— 'What is the matter ? ' — 'O, Leasing said
so and so, and I told him you would fight him at seven, ana it is
a quarter past ' — ' Well, you tell him I didn't know of this, I am
not keeping bim waiting; I will come directly.' — I was not up.
So I got myself dressed, and in ten minutes I was there. A
duel is finished when they have given twelve blows "
" Twelve on each aide, Mr. Herder ? "
" Yes — when they have both of them given twelve blows
apiece. Before we begun, Lessing and me, 1 whispered to some-
body who stood there, that I would not touch him unless he
touched me ; and then I would ^ve it to bim in the ribs. I re-
ceived ten blows on my arm, which is covered wia a long glove;
the eleven, he cut my waistcoat — I had one blow left, and I gave
it to him in the ribs so long "
Mr. Herder's words wore filled out by the position of his fore
fingers, which at this juncture were held some seven or eight
inches apart^
" O Mr. Herder ! — did you kill him I " exclaimed Bose.
HcsledbyGoOgle
194 THK HILLS OF THE 0HATEMDC.
" Not at all — I did not kill him — ho was very good friend of
mine, — ^lie was not angry wia me. He said, ' wlien I get well,
Herder, you come to breakfast wiz me in my room ; ' and I said,
"Is that kind of thing permitted in the Univcrsitieg, Mr.
Herder ? " said Elizabeth.
" Permit ? — No, it is not permitted. They would hinder it
if theyeould,"
" What would have been done to you if you had been found
out? "
" Humph ! — They would have shut ua up I " said Mr. Herder,
shrugging nis ahouldere.
" In your rooms ? "
" No — ^not exactly ; — in the fortress. At Munich the pun-
ishment for being found out, is eight years in the fortress; — at
ozer places, four or five years ;— yet they will fight."
" How many Universities have you been in, Mr. Herder ? "
said Hose.
"I have been in seven, of Universitfis in Europe."
" Fighting duels in all of them ! "
"Well, yes; — no, there was one where I did fight no dueL
I was not there long enough."
" Mr. Herder, I am shocked 1 I wouldn't have thought it of
you."
" The hraeolet, Mr. Herder, I believe is yours," said Rufus.
" Mine ? " — said the naturalist.
" Miss Elizabeth would aUow no one to put it on her hand,
hut a philosopher."
" That ia too great an honour for me, — I am not young and
gallant enough — I shall depute you," — said Mr. Herder putting
the cameo in Winthrop's hand.
But Winthrop remarked that he could not take deputed
honours ; and quietly laid it in the hand of its owner. Elizabeth,
with a face a little blank, clasped it oa for herself Kufus looked
somewhat curious and aomewli^t amused.
" I am afraid you will say of my brother. Miss Haye, that
though certainly young enough, he is not very gallant," he said.
Eliaabeth gave no answer to this speech, nor sign of hearing,
unless it might be gathered from the cool free air with which she
made her way out of the group and left them at the window.
She joined herself to President Daroy, at the other side of the
fire, and engaged him in talk with her about diSet-ent gems
and the engraving of them, so earnestly that she had no eyes nor
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP FHE eHATi.MUC. 195
ears for anybody else. And when any of the gentlemen brought
her refreshments, she took or refused them almost without ac-
knowledgment, and alway^i without lifting her eyea to see to
whom it might be due.
The company were all gone, and a little pause, of rest or of
musing, had followed the last spoken 'good night.' It was
musing on Elizabeth's part, for she broke it with,
" Father, if you can give Mr. Landholm aid in amy way, I
hope you will."
"My dear," said her father, "I don't know what I can do.
I did offer to set him a going in. business, but he don't like my line;
and I have nothing to do with his, away up in the North there
among the mountains."
"01 don't mean that Mr. Landholm — I mean the other."
" Winthrop," said Mr. Haye.
" Elizabeth likes him much the host," said Miss CadwaUader.
" I don't," said Mr. Haye,
" Neither do I ! "
" I do," said Elizabeth. " I think ho is worth at least tea of
his brother."
" She likes him so well, that if you don't help him, dear Mr.
Haye, there is every likelihood that somebody else will."
" I certainly would," said Eliaahetb, " if there was any way
that I could. But there is not."
" I don't know that he wants help," said Mr. Haye.
"Why he must, fetherl — ^he can't live upon nothing; how
much means do you suppose he has ? "
"I met him at the chop-house the other day," said Mr. Haye;
— " he was eating a very good slice of roast beef. I dare say
he paid for it."
" But he is stru^ling to make his way up into his profession,"
said Elizabeth. " He must be."
" What must he be ? " said Eose.
" Perhaps he is," said Mr. Haye, " but he don't say so. If I
see him struggling, I will try what I can do."
" Oh father ! "
" Why should Winthrop Landholm be helped," said Rose,
" more than all the other young men who are studying in the
city ? "
" Because I know him," said Elizabeth, " and don't happen to
know the others. And because I like him."
" I like him too," said her father yawning, " but I don't know
HcsledbyGoOgle
196 THE HILLS OF THE BHA.TEMUC.
anything very remarkatle about him. I lite hia brother the
'' He is honest, and good, and indejjendeni,'" said Elizabeth ;
" and those are the very people that ought to be helped." ^^
" And those are the very people that it 13 dif&cult to help,
said her father. " How do you suppose he would take it, if 1 were
to offer him a fifty dollar note to-morrow ? " ..„,., ,v
" I don't suppose he would take it at all," said Ebzabeth.
" You couldn't help him so. But there are other ways." _
" You may give hun all your business, when he gets mto bia
profession " said Mr. Haye. " I don't know what elae_ you can
do. Or you can use your influence with Mr. Satterthwaite to get
liis littlier to employ him." -. -pv
" Vou and he may both be very glad to do it yet, said .I1.I1Z-
ahetli. "I shouldn't wonder." ,■ „ -3
" Then I don't see why you are concerned about him, said
° Elizabeth was silent, with a face that might be taken to
say there waa nobody within hearmg worthy of her words.
Rufus went back to his work in the mountains, and Wm-
thron struggled on : if most diligent and unsparing toil, and patient
denying hmself of necessary and wished-for things, were strugghng.
It was all his spare time could do to make clear the way for the hours
eiven to his profession. There was httle leisure for rest, and he
had no means to bestow on pleasure ; and that is a very favoura-
ble stating of the case as far as regards the last item. Mr. Inch-
bald never asked for rent, aod never had it ; not m those days.
That the time would come, Winthrop believed ; and his kmd host
never troubled himself to inquire. ,, . v
There wero pleasures, however, that Winthrop could not buy
and which were very freely his. Mr. Herder's friendship intro-
duced him to society, some of the best worth to be founded
which opened itself circle after circle to let him in He had tJie
freedom of President Darcy's house, and of Mr. Hayes where
he met other sets; in all, covering the whole ground of Manna-
hatta eood society; and in all which Winthrop could not but
know he was gladly seem He had means and facilities for social
enioymeat, more, by many, than he chose to avail himset ot ;
facilities that did not lack temptation. In Mr. Herder's set
Winthrop often was found ; other houses m the city saw hun but
^^Vhere was an esccptlon,— ho was often at Mr. Hayc's; why,
it did not very plainly appear. Ho was certainly made welcome
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OS THE SHATEMUC. 197
by the family, but so he waa by plenty of other families ; and the
house tad not a more pleasant set of familiars than several other
houses could boast. Mr. Hayo had no sort of objection to givmg
him BO much countenance and encouragement ; and Koae kept all
her coldness and doubtful speeches for other times than those
wheu he was near. Elizabeth held very much her old manner;
in general choso to have little to do with him; eittier haughtily
or carelessly distant, it might be taten for one or the other.
Though which it might be taken for, seemed to give no more con-
cern to the gentleman in question than it did to herseli
HcsledbyGoOgle
OHAPTEE XIX.
'a afternoon, — ^this was the first summer of "Win-
throp's being in Mannaiatta, — he went to solace himself with a
walk out of town. It was a long and grave and thoughtful walk ;
so that Mr. Laaiiholm really had very little good of the bright
Bummer light upon the grass and trees. Furthermore, he did not
even fiud it out when this light was curtained in the west with a
thick cloud, which straightway became gilt and silver-edged in
a marvellous and splendid degree. The cloud of thought was
thicker than that, if not quite so brilliant ; and it was not until
low growls of thunder began to salute his ear, that ho looked up
and found the silver edge fast mounting to the zenith and the cur-
tain drawing its folds all around over the clear blue sky. Hia
next look was earthward, for a shelter ; for at the rate that chariot
of the storm was travelling ho knew he had not many minutes to seek
one before the storm would be upon him. Happily a blacksmith's
shop, that he would certamly have passed without seeing it, stood
at a little distance; and Winthrop thankMly made for it. He
found it deserted ; and secure of a refuge, took his place at ihe door
to watch the face of things ; for though the edge of the town was
near, the storm was nearer, and it would not do to run for it.
The blackness covered everything now, changing to lurid light
in the storm quarter, and big scattered drops began to come
plashing down. This time Winthrop's mind was so much in the
clouds that he did not know what was going on in the earth ; for
while he stood looking and gazing, two ladies almost ran over
him. Winthrop's senses came back to the door of the black-
smith's stop, and the ladies recovered themselves.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLe OF THS SHATEMUC. 199
" How do you do, Mr. Landholm," said the one, with a bow.
" 0 Mr. Winthrop 1 " cried the other,—-" what shall we do t
we can't get home, and I'm so frightened I "
Winthrop had not time to open his lips, for cither eiyility or
consolation, when a phaeton, coming at a furious rate, suddenly
pulled up hefore them, and Mr. Satterthwaito jumped out of it
and joined himself to the group. His business was to persuade
Miss Haye to take the empty place in his carriage and escape
wilh him to the shelter of her own house or his father's. Miss
Haye however preferred getting wet, and walking through the
mud, and being blinded with the lightning, all of which altema-
tipes Mr. Satterthwaito presented to her; at least no other con-
clusion could he drawn, for she very steadily and coolly refused
to ride home with him.
" Mr. Laudholm," said Mr, Satterthwaite in desperation,
" don't you advise Miss Haye to agree to my proposition ? "
" I never give advice, sir," said Winthrop, "after I see that
people's minds are made up. Perhaps Miss Cadwallader may be
less stuhborn."
Mr. Satterthwaite could do no other than turn to Miss Cad-
wallader, who wanted very little urging.
" But Rose I " Baid her cousin, — " you're not going to leave
me alone ? "
" No, I don't," said Rose, " I'm sure you've got somebody
with you ; and he's got an umbrella,"
" Don't, Rose ! " said Elizabeth, — " stay and go home with me
— the storm will be over directly,"
" It won't — I can't," said Rose, — " It won't be over this hour,
and I'm afraid "
And into Mr. Satterthwaite's phaeton she jumped, and away
Mr. Satterthwaite's phaeton went, with him and her in it,
" You had better step under shelter. Miss Haye," said Win-
throp ; " it is beginning to sprinkle pretty fest,"
" No," said Elizabeth, " I'll go home — I don't mind it. I
would rather go right home — I don't care for the rain,"
" But you can't go without the umbrella," said Winthrop,
" and that belongs to me."
" Well, won't you go with me ? " said Elizabeth, with a look
half doubtful and half daunted.
" Yea, as soon as it is safe. This is a poor place, but it is
better than notiing. You must come in here and have patience
till then."
He went in and Elizabeth followed him, and she stood there
HcsledbyGoOgle
200 TKE HILLS OF THE
looting very doubtful and very micli annoyed ; eyeing the fart
falling drops aa if her impatience could dry them up. Tte little
smithy was black as such a place should be ; nothing looked like
a seat but the anvil, and that waa hardly safe to take advan-
tage of.
" I wish there was something here for you to sit down upon,"
said Winthrop peering about,—" but everything is like Vulcan's
premises. It is a pity I am not Sir Walter Raleigh for your be-
hoof; for I suppose Sir Walter didn't mind wallring home with-
out his coat, and I do."
" He only threw off his cloak," said Elizabeth.
" I never thought of wearing mine this afternoon," said Win-
throp, "though I brought aa umbrella. But see here, Miss
Elizabeth,— here is a bos, one end of which, I think, may be
trusted. Will you sit down ? "
Elizabeth took the box, seeming from some cause or other
tongue-tied. She sat looking out through the open door at the
storm in a mixture of feelings, the uppermost of which waa
vexation.
" I hope more than one ead of this box may be troated," she
presently roused herself to saj. " I have no idea of giving half
trust to anything "
" Tet that is quite as much as it is safe to give to moat
things," said Winthrop
" la it ? "
" I am afraid so "
" I wouldn't give a pin for anything I couldn't trust entu-ely,"
said Elizabeth.
" Which shews what a point of perfection the manufacture of
pins baa reached since the days of Anne Bolejn," said Winthrop.
" Of Anne Eoleyn ! — What of them then ? "
" Only that a statute waa passed ia that time, entitled, ' An
aet_ for the true making of pins ; ' so I suppose they were then
articles of some imjjortance. But the box may be trusted. Miss
Haye, for strength, if not for agroeablenesa. A quarter of agree-
ableness with a remainder of strength, is a fair proportion, as
things go."
" Do you mean to compare life with this dirty bos ? " said
Elizabeth.
" They say an image should always elevate the subject," ssud
Winthrop smiling.
" What waa the matter with the making of pins," said Elizas
beth, " that an act had to be made about it ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THT! niLLS OF TUK --^ivniMDC, 201
" Why in those days," said Winthrop, " mechanics and trados-
P pi w h h b t casionally of playing false, and it waa
y t I k ft th m."
Eliz b th t ffll tly looking out again, wondering — wtat
ahlidft wd dh fore — where ever her companion had
gf t h 1 It p n ; marvelling, with a little impatient
w d h w t was th t he would just aa lief talk to her in a
bl k m k h p m thunder-storm, as in anybody's drawing-
mwth 1 djljg and fifty people about. She was no
mthf limf hflta little awkward. She, Misa Haye,
th h h w ght, who had lived in good company ever
m h h d 1 y d company at all. Yet there he stood, more
easily, she felt, than she sat. She sat looking straight out at the
rain and thinking of it.
The open doorway and her Tision were crossed a moment
ifim- Dj a figure which put these thoughts out of her head. It
was the figure uf a littie black girl, gomg by through the rain,
with an old basket at her back which probably held food or firing
that she had been picking up along the Btreets of the city. She
wore a wretched old garment which only half covered her, and
that was already half wet ; her feet and ancles were naked ; and
the rain came down on her thick curly head. No doubt she was
accustomed to it; the road-worn feet must have cared little for
wet or dry, and the round shook of wool perhaps never had a
covering ; yot it was bowed to the rain, and the little blackey
went by with lagging stop and a sort of slow crying. It touched
Elizabeth with a disagreeable feeling of pain. The thought had
hardly erjseed her mind, that she was sorry for her, when to her
great surprise she saw ber companion go to the door and ask the
little object of her pity to come in under the shed. The child
stopped her slow stop and her crying and looked up at him.
" Come in here till the rain's over," he repeated.
She gave her head a sort of matter- of-eourse shake, without
moving a pair of intelligent black eyes which had fixed on his
" Why not ? " said Winthrop.
" Mustn't I "
" Why mustn't you ? "
" 'Cause,"
" Come in," said Winthrop, — and to Elizabeth's
HcsledbyGoOgle
JB HILLS OF THE SHATEMOC.
t he laid hold of the little black shoulder and drew the
gu-l into the shop, — " it is going to storm hard ; — why mustn't
The little blaokey immediately squatted herself down on the
ground against the wall, and lookJag up at him repeated,
" 'Cause."
" It's going to be a bad storm ; — ^you'll be better under
here,"
The child's eyes went out of the door for a moment, and then
came back to his face, as if with a sort of fascination.
" How far have you to eo ? "
-Home." ^ ^
" How far is that ? "
" It's six miles, I guess," said the owner of the eyes.
" That's too far for you to go in the storm. IHie lightning
might kiU. you."
" KiU me 1 "
"Yes. It might."
" I guess I'd be glad if it did," she said, with another glance
at the storm.
" Glad if it did I — why ? "
" 'Cause."
" 'Cause what ? " said Winthrop, entering more into the child's
interests, Elizabeth thought, than he had done into hers.
" 'Cause," repeated the blackey. — " I don't want to get
" Who do you live with? "
" I live with my mother, when I'm to hot
" Where do you live when you are not at
" Nowheres."
The gathered storm came down at this point with great fury.
The rain fell, whole water; little streams even made their way
under the walls of the shanty and ran across the floor. The dark-
ness asked no help from bla«k walls and smoky roof.
" Isn't this better than to he out ? " said Winthrop, after hia
eyes had been for a moment drawn without by the tremendous
pouring of the rain. But the little black girl looked at it and
said doggedly,
" I don't care."
" Whore have you been with that basket ? "
" Down yonder — where all the folks goes," she said with a
slight motion of her head towards the built-up quarter of the
country.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE
" Do you bring wood all the way from tliore on your back ? "
" When I get some."
" Aren't you tired ? "
The child looked at him steadily, aad then in a strange some-
what softened manner which belied her words, answered,
" No."
" You don't bring that big basket full, do you ? "
She kept her bright eyes on him and nodded.
" I should think it would break your back."
" If I don't break my back I get a lickin', "
" Was that what you were crying for as you went by ? "
" I wa'n't a eryin' ! " said the girl. " Nobody never see me a
eryin' for nothin' ! "
" You hayen't filled your basket to-day."
She gave an aakant look into it, and was silent,
" How came that ? "
" 'Cause I — I was tired, and I hadn't had no ilinnei and I
don't care I That's why I wished the thunder would kill me. I
can't live without eatin'." ■
" Have you had nothing since morning ? "
" I don't get no mornin' — I have to get my dinner."
" And you could get none to-day ? "
" No. Everything was eat up."
" Everything isn't quite eaten up," said Winthrop, rummaging
in Ma coat pocket; and he brought forth thence a paper of Am
which he gave the girl. " He isn't so short of means as I feared,
after all," thought Elizabeth, " since he can afford to carry figs
about in his pocket," But she did not know that the young
gentleman had made his own dinner off that paper of figs; and
she could not guess it, ever when from hia other coat pocket ho
produced some biscuits which were likewise given to eke out the
figs in the little black girl's dinner. She was presently roused
to very great marvelling again by seeing him apply his foot to
another box, one without a clean side, and roll it over half the
length of the shed for the ehiid to sit upon.
" What do you think of life now. Miss Elizabeth ? " he said,
leaving his charge to eat her figs and coming again to the young
lady's side.
" Thai isn't life," said Elizabeth.
" It seems without the one quarter of agreeablouess," ho said.
" But it's horrible, Mr, Winthrop ! — "
Ho was silent, and looked at the girl, who sitting on her coal
box was eating figs and biscuits with intense satisfaction.
HcsledbyGoOgle
204 THE H1LL9 OF THE
" She ia not a bad-looking child," said Elizabeth.
" She is a very good-looking child," said Wiufhrop ; " at
least her face has a great deal of intelligence ; and I think, some-
" What more ? "
" Feeling, or capacity of feeling."
" I wish you had a seat, Mr. Landholm," said Elizabeth,
looking round.
" Thank jow — I don't wish for one."
" It was rery vexatious in Rose to go and leave me I "
" There isn't another box for her if she had stayed," said
Winthrop.
" She would have me go out with her this afternoon to see her
dressmaker, who lives just beyond here a little ; and father had
the horses. It was so pleasant an afternoon, I had no notion of
a storm."
" There's a pretty good notion of a storm now," said Win-
So there was, beyond a doubt ; the rain was falling in floods,
and the lightning and thunder, though not very near, were very
unceasing. Elizabeth still felt awkward and uneasy, and did not
know what to talk about. She never had talked much to Mr.
Landbolm ; and his cool matter-of-fe«t way of answering her re-
marks, puzzled or baffled her.
" That child sitting there makes me very uncomfortable," she
said presently.
" Why, Miss Elizabeth ? "
Elizabeth hesitated, and then said she did not know.
" You don't like the verification of my setting forth of life,"
he said smiling.
" But that is not life, Mr. Winthrop."
" What is it ? "
" It ia the experience of one here and there — not of people in
general."
" What do you take to he the experience of people in
general ? "
" Not mine, to be sure," said Elizabeth after a little thought,
" Hers is a light shade of what rests upon many."
" Why Mr. Winthrop ! do you think so ? "
" Look at her," he said in a low voice ; — " she has forgotten
her empty basket in a sweet flg."
"But she must take it up again."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE ailATEMIIC. 205
" She won't lessen her burden, bat she will her power of
forgetting."
Elizabeth sat still, looking at her vis-a-vis of life, and feeling
very uneasily what she had never felt before. She began there-
with to ponder sundry extraordinaiy propositions about the
inequalities of social condition and the relative duties of man
toman.
" What right have I," she said suddenly, " to so much more
than she has ? "
" Very much the sort of right that I have to be an American,
while somebody else is a Chinese."
" Chance," said Elizabeth.
" No, there is no sueh thing as chance,' ne said seriously.
" What then ? "
" The fruit of industry, talent, and circumstance."
" Not mine."
" No, but your father's, who gives it to you."
" But why ought I to enjoy more than she does ? — in the ab-
stract, I mean."
" I don't know," said "Winthrop. — " I guess we had better
walk on now, Miss Elizabeth."
" Walk on ! — it rains too hard."
" But we are ia the shed, while other people are out ? "
" No but, — suppose that by going out I could bring them
" Then I would certainly act as your messenger," he said
smiling. " But you can't reach aU the people who are bo careless
as to go out withrut umbrellas,"
Eliaabeth was betrayed into a laugh — a genuine hearty laugh
of surprise, in which her awkwardness waa for a moment forgotten.
" How came you to bring one, such a day ? "
" I thought the sun was going to shine."
" But seriously, Mr. Landholm, my question," — said Elizabeth
" What was it ? "
" How ought I to enjoy so much more than she has ? "
" Modestly, I should think."
" What do you mean ? "
" If you wore to give the half of your fortune to one such, for
inslanee," he said with a slight smile, " do you fancy you would
have adjusted two scales of the social balance to hang even ? "
" No," said Elizabeth, — " I suppose not."
" You would have given away what she could aot keep ; you
would have put out of your power what would not be in hers;
HcsledbyGoOgle
206 THE HILLS OF THE
and on the whole, she would be scautly a gainer and the world
would he a loser."
" Yet surely," said Elizabeth, " something is due from mj
hand to hers."
Her companion was quite silent, rather oddly, she thought;
and her meditations came hack for a moment from social to indi-
vidual distinctions and differences. Then, really ia a puzzle as
to the former matter, she repeated her question.
" But what can one do to them, then, Mr, Winthrcp ? — or
what should be one's aim ? "
" Put them in tho way of eseroising the talent and industry
and circumstance which have done such great things for ua."
" So that hy the time they have the means they will he ready
for them? But dear me I that is a difBcult matter 1" said
Elizabeth.
Her companion smiled a little.
" But they haven't any talent, Mr. Landholm, — nor industry
nor citoumgtanoe either. To be sure those latter wants might he
made np."
" Most people have talent, of one sort or another," said Win-
throp. " There's a little specimen pretty well stocked."
" Do you think so ? "
" Try her."
" I don't know how to try her ! " said Elizabeth. " I wish
you would."
" I don't know how, either," said Winthrop. " Circumstances
have been doing it this some time."
" I wish she nadn't come in," said Elizabeth. " She has unset-
tled all my ideas."
" They will rest the better for being unsettled."
Elizabeth looked at liim, but he did not acknowledge the
look. Presently, whether to try how benevolence worked, or to
run away from her feeling of awkwardness, she got up and moved
a few steps towards the place where the little blackey sat.
" Have you had dinner enough ¥ " she said, standing and look-
ing down upon her aa a very disagreeable social curiosity.
" There aint no more, if I hain't," said the curiosity, with
very dauntless eyes.
" Where do you get your dinner every day ? "
"'Long street," said the girl, turning her eyes away from
Elizabeth and looking out into the storm.
" Do you often go without any ? "
" When the folks don't give me none."
HcsledbyGoOgle
TUE Hir.L9 OF THE STIATEMUO, 20T
" Dooa tliat happen often ? "
" Thej didn't give me none to-day,"
" What do jou do then ? "
The eyes came back from the door to Elizabeth, and then
went to Winthrop.
"What do you do then?" Elizabeth repeated.
" I gets 'em."
" Yoa didn't get any to-day?" said Wintlirop.
She shook her head.
" You mustn't any more."
" Nobody ha'n't no business to let me starve," said the blackey
atoutly.
" No, but I'll tell you where to go the nest time you can't
get a dinner, and you stall have it without stealing."
" I ha'n't stole it — nobody never see me steal — I only tuk
it," — said the girl with a little lowering of her voice and air.
" What's your name ? "
" Cbm."
" Clam I " said Elizabeth, — " where did you get such an odd
" 'Long street," said the girl, her black eyes twinkling,
" Where did you get it ? " said Winthrop gravely.
" I didn't get it nowberea — ^it was guv to me."
" What's your other nam.e ? "
"I ha'n't got no more names — my name's Clam."
" What's your mother's name ? "
" She's Sukey Beckinson."
"Is she kind to you?" asked Elizabeth.
" 7 don' know ! "
" Did you have dinner enough ? " said Winthrop with a
Clam jumped up, and crossing her hands on her breast
dropped a brisk littls courtsey to ber benefactor. Slio made no
other answer, and tten sat down again.
" Are you afraid to go home with your empty basket when
the storm's over? " said he kindly.
" No," she said ; but it was with a singular expression of
cold and careless neoessity,
'■ The rest of the basketful wouldn't be wortb more than
that, would it ? " said he giving her a sixpence.
01am took it and clasped it very tight in her fist, for other
place of security she had none ; and looked at him, but made no
more answer than that.
HcsledbyGoOgle
^\lo THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
" You won't forget where to come the nest time you can't get
an honest dinner," said he. " The corner of Beaver and Little
South Streets. You know where it is? That is where I live.
Aak for Mr. Landholm,"
Olam nodded and said, " I know I "
" I hope you'll get some supper to-night," said he.
" I will I " said Clam determinatelj.
" How will jon ? " said Elizabeth.
"I'll make mammy give me some," said the girl flourishing
her clasped £st.
" Wouldn't you like to leave picking things ont of the street,
and go to live with somehody who would take care of you and
teach you to be a good girl? " said Elizabeth.
Clam tossed her sixpence up and down in her hand, and
finally brought her eyes to bear upon Elizabeth and said,
" I don't want nobody to take care of me."
" If sho could he taught, and would, I'd take care of her
afterwards," said Elizabeth to Winthrop.
" If he'd say so, I would," said Clam.
" Look here," said Winthrop, " Would y^ou like to come into
some kind house — if 1 can find you one — and learn to do clean
" It don't make no odds," said Clam looking at her basket.
" What do you say ? "
" I guess no one don't want mo."
" Perhaps not; but if somebody would have you, would you
be a good girl? "
" I s'pose I'd get dinner reglar," said the little black girl,
still fingering the edge of her basket.
" Certainly ! — and something better than figs."
" Be them figs f " said Clam, suddenly looking up at him.
" Yea — the sweet ones."
" Goody ] — I didn't know that before."
" Well — you haven't answered me yet."
" I don't care much," — said Olam. " Is it your house ? "
" Maybe."
" 1 11 come ! " said she clapping her hands, " I'll clear out,
and mother won't never give it to me no more. — Nor nobody else
sha'n't ? " said she looking up at Winthrop.
" If you behave yourself."
"I'll go now right off I" said Clam, jumping up in great
spirits. Then with a changing and doubtful tone she added,
looking to Winthrop, " Will you take me f "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE mLLB OF THE SHATEMUC, 2Uy
" Tea," te said smiling, " but not this evsming. Yoa must
go home now, when the atorai is over, for to-night ; and I'll come
and see your mother about it."
" What for ? " was the very earnest and prompt answer.
" If you agree to come, I must ^et her to bind you out."
" I aint goin' to bo bound," said 01am shaking her head ; —
' if you bind me, I'll run."
" Kun as feat as yon please," said Winthrop ; — " run when-
OTcr you want to ; — but I can't take you unless you be bonnd, for
I won't have your mother coming after you,"
" Can't she do nothin' to me if I'm bound ? " said Clam.
" Nothing at all, till you grow up to be a woman ; and then
you can take care of yourself."
" I'll take care of myself all along," said Clam. " j.'iobody
else aint a goin' to,"
" But somebody must ^ve you olothM to wear, and a bed to
Bleep in, and your dinner, you know ; and you must do work for
somebody, to pay for it."
" To pay for my dinner ? "
" Yes."
" Very good I " said Ciam. " I guess I'll stand it. Will it be
for you ? "
"JTo, I think not."
" Won't you ? " said Clam wisbingly. " I'll do work for you."
" Thank you. Maybe you shall."
" I'm goin' home now," said Clam, getting up and shoulder-
ing her basket.
" The storm's too bad yet," said Winthrop.
" Craokey 1 what do you think I caie for that ! The rain
won't wet me much."
" Come to my house to-morrow, if you want to see me again,"
said Winthrop, — " about dinner-time."
Clam nodded, and fixing her bright eyes very intently^ first on
one and then on the other of the friends ahe was leaving, she
ended with a long parting look at Winthrop which lasted till she
had passed from sight out of the door of the shed
The violence of the storm was gone over , but though the
thunder sounded now in the distance and the lightning played
fainter, the rain fell yet all around them, in a gentle and very
full shower.
" Do you suppose she has six milos to go V ' i^jid Elizabeth.
" No."
" I thooght you answered as if yoa believed her when she
said BO,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
aiO TIIE HILLS OP THE SHATEUUC.
"It isn't beat to tell all one's thouglits," said Winttrop
smiling.
Elizabeth went back to her box seat.
" I wish the rain would let us go borne too," she said.
" Your wishes are so accustomed to smooth travelling, they
don't kaow what to make of a bindranoe," said her companion.
Elizabeth knew it was true, and it vexed her. It seemed to
imply that she bad not been tried by life, and that nobody knew
what she would be till she was tried. That was a very disagree-
able thought. There again be had the advantage of her. No-
thing is reliable that is not tried. " And yet," she said to her-
self, " I am reliable, I know I am."
" What can anybody's wish make of a hindrance ? " was her
" Graff it in well, and anybody can make a pretty large
thorn of it."
" Why Mr. Winthrop ! — but I mean, in the way of dealing
with it pleasantly ? "
" Pleasantly ? — I don't know," said he ; " unless they could
get my mother's recipe."
" What does her wish do with a hindrance ? "
'It lies down and, dies," he said, with a change of tone which
shewed whither his thoughts had gone.
" I think I never wish mine to do that," said Elizabeth,
" What then ? Kemember you are speaking of hindrances
absolute— that cannot be removed."
" But Mr. Wintbrop, do you think it is possible for one's
wish to lie down and die so ? "
" If I bad not seen it, I might say that it was not."
" I don't understand it — I don't know what to make of it,"
said Elizabeth. " I don't think it ia possible for mine."
Winthrop's thoughts went baok a moment to the sweet calm
brow, the rested faoe, that told of its trnth and possibility in one
instance. . He too did not understand it, but he guessed whore
the secret might lie.
"It must be a very happy faonlty," said Elizabeth; — "but it
Boema to me — of course it is not so in that instance, — but in the
abstract, it seems to me rather tame ; — I don't like it. I have no
idea of giving up 1 "
" There is no need of your giving up, in this ease," said W in-
tbrop. " Do you see that sunshine f "
" And the rainbow I " said Elizabeth.
She sprang to the door ; and they both stood looking, while
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 211
the parting gifts of the clouds were gently reaching tho ground,
and the sun taking a cleared place in the western heaven, painted
over against them, hroad and hright, the promissory token that
the earth should be overwhelmed with the waters no more. The
rain-drops glittered as they fell ; the grass looked up in refreshed
green where the sua touched it; the clouds were driving over
from the west, leaving hroken fragments hehind them upon the
blue; and tho bright and sweet colours of the rainbow swept
their circle in the east and almost finished it in the grass at the
door of the blacksmith's shop. It was a lovely show of beauty
that is aa fresh the hundredth (ime as the first. But though
Elizabeth looked at it and admired it, she was thinking of some-
thing else.
" You have no overshoes," said Winthrop, when they had set
out on their way ; — " I am afraid you are not countrywoman
enough to bear this."
" 0 yes I am," said Elizabeth, — "I don't mind It — I don't
care for it. But Mr. Winthrop—"
" What were you going to say ? " he asked, when he had
waited half a minute to find out.
" You understood that I did not mean to speak of your
mother, when I said that, about thinking it seemed tame to let
one's wishes die out ? — I excepted her entirely in my thought —
I was apeakina quite in the abstraet."
" I know that. Miss Eliaabetb."
She was quite satisfied with the smile with which he said it.
" How much better that odd little black child liked you tban
Bhe did me," she went on with a change of subject and tone
together.
" You were a little further off," said Winthrop.
" Further off ? " said Elizabeth,
" I suppose she thought so."
" Then one must come near people in order to do them
good ? "
" One mustn't be too far oS," swd Winthrop, " to have one's
words reach them."
" But I didn't mean to be far off," said Elizabeth.
" I didn't mean to be near."
Elizabeth looked at him, but he was grave ; and then she
smiled, and then laughed.
" You've hit it ! " she exclaimed. " I shall remember that."
"Take eare, Miss Elizabeth," said 'Wmthrop, as her foot
HcsledbyGoOgle
213 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMirC.
slipped in tte muddy way, — " or you will have more to remem-
ber than would be convenient. You had better take my arm."
So alio did ; musing a little curiously at herself and that arm,
which she had seen in a ehirt-sleeve, carrying a pickaxe on
shoulder; and making up her mind in spite of it wi that she
didn't care ! So the walk home was not otherwise than comfort-
able. Indeed the beauty of it was more than once remarked on
by both parties,
" Well ! " said Rose, when at I^t Elizabeth came into the
room where she was sitting, — " have you got home ? "
" Yes."
" What have you been doing all this while ? "
"Getting very angry at you in the first place; and then
cooling down as usual into the reflection that it was not worth
" Well, I hope Winthrop mado good use of his opportunity?'
" Yes, he did," saii Elizabeth coolly, taking off her things.
" And you have engaged him at last as your admirer ? "
" Not at all; — -I have only engaged a little black girl to be
my servant."
" A servant ! What ? "
"What do you mean by 'what'?" said Elizabeth con-
temptuously.
" I mean, what sort of a servant ? "
" I am sure I don't know — a black servant."
" But what for ? "
" To do my bidding."
" But what is she ? and where did you pick her up ? "
" She is an odd little fish called Clam ; and I didn't pick her
up at all ; — Mr. Landholm did that."
" 0 ho 1 " said Rose, — " it's a joint eonoem 1 — that's it. But
I think you are beginning to make up your household very
early."
Elizabeth flung down her shoe and lifted her head, and Miss
Cadwalladcr shrunk ; evpn before her companion said with im-
perious emphasis, " Rose, how dare you I ! — "
Rose did not dare, against the flushed face and eye of fire
which confronted her. She fell back into her chair and her book
and was dumb.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XX.
MianT Wins Of "Wiudbo*.
Somewhat to Winthrop'a surprise, Clam came tho next day
to remind him of his promise ; ¥erj mnoh in earnest to wear a
clean frock and have her dinner regular. She was duly bound,
and entered into clean service accordingly. The indentures were
made out to Miss Haye; but for the present Clam was put to
learn Ler business under somebody that knew it; and for that
end was finally sent to Mrs. Landholm. A week or two with
Mrs. Nettley proved to the satisfaction of both patties that nei-
ther would much advantage the other. At Shahweetah, Clam,
as Mrs. Landholm expressed it, " took a new start," and got on
admirably. What much favoured this, was the fact that she speed-
ily became very much attached to the whole family ; with the
single exception of Karen, between whom and herself there was
an unallayed state of friction; a friction that probably served
only to better Clam's relish of her dinner, while poor Karen de-
clared " she didn't' leave her no rest day nor ni^ht."
" She's lot a bad child, Karen," said her mistress.
"Which partof her's good?" said Karen. " 'Taint her eyes,
nor her fingers ; and if the Bible didn't say there wa'n't no such
a fountain, I should think hsr tongue was one o' them fountains
that sent out at the same place both salt water and fr^h."
" Her fingers are pretty good, Karen."
" There's a two-sided will in 'em, Mrs. Landholm,"
There was no two-sided will in Clam's first friend, nor ia
the energies which were steadily bearing him on towards his aim.
Steadily and surely, as he knew. But his life in those days had
almost as little to tell of, as it had much to do. From early
HcsledbyGoOgle
214 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
morning till almost till early morning again, or till a new day
had begun to count the hours, — every minute had its work ; yet
the record of the whole could he given in very few words, and
those would not be interesting. How should the record be, when
the reality waa not, even to himself. It was all preparatory
work ; it must be done ; but the interest of the matter lay be-
yond, at that point whithor all these efforts tended. Meanwhile
work and have patience, and work, — was the epitome of his life.
^ There were some breaks, but not many. Now and then a
awift and sweot run home, to live for a moment in the midst of
all this preparing to live; to rest among the home hearts; to
breathe a few breaths in absoiute freedom ; to exchange Mr. De
Wort's dusty office for the bright little keeping-room of the farm-
house , and forget the business of the hard brick and stone city
under the shadow or the sunshine that rested on Wut-a-qut-o.
Then Wiuthrop threw off his broadcloth coat and was a farmer
again. Then Mrs. Landholm's brow laid down its care, and
shewed to her eon only her happy face. Then poor Winifred
was strong and well and joyous, in the spite of sioknes-^ and weak-
nees and nervous ail. And then also, Clam sprang round with
great energy, and was as Karen averred, "fifty times worse and
better than ever."
But all faded and died away, save the sweet memory and re-
freshment; that staid yet a little while. Winthrop went back to
his musty parchments and lonely attic ; and the little family at
home gathered itself together for a new season of duty-doing, and
hope, and looking forward. The sunshine and the shadow slept
upon Wut-a-qut-o, as it did a little while ago ; but neither sun-
shine nor shadow was the same thing now, for Winthrop was
away.
He had lost perhaps less than they ; though the balance was
struck pretty fair. But he was actively bondmg every energy to
the accomplishment of a great object. The intensity of effort
might awaJIow up some other things, and the consciousness of sure
and growing success might make amends for them. Besides, he
had been long fighting the battle of life away from home, and
was accustomed to it ; they never got accustomed to it. Every
fresh coming home waa the pledge of a fresh parting, the pleasure
of the one not more sure than the pain of the other. If Win-
throp had changed, in all these years and goings and comings, it
might have been different; if they could havo found that their
lost treasure waa less true or strong or fair, than when they first
let it go. But he was so exactly the same Winthrop that they
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL8 OF THE SHATBITOC. 215
had been sorry for that first time, that they could only be sorry
again with the same sorrow; — the same, but for the lost novelty
of that firat time, and the added habit of patience, and the nearer
hope of his and their reward.
So through the first winter and the first summer, and the
second winter and the second summer, of his city apprenticeship,
Wmthrop wrouglit on ; now with a cold room and little fire in
his chimney, and now with the sun beating upon the roof, and
the only hope of night's sea-breeze. But the farmer's boy had
known oold and heat a great while ago, and he could bear both.
He could partly forget both, sometimes iu literary unbending
with Mr. Herder and his friends; and at other times in a soli-
tary walk on tho Green overlooking the bay, to catch the sea-
breeae more fresh and scon, and look up the river channel to-
wards where the shadows lay upon Wut-a-qut-o. And sometimes
in a visit at Mr. Haye'a.
Of late, in the second summer, this last sort of pleasure-
taking grew to be more freq^uent. Mr. Herder was less vbited,
and Mr. Hajo more. Winthcop was always welcome, bat there
was no change in the manner of his being received. IJnless per-
haps a little moro graclousness on Elizabeth's part, and a trifle
less on Rose's, might be quoted.
So the searbreezes blew through the dog-days; and September
ushered in and ushered out its storms ; and October came, clear
and fair, with strength and health for body and mind. With
October came Eufus, having just made an end of his work in the
Korth country. He came out for a few days' stay in passing
from one scene of labours to another. For those few days he
abode with his brother, sharing his room and bed.
" Well, Wiathrop, I've stuck to my choice," he remarked,
the second evening of his being there. The tone indicated the
opening of & great budget of thoughts. Winthrop was bonding
over a parchment- coloured volume, and Rufus pacing up ana
down the longest stretch of the little room.
" I am glad of it," said Winthrop, without looking up.
" I am not sure that I am."
" What's the matter ? "
" I don't see that I gaia much by it, and I certainly lose."
" What do you expect to gain ? "
" Nothing but moncy,^a]jd I don't get that,"
"It's safe, isn't it?"
"Yes, and so are winter's snows, in their treasury ;--Hind I
oould as soon get it by asking for it."
HcsledbyGoOgle
316 THE HILLB OF THE SHATEaruO.
" Let 119 hopo it will come with the snows," said Winthrop,
his head still bent down over hia book.
" You may talk ; — it is easy waiting for you."
" Query, how that would give me a right to talk," said Win-
tlirop turning over a leaf; — " supposmg it to be a fact ; of which
I have some doubts,"
" What liave you been doing all to-day ? "
" The usual routine — which after all is but preparing to do."
" What Las been the routine to-day ? "
" You saw my breakfast and saw me get it. — Then I went
oat. — Then I read, according to custom."
"What?"
" Classics,"
" Do you 1 "
" For awhile. The rest of the morning between engrossing
deeds and the Record Office. First half of the afternoon, or
rather a larger proportion, ditto ; the rest to meet my friends
Messrs. Jones and Satterthwaite."
" Satterthwaite !. — what does he want ? "
" To read Greek with me."
" Greek I What has put that into his head ? Bob. Satter-
thwaite! " — and Rufiis threw back Ms headand laughed in a great
state of amusement. "Wtat baa put iftafinto nis head ? — eh,
Winthrop ? "
" I don't inquire. It puts money in my pocket."
" Not much," said Eufus.
" No, not much,"
" What's the reason, do you thmk ? What moves him to
woo the Muses ? — I'm afraid it's because lie thinks it is a prelim-
inary wooing he must go through before he can be successful in
another quarter."
And again Rufus laughed, in high delight.
" I have no business with that," said Winthrop.
" What are you doing now ? "
" Studying law."
" Stop."
" What for ? "
"To talk to me."
" It seema'to me I have been doing that for some time," said
Winthrop, without looking off his book.
" But I haven't begun. Winthrop, — T have i great mind to
give up this engineering business."
" To do what instead ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 217
" Why — jou know I shall tave some money coming to me —
quite a little sum ; — Mr. Haye lias very kindly offered to put
me in the way of laying it out to good advantage, and eventually
of getting into another line of occupation which would at the same
time he more lucrative, less lahorious, and would keep me in the
regions of civilization. — And perhaps — Winthrop — BOmething
might follow thereupon, "
" What ? " said hia brother looking up.
" More definite in your purpose than in your speeeh."
" Not my purpose, exactly," said Rufus, — " but in possibility,"
" There is no peg in possibility for a wise man to hang his
cap on."
" Perhaps I am not a wise man," said Eufus, with a very
queer face, as if his mind were giving an askance look at the
subject.
" That's a supposititious case I shall leave you to deal with."
" Why it's the very sort of ease it's your business to deal
with," said Rufas. " If tie world was full of wise men you'd
stand a pretty fair chance of starving, G-overnor. But seriously,
— do you think it is unbecoming a wise man to take any lawful
means of keeping out of the way of that same devil of starvation ? "
" Do you moan to say that you are in any danger of it ? " said
Winthrop looking up again.
" Why no, — not exactly ; taking the words literally. But
one may starve and yet have enough to eat."
" If one refuses one's food."
" If one don't I I tell you, I have been starving for these two
years past. It is not living, to make to-day only feed to-morrow.
Besides — I don't see dny harm in purchasing, if one can, an es-
emption from the universal doom of eating one's bread in the sweat
of one's brow."
" I think it depends entirely on what one pays for the pur-
chase," said Winthrop.
" Suppose one pays nothing,"
" One executes a most unaccountable business transaction."
Kufus stopped and looked at him, and then took up his walk,
and half laughing went on.
" Suppose we leave talking in the dark, and understand one
another. Do you know what I am driving at ? "
"Have you set ofE?" said Winthrop, with again a glance
which seemed to add to Rufus's amusement.
" No," he said,—" I am just waiting for you to give me leave."
10
HcsledbyGoOgle
318 THE HILLS OF THE eHATEMCTC.
" The reins arc not in my hands."
" Yes they are. Seriously, Winthrop, do you know what we
are talking jibout ? — What do you think of my making suit to
one of these ladiea ? "
" I do not think ahout it."
" You do not conceive it would he any disfavour to either of
them to induoe her to accept me, I suppose. — What do you say ? "
" You are indifferent towards which of them the suit should
incline ? " said Winthrop.
" Why, that's as it may be — I haven't thought enough about
it to know. They're a pretty fair pair to choose from — "
" Supposing that you have the choice," said Winthrop.
" Do you know anything to the contrary ? — Has anybody else
a fairer entrance than myseif ? "
" I am not on suffieieatly near terms with the family to bo
able to inform you."
" Do you think of entering your plough, Governor ? "
" Not in your field."
■' What do you mean ? "
"I mean that I am not in yovx way."
" Shall I be in yours ? "
" No," said hia brother coolly,
" In whose way then ? "
" I am afraid in your own, Will."
" How do you mean ? " asked the otter a little fiercely.
" If you are BO intent upon marrying money-bags, yott may
chance to get a wife that will not suit you."
" You must explain yourself! " said Rufus haughtily. " In
what respect would either of these two not suit me ? "
" Of two so different, it may safely be affirmed that if one
would the other would not."
" Two 80 different 1 " Bald Rufus, " What's the matter with
either of them ? "
" There is this the matter with both — that you do not know
" I (to know them 1 "
" I'roia the rest of the world ; but not from each other."
" Why not from each other ? "
" Not enough for your liking or your judgment to tell which
would suit you."
" Why would not either suit ? " said Rufus.
" I think — if yon ask me — ^that one would not make you
HcsledbyGoOgle
THK HILT-S OF THE SHATEMTJC. 2] 9
happy, in the long ma ; and the other, with jour present views
and aims, jou could not make happy."
" Which is which ? " said Rufus, laughing and drawing up a
chair opposite his brother.
" Either of them is which," said Winthrop, " Such being
the case, I don't know that it is material to inijuire."
" It ia very material ! for I cannot be satisfied without the
answer. I am in earnest in the whole matter, Winthrop."
" So am I, very much in earnest."
" Which of them should I not make happy 1 " — Rufus went
on. — " Rose ? — She is easily made happy."
" So easily, that you would be much more than enough
" Then it is the other one whose happiness you are afraid
for?"
" I don't think it is in much danger from you."
" Why ?— what then ? " said Eufua quickly.
"I doubt whether any one could succeed with her whose first
object was something else."
Eufua drew his fingors through his hair, in silence, for about a
minute and a half; with a face of thoughtful and somewhat dis-
agreeable consideration.
" And with the other one you think he could ? "
" What ? "
"Succeed? — one whose first object, as you say, was some-
thing else ? "
" With the other I think anybody could,"
" I don't know but I like that," said Rufus ; — " it is amiable.
She has more simplicity. She is a lovely creature 1 "
" If you ask your eye."
■" If I ask yours ! " —
"Every man must see with his own eyes," said Winthrop.
" Don't yours see her lovely ? "
" They might, if they had not an inward couusellor that
taught them better."
" She is very sweet-tempered and sweet-mannered," said
Rufus.
"Very."
"Don't you think so ?"
" Certainly — when it suits her."
" When it suits her ! "
" Tes. She is naturally rude, and politically polite."
" And how's the other one ? isn't fihe naturally rude too ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
230 THE HILLS OF THE
" Not politically anything."
" And you think she wouldn't have me ? "
" I am sure she would not, if she knew your motive."
" My motive I — hut my motive might change," said Rufus,
pushing hack his chair and heginning to walk the floor again,
" It isn't necessary that my regards should he confined to her
gracious adjunctive recommendations. — "
He walked for some time without reply, and again the leaves
of Wiuthrop's hook said softly now and then that Winthrop's
head was busy with them.
" Q-ovemor, you are very unsatisfactory I " said his brother at
length, standing now in front of him.
Winthrop looked up and smiled and said, " What would
you have ? "
" Your approbation ! "—was the strong and somewhat bitter
thought in Eufus's mind. He paused before he spoke.
" But G-Overnor, really I am tired of this life— it isn't what I
am fit for ; — and why not escape from it, if I can, by some agree-
able road that will do nobody any harm ? "
"With all my heart," said Winthrop. "I'll help you."
"Well?—"
« Well—"
" You think this is not sueli a one ? "
" The first step in it being a stumble."
" To whom would it bring harm, Governor ? "
" The head must lower when the foot stumbles," said Win-
throp. "That is one harm."
"But you are begging the question! " said Rufus a little
impatiently.
" And you have panted it."
" I haven't I " said Eufua. " I don't see it. I don't see the
stumbling or (he lowering, I should not feel myself lowered by
marrying a fine woman, and I hope she would not feel her own
self-respect injured by marrying me,"
" You will not stand so high upon her money-bags as upon
your own feet."
" Why not have the advantage of both ? "
"-You cannot. People always sit down upon money-bags.
The only exception is in the case of money-bags they have filled
Rufus looked at Winthrop's book for three minutes in silence.
" Well, why not then take at once the ease, for which the
alternative is a long striving ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THK BHATEMUC. 221
" If you can. But the long striving is not the whole of the
alternatire ; with that you lose the fruits of the strirag — all
that matea ease worth having."
" But I should not relinquish them," said Eufus. " I shall
not sit down upon my moDcy-bags."
" They ate not your money-bags."
" They wiU. ho — if I prove successful."
" And how will you prove successful ? "
" Why I " — said Eafus, — " what a question I — "
" '' -- \ you would answer it nevertheless — not to me, hut to
Whether Rnfus did or not, the answer never came out. He
paced the floor again; several times made ready to speak, and
then cheeked himself.
" So you aro entirely against me, — " he said at length,
" I am not against you, Will ; — I am for you."
" You don't approve of my plan."
"No — I do not."
" I wish jou would say why."
" I hardly need," said Winthrop with a smile. " You have
said it all to yourself."
"Notwithstanding which assumption, I should like to hear
you say it."
" For the greater ease of attack and defence?
" If you please. For anything."
" What do you want me to do, Will ? " said Winthrop look-
ing up.
" To tell me why I should not marry Miss Haye or Miss
Cadwallader."
" You not knowing, yourself."
" Yes — I don't," said Rufus.
Winthrop turned over a few leaves of his book and then spoke.
"You are stronger, not to lean on somebody else's strength.
You are more independent, not to lean at alL You aro honester,
cot to gain anything under false pretences. And you are better to
be yourself, Will Landholm, than the husband of any heirese the
sun shines upon, at such terms."
" What terms ? "
" What fi
" Asking the hand, when you only want the key that is ii
_ .fesaing to give yourself, when in truth your purpose is to give
nothing l£at is not bought and paid for."
HcsledbyGoOgle
232 TIIE aiLLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
Rufus looked very eraye and somewhat disturbed.
" That's a very hard charactDrizing of the matter, Governor,"
Baid he, " I don't think I deserve it,"
" I hope you don't," said his brother.
Eufua began again to measure the little apartment with liis
long steps.
" But this kind of thing is done every day, Winthrop."
" By whom ? " said Winthrop,
" Why 1 — by very good men ; — by everybody,"
" Not by everybody,"
" By what sort of people is it not done ? "
" By you and me," said Winthrop smiling.
" You think then that a poor man should never marry a rich
" Never, — ^unless he can forget that she is rich and he
poor."
Rufus walked for some time in silence.
" Well," he said, in a tone between dry and injured, — '* I am
going off to the West again, luckily; and I shall have no oppor-
tunity for the present to disturb you by making false pretences,
of any sort."
" Is opportunity all that you lack? " said Winthrop looking
up, and with so simple an expression that Eufus qmtted his walk
and his look together.
"_Why did you never make trial for yourself, Winthrop?"
he said. " You have a remarkably fine chance ; and fine opening
too, I should think. You are evidently very well received down
"I have a theory of my own too, on the subject," said Win-
throp,—" somewhat different from yours, but still enough to
work by."
"What's that?"
" I have no mind to marry any woman who is unwilling to be
obliged to me."
Kufus looked at his brother and at the fireplace awhile in
gravity.
" You are proud," he said at length.
" I must have come to it by living so high in the world,"
said Winthrop.
" So high ? " — said Eufus,
" As near the sun as I can get. I thought it was very near,
some time in August last."
Winthrop laid by his book ; and the two young men stood
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLB OF THE SHATEMUC. ai6
several minutes, quite silent, on opposite aides of the hearth, with
folded hands and meditative countenances ; but the face of the
one looked like the muddy waters of the Shatemuc tossed and
tumbled under a fierce wind ; the other's was calm and steady as
Wut-a-qut-o's brow.
" So you won't have any woman that you don't ohlige to
marry you ! " Rufus burst out. " Ha, ha, ha I — ^ho, ho, ho I — "
Winthrop's month gave the slightest good-humoured token
of understanding him, — it could not he called a smile. Eufus
had his laugh out, and cooled down into deeper gravity than
before.
" Well ! " — said ho, — " I'll go off to my fate, at the limitless
wild of the West. It seems a rough sort of fate."
" Make your fate for yourself," said Winthrop.
" Ycm will," said his brother. " And it will be what you will,
and that's a fair one. And you will oblige anybody you have a
mind to. And marry an heiress."
" Don't look much like it— things at present," said Winthrop,
" I don't see the way vary clear."
"As for me, I don't know what ever I shall eome to," Rufus
added.
"Oome to bed at present," said Winthrop. "That is one
step."
" One step towards what ? "
" Sleep in the first place ; and after that, anything."
What a strange creature you are. Governor 1 and how
■ " and dauntlesaly you pursue your way," Rufus said
" Sighs never filled anybody's sails yet," said Winthrop,
" They are the very airs of a calm."
" Calm I " said Rnfas.
" A dead calm," said his brother laughing.
" I wish I had your calm," said Rufus. And with that the
evening ended.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXI.
One moratng, about thcao days, Mr. and Misa Haye were
seated at the opposite ends of the breakfasl^taWe. They had
boon there for some time, silently buttering rolls and sipping oof-
fee, m a leisurely way on Mr. Haye's .part, and an ungratified one
on the part of his daughter. He was considering, also in a leisurely
sort of way, the columns of the morning paper ; she considering
him and the paper, and at intervals tnocKng with her knife
against the edge of her plate, — a meditative and discontented
knife, and an impassiyo and unimpressed plate. So breakfast
went on till Elizabeth's cup was nearly emptied.
" Father," said she, " it is very unsociable and stupid for you
to read the paper, and me to eat my breatfaat alone. You might
read aloud, if you must read."
Mr. Haye brought his head round ii-om the paper long enough
to swallow half a cupful of ooffee.
"Where's Rose?"
"In bed, for aught I know. There is no moving her till she
has a mind."
" 'Seems to me, it is quite as difficult to move you," said her
father.
" Ay, but then I have a mind — which makes all the differ-
Mr. Haye went back to his paper and considered it till the
rest of his cup of coffee was thoroughly cold. Elizabeth finished
her breakfast, and sat, drawn back into herself, with arms folded
looking into the fireplace. Finding his coffee cold, Mr. Haye'a
attention came at length back upon his daughter.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE M1LL3 OF THE SHATEMUC. 225
" "Wliat do joii want me to talk about ? " he said.
" It don't signify, your talking about anything now," said
Elizabeth. " Everything ia eold — mind and matter together. I
don't know how you'll find the coffee, father."
Mr, Haye atirred it, with a discontented look.
" Kose is late," he remarked again.
" Thai's nothinff new," said Elizabeth. "Late ia her time."
Mr. Haye drunk his cold cupful.
" You're Yery fond of her, Lizzie, aren't you?"
" No," said Elizabeth. " I don't think I am."
" Not fond of her I " said Mr. Haye in a very surprised tone.
'■ No," said Elizabeth, — " I doa't think I am."
" I thought you were," said her father, in a voice that apoke
both chagrin and displeasure.
" What made you think so ? "
" You always seemed fond of her," said Mr. Haye.
" I can't have scorned so, for I never was so. There isn't
enough of her to bo fond of. I talk to her, and like her after a
faahiou, because she is the only person near me that I can talk to
— that's alL"
" J am fond of her," said Mr. Haye.
"It takes more to make me fond of anybody," BJwd his
daughter. " I know you arc."
" What does Rose want, to have the honour of your good
opinion ? "
" 0 don't talk in that tone ! " aaid Elizabeth. " I had rather
you would not talk at all. You have chosen an unhappy aubject.
It takes a good deal to make me like anybody much, father,"
" What dooa Rose want ? "
" As near as possible, everything," aaid Elizabeth, — " if you
will have the answer."
"What?"
" Why father, she haa nothing in the world but a very pretty
face."
" You grant her that," aaid Mr. Haye.
" Yes, I grant her that, though it is a great while aince I saw
it pretty. Father, I care nothing at all for any face which haa
nothiug beneath the outside. It'a a barren prospect to mo, how-
ever fair the outside may be — I don't care to let my eye dwell
" How do you like the prospect of your own, in tie glass ? "
"I should be very sorry if I didn't think it had infinitely
10*
HcsledbyGoOgle
^^O TIIK HILL8 OF THB BHATEMUC.
moTQ m it than the face wo have been apeakiDg of. It is not ao
beautifully tinted, nor so regularly cut; but J like it better."
" I am afraid few people will agree with you," said her father
" There's one thing," said Elizabeth, — " I eha'a't know it if
they don't. But then I see my face at a disadvantage, looking
stupidly at itself in the glass — I hope it doea better to other peo-
ple."
" I didn't know you thought quite so much of yourself," said
Mr. Haye.
" I haven't told you the half," said Elizabeth, looking at him.
" I am afraid I think more of myself than anybody else does, or
ever will."
" If you do it BO well for yourself, I'm afraid other people
won't save you the trouble," said her father.
" I'm afraid ^ou will not, hy the tone in which you speak,
" What has set you against Rose ? "
" Nothing in the world ! I am not set against her. Nothing
in the world but her own emptiness and impossibility of being
anything like a companion to me."
" Elizabeth !— "
" Father ! — ^^^kat's the matter ? "
" How dare you talk in that manner ? "
" Why father," said Elizabeth, her tone somewhat quieting aa
his was roused, — " I never saw the thing yet I didn't dare say,
if I thought it. Why shouldn't I ? "
" Because it is not true — a word of it."
_ " I'm sure I wish it wasn't true," said Elizabeth. " What I
said was true. It's a sorrowful truth to me, too, for I haven't
a soul to talk to that can understand me— not even you, father, it
seems."
" I wish I didn't understand you," said Mr. Haye.
" It's nothing very dreadful to understand," said Elizabeth,
— " what I have been saying now. I wonder how you can think
BO much of it. I know you love Rose better than I do."
" I love her so well—" said Mr. Haye, and stopped.
" So well that what ? "
" That I can hardly talk to you with temper."
" Then don't let us talk about it at all," said Elizabeth, wliosa
own heightened colour shewed that her temper was moving.
" Unhappily it is necessary," said Mr. Haye dryly.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEM0C. 237
" Why in the world is it necessary ? You can't alter the mat-
ter, father, by talking; — it must stand so."
" Stand how f "
" Why, as it does stand — Rose and I as near aa possible
nothing to each other."
" Things can hardly stand so," said Mr. Haye. " You must
be either less or more."
Elizabeth sat silent and looked at him. He looked at nothing
but what was on hie plate.
" How would you like to have Rose take your place ? "
" My plftce ? " said Elizabeth.
" Yes," said Mr. Haye laconically,
" No place that I fill, could be filled by Rose " said Elizabeth,
with the slightest perceptible lifting of her head and raising of
her brow.
" We will try that," said Mr. Haye bitterly ; " for I will put
her over your head, and we will see."
" Put her where ? " said Eliaabeth.
" Oyer this house — over my establiahmont— at this table — in
your place as the head of this family."
"You will take her for your daughter, and discard me?"
said Elizabeth.
" No — I will not, — " said Mr. Haye, cutting a piece of beef-
steak in a way that shewed him indifferent to its fate. " I will
not ! — I will make her my wife ! — "
Elizabeth had risen from the table and now she stood on the
rug before the fire, with her arms behind her, looking down at the
breakfast-table and her father. Literally, looking down upon
them. Her cheeks were very pale, but fires that were not beaten-
lit were burning somewhere withm iior, shining out at her eye
and now and then colouring her face with a sudden flare. There
was a pause, Mr. Haye tried what he could do with his beefsteak ;
and his daughter's countenance showed the cloud and the flame
of the Tolcano by turns. For awhile the father and daughter
held off from each other. Bnt Mr. Haye's breakfast gave symp-
toms of coming to an end.
" Eathor," said Elizabeth, bringing her bands in front of her
and clasping them, — " s^ you did not mean that I "
" Ha ! — " said Mr, Haye without looking at her, and brushing
the crumbs from his pantaJoons.
Elizabeth waited,
" What did you mean ? "
" I spoke plain enough," said he.
HcsledbyGoOgle
^^S THE miiS OF THB BliATlCMITO.
" Do you mean to say that jou meant that ? " said Klizabeth,
the volcanic fires leaping up bright.
"Meant it?" said Mr, Haye, looking at her. "Yes, X
meant it."
" Father, you did not I — "
Mr. Haye looked again at her hands and her face, and an-
swered coolly,
"Ask Rose whether I meant it, — "
And left the room.
Elizabeth neither saw nor heard, for some minute; they
might have been many or few. Then she became aware that the
servant waa asking her if he should leave the breakfast-table still
for Miss Cadwallaider ; and her answer, " No — take it away I " —
was given with stOTtling decision. The man had known his young
mistress before to speak with lips that were supreme in their ex-
pression. He only obeyed, without even wondering. Elizabeth
in a whirl of feeling that like the smoke of the volcano hid every-
thing but itself, went and stood in the window; present to
nothing but herself; seeing neither the strtct without nor the
house within. Wrapped in that smoke, she did not know when
the servant wont out, nor whether anybody else came in. She
Stood there pale, with lipa set, her hands folded againat her waist,
and pressing there with a force the muscles never relaxed. How
long she did not know. Something aroused her, and she dis-
cerned, through the smoke, another figure in the room and coming
towards her. Elizabeth stepped ont from the window, without
altering auythiug but her place, and stood oppraito to Winthrop
Landhalm. If it had been Queen Elizabeth of old and one of
her courtiers, it would have been all one; the yonng man's re-
spectful greeting coold not have been met with more superb re-
gality of head and biow
"I have a letter fci Mr Haye," said Winthrop, " which mj
brother left in my chaige Thit brought mo here this morning,
and I ventured to m ike 1 usmess an excuse for pleasure."
" It may lie on the table tiU he comes," said Elizabeth with
the slightest bend ot her stately little head. She might have
meant the letter oi the pleasure or the business, or all three.
" You are wel! Miss Haye " said Winthrop doubtfully.
"No — I am well enough said Elizabeth. A revulsion of
feeling had very nearly brought down her head in a flood of
tears; but she kept that back carefully and perfectly; and the
next instant she started with another change, for Rose came in.
She gave Winthrop a very smding and briglit salutation ; which
he acknowledged silently, gravely, and even distantly.
;,Goo»^le
THE HILLS OF THE SIIATEMCC. 229
" Areu't you well, Mr. Landholiu ? " was Hose's nest instant
qiieBtion, most sweetly given.
" Very well," he said witt another bow.
" What have you been talking about, to get so raelanclioly ?
Liaaie — "
But Rose caught sight of the gathered blackness of that face,
and stopped short. Elizabeth bestowed one glance upon her; and
as she tlien turned to the other person of the party the revul-
sion came over her again, so strong that it -was overcoming. For
a minute her hands went to her face, and it was with extreme
difficulty that the rising heart was kept down. Will had the
mastery, however, and her face looked up agaic more dark than
" We have talked of nothing at all," she said. * Mr. Land-
holm onJy came to bring a letter."
Mr. Landholm could not stay after that, for anything. He
bowed himself out ; and left Elizabeth standing in the middle of
the floor, looking as if the crust of the earth had gjyen way
under her and ■ oha:OS was come again.' She stood there as she
had stood in the window, still and cold ; and Hose afar off by the
chimney corner stood watching her, as one would a wild beast or
a venomous creature in the room, not a little fear mingled with
a shadow of something else in her face.
Elizabeth's first movement was to walk a few stops up and
down, swinging one clenched hand, but half the breadth of the
room was all she went. She sunk down there beside a chair and
hid her face, exclaiming or rather groaning out, one after the
other, — " Oh I — oh ! " — in such tones as are dragged from very
far down in the heart; careless of Rose's hearing her.
" What is the matter, Lizzie ? " — her companion ventured
timidly. JJut Elizabeth gav; no answer; and neither of them
stirred for many minutes, an jccasional uneasy flutter of Eose's
being the exception. The question at last was asked over again,
and responded to.
" That my father has disgraced himself, and that you are the
cause ! "
" There's no disgrace," said Rose.
" Don't say he has not ! " said Elizabeth, looking up with
an eye that glared upon her adversary. " And before ho had
done it, I wish you Lad never been bom, — or I."
" It's no harm, — " said Rose confusedly.
"Harm! — ^harm, — " repeated Elizabeth; then putting her
face down again; "Ohl — what's the use of living, in such a
world I "
HcsledbyGoOgle
230 THE HILLS OF THE
" I don't see what harm it does to you," said Eose, muttering
her words.
" Harm f " repeated Elizabeth. " If it was riglit to wish it,
^which I believe it isn't, — I could wish that I wag dead. It
almost seems to me I wish I were I "
" You're not sure about it," said Hose.
" No, I am not," said Elizabeth looking up at her again with
ejes of fire and a face from whioh pain and passion had driven
all but livid colour, — but looking at her steadily, — " because
there is something after death; and I am not sure that I am
ready for it. I dare not say I wish I was dead. Rose Oadwal-
lader, or you would drire me to it 1 "
" I'm sure, I've done nothing,"- — ^said Rose whimpering.
" Done nothing I " said Elizabeth with a concentrated power
of expression. " Oh I wish you had done anything, before my
father had lowered himself in my eyes and you had been the
" I'm not the cause of anything," said Rose.
Elizabeth did not answer ; she was crouching by the side of
the ohair in an uneasy position that said how far from ease the
spirit was.
" And he hasn't lowered himself," Rose went on pouting.
" It is done ! " — said Elizabeth, getting up from the floor and
standing, not unlike a lightning-struck tree. — " I wonder what
will become of me ! — "
" What are you going to do ? "
" I would find a way out of this house, if I knew how."
" That's easy enough," said Rose with a slight sneer. " There
are plenty of ways."
" Easy enough,-— if one could find the right one."
" Why you've had me in the house a great while, already,"
said Rose.
" I have had — " said Elizaheih. — " I wonder if I shall ever
have anything again ! "
" Why what have you lost ? "
" Everything — except myself."
" You have a great respect for Mr. Haye," said Rose.
"I had."
Rose at this point thought fit to burst into a great fit of tears.
Elizabeth stood by the table, taking up and putting down one
book after another, as if the touch of them gave her fingers pain ;
aoid looking as if, as she said, she had lest everything. Then
HcsledbyGoOgle
stood with folded arma eyeing sometbing that waa not before her ;
and then slowly walked out of the room.
" Ltzaie — " said Rose.
"What?" said Elizahctt stopping at the door.
" What's the use of taking things so ? "
» The use of nece^ity."
" But we can bo just as we were before."
Elizabeth went on and gained her own room; and there she
and pain had a fight that lasted the rest of the day.
The fight was not over, and weary traces of it wero upon her
face, when late in the afternoon she went out to try the change
of a walk. The walk made no change whatever. As she was
ooniing up the Parade, she was met by Winthrop going down.
If he had seen only the gravity and r^erve of the morning, it is
probable he would not have stopped to apeak to her; but though
those were in hor face still, there was beside a weary set of the
brow and sorrowful line of the lips, very unwonted there, and
the cheeks were pale ; and instead of passing with a mere bow
he came up and offered his taad. Elizabeth took it, but without
the least brightening of face.
" Are you out for a walk ? " said he,
" No — I am for home — I have had a walk,"
" It is a very fine afternoon," said he, turning and beginning
to walk along slowly with her.
"Is it?"
" Haven't you found out that it is ? "
"No."
" Where have you been, not to know it f '
" Hum—" said Elizabeth,—" if you mean where my mind
has been, that is one question; as for my bodily self, I have been
on the Castle Green,"
" You have lost your walk," said he. " Don t you teel in-
clined to turn about with me and try to pick up what you eame
"Better there than at home," thought Elizabeth, and she
turned about accordingly,
"People come out for a variety of thmgs," she remarked
however, » -i t
" That is true," s^d Winthrop smibng, " 1 am atraia i was
hasty in presuming I could help you to find your object. I was
thinking only of mine." . , „ -j
"I don't know but you could, as well as anybody, said
HcsledbyGoOgle
262 THE HILI^ OF THE SHATEMITC.
Elizabeth. " If you could give me your mother's secret for nert
minding disagreeable things."
" I am afraid I cannot say she does not mind them," he an-
swered.
"What then? — I thought you said so,"
" I do not rememher what I said. I might have said that
she does not struggle with them — those at least which cannot he
removed by struggling."
"Not struggle with them?" said Elizabeth. "Sit down
quietly with them I "
"Yes," he said gravely. "Not at first, hut at last."
" I don't believe in it," said Eliziibeth. " That is, I don't
believe in It as a general thing. It may be possible for her. I
am sure it never could be for me."
Winthrop was silent, and they walked so for the space of
half a block.
" Would she say that it ia possible for everybody ? " inquired
Elizabeth then.
" I believe she would say that it is not temperament, nor cir-
cumstance, nor stoical philosophy."
" What then ? "
"A drop of some pacifying oil out of a heaven-wrought
chalice."
" I don't think figures are the easiest mode of getting at
things, Mr. Landholm. You don't make this clear."
He smiled a little, as he pushed open the little wicket gate
of the Green, and without saying anything more they sauntered
in, along the broad gravel walk sweeping round the enclosure ;
slowly, till they had passed the fortifications and stood looking
upon the bay over towards Blue Point. The eun was almost on
the low ruddied horizon ; a stirring north breeze came down irom
the up country, roughening the bay, and the sunbeams leapt
across from the pp 't ti t n t <d ' a t u h f I'ght to
every wave. T e a wa y fin h ky h d, ex-
cept some waiti f^fik p aunh n he two
friends stood sti m m k h nk okiug
especially atthf w w mh nadh ossing
water between, y llfwhhw whad and a
sparkle.
"Does this make anj thing dear? asked Wmthrop, when
some time had gone by without speech or movement from either
of them.
He spoke lightly enougli ; but the answer was given in a tone
that bespoke its truth.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 26d
"Oh no!—"
And Elizabeth's faoe was turned away bo that he conld see
nothing hut her bonnet, beside the tremuloua swell of the throat;
that he did see.
"It has very often such an effect for me," — he went on in the
same tone. " And I often come here for the very purpose of
trying it; when my head gets thick over law-papors."
"That may do for some things," said ElizabetL " It won't
for others."
" This would work well along with my mother's recipe " he
said.
" What is that ? " said Elizabeth harshly. "You didn't tell
"I am hardly fit to tell you," he answered, "for I do not
thoroughly know it myself. But I know she would send you to
the Bible, — and tell you of a hand that she trusts to do everything
for her, and that she knows will do al! things well, and kindly."
"But does that hinder disagreeables from being disagree-
ables?" said Elizabeth with some impatience of tone. "Does
that hinder aches from being pain ? "
" Hardly. But I believe it stops or sootbes the aching, I
believe it, because I have seen it,"
Elizabeth stood still, her bosom swelling, and that fluttering
of her throat growing more fluttering. It got beyond her com-
mand. The mixed passions and vexations, and with them a cer-
tain softer and more undefined regret, reached a point where she
had no control over theuL The tears would come, and once ar-
rived at that, they took their own way; with such a rush of pas-
aionato indulgence, that a thought of the time and the place and
the witness, made nothing, or came in only to swell the rush.
The flood poured over the barrier with such joy at being set free,
that it carried all before it. Elizabeth was just conscious of
being placed on a seat, near to which it happened that she was
standing; and she knew nothing more. She did not even know
how completely die was left to herself. Not till the fever of
passion was brought a little down, and recollection and shame
began to take their turn, and she checked lier tears and stole a
secret glance around to see what part of the gravel walk sup-
ported a certain pair of feet, for higher than the ground she dared
not look. Her earprise was a good deal to find that her glance
must take quite a wide range to meet with them; and then ven-
turing a single upward look, she saw that her companion stand-
ing at a little distance was not watching her, nor apparently had
HcsledbyGoOgle
234 THE HII.L3 0¥ THE SHATEMUO.
been; hia attitude bespoke bim quietly fixed upon something else
and awaiting her leisure. Elizabeth brought her eyes home
agaiu.
"What a straDge young man!" was her quick thought; —
" to have beeu brought up a fiirmer'a boy, and to know enough
and to dare enough to put me oa this seat, and then to have the
wit to go off and stand there m that manner ! "
But this tribute of respect to Winthrop was instantly followed
by an endeavour to do herself honour, in the way of gaining self-
possession and her ordinary looks as speedily as possible. She
commanded herself well after once she got the reins in hand ;
yet however it was with a grave couseiousnesa of swollen eyes
and flushed cheeks that sho presently rose from her place aad
went forward to the side of the quiet figure that stood there with
folded arms watching the rolling waters of the bay. Elizabeth
stood at his elbow a minute in hesitation.
" I am ready now, Mr. Laadholm. I am sorry I ha^e kept
yoa by my ridiculousness."
" I have not been kept beyond my pleasure," lie said.
" I lost command of myself," Elizabeth went on. " That
happens to me once in a while."
" You wilt fee! better for it," he said, as they turned and be-
gan to walk homewards.
" He takes things ooolly I " thought Elizabeth.
" Do you men over lose command of yourselyes ? "
" Sometimes — I am afraid," he said with a smile.
" I suppose your greater power of nerve and of guarding ap-
pearances, is one secret of the triumphant sort of pride you wear
upon occasion. There — I see it in your face now."
" I hope not," said Winthrop laughing. " The best instance
of self-control that I ever saw, was most unaccompanied with any
arrogance of merit or power."
" He means his mother again," thought Elizabeth.
" Was that instance in a man or a woman, Mr. Landholm ? "
" It was in a woman unfortunately for your ground."
" Not at all," said Elizabeth, " Exceptions prove nothing."
Winthrop said nothing, for his thoughts were busy with that
image of sweet seLf-guidance which he had never known to be un-
steady or fail ; and which, he knew, referred all its strength and
all its stableness to the keeping of another hand. Most feminine,
most humble, and most sure.
"Mr, Winthrop, your mother puzzles me," said Elizabeth.
" I wish I knew some of her secrets."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLa OF TUE SHATEMUC. 235
"I wish I did," he answered with half a sigh.
" Why, don't you I "
" No."
"I thought yon did."
"No; for she says they ean only bo arrived at through a cer-
tain initiation which I have not had after certain preliminary
steps, which I have not yet taken.''
Elizabeth looked at him, both surprised and curious.
"What are they?"
Wiuthrop'g face was grayer than usual, as he said,
" I wish my mother were here to answer you."
" Why, cannot you ? "
"No."
" Don't you know tlie preliminary steps, Mr. Landholm ? "
He looked very grave again.
"Not clearly enough to tell you. In general, I know she
would say there is a narrow way to be passed through before the
treasures of truth, or its fair prospects, can be arrived at ; but I
have never gone that way myself and I cannot point out the way-
maiks."
"Are you referring to the narrow gate spoken of in the
Bible ? "
" To the same."
" Then you are getting upon what J do not understand," said
Elizabeth.
They had mounted the steps of No. 11, and were waiting
for the door to be opened. They waited silently till it was done,
and then parted with only a 'good night.' Elizabeth did not
ask tim in, and it hardly occurred to Winthrop to wonder that
she did not.
Mr. Landholm read no classics tiat night. Neither law.
Neither, which may seem more strange, did he consult his Book
of books at all. He busied himself, not exactly with the study
of the human mind, but of two human minds, — which, though at
first sight it may seem an enlargement of the subject, is in fact
rather a contracted view of the same.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXII.
Sir Toby. Do notonrlliriB consist of tho font elamenlsf
Sir And, "J-wth, ao they mj, bul, I thiDk,lt rsllietconslate of eallDgflnddrlnkInK
"Deab, Mr. Wintlirop, what makes all this emoke tere?"
exclaimed Mrs. Nettley one morning, as she opened the door of
" I suppose, the wind, Mrs. Nettley," said Winthrop looking
up from the book he was studying.
" 0 dear 1 — how do you manage ? "
"I can't manage the smoke, Mrs. Nettley Its resources
exceed mine."
" It's that chimney ! " exclaimed the good lady, standing and
eyeing it in a sort of desperate concern, as if she would willingly
h^ve gone up the flue herself, so that only she could thereby have
secured the smoke's doing the same. " I always tnew that chim-
ney was bad — I had it onee a while myself — I'm sorry you've got
it now. What do you do, Mr. Winthrop ? "
" The smoke and I take turns in going out, Mrs. Nettley."
" Eh ? — Does it often eome in so ? Can't you help it ? "
" It generally takes advice with the wind, not with me
" But the chimney might have better advice. I'll get George
to fetch a doctor — I had forgotten it was so bad, I had quite for-
gotten it, and you never say a word— Mr. Landholm you never
" I have BO much else to see," he said, glancing at his book.
" Yes, and that reminds me— Have you heard the news ? "
" I have heard none to-day."
" Then you heard it yesterday, — of course you did ; but I
hear so little, when anything comes to me that's new I always
HcsledbyGoOgle
! IHLLS OF THE S
think it must be new to eTerjbody else. But of course you must
know it, as it is about friends of yours; I dare say you knew it
long ago; — tbongli such tilings are kept close sometimes, even
from friends; and I somehow was surprised to hear this, though
I had no right to be, for I suppose I had no reason for my fancy.
I think a good many thin^ I have no reason for, George thinks.
Majhe I do. I cant help it."
^ " But what is the thing in this case, Mrs. Nettley ? " said
Winthrop smiling.
" Why Georgo told me — don't you know? I was a little dis-
appointed, Mr. Winthrop."
" Why ? "
" Why, I had a fancy things were going another way."
" I don't know what you are talking about."
" That's because I talk so ill — It's this piece of news George
brought home yesterday — he was dining out, for a wonder, with
this gentleman who is going to sit to him ; I forget his name, —
Mr. 1 don't know what it is ! — but I am foolish to talk about
it. Won't jou come down and take a cup of tea with u3 to-night,
Mr. Landholm ? that's what I came up to ask, and not to stand
interrupting you. But you've quite forgotten us lately."
" Thank you, Mrs. Nettley, I'll come with groat pleasure —
on condition that jou tell me your news."
"The news? 0 it's no news to you — it's only this about
Miss Haye."
" What about Miss Haye ? "
" They say that she is going to get married, to a, Mr. Cadwal-
lader, George said. Her cousin I suppose; there is a cousia^p
of that name, isn't there, Mr. Landholm ? "
Mr. Landholm bowed.
" And had you heard of it before ? "
" Wo, I had not."
" And is it a good match ? She is a fine girl, isu't she ? "
" I know really nothing of the matter, Mrs. Nettley — I have
never seen the gentleman."
" Kealiy I Haven't you ? — then it was news," said the lady.
" I thought you were accustomed to see them so often — I didn't
think I was telling you anything. George and I — you must for-
give us, Mr. Winthrop, people will have such thoughts; they will
come in, and you cannot help it — I don't know what's to keep 'em
out, unless one could put bars and gates upon one's minds, and
you can't well do that; — but Georgo and I used to have suspi-
cions of you, Mr. Landholm. Well, I have interrupted you long
HcsledbyGoOgle
23S THE HILLS OF THR SHATEKUO.
enough. Dear ! wtat windowa ! I'm asbaraed. ni send the girl
up, the first chance you are out of the house. I told her to come
up too ; but she ia heedless. I haven't been to see 'em myself
in I don't know how many days; but you're always so terribly
busy — and now I've staid twice too long I "
And away she hurried, softly closing the door after her.
Mr. Landholm'a quiet study was remarkably quiet for a good
while after ahc went out. No leaf of his book rustled over ; not
a foot of his ohair grated on the floor, — for though the floor did
boast a bit of carpet, it lay not where he sat, by the window ; and
the coals and firebrands fell noiselessly down into the aahoa and
nobody was reminded that the fire would burn itaelf out in time
if it was let alone. The morning light grew stronger, and the
sunbeams that never got there till between nine and ten o'clock,
walked into the room ; and thoy found Winthrop Landholm with
his elbow ou the tabic and his head in his hand, where they often
were ; but with his eyes where they not often were — on the floor.
The sunbeams said very softly that it was time to be at the
office, but they said it very softly, and Wmthrop did not hear
them.
He heard however presently a footstep on the stair, in the
next story at first, and then mounting the uppermost flight that
led to the attic. A heavy brisk energetic footstep, — not Mrs.
Nettley's soft and slow tread, nor the more deliberate one of her
brother. Winthrop liatened a moment, and then as the last im-
patient creak of the boot stopped at his tlireshold he knew who
would open the door. It was Kufua.
" Sere you are. Why I expected to find you at the office ! "
was the first cheery exclamation, after the brothers had clasped
" What did you come here to find, then ? " said Winthrop.
" Room for my oarpct-bag, in the first plaee ; and a pair of
slippers, and comfort. It's stinging weather. Governor I "
" I know it. I came down the river tho night before last."
" I shouldn't think you knew it, for you've lot your fire go
down confoundedly. Why Winthrop 1 there's hardly a spark
here ! What have you been thinking about ? "
" I was kindling the fire, mentally," said Winthrop.
" Mentally ! — whore's your kindling f_— I can tell you 1 — if
you had been out in this air you'd want some breath of material
flame, before you could set any other agoing. And I am afraid
this isn't enough — or won't be, — I want some fuel for another
sort of internal combustion — iome of my Scotchman's haggis."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATiaitrC. 231)
Aad Rafus stopped to laugh, with a vary funny face, in the
midst of his piling chips and brands together.
" Ha^is? " said Winthrop.
" Yes. — There was a good fellow of a Scotohmaa in the stage
with me last night — he had the seat just hehind me — and he and
a brother Scotchmaa were discoursing valiantly of old world
things; warming themselves up with the recollection. — Winthrop,
have you got a hit of paper hero ?— And I heard the word
' haggis ' over and over again, — ' haggis ' and 'parritch.' At last
I turned round gravely — ' Pray sir,' said I, ' what is a haggis ? '
' Weel, sir,' said he good-hum ouredly, — ' I don't just know the in-
gredients— it's made of meal, — and onionB, I believe,— and other
combustibles ! ! ' — Winthrop, have you got any breakfast in the
house ? "
" Not much in the combustible line, I am afraid," said Win-
throp, putting up his books and going to the closet.
" Well if you can enact Mother Hubbard and ' give a poor dog
a bone,' I shall he thankful, — for anything."
" I am. afraid hunger has perverted your memory," said
Winthrop.
" How ? "
" If the cupboard should play its part now, the dog would go
without any."
" 0 you'll do better for me than that, I hope," said Rufus ;
"for T couldn't go on enacting the dog's part long; he took to
laughing, if I remember, and I should be beyond that directly."
" Does that ever happea ? " said Winthrop, as he brought out
of the cupboard his bits of stores ; a plate with the end of a loaf
of bread, a little pitcher of milk, and another plate with some re-
mwns of cold beefeteak. For all reply, Rufus seiaed upon a piece
of bread, to begin with, and thrusting a fork into the beefsteak,
he held it in front of the justburning firebrands. Winthrop stood
looking on, while Rufus, the beefsteak, and the smoke, seemed
mutually intent upon each other. It was a question of time, and
patience ; not to speak of fortitude.
" Winthrop," said Rufus changing hands with his fork, —
" have you any coffee ? "
" No sir."
"Tea?"
" No."
"Out of both?"
" For some time."
" Do you live without it ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
240 TIIE niLIS OF THE BHATEMUC.
" I lire without it,"
" Without either of them ? "
" Without either of them,"
" Then how in the world do you live ? " said Rufua turning
his beefsteak in a very gingerly manner and not daring to take
hia eyes from it.
" Without combustibles — aa I told you."
" I should tJiiak so I " exclaimed his brother. " You are the
coolest, toughest, most stubborn and unimpressible piece of sen-
sibility, that ever lived in a garret and deserved to live — some-
where else."
"Doubtful strain of commendation," said Wintlirop. "What
has brought you to Mannabatta ? "
" But Winthrop, this is a new fancy of yours ? "
" No, not very."
" How long sineo ? "
" Siaee what? "
" Since you gave up all the good things of this life ? "
" A man can only give up what he has," said Winthrop.
" Those I delivered into your hands some ten minutes ago."
" But tea and coffee — You used to drink them ? "
" Yes."
"Why don't you?"
" For a variety of reasons, aatisfaotory to my own mind."
" And have you abjured butter too ? "
" I am sorry, Will," said Winthrop smiling a little, — " I will
try to have some buttor for you to-morrow."
" Don't you eat it in ordinary ? "
" Always, when I can get it. What has brought you to
Manuahatta ? "
" What do you thini ? "
" Some rash scheme or resolution."
" Wliy ? "
" Erom my judgment of your character, which might be
stated as the converse of that just now so happily applied to me."
" And do natures the opposite of that never act otherwise
than rashly ? "
" I hope so ; for as the coolest are sometimes excited, so the
hot may be sometimes cool,"
" And don't I look cool ? "
" You did when you came in," said Winthrop.
" I should think living on bread and miUi might help that, in
ordinary," said Rufus. " Just in ray present condition it has
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THK SUATEMCC, 241
rather a different effect. Well Governor, I've come to Manna-
hatta — "
" I see ttat," said Wintlirop.
" I'll thank yon not to interrupt me. I've eome to Manna^
Batta — on a piece of business."
Winthrop waited, and Kufus after another cut of the bread
and moat, went on.
" Governor, I'm going to quit engineering and take to another
mode of making money."
"Have you done with your last piece of work at the West?"
" No — I'm going back there to finish it, 0 I'm going back
there — I've only come here now to sign some papers and make
some arrangements; I shall come finally, I suppose, about May,
or April. I've been corresponding with Haye lately."
" About what ? "
" About this I What should I eorreapotd with him about ?
By the way, what an infernal piece of folly this marriage is ! "
" Not mixed up with your business, is it ? "
" No, of course ; how should it ? but I am tremendously sur-
prised. Aren't you ? "
" People of my temperament never are, you know."
" People of your temperament-— have a comer for their
thoughts," said Eufus. " Well, there"'s one chance gone for you,
Gfovernor."
" Which it does not appear that I ever had."
" No indeed, that's very true. Weii, about my business. —
Haye has advocated my leaving the country and coming here.
And he knows what he is about, Winthrop ; he is a capital man
of business. He says ho can put me in a way of doing well for
myself in a very short time here, and he recommended my coming."
" What's his object ? " said Winthrop.
" What's his objeet ? "
" Yes."
"How should I know I He wants to serve me, I suppose;
and I believe he has kindliness enough for me, to be not unwilling
to get me in the same place of business with himself."
" What will he do for you ? "
" This, to begin with. He has a qnantity of cotton lying in
his stores, which he offers to make over to me, upon a certain val-
uation. And I shall ship it to Liverpool, as he recommends."
" Have you got your money from the North Lyttleton com-
" No, nor from anybody else: — not yet; but it's coming."
11
HcsledbyGoOgle
243 THE IIIT.I.S OF TinC SIIATEIIUC.
" la this purchase of cotton to be executed immediately ? "
" Immediately. That's what I have come down for."
" How arc" you to pay Mr. Haye ? "
" By hills upon the consignees."
" Does the purchase swallow up all your means ? "
" Jfone of them," said Rufus impatiently. " I tell you, it is
to he consummated by drawing hills in Haye's favour upon the con-
signees— Fleet, Norton & Co."
" Suppose the consignment don't pay ? "
" It will pay, of course ! Don't you suppose Haye knows
what he is about ? "
" Yes ; but that don't satisfy me, unless I know it too."
" / do," said Rufus. " He takes an interest in me for my
iather's sake ; and I think I may say without vanity, for my own ;
and he is willing to do me a kindness, which he can do without
hurting himself. That is alt; and very simple."
" Too simple," said Winthrop.
" What do you mean ? "
" What are you going to do when you come here ? "
» Look after my in-comings ; and I shall probably go into
Haye's office and rub up my arithmetic in the earlier branches.
What are you going to do ? "
" I am going to the offieo.—Mr. De Wort's."
" What to do there, Governor ? "
" Read, write, and rcoord, law and lawpapors."
" Always at the same thing ! "
" Always."
" Seems a slow way of getting ahead."
" It's sure," said Winthrop.
" You are sure, I believe, of whatever you undertake. By
tte way — have you undertaken the other adventure yet ? "
" I don't know what you mean."
" The adventure we were talking about.— The heiress."
" I can adventure nothing upon speculation," said Winthrop.
"Then you have not had a chance to carry out your favourite
idea of obligation. I>o you know, I never should have suspected
you of having such an idea,"
" Shews how much we go upon speculation even with our
nearest friends," said Winthrop.
" And how speculation fails there as elsewhere. What a fool
Haye has made of himself ! "
" In what ? "
" Why, in this match."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF T
"Whathaahe done?"
" Done I wty he haa done it. Euougli, I fihould think. I
wish his folly stood alone."
" How do you know he lias done it ? "
" He told me so himself. I met him as I came along juat
Dow; and he told me he was to be married to-morrow and would
attend to my business next day."
" Told you who would ? "
" He. Himself. Haye."
" Told you he was to be married ? "
" Yea. Who else ? "
" To whom ? "
"Why! — ^to his niece — ward — what is she? Rose Cad-
wallader."
" Mr. Haye and Miss Cadwallader 1 " said Winthrop.
" To be sure. What are you thiniting of? What have W6
been talking about ? "
" You know best," said Winthrop. " My informant had
brought another person upon the ataee."
"Who?"
" A Mr. Cadwallader."
" There's no such thing as a Mr. Cadwallader. It's Haye
himself; and it only shews how all a man's wisdom may ho located
in one quarter of hia brain and leave the other empty."
" To-morrow ? " said Winthrop.
" Yes ; and you and 1 are invited to pay our respects at eleven.
Haven't you had an invitation ? "
" I don't know— I have been out of town — and for the pres-
ent I must pay my respects in another direction. I must loave
you, Will."
" Look here. What's the matter with you, Winthrop ? "
" Nothing at all," said Winthrop facing round upon his brother.
" Well I believe there isn't," said Rufus, taking a prolonged
look at him, — " hut somehow I was thinking — You're a fine-look-
ing fellow, Winthrop I "
" You'll find wood In the further end of the closet," said Win-
throp smiling. " I am afraid Mother Hubbard's shelves are in
classical order — that is, with nothing on them."
" I sha'n't want anything more till dinner," said Rufus,
" Where do you dine ? "
" At the chop-house to-day."
" I'll meet you there. Won't you he home till night ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
2i4 THE HILLS OF THE BHATBMtJO.
" Well — till dinner," said Eufas waidng hia hand. And his
brother left him.
Turning away from the table and his emptied diahea and
framnentary beef-bone, Rufus sat before the little fireplace,
gazing into it at the red coals, and talring casual and then wistful
note of various things about his brother's apartment that told of
the man tliat lived there.
" Spare 1 " — said Eufus to himself, as his eye maried the
scanty carpet, the unpainted few wooden chaira, the curtainless
bed, tbe rough deal shelves of the closet which shewed at the
open door, and the very econoniical chimney place, which now,
the wind having gone down, did no longer smoke; — " Spare I —
but he'll have a better place to live in, one of these days,
and will furnish it." — And visions of mahogany and of mirrors
glanced across Rufus's imagination, how unlike the images around
him and before hia bodily eye.— " Spare ! — poor fellow! — he's
working bard just now ; but pay -time will come. And ordeily,
— just like him ; his books piled in order on tbe window-sill —
his papers held down by one on the table, the clean floor, —
yes," — and rising Rufus even went and looked into the closets
There was the little stack of wood and parcel of kindling, like
wise in order ; there stood Winthrop's broom in a corner ; and
there hung Winthrop's few clothes that were not folded away in
his trunk. Mother Hubbard's department was in the same spare
and thoroughly kept style ; and Rufus came back thoughtfully
to his seat before the fire.
" Like him, every bit of it, from tho books to the broom.
Like him ; — his own mmd is just as free from dust or confusion ;
rather more richlj furnished. What a mind it is ! and what
wealth he'll make out of it, for pocket and for name both.
And I "
Here Rufus's lucubrations left his brother and went off upon
a sea of calculations, landing at Fleet, Morton & Co. and then
coming back to Mannahatta and Mr. Haye's counting-room. He
had plenty of time for them, as no business obviously could be
done till ^e day after to-morrow.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXIII.
In due course of time the morrow brought round eleven
o'clock ; and the two brothers took their way, whither all the
world severally were taking theirs, to Mr. Haye's house. The
wedding was over and the guests were pouring io.
For some roison or other the walk was taken in grave
Bilenoe, hy both parties, till they were mounting the steps to the
hall door.
" How do you suppose Elizabeth will like this ? " Rufus whis-
pered,
Winthrop did not say, nor iadeed answer at all; and his
brother's atte( tion was caught the next minute hy Mr. Herder
whom they encountered in the hall.
" How do you do ? " said the naturalist grasping both his
young friends' hands, — " when did you come ? and how is all wij
you ? I hope you are not going to be married I "
" Why, Mr. Herder ? " said Eufus laughing,
" It is very perplexing, and does not satisfy nobody," said
the naturalist. " So quick aa a man thinks of somebody else a
leotle too hard, he forgets himself altogezor; and then, he does
not he sure what he is doing. Now — dis man—"
"Isn't he sure what he has done?" said Eufus muoh
amused.
" No, he does not know," said Mr. Herder.
" What does his daughter think of it ? "
" She looks black at it. I do not know what she is thinking-
I do not want to know."
HcsledbyGoOgle
246 THE HIIX3 OF 'HIE SHATEMHO.
" Ha ! What doea she say ? "
" Slie sajs nozing at all ; she looks black," said the naturalist
ehrugging his shoulders. " Don't you go to got married. You
will not satisfy nobody."
" Except myself," said Rufiis
" Maybe. I do not kn a 1 tho naturalist. " A man has
not no right to satisfy him It y/ ut he can satisfy ozer people
too. I am sorry for p M El ab t'."
" I wonder how m ny mat h onld be made upon that
rule I " said Rufus, as th j [ a t d and Mr. Herder joined the
company within.
" They would be all matches made by other people," said
Winthrop,
" And on the principle that ' to-morrow never oomes ' — the
world would come to an end."
So they entered the drawing-rooms.
There we e m y p pi here, and certainly for the present
there were few u t fi d f s ; for the bride was lovely enough
and the bride m f n q lence enough, to make compliments
to them a ma f pi o the giver. The room was bloom-
ing with beauty and b htn as. But Miss Haye was not there ;
and as soon a th y uld w thdraw from tho principal group the
two brothers made their way to an inner room, where she stood,
holding as it were a court of her own ; and an unpropitioua mon-
arch she would have looked to her courtiers had they been real
ones. Her face waa as lowering as Mr. Herder had described it;
aettled in pain and pride; though now and then a quick change
would pass over it, very liko the play of lightning on a distant
cloud ;— fitful, aharp, and traeeleaa. Just as Eufus and Winthrop
had made their bow, and before they had time to speak, another
bow claimed Elizabeth's return, and the tongue that went there-
with waa beforehand with theu-a. The speaker was a well dressed
and easy mannered man of the world ; but with a very javelin
of an eye, as ready for a throw as a knight's lance of old, and as
careless what it met in its passage through humanity.
" You have wandered out of your sphere, Miss Elizabeth."
" What do you mean, sir ? " — was given with sufficient keen-
ness.
" The bright constellation of beauty and ha,ppiness is in tho
other room. Stars set off one another."
" I shine best alone," said Elizabeth.
" You disdain the effect of commingled and reflected light ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
niE HILLS OF THG PIIATEMUC. 247
" Yes I do, heartily, in this case. I wish for no glory tbat
does not belong to me."
" But does not the glory of jour father and mother belong
to you? "said the gentleman. He spoke with the most smooth
deference of manner, that all but covered hia intent ; but the
flush and fire started into Elizabeth's face reminding one of the
volcano again. Her eye watered with pain too, and she hesi-
tated ; she was evidently not ready with an answer. Perhaps
for that reason it was given with added haughtiness.
" You need not trouble yourself to reckon what does or what
docs not belong to me, I know my belongings, and will take
care of them."
" You are satisfied with them," said the gentleman, " and will-
ing they should stand alone ? "
" I am willing they should take their chance, sir,"
" I know no one who can better sa.y that," remarked Rufua.
" With better confidence, or better grounds do jou meaa ? "
" I hope you do not need to be told I " said Rufua, his eye
sparkling half with fuu and half with admiration at the face and
manner with which Elizabeth turned upon him.
" Which leaves the lady at liberty to suppose what she
pleases," said the first speaker.
" It leaves her at liberty to suppose nothing of the kind ! "
Bufua rejoined, with a little dilating of the nostril.
"Nothmg can oonstrain my liberty in that respect," said
the lady in question,
" Except your knowledge of human nature ? " said Rufus.
" I have no hindrance in that," said Elizabeth.
" To supposing what you please ? "
" Or what pleases you, perhaps," said the first apeaker.
" Anything but that, Mr Archibald ! "
" Then it was no surprise to you that your father should set a
young aiid lovely Mrs. Hayo at the head of hia establishment,
even though he found her in the person of your playmate ? "
Elizabeth hesitated ; she drew in her under lip, and her eye
darkened and lightened ; but she heaitated. Then ahe spoke,
looking down.
" I waa surprised."
" Not a pleaaajit surprise ? " said Mr. Archibald.
The girl's face literally flashed at him ; from her two eyes
the fire flew, as if the one would confound the other.
" How dare you ask me the question, sir I "
HcsledbyGoOgle
a4S THE HILLS OF TilE SUATEMUC.
" Pardon me — I had no idea there was any harm in it," said
the person at whom the fire flew.
" Your ideaa want correcting, sir, sadly ! — and jour tongue."
" I wiU never offend again 1 " said Mr. Archibald bowing, and
smiling a little.
" You never shall, with mj good leave."
Mr. Ajohibaid bowed again.
" Good morning ! You wilt forgive me ; and when I think
time enough has elapsed, and I may with safety, I will come
" To visit my father, sir ! "
Not Queen Elizabeth, with ruff and farthingale, eould have
said it with more eonsciousness of her own dignity, or more
superb dismission of that of another. But probably Queen Eliza-
beth would not have oast upon her oonrtiors the look, half ask-
ing for sympathy and half for approval, with which Elizabeth
Haye turned to her companions. Her eye fell first upon Win-
throp. But his did not meet her, and the expression of his face
was very grave, Elizabeth's look went from it to Rufus. His
was beaming.
" Capital ! " he said, " That was admirable ! "
" No," said Elizabeth after a slight hesitation, — " it was not."
" I thought it was," said Rufus, — " admirably done. Why
was it not. Miss Haye ? — if I am not as impertinent as an-
other ? — I thought he richly deserved his punishment."
" Yes," said Elizabeth in a dissatisfied kind of way, — ■" enough
of that, — but I deserved better of myself than to give it to him."
" You are too hard upon yourself."
" Circumstances are sometimes."
" Will it do to say that ? " said Winthrop looking up.
" Why not ? "
" Will it do to confess oneself — one's freedom of mind — under
the power of circtansianEe, and so not one's own ? "
" I must confess it," said Elizabeth, " for it's true, of me. I
Buppose, not of every one."
" Then you cannot depend upon yourself."
" Well,— I can't."
He smiled.
" On whom then ? "
And the blood spzning to her cheeks and the water to her
eyes, with a sudden rush. It seemed that circumstance was not
the only thing too hard for her ; feeling had so far the mastery, for
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO. 249
the minute, that her head bent down and she could not at once
raise it up. Eufus walked ofF to the window, where he gave his
attention to some gteenlioiise plants; Winthrop stood still.
" I would give anytMng in the world," said Elizabeth,
lifting her head and at first humbly and then proudly wiping her
tears away, — " if I could learn self-control — to command my-
self. Can one do it, Mr. Landholm ?-— one with whom it ia not
" I believe go."
" After all, you can't tell much about it," said Elizabeth, " for
it belongs to your nature."
" No credit to him," said Rufna returning; — " it oomea of the
stock. An inch of self-control in one not accustomed to it, ia
worth more honour than aU Governor's, which ho can't help."
" I wouldn't give a pin for self-control in one not acoostomed
to it I " said Eliaabeth ; " it is the habitual command over one-
self, that I value."
" No let-up to it ? " said Kufua.
" No ;— or only bo much as to shew in what strength it ex-
ists. I am glad, for instance, that Washington for once forgot
himself — or no, he didn't forget himself; but I am glad l£at
passion got the bettor of him once. I respect the rest of his life
infinitely more."
" Than that instance f "
"No, no! — -for that instance."
" I am afraid you have a little tendency to hero-worship, Miss
Elizabeth."
" A very safe tendency," said the yoimg lady. " There aren't
many heroes to call it out."
" Living heroes ? "
" No, nor dead ones, if one could get at more than the
great facts of their lives, which doc.'t shew us the men,"
" Then yon are of opinion that ■ trifl.es make the sum of hu-
man things? ' "
" I don't know what are trifles," said Elizabeth.
"Dere is nozing is no trifle," said Mr. Herder, coming in
from the other room. " Dere is no soch thing as trifle. Miss
filisabct' hang her head a little one side and go softly, — and
people say, ' Miss filisabet' is sad in her spirit — what is the mat-
ter V ' — and you hold up your head straight and look bright out
of your eyes, and they say, ' Miss Elisabet' is fi.i!re — she feels
herself goot; she do not fear nozing, she do not care for nozing."
HcsledbyGoOgle
250 THE HILLS OF THE BHArEMUC.
"I am sure it is a trifle whether I look one way or anotier,
Mr. Herder," said Elizaheth, laughing a little.
" Ozer people do not think so," said the naturalist.
" Besides, it is not true, that I fear nothing and care for
nothing."
" But then you do not want to tell everybody what you do
think," said tho naturalist,
"I don't care much about it I" said Elizabeth. "I think
that is a trifle, Mr. Herder."
" Which is ? " — said the naturalist.
" What people think about me."
" You do not think so ? "
" I do."
" I am sorry " said the naturalist.
"Why?"
_ "It is not goot, for people to not care what ozer people
thinks about them."
" Why isn't it good ? I think it is. I am sure it is com-
fortable."
"It shews they have a mind to do something what ozer peo-
ple will not like."
" Very well ! "
" Dat is not goot."
" Maybe it is good, Mr. Herder. People are not always right
in their espectations."
" It ia better to go smooth wiz people " said the naturalist
shaking his head a little.
" Or without them," said Elizabeth.
" Question, can you do that ? " said Rufus.
" What ? " said his brother.
"Live smoofJily, or live at all, without regard to other
people."
" It is of the world at large I was speaking," said Elizabeth.
" Of course there are some few, a very few, whose word— and
whose thought — one would care for and strive for,— that is not
what I mean."
" And who are those few fine persons ? " said Mr. Herder
significantly.
" He is unhappy that doesn't know one or two," Elizabeth
answered with infinite gravity.
" And the opinions of the rest of men you would despise ? "
said Rufas.
" Utterly !— so far as they trenched upon my i
lotion."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLB OF TITE SHATEMUC. 251
" You can't live so," aaid Rufus Bhaking tis liead.
" I wiU live so, if I live at all."
" Wint'rop, jou do not say nozing," said the iiataralist.
" What need, sir ? "
" Dere is always need for everybody to ?ay what he thinks,"
said Mr. Herder. " Here we have ail got ourselves in a puzzle,
and we don't know which way we stand."
" I am afraid every man must get out of that puzzle for Iiim-
self, sit."
" Is it a puzzle at all ? " said Elizabeth facing round upon
" Not when you have got oat of it."
" Well, what's the right road out of it ? "
" Break through everything m the way," said Eufus. " That
seems to' be the method in favour.'
" What do you think is the right way ? " Elizabeth repeated
■without looking at the last speaker,
" If you set your face in the right quarter there is always a
straight road out in that direction," 'W lulhi i inswered with a
little bit of a smile.
"Doesn't that come pretty near my rule^" said Elizibeth
with a smile much broader.
" I think not. If I understood, your rule was to make a
straight road out for yourself in any direction "
Elizabeth laughed and coloured a little, with no dispkasod
expression. The laugh subsided and her fai-e became veiy grave
again as tlie gentlemen made their parting bows.
The brothers walked homo in silence, till they hail near
reached their own door.
" How easily you make a straight way tur your''elt any-
where ! " Kufus said suddenly and with halt a bieath ot i sigh
" What do you mean ? " said Winthrop starting
" You always did,"
"What?"
" What you pleased."
" Well ? " said Winthrop smiling.
" You may do it now. And will to the end of your life."
" Which seems to afford you somehow a gloomy prospect of
contemplation," said his brother,
" Well — it does and it should."
" I should like to hear you state your premises and draw your
conclusion."
Rufus was silent and very sober for a little while. At last
he said,
HcsledbyGoOgle
352 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
" Tour success and mine have always been very differentj in
everything we undertook."
" Not ia everythiDg," said Winttrop.
"Well — in almost eterything."
" You say I do whatever I please. The difficulty with you
Bometimes, Will, is that you do not ' please ' hard enough."
" It would be difficult for anybody to rival you in that," Ru-
fus said with a mingling of expression, half ironical and half
bitter. " You please so ' hard ' that nobody else has a chance."
To which Wintbrop made no answer.
" I am not sorry for it, G-overnor," Uufus said just as they
reached their door, and witb a very changed and quiet tone.
To which also Winthrop made no answer except by a look.
HcsledbyGoOgle
OHAPTEE XXIV.
Mrs. Nettley ■was putting the finisliiDg touches to het
breakfest — that is, to her breakfast in prospect. A dish of fish
and the coffee-pot stood keeping each other cheerful on one side
the hearth ; and Mrs. Nettley was just, with some trouble, hang-
ing a large round griddle over the blading flre. Her brother
stood by, with his hands on his sides, and a rather complacent
face.
" What's that flap-jack going on for ? "
"For something I lite, if you don't," said Lis sister.
" George — "
Mrs Nettley stopped while her iron ladle was carefully be-
stowing large spoonfuls of batter all round the griddle.
" What ? " said Mr. Inchbald, when it was done.
" Somebody up-stairs likes 'em. Don't you suppose you could
get Mr. Landholm to come down. He likes 'em, and he don't get
"em now-a-days — nor too much of anything that's good. I don't
know wh*t he does live on, up there."
" Anything is better tban those things," said her brother.
" Other people are more wise than you. Do go up and aek
him, will you, George ? I hope he gets good dinners somewhere,
for it's very little of anything he cooks at that smoky little fire-
place of his. Do you ever see him bring anything in ? "
" Nothing. I don't see him bring himself in, you know. But
he'll do. He'll have enough by and by, Dame Nettley. I know
what stuff he's of."
" Yes, but no stufl' '11 last without help," said Mrs. Nettley
HcsledbyGoOgle
aoi THE HILLS OS' THE SHATEMtlC.
taking her catea off the griddle and piling tiem np carefully.
" Now I'm all ready, George, and you're standing ttore — it's al-
ways tlie way — and tefore you can niouut those thrOG pair of
stairs and down again, these 'U ho cold. Do go, George ; Mr.
Landholm likes hia cakes hot— I'll have another plateful ready be-
fore you'll he here ; and then they're good for nothing but to
throw away."
" That's -what I think," said Mr. Inchhald ; " but I'll bring
him down if I can, to do what you like with 'em — only I must
see first what this knocking wants at the front door."
" And loft this one open too ! " — said Mrs. NettUy,— " and
now the whole house '11 be full of smoke and erei^thiog — Weil !
— I might as well not ha' put this griddleful on." —
But the door having refused to latch, gave Mrs. Ncttley a
akance to hear what was going on. She stood, slice in hand,
listening. Some unacouatomed tonea came to hor ear — then
Mr. Inchhald's round hearty voice, saying,
" Yes sir — he is here — he is at home."
" I'd like to see him — — "
And then the sounds of scraping feet entering the house.
" I'd like to go somewherea that I could see a fire, too," said
the strange voice. " Ben ridin' all night, and got to set off
again, you see, directly,"
AJkd Mra. Nettloy turned her cakes in a great hurry, as her
brother pushed open the door and let the intruder in.
He took off hia hat as lie came, shewing a head that had seen
some sixty wmters, thinly dressed with yellow hair but not at all
grey. The face was strong and Yankee-marked with shrewdneaa
and reaerve. His nat waa wet and hia shoulders, which had no
protection of an overcoat.
" Do you wish to aee Mr. Landholm in hia room ? " said Mr.
Inchhald, " He's just coming down to breakfast."
" That'll do as well," said the stranger nodding. " And atop
—you may give him this — maybe he'd as lieve have it up
_Mr. Inchbald looked at the letter handed him, the outside of
which at least told no tales ; hut his sister with a woman's ijuiok
instinct had already asked,
" Is anything the matter ? "
"Matter?" — said the stranger, — " well, yes. — He's wanted
to hum."
Both brother and sister stood now forgetting everything, both
iaying in a breath.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL8 OF THE SHA.TEMCO. 255
" Wanted, what for ? "
*' Well— there's sickness—"
"His father?"
" No, Ms mother."
Mrs. Nettley threw down her slice and ran out of the room.
Mr. Inctbald turned away slowly in the other direction. The
stranger, left alone, took a knife from the tahle aad dished the
neglected cakes, and sat down to dry himself between them and
the coffee.
Mr. Inchbald slowly mounted the stairs to Winthrop's door,
met the pleasant face that met him there, and gave the letter.
" I was coming to ask you down to breakfast with us, Mr.
Landholm; but somebody has just come with that for you, and
wishes you to have it at onoe."
The pleasant face crew grave, and the seal was broken, and
the letter unfolded. It was a folio half sheet, of coarse yeUowish
paper, near the upper end of which a very few lines were irregu-
larly written.
" My dear Son,
" It is with great pain I writo to tell jou that jou
mnst leave aU and hasten home if you would see your mother.
Friend Underhill will take thia to you, and your shortest way
will bo, probably, to hire a horse in M. and travel night and day;
as the time of the boat is uncertain and the stage does not make
very good time — Her illness has been so short that we did not
know it was necessary to alarm you before. My dear son, eome
withoat delay —
" Your father,
" W. Lakdholm."
Mr Inchbald watched the fece and manner of bis friend as
he read, and after he read, these few wordt,— but the one ex-
pressed only gravity, the other, actioa Mr Inchbald felt he
fould do nothing, and slowly went down stairs again to Mr.
Underbill He found him still over the fire between the cakes
and the coffee. But Mr. Inchbald totally forgot to be hospitable,
aad not a word was said till Wmthrop came in and he and the
letter-briuger had wrung each other's hand, with a brief ' how
d' ye do.'
" How did you leave them, Mr. Underbill?"
" Well — they were wantin' you pretty bad — "
" Did she send for me f "
HcsledbyGoOgle
256 THE HILLS OF THE
—no — I guesa not," said the other witli sometiing of
__ , or of consi deration, in Lis epeech. Winthrop stood
silent a moment.
" I ehall take horse immediately. You will go — how ? "
" May as well ride along with you," said Mr. Underhill,
settling his coat. " I'm wet — a trifle — but may as well ride it
off as any way. Start now ? "
" Have you breakfasted ? "
" Well — no, I haia't had time, you see — I come straight
" Mr. Inchbald, I must go to the ofE.ee a few minutes — will
you give my friend a moutiiful ? "
" But yourself, Mr. LaudKolm ? "
" I have had brcakfaat,"
Mr, Inehbald did hia duty as host then ; but though hia guest
used despatch, the ' mouthful ' was hardly a hungry man's break-
fast when Winthrop was back again. Ie a few minutes more the
two were mounted and on their way up the right bank of the
They rode silently. At least if Mr. Underbill's wonted talk-
ativenesa found vent at all, it was more than Winthrop was able
ever to recollect He could remember nothing of the ride but
his own thoughts; and it seemed to him afterwards that they
must have been stunning as well as deafening; so vague and so
blended was the impression of them mixed ap with the impression
of everything else. It was what Mr. Underbill called ' falling
weather ' ; the rain dropped lightl;y, or by turns changing to mist
bung over the river and wreathed itself about the bills, and often
Btood acrc«s his pati ; its if to bid the eye turn inward, for space
to range without it might not have. And passing all the other
journeys bo had made up and down that road, some of them
on horseback as he was now, Winthrop's thoushts went back to
that first one, when through ill weather and discouragement be
had left the home he was now seeking, to enter upon his great-
world career. Wby did they so 1 He had been that road in
the rain since ; he had been there in all weathers ; he bad been
there often with as desponding a heart as brought him down that
first time; which indeed did not despond at aU then, though it
folt the weight of life's undertakings and drawbacks. Ana the
warm rain, and yellow, sun-eolourcd mist of this April day, had
no likeness to the cold, pitiless, pelting December storm. Yet
passing all the times between, bis mind went back constantly to
that first one. He felt over again, though as io a dream, its steps
HcsledbyGoOgle
257
of lonelinesa and heart-sinking — its misty looking forward — and
most especially that Bible word ' Nov> ' — which his little sister's
finger had pointed out to him. He remembered how constantly
that day it came back to him in everything he looked at, — from
the hills, from the river, from the beat of the horses' hoofs, from
the falling rain. ' Now ' — ' now ' — he remembered how he had
felt it that day; he had almost forgotten it since; but now it
came up again to his mind as if that day had been hut yesterday.
What brought it there ? Was it the unrecognized, uaailowed
sense, that the one of all the world who most longed to have him
obey that word, might be to-day beyond seeing him obey it — for
ever ? Was it possibly, that passing over the bridge of Mirza's
visioa he suddenly saw himself by the side of one of the open
trap-doors, and felt that some stay, some security he needed, before
his own foot should open one for itself? He did not ask ; he did
not try to order the confused sweep of feeling which for the time
passed over him ; one dread idea for the time held mastery of all
others, and kept that day's ride all on the edge of that open trap-
door. Whose foot had gone down there ? And under that
thought, — woven in with the various tapestry of shower and sun-
shine, meadow and hillside, that clothed his day's journey to the
sense, — were the images of that day in Dccemher — that final
leaving of home and his mother, that rainy cold ride on the stage-
coach, Winnie's open Bible, and the ' Now,' to which her fiuger,
his mother's prayers, and his own conscience, had pointed all the
day long.
It made bo difference, that as they went on, this April day
changed from rain and mist to the most brilliant sunshine. The
mists rolled away, down the river and along the gulleys of the
mountains; the clouds scattered from off the blue sky, which
looked down clear, fair, and soft, as if Mirza's bridge were never
under it. The little puddles of water sparkled in the sunshine
and reflected the blue ; the roads made haste to dry ; the softest
of spring airs wafted down from the hill-sides a spicy remem-
brance of budding shoots and the drawn-out sweetness of pine
and fir and hemlock and cedar. The day grew sultrily warm.
But though sunlight and spring winds carried their tokens to
memory's gates and left them there, they were taken no note
of at the time, by one traveller, and the other had no mental ap-
paratus fine enough to gather them up.
He had feeling or delicacy enough of another kind, however,
to keep him quiet. He sometimes looked at Wiuthrop ; never
spoke to him. Almost never; if he spoke at all, it was in some
HcsledbyGoOgle
y5» THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO.
aside or counsel takmg with liimaelf about tlie weather, the way
or the piospect and management of the farming along the river.
They stopped only to bait or to rest their horses ; even at those
times Mr. Uuderhill restrained himself not only from talking to
Winthrop but from talking before him; and except wheD his
companion was at a distance, kept as quiet as he. Winthrop
asked no questions.
The road grew hilly, and in some places rough, trying to the
horses ; and by the time they were fairly among the mountain
land that stood down far south from Wut-arqut-o, the sun was
nearing the fair broken horizon Jine of the western shore. The
miles were long now, when they were no longer many ; the road
was more and more steep and difficult; the horses weary. The
sun travelled faster than they did. A gentler sunlight never lay
in spring-time upon those hills and river ; it made the bitter
turmoil and dread of the way seem the more harsh and ungentle.
Their last stopping-place was at Cowslip's Mill — on the spot
whore seven years before, Winthrop had met the stage-coach
and its consignment of ladies.
" The horses mnst hare a minute here — and a bite," said Mr.
Underbill letting himself slowly down from his beast; — " lose no
time by it."
For a change of posturo Winthrop threw himself off, and
stood leaning on the saddle, while his travelling companion and
Mr. Cowslip came up the rise bringing water and food to the
horses. No more than a grave nod was exchanged between Win-
throp and his old neighbour ; neither said one word ; and as soon
aa the buckets were empty the travellers were on their way again.
It was but a little way now. The sun had gone behind the
mountain, the wind had died, the perfect stillness and loveliness
of evening light was over hill and river and the home land, as the
riders came out from the woods upon the foot of the bay and saw
it all before them. A cloudless sky, — the white clear western
light where the sun had been, — the bright sleeping water, — the
sweet lights and shades on Wnt-a-qut-o and its neighbour hills, the
lower and darker promontory throwing itself across the landscape ;
and from one spot, that half-seen centre of the picture, the little
brown speck on Shah-wee-tah, — a thin, thin wreath of smoke
slowly went up. Winthrop for one moment looked, and then rode
on sharply and Mr. Underbill was fain to bear him company.
They had rounded the bay — they had ridden over the promontory
neck — they were within a little of home, — when Winthrop sud-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 239
denly drew bridle. Mr. TJnderhill stopped. Winthrop turned
towards him, and aslied the question not asked tili then.
" How is it at home, Mr. Underhill ? "
And Mr. Underhill without looking at him, answered in the
same tones, a moment of pause between,
" She's gone."
Winthrop's horso carried him slowly forward ; Mr. Underhill's
was seen no more that night — unless by Mr. Cowslip and his son.
Slowly Winthrop's horse carried him forward — but littie
time then was needed to bring him lonnd to the back of the
house, at the kitchen door, whither the horse-path led. It was
twilight now; the air was full of the perfume of cedars and pines,
—the clear white Jight shone in the west yet. Winthrop did not
see It. He only saw that there was no light in the windows.
And that eurl of thin smoke was the only thing he had seen stir-
ring about the house. He got off his horse and went into the
kitchen.
There was light enough to see who met him there. It was his
father. There was hardly light to aeo faces ; hut Mr. Landholm
laid both hands on his son's shoulders, saying,
" My dear boy !■ — it's all over ! "
And Winthrop laid his face on his father's breast, and for a
few breaths, sobbed, as he had not done since since his ehOd-
iah eyes had found hiding-place on that other breast that could
rest them no more.
It was but a few minutes ; — and manly sorrow had given way
and taken again its quiet self-control ; once and for ever. The
father and son wrung each other's hands, the mute speech of hand
to hand tolling of mutual suffering and endurance, and affection,
— all that could be told ; and then after the pause of a minute",
Winthrop moved on towards the famUy room, asking softly, " Is
she here ? " But his father led him through, to the seldom-
used sMt-TOom.
Asanel was there ; but he neither spoke nor stirred And old
Karen waa there, moving about on some trifling errand of duty;
but her quick natuje was under less government ; it did not bear
the sight of Winthrop. Dropping or forgetting what she was
about, she came towards him with a bursting cry of feeling, half
for herselfjhalf sympathetic; and with the freedom of old acquaint-
ance and affection and common grief, laid her shrivelled black
hand on his shoulder and looked up into his face, saying, almost
as bis father had done, but with streaming eyes and quivering
lips.
HcsledbyGoOgle
260 THE HILL8 OF THE SHATEMUC.
" My dear son! — she has gone ! "
Winthrop took the hand in his and gave it a moment's pres-
sure, and then sayiogvery gently but ia a way that was obeyed,
" Be quiet Karen," — he passed her and stood at his mother's bed-
side.
She was there — lying quietly in her last sleep. Herself and
not another. All of her that eoidd write and leave its character
on features of clay, yraa shewn there still — in iiiS beauty. The
brow yet spoko the calm good sense which had always reigned be-
neath it ; the lines of toil were on the eheek; the mouth had its
old mingling of patience and hope and firm dignity — the dignity
of meek assurance which looked both to the present and the fu-
ture. It was there now, unchanged, unlessened j Winthrop read
it ; that aa she had lived, so she had died, in sure expectation of
' the rest that remaineth.' Herself and no other ! — ay ! that came
home too in another sense, with its hard stern reality, pressing
home upon the heart and brain, tiU it would have seemed that
nature could not bear it and must give way. But it did not.
Winthrop stood and looked, fixedly and long, so fisedly that no
one eared to interrupt him, but so oalmly in his deep gravity that
the standers-by wore rather awed than distressed. And at last
when he turned away and Aaahol threw himself forward upon
hia neok, Winthrop's maimer was aa firm as it was kind ; though
he left tJiem all then and forbade Asahel to follow him.
" Tbe Lord bleaa him I " said Karen, loosing her tongue then
and giving her tears leave at the same time. " And surely the Lord
has blessed him, or he wouldn't ha' borne up so. She won't lose
that one of her childr'n — she won't, nosho won't! — I know she
won't 1 — "
" Where is Winaie, Karen ? " said Asahel suddenly.
" Poor soul I — I dun know," said Karen ; — " she was afeard to
see the Governor come home, and duran't stop nowherea — I dun
know where she's hid. — The Lord bless him ! nobody needn't ha'
feared him. He's her own boy — aint he her own boy ! "
Asahel went out to aeek for hia little sister, but his search
was in vain. She was not to be seen nor heard of. Neither did
Winthrop come to the sorrowful gathering which the remnant of
the family made round the supper-table. In the bouse he was
not; and wherever he was out of the house, he was beyond reach.
" Could they have gone away together?" said As^el.
" No ! " said his father.
" They didn't," said Clam, " I see him go off by himself,"
"Which way?"
HcsledbyGOOglC
THE HILLS OF THE ailATEMUC. Hbl
" Off among the trees," said Clara.
" Which way ? " said Mr, Landliohn.
"His hack was to the house, and ho was goin' off towards
the river some place— I guesa he didn't want no oae to foiler
" There aint no wet nor cold to hurt him," said Karen.
There was not ; but they missed him.
And the house had been quiet, very quiet, for long after sup-
per-time, when softly and cautiously one -of the missing ones
opened the door of the cast-room and half came in. Only Karen
sat there at the foot of the bed. Winnie came io and came up
"Ho's not here, darlin'," said the old woraAn, — "and ye
needn't ha" started from him, — 0 cold face, and white face I — ■
what ha' you done with yourself, Winnie, to run away from him
so '? Ye needn't ha' feared him. Poor lamb !— poor white
The girl sat down on the floor and laid her face on Kareu's
lap, where the stU! tears ran very fast.
" Poor white lamb ! " said the old woman, tenderly laying her
wrinkled hand on Winnie's fair hair, — " Ye haven't eat a crumb
— Karen'Il fetcli you a bit ? — yo'll faint by the way — "
Winnie shook her head. " No— no."
" What did you run away for ? " Karen went on. " Ye run
away from your best comfort — but the Lord's holp, Winnie;-—
he's the strongest of us all."
But something in that speech, Karen could not divine what,
made' Winnie sob convulsively ; and she thought best to give up
her attempts at counsel or comforting.
The wearied and weakened child must have needed both, for
she wept unceasingly on Karen's knees till late in the night ; and
then in sheer weariness the heavy eyelids closed upon the tears
that were yet ready to come. She slumbered, with her head still
on Karen's lap.
" Poor Iamb ! " said Karen when she found it out, bending
over to look at her, — " poor lamb ! — she'll die of this if the
Governor can't help her, — and she the Lord's child too, — Maybe
best, poor child 1 — maybe best ! — ' Little traveller Zion-ward '
-I wish wo were all up at those gates, 0 Lord ! ■"
The last words were spoken with a heavy sigh, and then thc-
old woman changed her tone.
" Winnie !— Winnie I— go to bed— go to bed ! Your mother 'd
gay it if she was here."
HcsledbyGoOgle
iioa THE HILLB OF THE SHATEMUC.
Winnie raised her head and opened her eyes, and Karen re-
peating her admouition in the same key, the child got up and
went mechanically out of the room, as if to obey it.
It was by this time very late in the night ; the rest of the
inmates of the bouse had long been asleep. No lights were burn-
ing except IP the room she ImA left. But opening the door of the
kitchen, through which her way lay to her own room, Winnie found
there was a glimmer f m tl fi wh ch usually was covered np
close ; and coming ft th t th room, she saw some one
stretoted at full length up n th fl at the fireside. Another
stop, and Winnie knew t w W nthrop. He waa asleep, his
head resting on a roll 1 p 1 k ainst the jamb. Winnie's
tears sprang forth aga n but h w uld not waken him. She
kneeled down hy his s d t 1 k at h m, as well as the faint fire-
glow would let her, and to weep over him ; but her strength was
worn out. It refused even weeping; and after a few minutes,
nestling down as close to him as she could get, she laid one arm
and hcf head upon his breast and went to sleep too. More
peacefully and quietly than sUo had slept for several nights.
The glimmer from the fire-light died quite away, and only the
bright stars kept watch over them. The moon was not where she
could look in at those north or east kitchen windows. But hy
degrees the fair April night changed. Clouds gathered themselves
up from a!! quarters of the horizon, till they covered the sky ; the
faces of the stars were hid; thunder began to roll along among
the hills, and bright incessant flashes of white lightning kept the
room in a glare. The violence of the storm did not come over
8hah-wee-tdi, but it was more than enough to rouse Winthrop,
whose sleep was not so deep as Ma little sister's. And when
Winnie did come to her consciousness she found herself lifted
from the floor and on her brother's lap ; he half sitting up ; hia
arms round her, and her head still on his breast. Her first move-
ment of awakening was to change her position and throw her arms
around his neck.
" Winnie " he said gently.
The flood-gates burst then, and her heart poured itself out,
her head alternately nestling in Lis neck and raised up to kiss his
face, and her arms straming him with nervous eagerness.
" 0 Winthrop ! — O Winthrop I — 0 dear Winthrop ! — " woe
the cry, as fast as sobs and kisses would let hor.
" Winnie—" said her brotliev again.
" 0 Winthrop ! — why didn't you come I "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE
He did uot answer that, except by the heaving breast which
poor Winnie could not feel.
" I am. here now, dear Winnie."
" 0 Winthrop !- — " Winnie hesitated, and the burden of her
heart would burst forth, " why aren't you a Chriatiaa I — "
It was said with a most bitter rush of tears, as if she felt that
the most precious thing she had, lacked of preciousneas; that her
most sure support neodod a foundation. But when a miaute had
stilled the tears, and she could bear, she heard him say, very
calmly,
" I am one, Winnie."
Her tears ceased absolutely on his shoulder, and Winnie was
for a moment motionless. Then as he did not speak again, sh*
unclasped her arma and drew back her head to look at bim. The
constant flashes of light gave her chance enough.
" You heard me right," he said.
"Are you? " — she said wistfully.
" By God's help this night and for ever."
Winnie brought her hands together, half clapping, half clasp-
ing them, and then threw them to their former position around
his neck, esclMming, —
" Oh if she had known it before — ! "
There was no answei to that, of words, and V/innie oouldnot
see the suddi-n paleness which witnessed to the answer within.
But it cime, keen as those lightning flashes, home-thrust aa the
thunderbolts they witnessed to, that bia ' now' bad come too late
for hei
The lightnings grew fainter and failed — the thunder muttered
ofFm thedistance, andoeased tobcKeaid — the clouds rolled down
the river and scattered away, just as the dawn was breaking on Wut-
a-qut-o. There bad been nothing spoken in the farmhouse kitchen
since Winnie's last words. Wintbrop was busy with his own
thoughts, which he did not tell ; and Wmnie had been giving hers
all the expression they could bear, in tears and kisses and tbe
strong clasp of her weak arm, and tbe envious resting, trusting,
lay of her bead upon Winthrop's shoulder and breast. When the
glare of the lightning bad all gone, and the grey light was begin-
ning to walk in at the windows, her brother spoke to her,
" Winnie,— you would be better in bed."
" Oh no, — I wouldn't. — Do you want me to go, Governor ? "
she added presently.
" Not if yoii could rest on well here, but you want rest, Win-
HcsledbyGoOgle
264 THE HILLS OK THE BHATEMDC,
"I couldn't rest so well anywhere!'" — said "Winifred ener-
getically.
" Tten let mo take the big chair and giye you a chance."
He took it, and took her in tis arms again, wkere she nestled
herself down as if she had been a child ; with an action that
touehingly told kirn anew tkat she could rest so well nowhere
" Governor — " she said, whea her head had found its place
— " you haven't kissed me."
" I did, Winaie,^ — it must have been before you were awake."
But ho kissed her again; and drawing one or two long
broatka, of heart- weariness and heart-rest, Winnie went to sleep.
The grey dawn brightened rapidly ; and a while after, Karen
came in. It was fair morning then. She stood by the hearth,
opposite the two, looking at them.
" Has sho been here all nigkt ? " sho whispered,
Winthrop nodded.
" Poor Iamb ! — Ye're come in good time. Master Winthrop."
Sho turned and began to address herself to the long gone-out
fire in the cliimney.
" What are you going to do, Karen ? " he said softly.
8ke looked back at him, with her hand in the ashes.
" Haven't you watched to-night ? "
_" I've watched a many nights," she said shaking her head and
beginning again to rake for ooala in the cold fireplace, — " this aint
the first. That aint nothin'. I'll watch now, dear, 'till the day
dawn and the shadows flee away'; — what else should Karon do?
'Taint much longer, and I'll be where there's no night again. 0
come, sweet day ! — " said the old woman clasping her hands to-
gether as she crouched in the fireplace, and the tears beginning to
trickle down, — " when the mother and the childr'n'll all be
together, and Karen somewheres — and our home won't be broken
She raked away among the ashes with an eager trembling
" Karen, — " said Winthrop softly, — " Leave that."
" What, dear ? "—sho said.
"Leave that."
" Who'll do it, dear ? "
" I will."
She obeyed Mm, as perhaps she would have done for no one
else. Rising up, Winthrop carried his sleeping sister without
wakening her, and laid her on the bed iu her own little room,
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF TUE SHATEMtiC, 265
whioli_ opened out of the kitchen ; then he came back and went to
work in the- fireplace. Karen yielded it to him with eqnal admi-
ration and unwillingness; remarking to heraelf as her reheyed
handa went ahont other husineaa, that, " for sure, nohodj could
build a fire handaomer than Mr, Winthrop" ; — and that " he waa
hia mother's own eon, and deserved to be 1 "
12
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXV.
Forthe, pllgrtm, fortbe. o best uut of tliy Btall,
Lolto up on higll, and Ihanko thy God a! Hll.
As soon aa she was awake Winnie sought Jier brotliet's side
again ; and from, that moment ncvor left it wteu it was possible
to be ttere. In his arms, if she could ; close by his side, if
nearer miekt not be ; s!ie seemed to have no freedom of life but
in hia shadow. Her very grief was quieted there ; either taking
its tone from his calm strength, or binding itself with her own
love for him. Her brother was the sturdy tree round which this
poor little vine threw its tendrils, and climbed and flourished, all
it could.
Ho had but a few days to speud at Shaiweetah now.
Towards the end of them, she was one evening sitting, aa usual,
on his knee; silent and quiet. They were alone.
" "Winnie," said her brother, " what shall I do with you ? "
She put her arms round his neck and kissed him, — a very
frequent caress ; but she made no answer.
" Shall I take you to Mannahatta with me ? "
" Ob yes, Winthrop ! "
It was said with breathless e
"I am almost afraid to do it."
" Why, Winthrop ? "
" Hush — " he said gently ; for her words came out with a
sort of impatient hastiness ; " You don't know what kind
of a plaee it is, Winnie. It isn't much like what home used to
HcsledbyGoOgle
TEE WTT.T.a OF THE
" Nor ttis aint, neither," she murmured, nestling her head in
his bosom.
" But you wouldn't have the free air and country — I am
afraid it wouldn't he so good for you."
" Yes it would — it would be better for me. — I can't hardly
be good at all. Gorernor, except where you are. I get cross
now-a-days — it seems I can't help it — and I didn't use to do
How gently the hand that was not round her was laid upon
her cheek, as if at once forbidding and soothing her sorrow.
For it was true, — Winnie's disease had wrought to make her irri-
table and fretful, very different from her former self. And it
was true that Winthrop's presence governed it, as no other thing
could.
" Would you rather go with me, Winnie ? "
" Oh yes, GoTcrnor ! — oh yea ! "
" Thea you shall."
He went himself first to make arrangements, which he well
knew were very necessary. That one little attio room of hia
and that closet which was at once Metier Hubbard's cupboard
and his clothes press, could never do anything for the comfort of
his little sister. He went home and electrified Mrs. Nettley
with the intelligence that he must leave her and seek larger
quarters, which he knew her house could not give.
" To be sure," said Mrs. Nettley in a brown study, " the
kitchen's the kitchen,— and there must be a parlour, — and
George's painting room, — and the other's my bedroom, — and
George sleeps in that other little back attic. — Well, Mr. Land-
holm, let's think about it. We'll sec what can be done. We
can't let you go away — G-eorge would rather sleep on the roof."
" He would do what is possible, Mrs. Nettley; and so would
It was found to be possible that 'the other little back attic'
should be given up. Winthrop never knew how, and was not
allowed to know. JBut it was so given that he could not help
taking. It was plain that they would have been worse straitened
than in their accommodations, if he had refused their kindnefts
and gone somewhere else.
Mrs. Nettley would gladly have done what she could towards
furnishing the same little back attic for Winnie's use ; but on
this point Winthrop was firm. He gathered himself the few
little plain things the room wanted, from the cheapest sources
whence they could be obtained ; even that waa a serious drain
HcsledbyGoOgle
268 THE HILLS OF TUG
upon his purse. He laiil in a further supply of fiiel, for Win-
nie's health, he knew, would not stand the old order of things, —
a fire at meal-times and an old cloak at other times when it was
not very cold. Happily it was lato in the season and much more
fire would not he needed; a small etock of wood he hought, and
carried up and hestowed in the closet; he oould put his clothes
in Winnie's room now and the closet need no longer aot as a
wardrobe. A few very simple stores to add to Mother Hub-
bard's shelves, and Winthrop had stretched his limited resources
pretty well, and had not much more left than would take him to
Wut-a-qut-o, and bring him back again.
" I don't see hut I shall hare to sell the farm," said Mr.
Landholm on this next visit of his son's,
"Why, sir?"
" To pay off the mortgage — that mortgage to Mr. Haye."
Winthrop was silent.
" I can't meet the interest on it ; — I haven't been able to pay
any these five years," said Mr, Landholm with a sigh. " If he
don't foreclose, I mast. 1 guess I'll taha Asahel and go to
the West."
" Don't do it hastily, father."
" No," said Mr. Landholm with another sigh ; — " but it'll
come to that."
Winthrop had no power to help it. And the money had
been borrowed for him and Eufus. Most for Eufus. But it
hil been for them; and with this added thought of sorrowful
care, he reached Mannabatta with hia little sister.
It was early of a cold spring day, the ground white with a
flurry of snow, the air raw, when he brought Winnie from the
steamboat and led her, half frightened, half glad, through the
streets to her new home. Winnie's tongue was very still, her
eyes very busy. Her brother left the eyes to make their own
notes and comments, at least he made none, tiU they had reached
the comer of Little South St He made none then ; the door
was opened softly, and he brought her up the stairs and into his
room without disturbing or falling in with anybody. Putting
her on a calico-covered settee, Winthrop pulled off his coat and
set about making a fire.
Winnie had cried all the day before and as much of the
night as her poor eyelids could keep awake ; and now in a kind
of lull, sat watching him.
" G-overnor, you'll catch oold "
" Not if I can make the fire catch," said he quietly
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEUIiC. ab!)
" But J011 ■wanted me to keep on mnj things."
" Did you want to take them off? "
Winnie sat silent again, shrugging her shoulders to the chill
air. But presently the fire caught, and the premonitory snap-
ping and crackling of the kindling wood gave notice of a sudden
change of temperature. Winnie's feelings took the cheery influ-
ence of the promise and she began to talk in a more hearty
strain.
" Is this your room, Winthrop ? "
" This is my room, Winnie. Yours is there, Eext to it."
" Through that door ? "
" No — through tie entry ; — that ia tho door of my store-
Winnie got up to look at it,
" 'Tisn't a very large storehouse," was her conclusion.
" And not mucU in it. But the large storehouses aro not far
off, Winnie, Shall I leave you here for five minutes, while I go
to get something from one of them ? "
" Do you mean out of doors ? — from the shops ? "
" Yes. Shall I leave you five minutes ? "
" Oh yes I "
He had come before her and was holding both her hands.
Before he let them go he stooped down and kissed her.
It was not a very common thing for Winthrop to kiss her;
and Winnie sat quieted under the power and the pleasure of it
till the five minutes were run out and he had got back again.
His goiug and coming was without seeing any one of the house ;
a fact owing to Mrs. Nettley's being away to market and Mr.
Inchbald out on another errand.
Winthrop came in with his hands full of brown papera
Winnie watched him silently again while he put his stores in
the closet and brought out plates and knives and forks.
" Where do you sleep, Governor?"
" In a pleasanter place than I slept in last night," said her
brother.
" Yes, bu; where ? I don't see any bed."
" You don't see it by day. It only shews itself at night."
" But where is it, Governor ? "
" You're sitting on it, Winnie."
"This!—"
" What is the matter with it ? "
" Why, — " said Winnie, looking dismayiuUy at the couch
HcsledbyGoOgle
270 THE HILLS 01' THE SUATEMUC.
with which Winthrop had filled the place of hia hed, transferred
to her room, — " it's too narrow ! "
" I don't fall out of it," said her brother quietly.
" It isn't oomfortalile ! "
" I am, when I am on it."
" But it'a hard ! "
" Not if I don't think it is hard."
" I don't see how that makes any difference," said \A' innic
discontentedly. "It's hard to me."
" But it's not your bed, Winnie."
" I don't like it to be yours, Winthrop."
He was busy laying a slice of ham on the coals and putting a
skillet of water over the fire ; and then coming to her side he
began, without speaking, and with a pleasant face, to untie the
strings of her bonnet and to take off that and her other cover-
ings, witb a gentle sort of kindness that made itself felt and not
heard. Winnie here it with difficulty ; her features moved and
trembled.
" It's too much for you to have to take care of me," she said
in a voice changed from its former expression.
" Too much ? " said Winthrop.
" Yes."
"Why?"
" It's too much. Can you do it ? "
" I think I can take care of you, Winnie. You forget who
has promdsed to take care of us both."
She threw her arms roimd his neck exclaiming, "I forget
everything ! — "
" No, not quite," said he. .
" I do ! — except that I love you. I wish I could he good,
Winthrop 1 — even as good as I used to be."
" That wouldn't content me,' said her brother ; — " I want
you to he better."
She clasped her arms in an earnest clasp about his neck, very
close, but said nothing.
" Now sit down, Winnie," said he presently, gently disengag-
ing her arms and putting her into a chair, — " or something else
will not be good enough "
She watched him again, while he turned the ham and put
eggs in the skillet, and fetched out an odd little salt-cellar and
more spoons and cups foi tti, egga
"But Winthrop 1" — ahe Bud starting, — "where's your tea-
kettle ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
Tim HILLB OF THE SHATEMUO. 271
"I don't know, /have never Lad it yet, Winnie,"
" Never had a tea-kettle ? "
"No."
" Then how do you do, Winthrop ? "
" I do without," he said lightly. " Can't you ? "
" Do without a tea-kettle ! "
" Yea."
" But how do you make tea and coffee ? "
"I don't make them."
" Doa't you have tea and coffee ? "
"No, except when somebody else makes it for me."
" I'll make it for you, Winthrop ! "
" No, Winnie— I don't want you to have it any more than
myself."
" But Winthrop — I can't drink water 1 "
" I think you can — if I want you to."
" I wonH" was in Winnie's heart to say; it did not get to
her lips. With a very disturbed and unsettled face, she saw her
brother quietly and carefully supply her plate — ^tke ham and the
eggs and the bread and the butter,— and then Winnie jumped up
and came to his arms to cry; the other turn of feeling had
come again. He let it have its way, till she had wept out her
penitence and kissed her acknowledgmeut of it, and then she
went back to her seat and her plate and betook herself to her
breakfast. Before much was done with it, however, Mrs. Net-
tley and Mr. Inchbald came to the door ; and being let in, over-
whelmed them with kind reproaches and welcomes. Winnie was
taken down stairs to finish her breakfast vMh tea and coffee; and
Winthrop leaving her in hands that ho knew would not forget
their care of her, was free to go about his other cares, with what
diligence they might require.
That same morning, before she had left her own room. Miss
Haye was informed that a black girl wished to speak with her.
Being accordingly ordered up, said black girl presented herself.
A comely wench, dressed in the last point of neatness, though
not by any means so as to set off her good accidents of nature.
Nevertheless they could not be quite hid ; no more than a cer-
tain air of abundant capacity, for both lier own business and
other people's. She came in and dropped a curtsey.
" Who are you ? " said Elizabeth.
" I am Clam, ma'am."
" Clam ! " said Elizabeth. " 0, are yon Clam ? Where have
you come from ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
272 THE HILLS OF THE SHATKMCO,
" From tlie boat, last place, ma'am."
"Boat I wliat bout?"
" The boat what goes with wheels and comes down the river,"
eaid Ckm lucidly.
" Oh ! — And hare you just come down ? "
" We was comin' down all yesterday and last night, ma'am."
" Who were coming? "
" Mr. Winthrop Landholm, and Winifred, and me."
"Winifred and you," said Elizabeth. "And did he send
you to me ? "
Clam nodded. " Ho said ho would ha' writ sometliin', if he'd
ha' had a piece of paper or card or anything, but lie hadn't
nothing."
" He would have written what ? "
" Don't know — didn't say."
" Do you know who I am ? "
Clam nodded again and shewed her teotli. " The lady Mr.
Wiathrop sent me to."
" Do yon remember ever seeing rae before ? "
" When he was out walkin' with you in the rain," said Clam,
lier head first giviQ^ sigoifioant assent.
"Look here," said EUaabeth a little shortly, — "when I speak
to yoTi, apeak, and don't nod your head."
To which Clam gave the prohibited answer.
" What are you sent here for now ? "
" I dun' kflow, ma'am."
" What did Mr. Winthrop say you were to do ? "
" Said I was to come here, and behave."
" Why have you come away from Mrs. Landholm ? "
" Didn't," said Clam. " She went away first. She's gone to
heaven."
" Mrs. Laudtolm I Is she dead ? "
Clam nodded.
" When ? — and what was the matter ? "
" 'Twa'n't much of anything the matter with her," said
Clam; "she took sick for two or three days and tKen
died. It's more'n a fortnight ago."
" And they sent for Mr. Winthrop ? "
" Job Underbill rode down after him as hard as be could and
fetched him iip on horseback,"
" In time ? " said Elizabeth.
" Ho was in time for everything but himselfi It was too late
for him- But all the rest of the tolks had the good of his eom-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE IIILL8 OF THE SHATEMUC. 2Y3
" Why what was there for him to do ? " said Elizabeth,
" He finds enougli to do — or he's pretty apt to — whenever he
comea to a place," said Olam. " There was everybody to put
in order, about. There was Mr. Landholm. hardly fit to live, he
was so willin' to die ; and Winifred was orazy. She went and
crawled under one of the beds to hide when Ae tl
"When who was coining?"
" He — Mr, Winthrop. And Karen was takia' airs — ihat
aint out o' the common — but I'd a little liever have him master
than her mistress — she wa'n't mine, neither,"
"And where was Mr. Aeahel?"
" He was there— and good enough what there was of him;
but he won't never stand in other folks' shoes,"
" Do you say Winifred was crazy ? "
" She was so feared to see her brother come homo."
" Her brother Winthrop ? "
" There wa'n't no other coming," said Olam.
" Poor thing i " said Eliaabeth. " And jou say he has brought
her down to Mannahatta ? "
Olam nodded, " She don't think she's alive when he aint
near her ; so he's toot her down to live with him. I guess it's
good living with him," said Clam sagaciously. " I wish I did
it."
" I must go and see her. Where is she ? "
" She's wherever he's took her to."
" But where's that ?— don't you know ? "
" It's to his house — if you kr.ow where that is."
"Do yon know what you've c nue hereto do?" said Eliza-
beth after a slight pause
Clam shook her head.
" One thing I can tell you, first of all," said Elizabeth, —
"it is to mind what I say to you."
" Mr. Winthrop said I was to behave," said Clam with another
glimpse of her white teeth.
" Then don't shako your head any more when I speak to you.
What have you been doing at Wut-a-qut-o ? "
"At Wuttle-quttle?" said Clam.
" At Wut-a-qut-o. What did you do there 1 "
" 'Tain't the name of the place," said Clam. " They call it
Shah-wee-tah."
" Wut-a-c[ut-o is the name of the mountiiio — it's all one.
What have '•on been used to do there ? "
12»
HcsledbyGoOgle
274 THE HILLS OF THE SnATEMETC.
" Set tables — " said Clara considerately.
" What did Mra, Landholm teach you ? "
" She learned me 'moat everything," said Clam. " "What she
learned me moat of all, was to have me read the Bible every
day, and do nothin' wrong o' Sundays, and never say nothin'
that wa'n't."
" That wasn't what ? "
" That wa'n't ii" said Clam. " Hever to aay nothin' that
wa'n't the thing."
" Why, did you ever do that ? " said Elizabeth.
" Maybe I did," said Clam, eocsidering her new mistress's
dressing-table. " Mia' Landholm was afeard on't."
" Well you must be just as careful about that here," said
Elizabeth. " I love truth as well aa she did."
" All kinda ? " said the girl,
Elizabeth looked at her, with a mouthful of answer which she
did not dare to bring out. Nothing was to be made of Clam's
face, except that infeUible air of capacity. There was no sign
of impertinent meaning.
" Xoii look as if you oould learn," she said,
" Been learnin' ever since I was big enough," said the black
girl. And she looked so,
" Are you willing to learn ? "
" Like Dothin' better "
"Provided it'a the right kmd I suppoae," said Elizabeth,
wholly unable to prevent her featuies giving way a little at the
unshakable coolness and spirit she hid to do with. Clam's
face relaxed in answer, ifter a diSeient manner from any it had
taken during the interview, and she satd,
" Well I'll try. Mr Winthiop said I was to be good; and I
ain't a goin' to do aothin' to displease him, anyhow I "
" But the matter is rather to please me, here," said Elizabeth.
" Well," said Clam with her former wide-awake amile, " I
guess what'll please him'll please you, won't it ? "
" Go down stairs, and come to me after breafcfeist," said her
mistress. " I'll let you make some new dresses for yourself tie
first thing. And look here, " said she pulling a bright-
coloured silk handkerchief out of a drawer, — " put that into a
turban before you come up and let me see what you're up to."
Clam departed without an answer ; but when she made her
appearance again, the orange and crimson folds were twisted
about her head in a style that convinced Elizabeth her new wait-
ing-maid's capacity was equal to all the new demands she would
be likely to make upon it.
HcsledbyGoOgle
OHAPTEE XXVI.
Nerar hiB WMldly lot, or worldly state tomienls him ;
I,e3£ lie would lllie, If lees his God bad wot him.
' had taken no little ciarge upon liimsclf in the
charge of his little sister. In many ways. He had a scanty
purse, and it better bore the demands of one than of two ; hut
that was only a single item. Winnie was not a charge upon hia
puree alone, but upon his heart and his head and his time. The
demands were all met, to the full
As much as it was possible, in the nature of Winthrop'a busi-
ness, his sister had him with her ; and when he could not be there,
, his influence and power. It was trying enough for the poor child
to be left alone as much as she was, for she could not always find
solace in Mrs. Nettley, and sometimes oould not endure her pre-
sence. Against this evil Winthrop provided as far as he might
by giving Winnie little jobs to do for him while he was gone, and
by setting her about what courses of self- improvement her
delicate system of mind and body was able to bear. He managed
it so that all was for him; not more the patching and knitting
and bits of writing which were strictly in his line, than thepa^es
of history, the sums in arithmetic, and the little lesson of Latin,
which were for Winnie's own self He knew that affection, in
every one of them, would steady the nerves and fortify the will
to go patiently on to the end. And the variety of occupation he
left her was so great that without tiring herself in any one thing,
Winnie generally found the lonely hours of her day pretty well
filled up. Mrs. Nettley was a great help, when Wianie was in
the mood for her company ; that was not always.
His little sister's bodily and mental health was another care
HcsledbyGoOgle
276 THE HILLS OF THE 81IA.TEMCC,
upon Winthrop'a mind, and on his time. Disease now constantly
raffled the sweet flow of spirits wliidi onoc was habitual with her
Nothing ruffled his ; and liis soothing hand could always quiet
her, could almost alwaya make her happy, when it waa practi-
cahle for him to spare time. Very often when he had no time to
S've beyond what a word or a look would take from his business,
ut those times were comparatively few. He was apt to give
her what she needed, and make up for it afterwards at the cost of
rest and sleep wten Winnie was abed. Through the warm sum-
mer days he took her daily and twice daily walks, down to the
Green where the sea air could blow in her face fresh from its own
quarter, where she and he too could turn their backs upon brick-
work and pavement and look on at least one face of nature
unspotted and unspoiled. At home he read to her, and with her,
the times when he used to read the classics ; and many other
times ; he talked to her and he played with her, having bought a
second-hand backgammon board for the very purpose ; he heard
her and set Jier her lessons ; and he aaiused her with all the de-
tails of his daily business and experience that be could make
things were a charge, it was one for which he was
abundantly rewarded, every nieht and every morning, and knew
it. But the other part of the burden, the drain upon his purse,
was not so easily to be met withal. There was no helping it.
Winnie's state of health made her simple wants, simple as they
were, fer more costly than his own had been; andhe would and did
supply them. He could bear to starve himself and lie hard; but
Winnie would very soon starve to death ; and the time when she
could sleep softly on a hard bed had once been, but would never
be again, literally or figuratively. Wiuthrop never shewed her
how it was with him; not the less it was almost the ebb; and
whence the flow was to come, was a point he saw not. He was
not yet admitted to practise law ; bis slender means were almost
all gathered from teaching; and he could not teach any more
than he did. And this consciousness he carried about with him,
to the office, to market, and to his little sister's presence. For
her his face was always the same ; and while she had it Winnie
thought little was wanting to her life.
One morning when she had it not, she was lying wearily
stretched out on the couch which was hers by day and Winthrop's
by night. It was early June ; the sun was paying his first instal-
ment of summer heat, and doing it as if he were behind-hand with
pay-day. Winnie's attic roof gave her a full share of his benefits.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS or THE BHATEMIJC. 2T7
The hours of the mormng had worn away, when towards noon a
slow step was heard ascending the staira. It was her Lostesa,
come np to look after her.
" All alone ? " said Mrs. Nettley.
" Oh yes I — " came with most fervent breath from Winnie.
Her head uneasily turned the other cheek to the pillow.
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Nettley; and every line of her
careful and sympatlietic face said it over again. " Poor child ! —
And Mr. Winthrop's been away all the morning 1 "
" I don't know why you call me poor" said Winiiie, whose
nerves could not bear even that slight touch 'f it happened to
touch the wrong way ; — " Of course he's been away all the morn-
ing— ho always is."
" And you're tired. I didn't mean poor, dear, in the way
that I am poor myself; — not that poor, — I only meant, because
you were so much here all alone witliout yoiu" brother."
" I know what you meant," said Winnie.
" It's hot up here, isn't it," said Mrs. Nettley going to the
window. " Dreadful. It's hot down stairs too. Can't we let a
little air in ? "
" Don't ! It's hotter witi it."
Mrs. Nettley left the window and eame and stood by Wiunie's
couch, her face again saying what her voice did not dare to say,
— " Poor child I " —
" Mrs. Nettley "
" What, my love ? "
" No yon aren't, my love ! you're only tired."
" I'm very cross — I don't know what makes mo so — but some-
times I feel so it s^ems as if I eouldn't help it. I'm cross even to
Winthrop. I'm very much obliged to you, but yon must think I
" I don't think the least thing of the kind, dearest — I know
it's miserable and suffocating up here, and you can't feel — I wish
I could make it better for you I"
" 0 it'll be better by and by — when Governor gets home and
it grows cool."
" Come down and take a bit of dinner with mc."
" 0 no, thank you, Mrs, Nettley," said Winnie brightening
up, " I don't want anything ; and G-overnor '11 be home by and
by and then we'll have our dinner. I'm. going to broil the chicken
ind get everything ready."
HcsledbyGoOgle
278 THE HILLB OF THE
"Well, that '11 be sweeter than anything I've got," said the
good lady. — " Why, who's there ? — — -"
Somebody there waa, kiiooking at the door; and when the
door was opened, who was there shewed herself in the shape of a
young lady, very bright looking and well dressed. She glanced
at Mrs. Nettley with a slight word of inquiry and passing hor
made her way on up to the couch.
"Is this Winifred?" she said, looking, it might he, a little
shocked and a little sorrowful at the pale and mind-worn face that
used to be so round and rosy ; and about which the soft fair hair
stUl clustered as abundantly as ever.
" Yes ma'am," Winifred said, half rising.
" Don't get up, — don't you know me ? ''
Winnie's eye keenly scanned the bright fresh face that bent
over her, but she shook her head and said 'no'.
" Can't you remember my being at your house — -some time
ago ? — me and " she stopped. " Don't you remember ? We
spent a good while there — one summer — it was when you were a
little girl."
" 01 "-—said Winnie, — " are joii "
" Yes."
"I remember. But you were not so large then, either."
" I am not very largo now," said her visiter, taking a chair
beside Winnie's couch,
" No. But I didn't know you."
" How do you do, dear ? "
" I don't know," said Winnie. " I am not very well now-a-
days."
" And Mannahatta is hot and dusty and disagreeable— more
than any place you ever were in before in your life, isn't it ? "
" I don't care," said Winnie. " I'd rather be with Winthrop."
" And can he make up for dust and heat and bad air and
all?"
The smile that broke upon Winnie's face Elizabeth remem-
bered waa like that of old time ; there waa a sparkle in the eyes
that looked up at her, the lipa had their childish play, and the
thia cheek even shewed its dim.ple again. As she met the look,
Eliaaheth's own lace grew grave and her brow fell ; and it was
half a minute before she spoke.
" But he cannot be with you a great deal of the time."
" 0 yes he is," said Winnie; — "he is here io the morning,
and at breakfast and dinner and tea, and all the evening. And
all Sundays."
HcsledbyGoOgle
TIIK H1I.L3 OF THE SHATEImTC. mv
' That's tlie be t day of the week then I suppo e "
It alwiys tlat ad W nii e Anl he tiLee a great
many walL'f w tt me— tvery lay Inrnat mhe t irets 1—
we ^o down on the C reen and &t y tl e e a long as t a jlea-
sant
El zal etl was lent iga n
But doesn t he ha e studying or wr ting to 1 n the even-
ings ? I thought he had.
" 0 yea," said Winnie, " but then it don't hinder him from
talking to me."
" And is he good enough to make yoii like this place better
than your beautiful country home ? "
" I would rather be here," said Winnie. But she turned her
face a little from, her questioner, and though it remained perfectly
calm, the eyes filled to orerflowing. Elizabeth again paused,
and then bending oyer her where she still lay on her couch, she
pressed her own fuU red lips to Winnie's forehead. The salute
was instantly returned upon one of her little kid gloves which
Winnie laid hold of.
" You don't know how rich you are, Winifred, to have such
a good brother,"
" Yes I do," said Winifred. " You don't."
If there was not a rush to Elizabeth's eyes, it was because
she fought for it,
" Perhaps I don't," she said quietly ; — " for I never had any
one. Will you go and ride with me to-morrow, Winifred ? "
" Bide ? " said Winifred.
" Yes, In my carriage. We'll go out of town."
" 0 yes I O thank you ! I should like it very much."
" You don't look very strong," said Elizabeth. " IIow is it
that you can take such long walls ? "
" 0 Winthrop don't let me get tired you know."
" But how does he manage to help it f " said Elizabeth smiling,
" Can he do everything ? "
"I don't know," said Winnie. "He don't let me stand too
long, and he doesn't let me walk too fast ; and his arm is strong,
you know ; — he can almost hold me up if I do get tired."
"I have — or my father has," — said Elizabeth, "some very
old, very good wine. — I shall send you some. Will you try it?
I think it would make you stronger."
" I don't know whether Winthrop would let me drink it."
" Why not ? "
" 0 he don't like me to drink anything but water and milk
HcsledbyGoOgle
aSU THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMCC.
— he don't let me have tea or coffee — and I don't Isnow wtethcr
he'd like wine ; — but I'll ask him."
" Don't let you have tea or coffco I "
"No; we drink milk, and water."
" But don't he let you do whatever you have a mind ? "
" No," said Winnie; " and I don't want to, either,"
" Don't want to do what ? "
" Why anything that he don't like."
" Do you loTe him well enough for that not to wish to do
what he don't like, Winifred ? "
" Yes ! " said Winifred. " I think I do. I may wish it at
first, of course; but I don't want to do it if he wishes me not."
" How did he ever get such power over jow 1 "
" Power ! " said Winnie, raising herself up on her elbow, —
" why I don't know what you mean 1 1 should think everybody
would do what Winthrop likes — it isn't power."
" I wonder what is, then I " said Elizabeth signifieantly.
"Why it's it's goodness I" said Winnie, shutting hor
eyes, but not before they had filled again. Elizabeth hit her lips
to keep her own from following company ; not with much success.
" That's what it is," said Winnie, without opening her eyes;
— " he always waa just so. No he wasn't either, — though it al-
most seema as if he was, — but now he's a Christian."
If outward signs had kept inward feelings company, Elizabeth
would have started. She sat still ; but the lines of her face wore
a look of something very like startled gravity. There waa a
silence of more than one minute. Winnie opened her eyes and
directed them upon her still companion.
" Is he any better than he used to be ? " she forced herself
to say.
" Why yes," said Winnie,—" of course — ho must he. He
used to be as good as he could be, except that; — and now he's
that too."
" What difference does ' that ' make, Winifred ? "
Winnie looked keenly once more at the face of her questioner,
" Don't you know what it is to be a Christian, Miss Haye ? "
Eliaabeth shook her head.
" You must ask Winthrop," s^d Winnie. " He can tell you
better than I can."
" I want you to tell m'e. What difference, for instance, has it
made in your brother ?"
Winnie looked grave and somewhat puaaled.
" He don't seem much different to me" she siiid, — " and yet
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE TTTT.T.a OF THE BHATEMFC. ^O-l
he is different. — The difference is, Miss Haye, that Ijefore, he
loved ^ls — and now lie loves God aod keeps his commaodments."
" Don't he love you now ? "
" Better than ever ! " said Winnie with her eyes opening ; —
" why what makes you ask that ? "
" Didn't he keep the commandments of the Bible before ? "
" No, — not as he does now. Some of tbem he did, because
he never was bad as some people are ; — but he didn't keep them
as he does now. He didn't keep the first commandment of ali."
" Which is that ? " said Elizabeth.
Winnie gave her another earnest look before she answered.
" Don't you know ? "
" No."
" ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,
and with all thy miad, and with all thy soul, and with all thy
If Winifred's face was grave, Elizabeth's took a double shade
of gravity — it was even dark for a minute, as if with some thought
tliat troubled her. Winnie's eyes seemed to take note of it, and
Elizabeth roused herself. Yet at fii'st it was not to speak.
" When — How long ago, do you suppose," she said, " your
brother was changed in this way ? "
" Since — since the time I came here ; — since motlier died,"
Winnie said softly.
There was again a few minutes of absolute silence ; and then
Elizabeth rose to go.
" Shall I send you the wine ? " she said smiling.
" I don't behove Winthrop will let mc take it," Winifred
^^
" Because he is good, are you bound not to get strong ?
Elizabeth said with an air of slight vexation,
" No," — said Winnie, " but because he is good I must do
what he savs."
" I wis'h I liked anybody so weU as that I " said Elizabeth
kissing her. "Good bye, dear,— I'll come for you to-morrow.
There s no objection to that, I suppose ? "
"No," Winnie said laughing; and they parted.
Five minutes Winnie was alone, thinking over her visit and
visiter. They were a great novelty, and very interesting. Win-
nie's thoughts roved with an odd mixture of admiration and pity
over the beautiful dress, and fine face, and elastic step ; they were
bewitching ; but Winnie had seen a shadow on the face, and she
knew that the best brightness had never lighted it. Five minutes
HcsledbyGoOgle
^O-i THE niLLS OF TOE S
were all she tad to think about it ; then she heard a very dif-
ferent step on the stairs.
_ " I heard her go," said Mrs. Nettlej, coining in, " and I had
a little more time to spare ; so I thought I would spend it with
yon ; — aaless you've got enough with such a, gay visiter and don't
want me."
" 0 no indeed, Mrs. Nettley, I want you just as much. Have
you done dinner ? "
" George isn't ready yet ; " and Mrs. Nettley took Miss
Haye's chair and set her knitting-needles a going, " Has she
tired you with talking ? "
" No — talking doesn't tire me, — and she wasn't a gay visiter,
either, Mrs. Nettley— what do you mean hy ' gay ' ? "
" 0, she was handsome, and young, and 'fine feathers make
.e birds ' I'm sure," said Mrs. Nettley ; — " wasn't she smartly
"Yes," said Winnie, "she Lad handsome things on; but
that didn't make her gay."
"Well that was what I meant How do you like that
young lady?"
"I don't know," said Winnia " I think I like her."
" This isn't the first of your seeing her, dear ! "
" 0 no — she was at our house once. I've seen her before,
but that was a great while ago. I didn't know her again at
" Then she remembered you best."
_ " 0 — " said Winnie, considering, — " she has seen Rufus ana
Winthrop since then."
" She's a handsome young lady, don't you think bo ?
" I don't know — " said Winnie.
" Ask your brother if he don't think so.'
« Why ? "
" See if he don't think so."
" Which brother ? "
" Your brother that's here — your brother Winthrop."
" Does he think she is ? "
" Ask him," repeated Mrs. Nettley.
" I don't know why I should ask him," said Winnie turning
over uneasily on her couch ; — " I don't care if she is or no."
" Ay, but you might care."
" I don't know why," said Winnie.
" How would you like to have a new sister one of these
days ? — ^by and by V "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTJC. 383
" A aister ? "
Mrs. Nettley nodded.
" A sister ! " said Winnie. " How should I have a eiatei; ? "
" Why sTicli a tiling might be," said Mra. Nettley. " Did
you never thinli: of one of your brothers getting married ? "
" Winthrop won't I " said Winnie, — ■" and I don't caro what
Eufus does."
" What maies you think Winthrop won't ? "
" He won't! " said Winnie with flushing cheeks.
"Wouldn't you be glad? You would like anything that
would make him happy. ''^
" Happy ! " said Winnio. — " Glad I — I do wish, Mrs. Nettley,
you would go down stairs and leave me alone ! "
Mrs. Nottley went away, in some astonishment. And before
her astonishment had cooled off in her own kitchen, down came
Winnie, with flushed cheeks atill, and watery eyes, and a dis-
tressed face, to beg Mrs. Nettley's forgivene^. It was granted
with her whole heart, and a burden of apologies besides ; but
Winnie's face remained a distre^ed face still. The chicken,
broiled on Mrs. Nettley's fire, was salted with some teaj-s ; and
aU the simple and careful preparations for Winthrop's dinner
were made more carefully than usual ; bat when Winthrop
came home, his little sister was as far from being herself as
ever.
It happened that Winthrop waa very busy that day and had
no time to talk, except the disjointed bits of talk that could come
between the joints of the chicken ; and pleasant as those bits
were, they could not reach the want of poor Winnie's heart.
Immediately after dinner Winthrop went out again ; and she
was left to get through the afternoon without help of any-
body.
It had worn on, and the long summer day was drawing to its
close, when Winthrop was at last set free from his business en-
gagements and turned his face and hia footatepa towards home.
The day had been sultry and his toil very engrossing , but that
was not the reason his footsteps flagged. They flagged rarely,
but they did it now. It needed not that he ahonld have noticed
his little sister's face at dinner ; his ordinaiy burdens of care
were quite enough and one of them just now pressing. In a sort
of brown study he was slowly pacing up one of the emptying
business streets, when hia hand waa seized by acme one, and
Winthrop'a startled look up met the round jocund well-to-do face
of the Germtm professor.
HcsledbyGoOgle
284 THE HILLB OF TinC SHATEMUO.
" Wint'rop ! — ^Where arc you going ? "
"Home, sir," — said Wintlirop returning tlie grasp of his
friend's hand.
" How is all wiz you ? "
" As usual, sir."
" Wint'rop — what is de matter wiz you "? "
"Nothing! — " said Winthrop.
" I know hetter ! " said the naturalist, — " and I know what
it is, too. Here— I will give you some work to do one of these
days and then I will pay you the rest."
And shaking Winthiop's hand again, the phUosopher dashed
on. But Winthrop'a hand was not empty when his friend's had
quitted it ; to his astonishment he found a roll of bills left in it,
and to his unbounded astonishmeat found they were bills to the
amount of three hundred dollars.
If he was in any sort of a study as he paced the rest of his
way homo, it was not a brown study; and if his steps were slow,
it was not that they flagged any more. It had corns in time ; it
was just what was needed ; and it was enough to koep him on, till
he should be admitted to the bar and might edge off his craft
from her moorings to feel the wind and tide 'that lead on to for-
tune.' Winthrop never doubted of catching both ; as little did
lie doubt now of being able some time to pay back principal and
interest to his kind friend. He went home with a lighter heart.
But he had never let Winnie know of his troubles, and coald not
for the same reason talk to her of this strange relief.
Thinking so, he went up the stairs and oponod the door of his
and her sitting-room. The sun was down by that time, and the
evening light was failing. The table stood ready for tea; Winnie
had all the windows open to letia the freshening air from the sea,
which was beginning to make head against the heats and steams
of the city ; herself sat on the couch, away from the windows, and
perhaps her attitude might say, away from evoiything pleasant.
Winthrop came silently up and put a little basket in her hand.
" Oh ! — " Winnie sprang forward with an accent of joy, —
" Strawberries 1 — Beautiful I — and so sweet I 0 Winthrop, aren't
they sweet I — liow good they will be."
" I hope so," said he. " How are you 1 "
" 0 — I'm well," said Winnie. " How big they are— unj
fresh. They do smell so sweet, don't they, Governor ? "
Winthrop thought they were not so fresh nor so sweet as
those which grew in the Bright Spot under Wut-a-qut-o; but he
didn't remind Winnie of that. He aniiled at her, as she was
HcsledbyGoOgle
TilB HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 385
picking over Lcr basket <jf atrawberries with an eager hand. Tet
when Wmnie had got to the bottom of the basket and looked up
at. him hia face was v^cry grave indeed.
" There's plenty for you and me, Governor," she said.
" No," said her brother.
" There is plenty, Winthiop I "
" There is only just enough for you, and you must prove that
by eating them afl."
" Why didn't you get some for yourself, Grovemor I "
He answered that by spreading for her a particularly nice
piece of bread and butter and laying it on her plate alongside of
the strawberries. Winnie took it in the same pleasant mood and
began upon both with great zeal ; but before she had got half
through the strawberries something seemed to come over her
reaoOeetion ; and tho latter part of the meal her face grow more
shadowy than tho growing evenLng. When it was over, Win-
throp placed her gently on the couch, and himself put away the
dishes and glasses and eatables from the table. Then he came and
sat down beside her and drew her head to lean -upon him. It
was darkening by that time, and the air coming iu more and
more fresh at the windows.
" Have you been very tired to-day ? "
" No — I don't know — " said Winnie doubtfully.
" We couldn't have oifr walk this evening — I am sorry for
that — but I was kept so long with Bob Satterthwaite. He is m
a great feaze about some property that he thinks is owing to him
somewhere, and he has been giving me a long detail of matters
and things connected with the buainess.^I believe that if I
were in practice he would commission me to get his rights for
him. And an old classmate and friend of mine, Bob Cool, was
in town to-day and came to see me. He was expressing a very
earnest wish that I were working on my own hook."
" Oh I wish yon were ! " — said Winnie.
" Patience. I shall be in a little while more, if all goes well.
Mr. Cool promises I shall have aH his business."
" Is that much ? "
" I don't know. It seems so."
" But isn't Mr. Satterthwaite rich ? "
" Yes — very."
" Then what is he in a feaze about money for ? "
" He is not so rich he mightn't be richer, I suppose, Wirniie.
And besides, nobody likes to be cheated."
" Is Mr. Haye rich ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
-^80 TUE HILLS OF THE SHATaMDO.
" Yes ! WLat made you think of him ? "
Winnie hesitated " She was here to-day."
« She 1 "Who ? Clam ? "
"No, not Clam."
" Who then ? "
" Why— Miss Haye."
" Was she here ? "
" Yes."
"When?"
" This morning. She staid a good while with me."
" It was iind of her," said Wmthrop after a little pause.
There was a pause then of some length.
_ " Has Miss Haye's bemg here and talking to you, tired vou,
Winuio ? " said her brother, the arm that was round her drawing
her more near,
"No— "Wiimie said; but by no means as if Miss Haye's visit
had had a sprightly effect.
" Staid hero a good while talking ? What did she tails;
about f "
" 0 — I don't know, — " said Winnie, — " about my drinking
wine, and going to ride with her."
" She is very kind. And what did you tell her ? "
" I said I didn't know whether you would let me drink it. I
said I would go to ride."
" I am very much obliged to Miss Haye, and very glad for
yoa, Winnie. It will do you good."
"Would you let me drink wine, if she should send it to me? "
" Did she speak of doing that ? "
" Yes."
There was a little silence.
" Would you let mo take it, Winthrop ? "
" I suppose I ahoiJd."
"I hope she won't send it," said Winnie; " and I wish I
wasn't going to ride, cither."
"Why?"
" 0 — I'd rather stay here."
They sat a little while without speaking another word ; and
then Winthrop withdrawing his arm proposed to have ' some light
on the subject' Winifred sprang to get it, but he held her back,
and himself got the candle and lit it and placed it on the table.
The light shewed Winnie's face flushed and unresting, and of
doubtful signiacation about the eyes. Winthrop came and took
his former place and position by her side.
HcsledbyGoOgle
287
" How has tlie day beea with you, Wiimie ? "
Tke tone was most gentle and kindly. Winnie hesitated and
then said,
" It hasn't heen good."
" What's the matter ? "
" / haven't heen good."
" That isn't such a new thing that yoa need he surprised at
it, — is it ? " he said gently.
" No " — under breath.
"And it isn't so strange a thing that I love joa a bit the less
for it."
" But it's very uncomfortable," said poor Winnie, whose voice
bore her witness.
" I find it so often."
" You, G-overnor ! — you never do ! " said Winnie energeti-
" Never do what?"
" Never feel like me."
" No, Winnie — I am strong and you are weak. — —you are
siok and I am well. I have no excuse — you have, a little."
" It don't make it a bit better," said poor Winnie. " I don't
want to make any esouse. I got so cross with Mrs. Nettley to-
day."
" 'What about ? "
"01 couldn't bear to hear her talk, and I almost told her
" I dare say you did what you could to mend it afterwards,
Winnie."
" O yes ; — and she didn't think anything of it at all ; but I
am always doing so, Winthrop."
" Yon never do it to me," said her brother soothingly.
" To you ! — But 0 Winthrop I — if I loved Grod enough, I never
shottld do anything to displease him ! "
She had thrown herself further into her brother's arms and at
this was weeping with all her heart.
"He said once himself," said Winthrop, "'Blessed are they
that mourn now, for they shall he comforted.' "
Winnie clung faster to him, with a grateful clasp, and her
tears came more gently.
" We sha'n't bo quit of it till we get to heaven, Winnie ;—
and ' the people that dwell therein,' you know, ' shall be forgiven
their iuiijuity.' And iqore than that, ' white robes aro given unto
HcsledbyGoOgle
^OO 'I'HE HILLS OJi" THE SHATEMtJC.
every one of them.' ' And ttey shall see the King's face, anil his
name shall he in their foreheads."
" I Tcish it was in mine now ! " said Winnie.
" Stop, Winnie.— I hope it is there,— only not so bright as it
wUl he by and by."
" But it ought to be bright now," said Winnie raisins her-
self
" Let it be brighter eyery day then," said her brother.
" I do try, Governor," said poor Winnie, — " but sometimes I
think I don't get ahead at all ! "
It waa with great tenderness that again he put his arm round
her, and drew down her head upon him, and pressed her close to
his side.
'■ Kest ! — " said he, — " and trust what is written, that ' they
shall praise the Lord that seek him.' 'Wait on the Lord; bo of
good courage, and he shall strengthen thino heart; wait, I say
ontho Lord.'"
" How much better I feel already," said poor Winnie pres-
ently.
There waa a long silence. Winnie lay there still, and Win-
throp was softlj playing with one of her hands and striking it and
stroking it agamst his own. The air came iu fresh and eool from
the sea and put the eandio flame out of all propriety of behaviour ;
it flared and smoked, and melted the candle sideways, and threat-
ened eveiy now and then to go out entirely; but Winnie lay
looking at Winthrop's hand which the moonlight stone upon,
and Winthrop — ^nobody knows what he waa looking at; but
neither of them saw the candle, Winnie waa the one to break
the silence.
" What sort of a person is she, Winthrop ? "
" Who ? " said her brother.
" What ? — O, I mean — I meant^— I meant, who was here to^
day, — Miss Haye."
" You have seen her, Winnie," he said after a moment's
hesitation.
" Yes, but you know her. Do you think she is a person I
would like ? "
" I do not know."
" You don't know ! — "
" But you know i.er, Winthrop," said Winnie a little timidly
when she found he added nothing to his former words.
" Yes."
" Don't you like her ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OJ? THE SHATEMHC. 289
" Then wty dou't yon know ? "
"Yoa don't like everything that I like," said her brother.
" Why yea I do I — Don't I ? "
" Not everything,"
"What don't I?"
" Euripides — and Pkto."
" Ah bnt I don't understand those," said Winnie.
Winthrop waa silent. Was that what he meant ?— was Win-
nie's instant thought. Very disagreeable. And his 'yes's' were so
quiet— they told nothing. Winnie looked at her brother's hand
again, or rather at Miss Ilaye in her brother's hand ; and Win-
throp pursued Lis own meditations.
" Governor," said Winnie after a while, " is Miss Have a
Christian?"
" No."
Winnie asked no more ; partly because she did not dare, and
partly beoause the last answer had given her so much to think
of. She did not know why, either, and she would have given a
great deal to hear it over again. In that little word and the
manner of it, there had been so much to quiet and to disquiet her.
Undoubtedly Winnie would have dono anything in the world
tiat she could, to mate Miss Haye a Christian; and yet, there
was a strange sort of relief in hearing Winthrop say that word ;
and at the same time a something in the way he said it that told
her her relief had uncertain foundation. The 'no ' had not besi
apoken like the 'yes'— it came out half under breath; what
meaaing lurked about it Winnie could not make out ; she puzzled
herself to think; but though she could not wish it had been a
willing ' no,' she wished it had been any otter than it had. She
could not ask any more; and Winthrop's face when he went to
his reading waa precisely what it was other evenings. But Win-
nie's was not; and she went to bed and got up with a sore spot
in her heart, and a resolution that she would not like Miss Haye,
for she would not know her well enough to make sure that ske
could.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXVII.
Ha, hsl what a fonl honesty Isl onS tmst, hia Bw<jra brathei, t very topla «n«™
PooK Winnie held to her resolution, ttoagt talf unconsciously
and quite involuntarily. She did not enjoy her ride, and there-
fore did not Beem to enjo^ it ; for it was not in her nature to aeem
other thDJi she was. Neither did she take or shew any but a very
qualified pleasure in Miss Haye's company ; and for this reason or
for others Miss Haye made her visits few.
But this did not a bit help the main question; and in the
want of data and the absence of all opportunity for making obser-
Tationa, Winnie had full chance to weary hei'self with fancies and
fears. She could not get courage enough to say anything about
Miss Haye again to her brother; and he never spoke of her.
There was no change in him ; ho was always as careful of his lit-
tle sister ; always bestowed his time upon her in the same way;
was always at home in the evenings. Unless when, very rarely,
he made an arrangement that she should spend one with Mrs. Net-
tley and Mr. Inchbald. These times were seldom; and Winnie gen-
erally knew where he was going and that it was not to Mr. Haye's,
But she was not sure of the integrity of her possession of him ;
and that want of security opened the sluice-gates to a flood-tide of
wearisome possibilities ; and Winnie's nervous and morbid sensi-
bilities made the most of them. It was intolerable, to think that
Winthrop should love anybody as he did her ; that he should love
anybody bsiier, happily for Winnie, never entered her imaginings.
She could not endure to think that those lips, which were to her
the sweetest of earthly things, should touch any other cheek or
mouth but ber own. They were hers. It was bitter as worm-
wood to think that his strong arm oould ever hold and guide
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 291
another as it held and guided his little sister. " But guide?
she'd never let him guide her ! "—said Winnie in a great fit of
sisterly indignation. And her thoughts would tumble and toss
the matter about, till her oheek was in a flusli; she was generally
too eager to cry. It wore upon her; she grew thinner and more
haggard ; but nobody knew the cause and no one could reach
the remedy.
With all this the end of summer came, and Kufus. He came
to establish himself under Mr. Haje's direction. 'For the time,'
— aa Winthrop told Winnie, when she asked him if Eufus was
going to turn merchants And when she asked him further ' what
for ? '- ^he answered that Rufus was a spico merchant and dealt
in variety. With the end of autumn came Winthrop's admission
to the bar.
And Winnie drew a mental long breath. Winthrop was a
lawyer himself, and no longer in a lawyer's office. Winthrop had
an office of his own. The bark was shoved from the shore, with
her sails set ; and Winnie, no more than her brother, doubted not
that the gales of prosperity would soon fill them, Rufus was
greatly amused Tvith her.
" You think it's a great thing to bo a lawyer, don't you?"
said he one night.
" I think it's a great thing to be such a lawyer as Governor
will be," said Winnie.
At which Rufus laughed prodigiously,
" / think it's a great thing to be such a governor as this law-
yer Kill be," he said when he had recovered himself " Kothinc
less, .Governor I You have your title beforehand." °
" ' Ouee a judge always a judge,' " said Winthrop. " I am
afraid if you reverse the terms, so you will the conelosiom"
" Terms ! " said Rufus. " You will be governor of this state,
and I ahall be your financial secretarj- — on any terms you please.
By the way — what keeps you from Ilaje's now-a-days? Not
this girl ? "
" No," said Winthrop.
It was that same 'no ' over again, Winnie knew it, and her
heart throbbed.
"What then? I haven't seen you there siuee I've been in
town."
" How often are you there yourself ? "
" 0 ! — every evening almost. What keeps you ? "
" Duty — " said Winthrop.
" But what sort of duty I What on earth can hinder your
HcsledbyGoOgle
292 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
coming there aa you used to do, to spend a rational hour now
and then ? "
"My dear sir, it is enough for any man to know his own duty;
it 18 not always possible for him to know that of another man."
" And therefore I ask you I " said Rufus.
" What ? "
" "Why . what's your reason for keeping away."
" In brief — my engagements."
"You've nothing to do with briefs yet," said RufuB; "have
the goodness to enlarge a little. You've not been more busy
lately than you were a while ago."
" Yes I have."
" Yes, I suppose you have," — said Rufus meditatively. " But
not so much more as to make that a ri
" If my reasons were not only ' a
as blackberries," said his brother, "
eagerness for them."
" I am afraid the blackberries would be the more savoury,'
6!ud Eufos laughing a little. " But you didn't uso to make
suoh a Lermit of yourself, Winthrop."
" I don't intend to bo a hermit always. But as I told you,
duty and inclination have combined to make me one lately."
Winnie could not make much of this conversation. The
words might seem to mean something, but Wiathrop's manner
had been so perfectly cool and at ease that she was at a loss to
know whether they meajit anything.
"Winthrop's first cause was not a very dignified one — it was
something about a man's horse. Winnie did not think much of
it; except that it was his first cause, and it waa gained; but that
she was sure beforehand it would be. However, more dignified
pieces of business did foUow, and came fast; and at every new
one Winnie's eyes sparkled and glistened, and her nervous trou-
bles for the moment laid themselves down beneath joy, and pride
in her brother, and thankfulness for his success. Before many
months had passed away, something offered that in better measure
answered her wishes for his opportunity.
Their attic room had one evening a very unwonted visiter in
the shape of Mr. Border. Beside Mr. Inehbald and his sister,
Rufus was the sole one that ever made a third in the little com-
pany. Winthrop's friends, for many reasons, had not the en-
trance there. But this evening, near the beginning of the new
year, there came a knock at the door, and Mr. Herder's round
face walked in rounder than ever.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMUC. 293
" Good evenbg I — How is all wiz yon, Wiufrop ? — and you ?
— I would not let no one come up wiz me — I knew I should find
you."
" How did you know tliat, Mr, Herder ? "
" 0! 1 have not looked so long for strange things on the
earth — and in the earth. — that I cannot find a friend — de moat
strange thing of all."
"Is that your conclusion, Mr. Herder ? I dida't know you
had quito so desperate an opinion of mankind."
"It ia not deispairate," said the naturalist; — "I do not de-
eper of nohody. Dere is much good among de world dere
might he more — a good deal. I hope all wilfie good one day —
it will he — then we shall have no more trouble. How is it wia
you, Wint'rop ' "
" Nothing 10 oomplain of, Mr. Herder."
" Does he never have nozing to complain of ? " said the natu-
ralist turning to Winnie.
" He never thinks he has," said Winnie. She had answered
ihe naturalist's quick eye with a quick smile, and then turned on
Winthiop a look that spoke of many a thing he must have passed
over to make her words good. Mr. Herder's eye followed hers.
" How is everything with you, Mr, Herder ? "
" It is well enough," said the naturalist, — ■" like the common.
I do not complain, neizer. I never have found time to compliun,
Wint'rop, I am eome to give you some work"
" What do you want me to do, sir ? "
" I do not know," said the naturalist ; — " I do not know noz-
ing ahout wha' is to be done ; but I want you to da something."
" I hope you will give me something more to go to work up-
on, air. What is the matter ? "
" It is not my matter," said the naturalist ; — " I did never get
in Buch a quarrel but one, and I will never again in anozer — it
b my brother, or the man who married my sister — his name is
Jean Lansing."
" What is the matter with him ? "
" Dere is too many things the matter wiz him," said Mr. Her-
der, " for he is sick abed— that is why I am here. I am come to
tell you his business and to get you to do it."
" I shall think I am working for you, Mr. Herder," Winthrop
said, as he tied up a bundle of papers which had been lying loose
about the table,
" Have you got plenty to do ? " said the naturalist, giving
them a good-hmuoured eye.
HcsledbyGoOgle
" Can't Lave too mucli, sir. Now what is your brotter's aS-
" I do not know aa I can tell you," said the other, hia bright
jovial face looking uacommocly myBtified, — " it seems to mo he does
Bot kBow very well himself. He does not know that anybodj'
has done noaing, but he is not satisjied."
" And my bnsiness is to satisfy him ? "
" If you can do that you shall l>e satisfied too ! " said the
naturalist. " He does not know that any one has wronged him,
but he thinks one baa."
"Who?"
"Eyle Joha Eyle. He was Mr. Lansing's partner in
business for years — 1 do not know how many."
"Here?" '
" In Manna-hatta — ^here — .they were partners ; and Byi«
had brothers in England, and he was tho foreign partner and
Lansing was here, for the American part of the business. Well
they were working togezer for years ; — and at the end of them, when
they break up the businees, it ie found that Kyle lias made Mm
self money, and that my brother has not made none ! So ho ie
poor, and my sister, and Kyle is rich."
" How is that ? "
"It is that way aa I tell you; and Ryle has plenty, and Lan
sing and TherCsa they have not."
" But has Mr. Lansiug no notion how this may have comi
about?"
' He knows nozingi"said the naturalist, — "no more than you
know— except he knows he is left wizout noaing, and Ryle ha?
not left himself so. Dat is all he knows."
" Can I see Mr. Lansing ? "
" He is too sick. And he eould tell you noaing. But be it
not satisfied."
" Is John Ryle of this city ? "
" Ho is of this city. He is not doing business no more, but
he lives here."
" Well we can try, Mr. Herder," said Winthrop, tapping hn
bundle of papers on the table, in a quiet wise that was a strong
contrast to the ardent face and gestures of the philosopher. Ii
was the aotion, too, of a man who knew how to try and was in
no doubt as to his own power. The naturalist felt it.
" What will you do, Wint'rop ? "
" Ton wish me to set about it ? "
" I do. I put it in your hands."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP THB SHATEMtlC. 295
" I will try, Mr, Herder, what can be done."
" What wili you do first ? " said the naturalist.
" Eilo a bill in equity," said "VVinthrop smiling.
" A bill ?— what is that ? "
" A paper setting forth certain charges, made on supposition
and suspicion only to which charges thev must answer on oath "
"IFAo will answer?"
" Ryle and his brothers."
" Dere is but one of them alive."
" Well, Ejle and his brother, then. "
" But what charges will yon. make ? We do not know nozing
to charge."
" Our charges will be merely on supposition and suspicion —
it's not needful to swear to them."
" And they must swear how it ia ? "
" They must swear to their answers."
" That will do I " said the naturalist, looking ' satisfied ' al-
ready. " That will do. We will see what thoy will say. — Do
you do nozing but write bills alt night, every night, and tie up
papers ?— you do not come to my room no more since a long
" Not for want of will, Mr. Herder. I have not been able
to go,"
" Bring your little sister and let her look at iot things
some time — while you and me we look at each other. It is good
to look at one's friend sometime."
" I have often found it so, Mr. Herder. I will certainly bring
Winnie if I can."
" Do you not go nowhere ? " said the naturalist as if a thought
had strudr him. " What is de reason that I do not meet you
at Mr. Haye's no more ? "
" I go almost nowhere, sir."
" You are wrong," said the naturabst. " You are not right.
Dere is more will miss you than me; and there Is somebody there
who wants you to take care of her."
" I hope you arc mistaken, sir,"
" She wants somebody to take care of her," said Mr. Herder;
'■ and I do not know nobody so good as you. I am serious. 8h«
is just as afraid as ever one should take care of her, and poor
thing she wants it all the more. She will not let your brother
" Do you think he is trying, Mr. Herder ? " Winthrop said
ooolly.
HcsledbyGoOgle
" I believe he would be too glad I be looks at ber so bard
as be can; but she will not look at the tops of bia fingers. She
does not know what she shall do mz herself, ahe is so mad wiz
her father's new wife."
" What baa she been doing ? " Wintbrop asked.
" Who, Rose ? — she has not done Hozing, but to marry Eiisa-
bet's father, and for that she never will forgive ber. I am sorry
— he was foolish man. — Wint'rop, yon must not shut yourself np
here — you will be directly rich — ^you mnat find yourself a wife
nest tiling."
" Why should a lawyer have a wife any more than a philos-
opher ? " said Winthrop.
" A philosopher," said Mr. Herder, with the slightest comical
expression upon his broad face, — " has enough for hun to do to
take care of truth— be has not time to take care of his wife too.
While I was hunting after de truth, my wife would forget me,"
" Does it take you so long for a hunt ? "
" I am doing it all de time," said the naturalist ; " it is wbat
I spend my life for. I live for that."
The last words were spoken with a quiet deliberation which
told their truti. And if the grave mouth of the other might
have said ' I live for truth ' too, it would not have belied hia
tbongbts. But it was truth of another kind.
Winnie watched the course of this piece of business of Mr.
Herder's with the most eager anxiety. That is, what there was
to watch , for proceedings wore slow. The very folio pages of
that ' Bill,' that she saw Winthrop writing, were scrolls of in-
terest and mysterious charm to Winnie's eyes, like nothing surely
that other eyes could find in them. Certainly not the eyes of
Mr. Eyle and his lawyer. Winnio watched the bill folded up
and superscribed, standing over her brother with her band on his
shoulder.
" What is that about, now, Gfovemor ? — what is it to do ? "
_ " It charges Mr, Ryle and his brother with malpractices,
Winnie — with dealing unfairly by Mr. Lansing."
" But you don't know that they have done anything ? "
"They can shew it, in that case; and the object of this
bill is to make thom shew one thing or tlie other, by their
answer."
" And, dear Grovemor, how soon wUI they answer ? "
" In forty days, Winnie, they must."
Winnie drew a breath of patience and impatience, and went
back to her seat.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE eHATEMUG. 297
But before the forty days were gone by, Winthrop earae home
one night and told Winaie ho had got tho answer ; and smiled at
her face of oagernesa and pleasure. Winnie thought his smilea
were not very often, and welcomed every one.
" But it is not likely this answer will settle the question,
Winnie," he remarked.
" 0 no, I suppose not ; but I want to know what they say."
80 they had supper ; and after supper she watched while he
sat reading it ; as leaf after leaf was turned over, from the close-
written ana close-lying package in Winthrop's hand to the array
of pages that tad already been turned back and lay loose piled
on the table ; while Winthrop's pencil now and then made an ad-
monitoiy note in the margin. How hia sister admired him I — and
at last forgot the bill in studying the face of the bill-reader. It
was very little changed from its old wont; and what difference
there might be, was not the effect of a business life. The cool and
invariable self-possession and self-command of the character had
kept and promised to keep him himself, in the midst of these
and any oUier concerns, however entanghng or engrossing. The
change, if any, was traceable to somewliat else ; or to somewhat
else Winnie laid it,— though she would not have called it a change,
hut only an added touch of perfection. She could not tell, as
she looked, what that touch had done ; if told, perhaps it might
he, that it had addeil sweetness to the gravity and gravity to the
sweetness that was there before. How Winnie loved that broad
brow, and the very hand it rested on 1 All the well-known lines
of calmness and strength about the face her eye went over and
over again, she had quite forgotten Mr. Eyle; and she saw
Winthrop folding up the voluminous ' answer,' and she hardly
cared to ask what was in it. She watched the hands that were
doing it. They "teemed to speak hia character, too ; she thought
they did ; oalmncs and decision were in tie very fingers. Be-
fore her curiosity had recovered itself enough to speak, Mr. Her-
They talked for awhile about other things ; and then Win-
throp told him of the answer.
" You Lave it I " cried the naturalist. " And what do they
say ? "
" M^othine, fully and honestly."
" Ah taT — And do they grant — do they allow anything of
your charges, that you made in your bill ? "
"Yes — in a vague and unsatisfactory way, they do."
" Vague—? " said the naturalist.
13'
HcsledbyGoOgle
" Not open and clear. But the other day in the street I waa
iped by Mr, Brick "
" Who is Brick ? " said Mr. Herder.
" He is Eyle'a lawyer. He stopped me a few days ago and
told me there waa ono matter in tlie answer witt which perhaps
I would not be satisfied — which perhaps I should not think suf-
ficiently full; but he said, he, who had drawn the answer, knew,
personally, all about it ; and he assured me that the answer in
this matter granted all, and more, than I oould gain in any other
way ; and that if I carried the proceedings further, in hopes to
gain more for my client, the effect would only be an endless
" Do they ofier to giro him something ? " said tho naturalist.
" The answer does make disclosures, which though, as I said,
vague and imperfect, still promise to give him someUiing."
" And you think it might be more ? "
" Bricii assures me, on his own knowledge, that by going on
with the matter we shall only gain an endless lawsuit,"
" What do you think, Wint'rop ? "
" I want you to give this paper to Mr. Lansing, and ask him
what he thinks. Ask iim to read it, and tell him what Brick says ;
and then let him make up his mind whether wo had better go on
or not"
"I do not care for nobody's mind but yours," said the
naturalist.
" Let us have Mr. Lansing's first."
So Mr. Herder carried away tho answer to Mr. Lansing, and
in a few days came back to report progre^.
" He has read it," said Mr. Herder, " and he says he do not
make anything of it at all Ho leaves the whole thing wiz you."
" Does he understan 1 what is hmtc I at by these half dis-
closures? "
" He says he loes i ot undeiotand nozmg of it — he knows not
what they mean — he does nut \iki\\ whether to go on, whether
to stop here. He says and I say y u lud^e and do what you
please,"
" I confess, Mr. Herder, that Mr. Brick a kind warning has
made mo suspicious of his and his principal's good faith ; and my
will would be to go on."
" Go on, then ! " said the naturalist — " I say so too — go on ! I
do not trust that Brick no more than you do ; and Mr. Byle, him
I do not trust. Now what will you do next ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLB OF THE SHATEMDC. ^ifV
" Take exceptions to tie answer, wtere it eeema to be inauffi-
raeat, and make them answer ag^n."
" Exception — ? " said the naturalist.
In. answer to which. Wlnthrop went into explanations at some
length ; from which at least this much waa clearly made out by
Mr. Herder and Winnie, — that the cause would como to a hear-
ing probably in May, before Chancellor Justice; when "Winthrop
am Mr. Brick would stand openly pitted against each other and
have an opportunity of trying their mutual strength, or the strength
of their principles ; when also it would, according to the L'^ue of
said conflict, be decided whether the Eyles must or not reply to
Winthrop's further demands upon them.
" And this Chancellor Justice — is he good man ? " said Mr.
Herder.
" As good a man as I want to argue before,' said Winthrop.
" I ask no better. AU is safe in that quarter."
That all waa safe in aaother quarter, both Mr. Herder and
Winnie felt sure ; and both looted eagerly forward to May ; both
too with very much the same feeling of pride and interest in their
champion.
Winnie's heart jumped again at hearing a, few days after, that
Mr. Satterthwaite had put his affairs into Winthrop's hands;
partly, Winthrop said he supposed, out of friendship for him,
and partly out of confidence in him. It was rather a mark of
the former, that he insisted upon paying a handsome retaining
fee.
" Now Where's Mr. Cool and his affairs ? " said Winnie.
" I suppose Mr. Cool h at Coldstream, where hekeej^ ' cool'
all the year round, I understand."
"But lie promised to put his affairs Into your hands."
" Then he-ll do it. Perhaps they keep cool too."
" I wish May would be here," said Winnie. _
Winthrop was at the table one evening, — -while it still wanted
some weeks of the May term, — ^writing, as usual, with heaps of
folio papers scattered all about him ; writing fast ; and Winnie
was either reading or looking at him, who was the book she loved
best to study ; when Eufus came in. Both looked up and wel-
comed him smilingly; but then Winthrop went on with his
writing ; while Winnie's book was laid down. She had enough
else now to do. Rufus took a seat by the fire and did as she
often did, — looked at Winthrop.
" Are you always writing ? " said he somewhat g
HcsledbyGoOgle
SOO THE iinie OF the SHATEimc.
" Not alwajs," said Winthrop. " I sometiiuea read foi
variety,"
" Law papers ? "
' Law papers — when I ean't read anything else."
" That's pretty mucli all the time, isn't it ? "
" 0 no," said Winnie; — "he reads a great deal to me — wo
were reading a while ago, before jou. came in — we read every
evening,"
Erufus brought his attention round uponher, not, aa it seemed,
with perfect complacency.
" What time does this girl go to bed ? "
How Winnie's face changed, Winthrop answered withcul
stopping bia pen.
" When she is tired of sitting up — not nntil then."
" She ought to have a regular hour — and an eariy one,"
" You are an adviser upon theory, you see," said Wintbrot
going on with Hs writing ; — " I have the advantage of praetice.
" I fancy any adviser would tell you the same in this ease,'
said the elder brother somewhat stiftty.
" I can go now," Winifred said rising, and speaking with a
trembling lip and a tremulous voice, — " if you want to talk about
anything."
She lit a candle and had got to tbe door, when her othe:
brother said,
" Winnie ! — "
Winnie stopped and turned with the door in her hand. Win
throp was busy clearing some books and papers from a chair by
his side. He did not speak again ; when he had done he looked
up and towards her; and obeying the wish of his face, as she
would have done had it been any other conceivable thing, Winnie
shut the door, set her candle down, and came and took the chair
beside him. But then when she felt his arm put round her, she
threw ber head down upon him and burst into a fit of nervously
passionate tears. That was not his wish, she knew, but she could
not help it.
" Mr. Landholm," said Wiutbrop, " may I trouble you to put
out that candle. We are not so extravagant here as to burn bed
lights till we want them. — Hush, Winnie, — " softly said his voioo
in ber ear and his arm at the same time.
" Absurd I "' said Eufus, getting up to do as he was bid.
" What ? " fiaid bis brother.
" Why I really want to talk to you."
" I am really very wUling to listen."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMOO. 301
" But I do not want to talk to anybody beside you."
" Winnio hears everjthing that ia said here, 'Will," said the
jOTinger brother gravely, at the same time restraining with hia
arm the motion he felt Winnie made to go.
" It don't siguify I " said Bufus, getting up and beginning to
walk up and down the room gloomily.
" What doesn't signify ? "
" Anything ! — "
The steps were quicker and heavier, with oonoealed feeling,
Winthrop looked at him a,nd was silent ; while Rufus seemed to
be combating some unseen grievance, by the set of hia Up and
nostril.
" What do you think Haye has done ? " — he broke out, like
a horse that is champing the bit.
" What ? " said Winthrop.
" He has sued me."
" Sued you 1 " exclaimed Winthrop, while even Winnie for-
got her tears and started up. Rufus walked.
" Wlat do you mean, WOl ? "
" I mean he has sued me ! " — said Kufus stopping short and
feeing them with eyes that for the moment had established a
natural pyrotechny of their own.
" How, and what for ? "
" How ?— by the usual means ! What for ?— I wiU tell yon I "
Which he sat down to do ; Winthrop and Winnie both hia
most earnest auditors.
" You know it was Haye's own proposition, urged by himself,
that I should g into business with him. Nobo(^ asked him — ■
it was his own doing; it was his declared purpose and wish, un-
solicited by me or my father or by anybody, to set me forward in
bis own line and put mo iu the way of making my fortune ! — as
he said."
Winthi.'op knew it, and had never liked it. He did not tell
Rufus so now ; he gave him nothing but the attention of his
calm face ; into which Rufus looked wKile he talked, as if it were
the safe, due, and appointed treasury in which to bestow all his
grievances and passionate sense of them.
" Well !— you know he offered, a year ago or more, that by
way of making a beginning, I should take off his hands some
cotton which he bad lying in storage, and ship it to Liverpool on
my own account; and as I had no money, I was to pay him by
drawing bills in his favour upon the consignees."
" I remember very well," said Winthrop.
HcsledbyGoOgle
302 THE HILLS OF THE SHATiSMKC.
" Well ail ! — the cotton reached Liyerpool and was found
good for nothing 1 "
" Literally f "
" Literally, air !— wasn't worth near the amount of my billa,
which of oourse were returned — and Haye has sued me for the
Kafus's face looked as if a spark from it might easily have
burnt up the whole consignment of cotton, if it had happened to
bo in the neighbourhood.
" How was the ootton ? — damaged ? "
_" Damaged ? — of oourse I — kept in vaults here till it was
spoiled ; and he knew it I "
" For what amount has he sued you ? " said Winthrop tchen
Rufus had fed his fire silently for a couple of minutes.
" For more than I can pay — or will 1 — "
" How much does that stand for, in present circumstances ? "
" How much ? A matter of several hundreds I "
" How many ? "
" So many, as I should leave myself penniless to pay, and
then not pay. Ton know I lost money down there."
" I know," said his brother.
Winifred brought her eyes round to Winthrop ; and Win-
throp looked grave ; and Eufus, as before, fiery ; and there was
a silence this time of more than two minutes.
" My dependence is on you, GoTernor," fiufiis sMd at last
" I wish I co-Jd help you. Will."
" How (»n I get out of this scrape ? "
" You have no defence in law."
" But there must be a defence somewhere I " said Bufus draw-
ing himself up, rith the whob spirit of the common law appar-
ently within him, energizing the movement.
" The only hope of relief would be in the eijuity courts,"
" How there ? " said Eufus.
Winthrop hesitated.
" A plea of fraud— alleging that Mr. Haye has overreached
you, putting off upon you goods which he knew to be worthless."
" To be sure he did ! " said Rufus. " Knew it as well as he
does now. It was nothing but a fraud. An outrageous fraud ! "
Winthrop made no answer, and the brothers paused again,
each in his meditations. Winnie, passing her oyes from one to
the other, thought Winthrop looked as if his were very grave,
" I depend upon you, Grovernor," the elder brother said more
quietly.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE BILLS OF THE SHATEiTUC. 303
To do what?"
Why! — " said Eufua firing again, — "to do whatever ia
----to relieve me! Who ehould do it?"
" I wish you could get somebody else, Will," aaid the other,
" I am aorry I cannot I " said Kufus. " If I had the money
I would pay it and euhmit to be trodden upon — I would rather
take it some ways than some others — but unhappily necessity ia
laid upon me. I cannot pay, and I am unwilling to go to jail,
and I must ask you to help me, painful aa it ia."
Winthrop waa silent, grave and calm as usual; hut Winnie's
heart achod to see how grave his eye was. Did she read it right ?
He was silent still ; and so waa Kufus, though watching for him
to speak,
" Well ! " said Kufus at laat getting up with ,i start, " I will
relieve you ! I am sorry I troubled you needlessly — I shall know
better than to do it again I — "
He waa rushing off, but before he reached the door Winthrop
had planted himself in front of it
" Stand out of my way."
" I am not in it Go back, Will,"
" I won't, if you pleaae. 111 thank you to let me open the
" I will not. Go back to your aeat, Rufus — I want to speat
to you."
" I waa under the impreasion you did not" said Bufus, stand-
ing atill " I waited for you to speak."
" It ia aafe to conclude that when a man makes you wait, he
has something to say."
" You are more certain of it when he lets you know what it
is," said Rufua,
" Provided he knowa flrat himself,"
" How long does it take you to find out what you have to
say?" said Bufua, returning to his ordinary manner a:ndhis seat
at once. The fire seemed to have thrown itself off in that last jet
of flame.
" I aometimes find I have .too much ; and then there is apt to
be ft little delay of choice."
" A delay to choose ? — or a choice of delay ? " said Rufus.
" Sometimes one and sometimes the other."
One or the other seemed atill in force with Winthrop'a pre-
sent matter of speech, for he came before the fire and stood mend-
ing it, and aaid nothing.
HcsledbyGoOgle
304 THK HILLS OF THE BHATEMTIC.
" Winthrop," said Enfiis gravely, " have you any particular
reason to decline doing this business for me ? "
Wintlirop hesitated slightly, and then came forth one of thost
eame ' no's,' tliat Winnie knew by heart.
" Have you any particular reason to dislifco it ? "
" Yes. They were my friends once."
" But is your friendship for them stronger than for anybody
else ? "
" It does not stand in the way of my duty to you, Will."
" Your duty to me, " said the other.
" Yes. I cannot in this instance call it pleasure,"
It was the turn of Rufus to hesitate ; for the face of his bro-
ther espressed an absence of pleasure that to him, in the cireum-
Btanoes, was remarkable.
" Then you do not refuse to nndertake this job for me ? "
" I will do what I can," said Winthrop, working at a large
forestick on the fire. How Winnie wished he would let it alone,
and place himself so that aho could see him.
" And don't you think there is good prospect of our succeed-
ing?"
" If Chancery don't give it you, I'll take it to the Court of
Errors," said Winthrop, arranging the log to his satisfaction, and
then pattiDg the rest of the fire in order.
" I'm sorry to give you trouble, Governor," his brother said
thoughtfully.
" I'm sorry you've got it to give, Will."
But Rufus went ou looking into the fire, and seeming to get
deeper into the depths of something less bright as he looked.
" After all I am much the most to be pitied," he began. " I
thought to-day, Governor 1 did not know what would become
ofmel"
" I can tell you that beforehand," said his brother. " You
will become, exactly, what you choose to make yourself"
" That is what you always say," returned Rufus a little cyni-
" That is what I have found in my own practice," said Win-
throp. He put up the tongs and took his old seat by Winnie.
Bufus looked still into the nJre,
"lam thrown out of this employment now," ho said; — "I
am disgusted with it and if I were not, there is no way for me
to follow it with advantage."
" I am not sorry for that, WOl. I never liked it for you, nor
you for it."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILI^ OF 1
305
" I have nothing to do. — I am a loose pin in the Mosaic of
Boeiety — the pattern ia all made up without me."
" Whatpiu has got your place?" said Winthrop.
" What do yon mean ? "
" Simply, that as in the nature of things there eannot be too
many pins, a pin that is out of piaee must be aucli by a derelict
of duty,"
" What is my place? "
" If my word would set you in it, I would tell you."
"Tell me, and perhaps it wUl,"
" I should bid you return to your engineer's work and serve
God ia it."
" Very poor chance for serving God or man, la that work,
said Rufus. " Or myself."
" And no chance at all ao long as you are doing nothing."
" I cannot hear to compare myself with you," — Rufus went on
moodily.
" Compare yourself with yourself, Will, the actual with
the poaaible, aTid then go forward."
" What is possible in an engineer's life I " said Rufus.
" Everything is possible, in any place where Provideace has
put you, for the future at least. And the firm purpose of servbg
God in it, will dignify for the present any life.
" ' A man that loots on glaaa
" ' On it may staj his eye ;
" ' Or, if he pleaaeth, througli it pass,
"'And then the heayen espy 1 "
Bufus met the grave slight smile oa his brother's face, and
his eye watered.
" You are better than I am," he said with oae of very dif-
ferent meaning.
" If that be true to-day, Will, don't let it be true to-morrow."
They wrung each other's hands, and the elder brother went
soberly away.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXVIII.
■.Itmnatboltitiiyalour; for Polby I hato: Ihadsa
Tub family at No. H on tie Parade, were seated at break-
fast oce morning towards the latter end of May; the old trio,
only with Elizabeth and Kose in each other's places.
" What is the reason Winthrop Landholm don't come here
any more ? " said the latter lady.
" I don't know," said Mr. Haye, when the silence tad threat-
ened tbe failuTO of any answer at all.
" What's the reason, Lizzie ? "
" I don't know ! — how should I ? "
" I am sure I can't tell," said Eoae, " but I didn't know but
you did. I wish you'd ask him to come again, Mr. Haye — do
you know how he is getting up in the world ? "
" I know how cotton ia falling," said Mr. Haye, swallowing
his tea and the newspaper apparently both at the same time.
" Cotton ! — " said Eose. " Now Mr. Haye, just put down
that paper and listen to mo ; — do you know how Winthrop Land-
holm is holding his head up ? "
" No," said Mr. Haye, looking at the pretty little head which
was holdmg itself up, over against him.
" Well he is. ¥ou didn't hear what Mr. Satterthwaite was
saying about him last night, did you ? "
" I didn't hear Mr. Satterthwaite say anything."
" Well he says he's had quite a great cause come on, now,
just a few days ago "
" Who has f Mr. Satterthwaite ? "
" Why no, Mr. Haye ! — of course I — I mean Mr. Landholm
has — a cause that he was to argue, you know — that's what I
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE EHATKMTJO. SOT
mean — before CJianceUor Justice — and Mr. Satterthwaite sayahe
did it splendidly I — he said everybody stood and looked ; — and
the Chancellor gave him everything he asked for — made all hia
exoeptiona, he said, whatever that means " —
" Allowed his exceptions," said Elizabeth.
" 0 you could listen when Mr. Satterthwaite was spoalang of
Winthrop Landholm ! "
" Mr. Sattorthwaite don't often have ,=0 good a subject, I
listened certainly, and was very much interested ;— the only
time T ever remember Mr. Satterthwaite's saying anything I
cared to hear."
" Wei! now, Mr, Haye, why isn't it just aa well to say ' made
an exception,' as ' allowed an exception ' ? I don't think ' allowed
an exception ' is good English."
" It is good law English, I suppose, Rose."
" Well I don't care — at any rate, he said the Chancellor al-
lowed every one of Mr. Landholm's exceptions,— I suppose you
understand it, — and wouldn't allow a single thing to Mr. Brick ;
and Mr. Brick was the lawyer on the other side; and Mr. S.itr
terthwMte said it was a gi'cat triumph for Mr. Landhobn."
" Duatus 0. Brick ? " said Mr, Haye.
"Yes," said Elizabeth.
"I don't know," said Kose; "he said Mr. Brick, — or the
noted Mr. Brick — I suppose that's the man."
"Dustns O. Brick I" said Mr. Haye— "he's one of the best
men in the bar, and a very clover man too ; a distinguished
lawyer ; there's no one more thought of."
" That's what Mr, Satterthwaite said, — he said so, — he said
it was a gr^at triumph for Mr. Landholm ; — and now Mr. Haye,
wonH you ask him to oome here agaiu as Le used to ? "
" Who ? "
" Winthrop Landholm."
" What for ? "
" Why I want to see him— and so do you, Mr. Haye. Now
Mr. Haye, won't you ?— Though I don't know but Elizabeth
would be the best one to ask bun."
" Why ? " dryly said tie master of the house.
" I guess he'd be more likely to come."
" If I thought so, and it were my part to do it, I certainly
should ask him," said Elizabeth. " There isu't any person so
pleasant as he to take his place, among all that come here."
" You were glad of what Mr. Satterthwaite told us last night
weren't you? " said Eose with a sinister smile.
HcsledbyGoOgle
oOS THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMtlO.
" Vory g!ad I "
" Did you ever hear Mr. Sattertliwaite go on so aliout any-
body? One would have thought Mr. Landholm was hia own
brother. I wonder if that was for your sake, Lizzie ? "
"I presume it was for his own sake," said Elizabeth. "I
should thiuk anyhody who had the privilege of being Mr. land-
holm's friend, would know how to Taluc it."
" You would value it, for instance, I suppose ? "
" I have no doubt I should."
" It seems to me you aJ-e a little too sure of valuing it," said
Mr. Haye, — " for a young lady who has not that privilege,"
Elizabeth's cheelcs burned on the instant, but her eye was
steady, aad it looked full on her father while she asked him,
" Why, sir ? "
" It is not worth while for you to like other people faster than
they like you ? "
" Why not ? " — said Elizabeth, her cheek and eye both deep-
ening in their fire, but her look as steady and full, — " Why not ? —
if it should happen that I am less likeable than they ? "
" Pshaw ! " said Mr. Haye.
" If I were to gauge the respect and esteem I give others, by
the respect and esteem they might be able to give me, — I should
out off maybe the best pleasures of my life."
" Are respect and esteem the best pleasures of your life ? "
said Eose satirically.
" I have never known any superior to them," said Elizabeth.
But she brought, as she spoke, her eye of fire to bear upon her
cousin, who gave way before it and was mum.
" And what may respect and esteem lead to ? " said Mr. Haye.
" I don't know," said Elizabeth. " And I don't care — even
to ask."
" Suppose they are not returned ? "
" I have supposed that in the first place," she answered,
" At that rate you might be over head and ears in your re-
gard for several people at once, none of whom cared a straw for
you," said Mr. Haye.
" When I find several, men or women, that deserve tie sort
of respect aad esteem I am talking of," said Elizabeth — " I am
not talking of a common kind, that you can give common people
— I shall be in a new world ! "
" And have you this sort of ' respect and esteem ' for Mr. Win-
throp Landholm ? " said her father.
" That's another question," said Elizabeth, for the fliist time
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. rfU'J
dropping her eye and speakiDg more quietly ; — " I was talking of
the general principle."
" And I am asking of the particular instance. Have yon
thia respect and esteem for this particular person of your ac-
quaintance ? "
" I never gave it to many people in my life," said Elizabeth,
colouring again somewhat. " Me has as fair a share of it as
most have."
" A little more ? " said Mr. Haye smiling.
This time the answer she flashed at him was of proud and in-
dignant bar to any further questioning — with lier eyes only ; her
lips did not move.
" Does ho know it, Elizabeth ? "
" Know what, sir ? "
" This favour you have expressed for him."
" I have expressed nothing but what I would express for any
one to whom I thought it due."
" But I ask, does he know it ? "
" I feel injured, father, by your asking me sueh questions I —
I presume he does not know, sinoe he has not had the honour of
being told I "
Thts air with -which this waa given was regal.
"I wouldn't tell him, Lizzie," said her father quietly.
But at the insinuation conveyed in these words, Elizabeth's
mood took another turn.
" I will tell whomsoever it may concern to know, at any time
when I see occasion," she answered. "It is not a thing to be
ashamed of; and I will neither do nor think anything I am un-
willing to own."
" xou had bettor reform public opinion in the first place,"
said Mr. Haye dryly.
" Why ? " she said with startling quickness.
" It is apt to hold rather light of young ladies who teU their
minds without being asked."
" How can you speak so, father ! — I said, wlien I saw occa-
sion— -it seems I have very much misjudged in the present
instance,"
"And as that might happen again," said Mr. Haye, " it is
just as safe, on the whole, that the person in question does not
come here any more. I am glad that I have advertised his place
for sale."
" What ! " exclaimed Elizabeth and Bose both at once.
" Hush — don't fire at a man in that way. His father's place,
I should say."
HcsledbyGoOgle
310 THE HILLS OF THE eHATEMDC.
" Whai have you done to it ? " said Elizabeth.
" Adyertised it for sale. You don't hear me as well aa you
do Mr. Sa,ttert]iwaite, it seems."
" How come you to have it to sell ? "
" Because it waa mortgaged to me — years ago — and I can't
get either principal or interest ; so I am tailing the best way 1
can to secure my rights."
" But Mr, Landhobn was your friend ? "
'' Certainly— but I am a hotter friend to myself. Can't do
buainesa with your friends on different prmciples front those you
go upon with other people, Lizzie."
Elizabeth looked at him, with eyes that wouli\ Lave annihi-
lated a large portion of Mr. Haye's principles, if they had been
sentient things. Rose began a running firo of entreati^ that he
would have nothing to do with Sliahweetah, for that she could
not hear the place. Elizabeth brought her eyes back to her
plate, but probably she stiU saw Mr. Haye there, for the expres-
sion of them did not change.
" I'm not going to have anything to do with the place,
Kose," said Mr. Raje—" further than to get it off my hands I
don't want to live there any more than you do. All I want to
do is to pay myself."
" Father," said Elizabeth looting up liuietly, " TU buy it of
" You/" said Mr. Haye,— while Eose went off into a succes-
sion of soft laughs.
" Do you care who does it, BO that you get the money ? "
" No, — but what will you do with it ? "
" Find a way, in time, of conveying it back to its right
owners," said Rose, " Don't you see, Mr. Hayo ? "
Eljzahetl favoured her with a look which effectually spiked
that little gmi, for the time, and turned her attention again to
her lather.
"Do youcate whobuyait of you, so that you get the money?"
'I Why no — but yoa don't want such a piece of property,
" I want just such a piece of property."
" But my child, you can't manage it. It would be an absurd
spending of i/o-ur money. There's a farm of two or three hundred
acres— more, — besides woodland. What could you do with it?"
" Trust nic to take caro of my own. May I have it, father?"
" Mr. Haye ! — " Rose put in, pouting and whimpering, — " I
wish you'd tell Lizzie she's not to look at me bo ! — "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THK HILLS OF THE SHATEMDa 311
" Will you sell it to mo ? " pursued Elizabeth.
" If you'll promise it shall not go hack to the original owners
in any saoh way as Rose hinted."
" Aro those your terma of sale ? " said Elizabeth, " Because,
though I may not choose to submit myself to them, I can find
you another purchaser."
" What do you want of a great piece of land like that ? "
" JTothing ; I want the land itself."
" You can't do anything with it."
" It don't signify, if it all grows up to nettles ! " said Eliza-
beth. " Will you take the money of me and let me take the land
of you ? "
" Hum—" said Mr. Hayo, — " I think you have enlightened
me too much this morning. No — I'll find a more disinterested
purchaser ; and let it teaoh you to take eare of your eyes as well
as your tongue."
Rose bridled, Mr. Haye got up leisurely from the breakfast-
table and was proceeding slowly to the door, when his path was
crossed by his daughter. She stood atill before him.
He might well tell her to take care of her eyes. They glowed
in their sockets as she confronted him, while her cheek was as
blanched as a fire at the heart could leave it. Mr, Haye was ab-
solutely startled and stood as still as she.
" Father," she said, "take care how you drive me too far!
Ton have had some place in my heart, but I warn you it is in
danger.— If you care for it, I warn you I—"
She was gone, like a flash ; and Mr. Haye after casting a sort
of scared look behind him at his wife, wont off too ; probably
thinking he had got enough for one mommg.
No doubt Elizabeth felt so for her part. She had gone to her
own room, where she put herself on a low seat by the window and
sat with labouring breath and heaving bosom, and the fire in her
heart and in her eyes glowing still, though she looked now as if
it were more likely to consume herself than anybody else. If
herself was not present to her thoughts, they were busy with
nothing then present ; but the fire burned.
While she sat there, Clam came in, now one of the smartest of
gay-turhaned handmaidens, and began an elaborate dusting of
the apartment. She began at the door, and by tho time she had
worked round to Elizabeth at the window, she had made by many
times a more careful survey of her mistress than of any piece of
furniture in the room. Elizabeth's head had drooped ; and her
eyes were looking, not vacantly, but with no object in view, out
of the window.
HcsledbyGoOgle
313 THE Hll.I.a OF THE SHATEMUC.
" I guess you want my friend here just now, Miaa 'Lizabeth,"
said Clam, her lips parting just enough to stow the line of white
between them.
" Whom do you mean by your friend ? "
" 0 — Grovernor Landholm, to be sure — he used to fix every-
body straight whenever he come homo to Wuttle Quttle."
Elizabeth passed over the implication that she wanted 'fix-
ing,' and asked, " How ? — "
" I don' know. He used to put 'era all in order, in less'u
no time," said Clam, going over and over the dressing-table with
her duster, as that piece of furniture kept her near her mistress.
" Mis' Landholm nsed to get her face straight the minute his two
feet sounded outside the Louse, and she'd keep it up as long as he
stayed; and Winifred stopped to be queer and behaved like a
Christian; and nobody else in the house hadn't a chance to take
airs but himself."
" What sort of airs did he take ? " said Elizabeth.
"01 don' know," said Clara. ; — " his sort ; — they wa'n't like
nobody else's sort."
" But what do you raeaa by airs ?
" Can't tell," said Clam, — " nothin' like yours, Miss 'Lizabeth,
— I take a notion to wish he was here, once in a while^it wouldn't
do some folks no harm."
" Didn't his coming put you in order too ? "
Clam gave a little toss of her head, infinitely knowing and
satisfied at the same time, and once more and more broadly
shewed the white ivory between her not unpretty parted teeth.
" I think you want putting In order now," said her mistress.
"Always did," said Clara with a slight arch of her eyebrows,
— "always shall. Best get him to manage it, Miaa 'Liaabetli —
he can do it quicker 'n anybody else — for me, — and I dare say
he would for you."
" I don't bcliovo you ever were put in order," said Elizabeth,
— " to stay."
" I didn't use to do a wrong thing as long as he was in the
house ! " said Clam. " Didn't want to. — You wouldn't neither,
if you was in the house with him,"
" What do you mean by Mrs. Landholm's getting her face
straight when he carae ? — ^was'nt it always so ? "
" 'Twa'n't always so," said Clam, — " for when he come, half
the wrinkles went away, and the grey hairs all turned black
There came such a pang to Elizabeth's heart, such a gush to
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE EKATEMTO. 313
ber eyes, that she Lid her face on her knees and heard nothing
of what her handmaid said for a long time after. If Clam talked,
she had the talk all to herself; and when Elizaheth at last raised
her head, her handmaiden was standing on the other side of the
fireplace looking at her, and probahlj making up her mind that
she wanted ' fixing ' very much. There was no further discussion
of the Hubjeet, however ; for Miss Haye immediately called for
her bonnet and veil, wrapped herself in a light scarf and went
out.^ The door had hardly closed upon her whea the hell rang
again, and she eame running up-stairs to her room.
" Clam, get me the newspaper."
" What news, Miss 'Liaaheth f "
" All the newspapers — every one you can find ; — ^yesterday's
and to-day's, or the day before."
Much wondering. Clam hunted the house and brought the
fruits of her search ; and much more wondering, she saw her
mistress spend one hour in closely poring over the columns of
page after page ; she who never took five minutes a day to read
the papers. At last a little bit was carefully eut from one of
those Clam had brought up, and Elizabeth again prepared her-
self to go forth,
" If it had been Mr. Winthrop, now, who was doing that," said
01am, " he'd have took off his hat most likely, and sat down to
it. How you do look, Miss 'Lizabeth ! "
" Mr. Winthrop and I are two difierent people," said Eliza-
beth, hurriedly putting on the one glove she had drawn off.
" Must grow a little more like before you'll bo one and the
same," observed Clam.
Elizabeth let down her veil over her face and went out
again.
With a quick nervous step she went, though the day was
warm, making no delay and suffering no interruption; till she
reached the University where Professor Herder made his daily
and nightly abode. The professor was attending one of his
classes. Elizabeth asked to be shewn to his room.
She felt as if she was on a queer errand, as she followed her
conductor np the wide stone stairs and along the broad corridors,
where the marks were evidently of only man's use and habita-
tion, and now and then a man's whistle or footstep echoed from
the distance through the halls. But she went on swiftly, fiom
one corridor to another, till the guide opened a door and she
stepped out from the public haunts of life to a bit of quite
seclusion.
HcsledbyGoOgle
314 THE HTLLB OF THE 8HATEMU0.
lough place that Mr. Herder called home.
A large, airy, light, kigti-ceilod apartment, where plaialy even tc
a atriDger'a eye, the naturalist had grouped and bestowed around
him all the things he best liked to live among. Enormous glasa
oasea, filled with the illustrations of science, and not les.s of the phi-
losopher's iBvestigating patience, lined all the room ; except where
dark-filled shelves of books ran up between them from the floor to
the ceiling. A pleasant cioth-covorod table, with books and phi-
losophical instruments, stood towards one side of the room, a
little table with a lamp at the other ; and eeattered about, all
over, were big stout comfortable well-worn leather arm-chairs,
that said study and learning sat easy there and often received
visits of pleasure in that room. Elizabeth felt herself as little
akin to pleasure as to learning or study, just then. She put her-
self in one of the great leather chairs, with a sense of being out
of her element — a little piece of busy, bustling, practical life,
within, the very palings of seience and wisdom.
She sat and waited. But that pulse of busy life beat never
the cooler for all the cool aspect of tho place and the grave shade
of wisdom that lingered there ; nay, it throbbed faster and more
flutteringly. Sho got up to try the power of distraction the
glass cases might hold ; but her eye roved restlessly and care-
lessly over object and object of interest that withheld its m
terest from her ; and weariedly she went bick to her srm chair
and covered her face with her hands tl at her mmd might be at
least uninterruptedly busy in its own way
It must have been very bus> or the quick little stop of the
German professor must liavo been very soft withal , for he had
come within a few feet of her before he luiew who ohe was or she
knew that he was there.
" Miss filisabet' 1 " ho exclaimed with a most good-humoured
face of wonderment, — " I never was so honoured before I How
did you get in my arm-ehair ? "
Elizabeth jumped up and shook hands with him, laughing in
very relief to see him come.
" How did I get here ? — I came up through the sun, Mr,
Herder,"
" I have asked you to come in bett m d h natural-
ist,— " tliat is, better for you — dis isvyg 1 nfr me. I
have uozing to do, and I will give you 1 s^ n wh ever you
" No sir, — I am come to give you a 1 ss n M H der."
"Me? Wei!, I will take it," said h ural who begau
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC,
315
at the same time to mm about his r(
jingle glasses together, apparently o
always to take lussons, — it is not often that I have such a teacher.
I will learn the beet I can — after I Lave got you some lemonade.
I have two lemona here, — somevere, — ah ! — "
" I don't want it, Mr. Herder."
" I cannot learn nozing till you have had it," said Mr. Her-
der bringing hia lemona and glasses to the table j — " that sua i:;
beating my head what was beating yours, and it cannot think of
nozing tiU I have had Bomething to cool him off. — "
Elizabeth sat still, and looked, and thought, with her heart
beating.
" I did not know what was in my room when I seo you in my
chair wiz your head down— you must be study more hard thaa
me, Slisa Elisabet' — I never put my head down, for nozing."
" Nor your heart either, I wonder ? " thought Elizabeth.
" I was studying, Mr. Herder, — pretty hard."
" Is that what you are going to give me to study ? " saic. the
paturaliat.
" Sot exactly — it was something about it. I want you to do
something for me, Mr. Herder, — if t may ask you, — and if you
will be 80 very kind aa to take some trouble for me,"
" I do not like trouble," said the na'uralist shaking his head
good-humouredly over a squeeze of hia lemon ; — " dere is no use
in having trouble — I get out of it so soon as I can — but I will
get in it wiz pleaaure for you, Mias Elisabet' — what you tell me
— if you will tell me if that ia ton much sucker."
" To take trouble, and to be in trouble, are not quite the same
thing, Mr. Herder," aaid Klizabeth, having at the moment a vivid
realization of the difference.
" I thought trouble waa trouble," said the naturalist, finiahing
the preparing his own glaaa of lemorade. " If you will leason
me to find trouble ia no trouble — Mias Elisabet' — I will thank
you mach for that."
Elizabeth heartily wiahed anybody could teach her that par-
ticular lesson. She sipped her lemonade, alowly and abstractedly,
busy yet with the atudy which Mr. Herder had broken off; while
he talked benignly and kindly, to eara that did not hear. But
the last of Elizabeth's glass was swallowed hastily and the glass
set down.
" Mr. Herder, I have come to ask you to do something for
" I am honoured, Mies filisabet'," said the philosopher bowing.
HcsledbyGoOgle
316 THE HILLS OF T
" Will you not speak of it to anybody ? "
" Not speak of it ! " said the naturalist. " Tten it is a
secret ? "
Tie quick energetic little bend of Elizabeth's head said be-
fore her lips spoke the word, " Yes ! "
" It is more honour yet," he said. " What am I to do, Miss
Elisahet' ? "
" Nothing, if it will be any real trouble to you, Mr. Herder.
Promise me that first."
" Promise ?— what shall I promise ? " — said Mr. Herder.
" Promise me that if wbat I am going to aak would be any
real trouble to you or to jour business, you will tell me so."
" I do not love to be troubled," said the naturalist. " It
shall not be no trouble to me."
" But promise me that you will tell me, Mr. Herder."
" Suppose you was to tell me first. I cannot teil nozing till
I know."
" You will not speak of it to anybody, Mr. Herder ? "
" I will not speak of nozing, Miss filisabet'."
" Mr. Herder, there is a piece of land which I want to buy j
and I have come to ask you, if you can, and if you will, to buy it
" Miss Elisabet'," said the naturalist looking a little sur-
prised at his fair questioner, — " I will tell you the truth — I have
no money."
" I have, Mr. Herder. But I cannot go into the market and
buy for myself."
" Cer-tain-ly, you cannot do that," said Mr. Herder. " But
what ia it you wish to buy V "
" It is a farm, — " said Elizabeth, feeling glad that her back
was to the light; — " it is a piece of land in the country — up on
the Shatemuc river. I think you have been there, Mr. Herder,
— it is the place where the Landholms' father lives. Wut-a-qut-o,
they call it— or Shahweetah ; — Wut-a-qut-o ia the mountain
opposite."
" Landholm I " cried the Daturalist. "Is it Winthrop's
pkee?"
Elizabeth bowed her head and answered, " His father's."
" Winthrop's place ! Is that what you want. Miss Elisahet '? "
Elizabeth bowed her head again, this time without answering.
" Suppose they might not want to sell it ? " said the natu-
ralist.
" They do not — but they can't help themselves. It must be
sold— they can't pay money that is owing upon it,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HUXS OF THE SHATEMCC. 317
" Money ! " — said the nataraliat ; — " that is de trouble of all
that is in the world. I wish there was no sack thing as money I
It makes all the mischief,"
" Or the want of it," said Elizabeth.
" No ! " said the naturalist, — " it is not that ! I have want
money all my life, Misd Elisahet', and I have never got into no
trouble at alL"
" Except when you fought the duels, Mr. Herder."
" Dai was not no trouble 1 " said the philosopiier. " There
was nozing about money there ; and it was not no trouble, —
neizer before, noizer after."
" I hayo had money all my life ; and it never made me any
trouble,"
"Ah jou have not come to the time," said Mr. Herder.
" Wait, you will find it. Now jou are in trouble because you
want to buy this ground, and you could not do it wizout
money."
" I can't do it with, unless you will help me, Mr. Herder —
you or somebody."
" I could get somebody," said Mr. Herder ; — " I know some-
body what I could get."
" I don't know anybody who would be as good as you, sir."
" I do," said the naturalist. " Where is Mr. Haye ? — is he
" No sir, — I don't wish him to know anything about it, Mr.
Herder. — Ho is the persoa making the sale."
" Your fether ? — do jou mean that Mr. Haye is the man what
is selling the ground of Mr. Landbolm ? "
" Yes sir. And I wish to buy it."
" Then Miss Elisabet', what for do you not ask my frietu
Winthrop to buy it for you ? He knows all business. He will
" I cannot — I have not the liberty— He is not enough afriend
of mine, for me to ask him such a favour."
" But Miss Elisabet', what will you do wiz all that large
ground and water ? "
" Buy it, — first, sir ; and then I will see. I want it."
" I see you do," said the naturalist. " Well, then I shall get
it for JOU — if I can — I hope your money will not get me in
trouble."
" If JOU are at all afraid of that, Mr. Herder, I will find
some other way "
" I never was afraid of nozing in my life, Miss Elisabet'—
HcsledbyGoOgle
318
)■ THE SHATEMUO.
only 1 do not inow neizer how to get monoy, neizcr how to
spend it— in this way. What will Mr. Haje say to mo when I
go to huy all this great land of him f He will say "
" You're not to buy it of Aim, Mr. Herder."
" No ? " said the natnralist. " Of who, then ? I thought
you said ho was going to Bell it."
" Yea, he is — but he has somebody else to do it for him.
Here, Mr. Herder, — here is the advertisement; — see — don't read
the first part, — all thai has nothing to do with it,-~here is the
place. ' At the Merchant's Exchange, in the city of Mannahatta,
on the first day of September, 1821, at 12 o'clock noon of that day '
—and then comes the description of the place. It is to be sold
at public auction."
" Auc-sion? — " said the naturalist.
" It's to be sold in public, to whoever iffcrs to give most
for it."
" O, I know that," said Mr. Herder.
" And dear Mr. Herder, all I ask of you is to be there, at 12
o'clocl; the first of September, and buy it tor me ; and let nobody
know. Can you do it ? "
" I can do so much," said the naturalist. "Ithmklcan. But
suppose somebody will give more than you."
" Do not suppose that, sir. I will giye more than anybody."
" Are you sure you will ? " said the naturalist. " Maybe yon
do not know."
" I do know, sir, and am sure."
" Weil," said tbe naturalist, shaking his head, — " I do not
know much about buying grounds — I do know a lectle of some
things — but I do not know what sort of a lesson is this, Miss l';ii3a-
bet'. But I will see if 1 can do it. Who is going to live up there
" Don't you suppose I can live alone, Mr. Herder."
" Ko, not there," said the naturalist. " You want some one
to take care of you — do engineer, Miss Elisabet'," said he
smiling,
Elizabeth made no answer ; she had risen up to go ; and he
guided her through the halls and down the staircases, till she
was in the open street again. Then, after a farewell squeeze of
his hand and nod of her little head, she pulled her veil down and
went homeward, more slowly than she had come.
" Do I want somebody to take care of me ? " she thought,
" I believe I do ! An ongmeer ? — I do not think tbe engine is
under very good guidance — it is too strong for mo — How could
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE JULLS OS THE BHATEMUO. 319
he know that ? Oh wliat earthly thing would I give, for a band
wiae and strong enough to lead me, and good enough that I could
submit myself to ! "
The wish was so deep drawn that her breast heaved with it,
and starting tears made her draw her veil thicker before them.
She bit her Up, and onee more quickened her steps towards home,
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXIX.
Then Ihink I of doop stjuli.wa on Ibe CTaaa.—
Ofmtartows whcra fn eon the eslUe erazo,
Wbere, US tbe brerses pass,
The rfpamine riuhea Lean s choiiasnd wajs,-
Oflpsves &u slUDilwr la n oloudv niugT
Or nbllen In tba wlnd.-af tmtsre blue
Tiuit ft.™ «is dlstBncB epSTkle ihn.ugb
FiNBiNU that the old farm must pass out of his hands, Mr.
Landbolm made up his mind not to spend aiiotlier summer of la-
bour and of life upon it ; but at once with his son Asahel to move
off to the West. He stayed but to reap the standing crops of win-
ter grain, dispose of stock, and gather up all the loose ends of bus-
: ^jjj Yutt the hills of the Shatemue, to seek better fortunes
'i'hey passed through Mannahatta on their way, that they
might have a short sight of Winthrop and Winifred and say good-
bye to them. It was not so joyful a tIsU that anybody wished it
to be a long one.
" It's pretty hard," said the farmer, " to start life anew again
at my time of day; but these arms are not worn out yet; I
guess they'll do something — more or less — on a new field."
_ " Asaiel's got strong arms, father," said Winifred, who waa
fain to put in a word of comfort when she could.
" Ay, and a strong heart too," said his father. " He's a fine
fellow. He'll do, I gness, in the long run,^t the West or some-
where ; and at the West if anywhere, they say. I'm not coacemed
much about him."
" There's no need, I think," said Winthrop,
" Where's Will ? — and what's he doing ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS or THE 8HATEMU0. S^Zl
" Will has just set off for Charleston — on some agency bus-
"Charleston in South Carolina?"
" Yes."
" Then be is not engineering now ? "
" No."
" How long does he expect to he gone ? "
" Some moaths — more or leas; — I don't know."
" la it a good hnainess for him ? "
" He has chosen it, — not I."
" I would sooner trust your ehoice," said the fatter. " There's
one thing Eufus wants; and that is, judgment."
" He'll do yet," aaid Wlnthrop. " And I shall not leave you
long at the West, father. You will eome when I send for you ? "
" No, my boy," said the farmer looking gratified ; — " I'll live
by my owq hands as long as I have hands to live by; and as I
aaid, mine haven't given out yet I No— if the Lord prospers ua,
we'll have a visit from you and Winnio out thore, I expect by
and by, when wo get tkiDgs in order; you and Winnie, tnd
anybody else you've a mind to bring along ! "
It was spoken heartily, but with a tear in the eye; and no-
body answered ; unlesa it were answer, the long breath which
Winnie drew at the very idea of such a visit.
Wiathrop heard it ; but through the long weeka of summer he
oould give her nothing more of country refreshment than the old
wallia on the Green and an occasional ride or walk on the opposite
shore of one or the other of the rivera that bordered the city.
Business held him fast, with a grip that he must not loosen;
though he saw and knew that his little sister's face grew daily
more thin and pale, and that her slight frame was slighter and
slighter. His arm had less and less to do, even though her need
called for more. Ho felt af if she was slipping away from Mm.
August came.
" Winnie," said he one evening, when he came home and found
her lying on her eoueh as usual, — " how would you like to go up
and pay Karen a visit ? "
" Karen ? " said Winnie, — " where ? "
" At home. — At Wut-a-quto."
" Wut-arqut-o ! " said Winnie; — "is Karen there? I thought
Shahweetah was sold."
" It isn't sold yet — it won't bo till September — and Karen
is there yet, keeping house with her brother Anderese."
" Anderese ! — ^ia old Anderese there ? " said Winnie. "01
14*
HcsledbyGoOgle
322 THE HILLS OV THE BHATEMUC.
stould like to go, Grovemor ! " she said raising herself on hei
elbow. " Can we ? "
" Yea, if you like. Hildebrand Cowslip is down here with
his fatber'a sloop how would you like to go up in her?"
" la the sloop ?— 0 how good ! " said Winnio bringing her
thin handa together. " Can we ? But dear G-OTernor, you can't
be away r
" Yes — ^just as well as not. There isn't much doing in Auguat
— everybody takes a resting iime; and ao you and I will, Win-
nie," said he, bending down to kiss her.
Winnie looked up at him gratefully and loringly with her
wistful large eyes, the more esprcsaire from the setting of illness
and weakness in the face.
" I'd like you to have a rest, de:
He stood stroking back the ringlets from the thin blue-veined
" Wouldn't it do you good to see Wut-a-qut-o again ? "
" O I am sure it would! — And you too, wouldn't it? "
" I am good enough already," said Winthvop looking down at
her.
" Too good," said Winnie looking up at him. " I guess you
want pulling down I "
She had learned to read his face so well, that it was with a
pang she saw the look with which he turned off to his work. A
stranger could not have seen in it possibly anything but bis eom-
mon grave look; to Winnie there was the slight shadow of some-
thing which seemed to say the ' pulling down ' had not to be waited
for. So slight that she could hardly tell it was there, yet so sha-
dowy she was sure it had come from something. It was not in
the look merely— it was in the air,— it was, she did not know
what, but she felt it and it made her miserable. She could not
see it after the first minute ; his face and shoulders, as be sat read-
mg his papers, had their usual calm stability ; Winnie lay looking
at him, outwardly calm too, but mentally tossing and turning.
She could not bear it. She crawled off her couch and came
and sat down at his feet, throwing her arms around his knee and
looking up at him.
" Dear Governor ! — I wish you had whatever would do you
" The skill of decyphering would do mo a little good just now,"
said her brother. She could detect nothing peculiar in look or
word, though Winnie's eyes did their best.
" But somehow I don't feel as if you had," she went on to
say.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE 8HATEM0C, 323
"Where is your faith ? " — he aaid quietly, aa he made a note
in the margin of the paper he was reading. Winnie could make
nothing of him.
" Governor, whea shall we go? "
" Hildebrand movea his sloop off to-morrow afternoon."
" And shall we go to-morrow ? "
" If you don't object."
Winnie left the floor, clapping her hands together, and went
back to hor couch to think over at large the various preparations
which she must make. Which pleasant business hold her all the
CYoning.
They were not large preparations, however; longer to think of
than to do ; especiaUy as Winthrop took upon himself the most
of wliat was done. One or two nick-nackeries of preparation, in
the shape of a new basket, a now book, and a new shawl, seemed
delightful to Winnie; though she did not immediately see what
she might want of the latter in August.
" We shall find it cooler when wo get under the shadow of Wut-
a-qut-o, Winnie," said her brother; and Winnie was onlj too
glad of a pretext to take the pretty warm wrapper of grey and
blue worsted along.
She did not want it when they act out, the rest afternoon.
It waa very warm in the streets, very warm on the quays ; and
even when the sloop. pushed her way slowly out and left the quays
at her back, there was little air stirring and the August sun beat
down steadily on river and shore.
" This don't look much like gettin' up to Cowslip's Mill this
night," said the skipper. " Ain't it powerful I "
" The wind is coming off from the South," said Wiiithrop.
" Yea, I felt some little puffs on my cheek," said Winnie.
" Glad to hear i*." said the sloop master, a tall, bony, ill-aet-
together specimen of a shore and water man ; — " there ain't enough
now to send an egg-shell along, and I'd like to shew you a good
run, Mr. Landholm, since you're goin' along with me. She looks
smart, don't she ? "
" If she'll only work as well," said Winthrop. " Hild', you
haven't got much cargo aboard."
" Only as much as'll keep her steady," answered the skipper.
" 'Seems to me nobody ain't a wantin' nothin' up our ways. I
guess you're the heaviest article on board, Winthrop ; — she never
carried a lawyer before."
" Are lawyers heavy articles ? " said Wbnie laughing.
"'Cordin' to what I've heern, I should say they be; ain't
HcsledbyGoOgle
32i THE HUXS OF T
they, squire? — oonai^erable, — eapeeiaJly when they get on folka'a
hands. I hope you're a better sort, Winthrop, — or aiu't there
much choice in 'em ? "
" Yoa ahall try me when you get into trouhle," said Win-
" la this Mr, Cowslip's old sloop ? " said Winnie.
" She don't look old, does she ? " inquired Mr. Hildehrand.
" But I mean, is it the same he used to have ? — No, she looka
very handsome indeed."
" She's the old one though," said the skipper, " the same old
Julia Ann, What's the use o' askin' ladies' ages ? — she's juat aa
good as when she was young; and better diesaed. I've had the
cabin fixed up for you, Mr. LandhoSm,— -I guess it'll be pretty
comfortable in there."
" It's a great deal pleaaanter here," said Winnie. " There
cornea the wind ! — that was a puff! — "
" Well we're ready for it," said the skipper.
And stronger puffs came after, and sooa a steady fair south-
erly breeze set up the river and sent the Julia Ann on before it.
Straight up the river their course lay, without veering a point for
miles. The sun was lowering towards the horizon and the heat
was lessening momently, even without the south breeze which
bade it be forgotten; and the blue walere of the river, ao sluggish
a little while ago, were briskly curling and rippling, and heading
like themselves for Wut-a-qut-o.
Wiunie sat still and silent in the shadow of the huge sail.
Winthrop was standing close beside her, talking with the skipper;
but he knew that his Httle sister had hold of hia hand and had laid
her unbonueted head against his arm; and when the skipper left
him he stooped down to her.
" What do you think of it, Winnie ? "
" 0 Winthrop I — how deliiious ! — Aren't you glad it la such
beautiful world ? "
" What are you thinking of in particular ? "
" 0 everything. 1 1 isn't down here like Wut-a-qut-o, but every-
thing ia ao delicious the water and the shore and the sunshine
and the wind ! "
" Poor Winnie," said her brother stroking her hair, — " you
haven't seen it in a good while."
She looked up at him, a glance which touehingly told him that
where he waa abe wanted nothing; and then turned her eyea
again towards the river.
" I waa thinking. Governor, that maybe I shall never go up
here again."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HFLIa OF THE SHATEM0O. 325
" Well 'Winnie ?— "
" I am very glad I can go this time. I am so mucli obliged
to you for bringing me."
" Obliged to me, Winnie ! "
He had placed himself behind his little sister, with one hand
holding her lightly by each shoulder; and calm as his tcne was,
perhaps there oame a sudden thought of words that he knew very
" There fairer floners than Edeii'e Tiloom,
" I onward press to you.''— —
For he was silent, though his face wore no more than its ordi-
nary gravity.
" Governor," said Winnie half tumina her head round to him,
" I wish these people were not all round here within hearing, 90
that we could sing. 1 feel just like it."
" By and by, Winnie, I dare say we can."
" How Boon do you think we shall get to Wut-a-qut-o."
" Before morning, if the wind holds."
The wind held fair and rather strengthened than lost, aa the
evening went on. Under fine headway the Julia Ann swept up
tie river, past promontory and bay, nearing and nearing her goaL
Do her best, however, the Julia Ann could not bring them that
night to any better sleeping advantages than her own little cabin
afforded; and for those Wmthrop and Winnie were in no hurry
to leave the deck. After the skipper's hospitality had been doubt-
fully enjoyed at supper, and after they had refreshed themselves
with seeing the sua set and watching the many-coloured clouds he
left behind him, the moon rose in the other quarter and threw her
' silver light ' across the deck, just as duskiness was beginning to
steal on. The duskiness went on and shrouded the hills and the
distant reaches of the river in soft gloom ; but on board the Julia
Ann, on her white sails and deck floor where the brother and sis-
ter were sitting, and on a broad pathway of water between them
and the moon, her silver light threw itself with brightening and
broadening power. By and by Mr. Hildebrand's two or three
helpers disposed of themselves below deck, and nobody was left
but Mr. Hildebrand himself at the helm.
" Now we can sing ! " exclaimed Winnie, when one or two
turns of her head had made her sure of this; and to Winthiop's
surprise she struck up the very words part of which had been in
his own remembrance.
HcsledbyGoOgle
326 THE HTCLB OF THE SHATEMDO.
" ' Jemsalem I my happj home —
" ' Name ever dear to me—
'"When shall my labours have an ead,
"'In joy and peace In thee! '"
Winnie's voice was as sweet and clear aa a bird's,
left it not much stronger ; that of her brother was deep, mellow,
and exceeding fine ; it was no wonder that the skipper turned his
head and forgot his tiller to catch the fulness o*' every note.
When the last had sounded, there WiS nothing to be heard but
the rippling of water under the sloop's prow ; the sails were
steady and fuU, the moonlight not more noiseless ; the wind swept
on with them softly, just giving a silent breath to their cheeks;
the skipper held his tiller with a moveless hand,
" What next, Winnie 'I " her brother whispered. The soft
gurgle of the water had been beard for several miuutes.
" How fond Karen is of that hymn," said Winifred. " Gov-
vernor, do you tbink I shall live long in this world ? "
She was leaning, half tying, upon Winthrop, with bis arm
round her. Her voice had put the C[Tiestion in precisely the same
tone that it had given the remark.
" Why do you ask me that, Winnie ? "
" Beoauas — sometimes 1 tbink I sha'n't, — and I want to know
what yon think,"
" You will live, I am sure, dear Winnie, till God baa done
for yon all he means to do ;— till he has fitted bis child for heaven ;
— and then he will take her."
" I know that," said Winifred with a grateful half look up at
him ;— " but I mean — you know I am not well quite, and weak,
and I don't think I get any better ; — don't you think that it
won't take a very great while, very likely ? "
" How would you feel Winnie, if you thought that was so ? "
" I do think it sometimes — pretty oft«n," — said Winnie,
" and it don't make me feel sorry. Governor."
" You ^hink heaven is beUer than ' "
" Yes, — and then — that's one go
don't seem as if I ever could do mi
the less."
" Nobody knows how much he does, who does his duty," said
Winthrop.
" Why I can't do anything at all ! " said Winnie.
" Every talent that isn't buried brings something into the
treasury," said Winthrop.
" Yes — that's pleasant," said Winnie ; — " but I don't know
h if fill
HcsledbyGoOgle
TBE HILLS OF THE SHATEMCC. 337
" The good that people do unconsciously is often more than
that they inteod,"
" Unconsciously ! — But then they don't know whether they do
it or not ? "
" It don't hurt them, not to tnow," said her brother smiling.
" But what sort of good-doing is that, Winthrop ? "
" It only happens in the case of those persons whose oye is
very single ; — with their eye full of the light they are reflecting,
they caonot see the reflection. Bot it is said of those that ' their
works do follow them.' "
Winnie was tearfully silent, thinking of the ingathering of
joy there would be for one that she knew; and if Winthrop'a
arm was drawn a little closer round her little flgurp perhaps
it was with a like thought for her. How bright the moonlight
ehoae J
" That's pleasant to think, Governor, — both parts of it," said
"Winifred softly, beating his hand slightly with one of her own.
He was silent.
" Now won't yoa sing something else ? — for I'm tired," she
said, nestling her head more heavily on his breast.
And he sang again. ■
" ' Vain lira all terrestmal pleasures,
" ' Mixed with dross the purest gold ;
" ' Seek we then for hearenlj treasaroa,
" ' Treasures never growing old.
" ' Lat our best oifections centre
" ' On the things around the throne ;
" 'There no thief can ever enter,—
" ' Earthly joya no longer please ua,
"'Hero would we renounce them all,
'" Seek our only rest in Jesna,
" ' Him oor Lord and Master call.
" ' Faith, our languid spirits cheering,
" ' Points to bnghter worlds above ;
" ' Bids us look tor his appearing,
" ' Bids ua triumph in hi^^ love.
" 'Lousing for iha joyful sound.
' ' Thua the chriatian life adorning,
'"Never need we be afraid,
' ' Should he come at night or momii
'"Ear^ dawn, or evamng sliade.'"
H™.db,Googlc
o-^O THE HILLS OF THE SHiTBMtTC.
_ The air was slow, tender, and plaintive, and borne by the deep
voice over all the breadth of the moon-lit river. Winnie's breath
was fuller drawn ; the skipper held hia, and forgot his helm ;
and in every pause of the song, the sweet interlude was played
by the water under the sloop's prow,
" Governor " said Winnie, when the bubbling water had
been listened to alone for a while.
"What?"
" Do you think those words are quite true ? "
" Those words of the hymn ? "
" Yes— some of them. I think you like that hymn better
than I do. ' Earthly joys no longer please us ' ; — do you think
that is right ?— They please me."
"It ia only by comparison that they can be true, Winnie,
certainly ;— except in the case of those persons whose power of
enjoyment is by some reason or other taken away."
" But you like that hymn very much ? "
"Yes. Don't you?"
" I like part of it very much, and I like the tune; but I
like to be able to saj all the words of a hymn. How sweet that
was I — Gfovernor, don't you think it would bo pleasant to stav
here all night?" "^
" Singing ? "
" No — bat talking, and sleeping."
"I am afraid i
oblige you to sleep
" Then I'll go right away. Do you thinkwe shall be at Wut-
a-qut-o in the morning ?"
" If the wind holds."
By Winthrop's care and management the little cabin was
made not absolutely an comfortable, and Winnie's bed was laid on
the floor between door and window so that she could sleep with-
out being smothered. He himself mounted guard outside, and
sleeping or waking kept the deck for the whole night.
" Governor," said Winnie cautiously putting her head out at
the door, just as the summer dawn was growing into day, — " Gov-
ernor I — are we there ? "
" We are here.''''
"Where?"
" Lying at Cowslip's Mill."
" Oh 1 "
The rest of Winnie's joyous thought was worked into her
shoes and dress and bonnet-strings, and put away in her bag with
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLia OF THE BHATEMTJO. 329
her night-cap. How fast it was al! done ! and she pushed open
her caoin door and stood on the deck with Wintlirop.
Yes — there was the green wooded shore — how fresh to her
eyes 1 — There was Mr. Cowslip's brown old house and mill ;
there was the old stage I'oad ; and turning, there two miles
off lay Shabwcetah, and there rose up Wut-a-qut-o's green head.
And with a sob, Winnie hid her faoe in Winthrop's arms. But
then ia another minute she raised it again, and clearing away the
mute witnesses of joy and sorrow, though it was no use for they
gathered again, she looked steadily. The river lay at her feet
and stretched away off up to Shahweetah, its soft gray surface
unbroken by a ripple or an eddy, smooth and hriglit and still.
Diver's Rook stood out in its old rough outline, till it cut off the
west end of Shahweetah and seemed to shut up the channel of the
river. A little tiny thread of a north wind came down to them
from Home, over the river, with sweet promise. And as they
looked, the morning light was catching Wut-a-qut-o's grave head,
and then hill-top after hill-top, and ridge after ridge of the high
mountain land, till all of them were alight with the day's warm
hues, while all beneath slept yet in the greys of the dawn. The
brother and sister stood side by side, perfectly silent ; only Win-
nie's tears ran, sometimes with such a gush that it broiight her
head down, and sobs that could be heard came to Winthrop's
ears. They stood till they were hailed by the old miller.
" Ha ! Winthrop — glad to see ye I how do you do ? Haven't
seen your face this great while. Winnie ? is it ? — G-lad to see
ye ! She's growed a bit. Come right along into the house — we'll
have something for breakfast by and by, I expect. I didn't know
you was here till five minutes ago — I was late out myself— ain't
as spry as I used to be ; — Come ! " —
" Oh Governor, let's go straight home ! " said Winnie.
" There's time enough yet, Mr. Cowslip, for your purposes.
What o'clock do you suppose it is ? "
" Well, I s'pose it's somewhere goin' on to six, ain't it ? "
" It has left five. We can breakfast with Karen yet, Winnie."
" Oh do, Governor ! "
" If you'll give us a boat Instead of a breakfast, Mr. Cowslip,
we will thank you just as much, and maybe take your hospitality
another time."
"But won't you stop and take just a mouthful first? you'd
better,"
" No thank you. We shall have to take it up there; and
two breakfasts a day don't agree with me."
HcsledbyGoOgle
vrow on Mr. Cowslip's part, this was submitted
3 got out; Hildebrand dropped into it and took
ig he wouldn't miDd going himself; " and Win-
throp and Winnie sat close together in the stern. Not to steer ;
for Hildebrand was much too accustomed aa oarsman to need
anj such help in coasting the river for miles up and down.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XXX.
Awsy, aw»T, from men and towni,
To tbe wikl woiKt and tha dowuB—
Winnie drew a breath of gratification, as the oars began to
dimple the still water and the little boat rounded out from be-
hind the wharf and headed up the river ; the very same way by
which Winthrop had taken Mr, Haye's two young ladies once
long before. The tide was just at the turn, and Hildebraud
made a straight run for the rooks.
_ " How pleasant it is to hear the ears again I " Winnie said.
Winthrop said nothing.
Swiftly they pulled up, dappling the smooth grey water with
falling drops from the oar-blades, and leaving behind them two
lines of spreading wavelets that tracked the boat's way. Cow-
slip's Mill fell into the distanne, and all that shore, as they pulled
out into the middle of the river ; then they drew near the old
granite ridge of Diver's Kock on the other side. The sun had
got so low down as that now, and the light of years ago was on
the same grey bluffs and patches of wood. It was just like yeara
ago ; the trees stood where they did, ay, and the sunlight ; the
same shadows fell ; and the river washed the broken foot of the
point with, it might be, the very same little waves and eddies. And
there, a mile further on, Wut-a-qut-o's high green side rose up
from the water. Winnie had taken off her bonnet and sat with her
head resting upon Winthrop's side or arm, her common position
whenever she could get it. And she sat and looked, first at one
thing and then at another, with qaiet tears running and eome-
HcsledbyGoOgle
332 THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMDO.
times streaming down her face. Then tho boat struck off from
Diver's Rock and pushed straight over for the rocks of Sliah-
weetah. As it Deared them, the dear old trees stood forth more
plainly to view, each one for itself; and the wonted footholds, on
turf and stone, could he told aud could bo seen, apart one from
the other. Poor Winnie could not look at them then, but she put
her head down and sobbed her greeting to them all.
" Winnie," — said Winthrop softly, and she felt Ms arm closer
drawn around her, "you must not do that."
It mattered little what Winthrop asked Winnie to, do; she
never failed to obey him. She stopped crying now, and in another
moment was smiling to him her delight, tnrough. the drops that
held their place jet in her eyes and on her cheeks.
The little boat waa shoved in to the usual place am.ong the
rocks and the passengers got out.
" What's the fare, Hild ' ?— sloop and all ? "
The skipper stood on the ronks and looked into the water.
" Will you let me come to you to clear me out, the first time
I get into trouble ? "
" Yes,"
" Then we're sc[uare ! " he said, preparing to jump back into
his boat.
'• Then hasn't come," said Winthrop ; " let's keep things square
as wc go along,"
" All right," said the skipper. " Couldn't take nothin' from
you the first time. Governor."
Aud Hildebrand after giving Winthrop's hand a shake, into
which there went a sort of grateful respect which he would never
have yielded to one who had laid any manner of claim to it,
dropped into his seat again and pushed off. Winthrop and Win-
nie turned their steps slowly towards the house.
Very slowly; for each step now was what they had come for.
How untravelled the road was !
" How it looks as if we didn't live here, Governor," Winnie
said with half a sigh.
" Old Karen and Anderese don't oome this way very often,"
replied her brother.
" Governor, I am very sorry it has got to be sold ! "
They walked a few more steps up the rooky path iu silence.
" 0 Governor, look at that groat limb of that eedar tree — —
all dragging 1 What a pity."
"Broken by the wind," said Winthrop.
" How beautifully the ivy hangs from that cedar — just aa it
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE aHATEMUO. ddd
did. Dear Governor, won't you get a saw while you're tere, and
take off the branch and make it look nice again ? — aa nice as
it can ; and there's the top of that little white pine ! "
" Winter-killed," said Winthrop.
" Won't you put it in order, aa you used to do, this one time
" If I can get a saw, I will, Winnie, — or a hatchet."
" I'm sorry we can't do it but this one time more," said Win-
nie, with a second and a better defined sigh, aa they reached the
house level. " 0 how funny it looks, Governor! how the grass
haa run Tip ! and tow brown it is 1 But the cedars don't change,
do they ? "
" It is August, Winnie," was all Winthrop's remark.
The front of the house was shut up; they went round. Old
Anderese was cutting wood at the back of the house ; but with-
out stopping to enlighten him, Winthrop passed on and led Win-
nie into the kitchen. There the kitchen fire was burning as of yore,
and on the hearth before it stood Karen, stooping down to over-
see her cooking breakfast. At Wiothrop'a voice she started and
turned. She looked at them ; and then came a long and pro-
longed " Oh ! " of most mingled and varied tone and espres-
siou ; hands and eyes keeping it company.
"Karen, we have come to see you."
In perfect silence she shook the hand of each, and then sat
down and threw her apron over her face. Winnie stood still and
sobbed ; Winthrop walked off.
" Oh, dear," said the old woman presently rising and coming
up to Winine, " what's made ye come to see me again ?
What did you come for, dear ? "
The tone was wondering and caressing, and rejoicing, all in
a breath. Winnie dried her eyes and answered as well as she
" Why we wanted to see the old place again, Karen, and to
Bee you; and G-overnor thought it would do me good to be in
the country a little while; and he couldn't come before, and so
we have come up now to stay a few days. And we've brought
things to eat, so you needn't be troubled about that."
" Te needn't," said old Karen. " Anderese and me'd find
somethina; for yon to eat, in all the wide country — do ye think we
wouldo't [^ And how are you, dear," said she scanning Winnie's
pale face ; — '■ are ye ever yet any stronger ? "
Winnie shook her head smiling and answered, " Not much."
HcsledbyGoOgle
334 THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMTIC.
"I see ye ain't. Well— je're the Lord's child. He'll do
wliat he will with his own. Where did ye come from, dear ? "
" Up from Mr. Cowslip's mill," said Winnie. " We eame in
hty sloop last night."
" The sloop!" said Karen. " Why then je haven't had any-
thing to eat ! — and what was I thinliiug of ! Sit down, dear
take your own chair, till I get the other room fit for ye ; and you
shall have breakfest jus' so soon I can make it. Where's the
Governor gone to?"
Ho came in; and Karen's face grew bright at the sight of
him. All the while she was getting the breakfast he stood talk-
ing with her ; and all the while, her old fece kept the broad gleam
of delight that had come into it with his entering the kitchen.
With what zeal that breakfast was cooked for him ; with wliat
pleasure it was served. And while they were eating it, Karon
sat in the ohimney corner and looked at them, and talked.
" And isn't the place sold then. Governor ? "
" Not yet, Karen in a few weeks it will be."
" And who's goin' to bny it ? "
" I don't know."
" And ye ain't goin' fur to buy it yourself?"
" JNo Karen — I am not rich enough to keep a country house."
" You had ought to have it," said Karen. " It don't belong
to nobody else but you. And you don't know who's a aoip,' to
have it. Governor? "
" I don't know."
" 'Tain't likely they'll let the old woman stay in her coriler,
whoever they'll be," said Karen. " Well — 'tain't fur now to the
end, — and then I'll get a better place whore they won't turn me
out. I wish I was there. Governor."
"'There' will be better at the end of your way, Karen, than
at any other time."
" Ay — 0 I know it, dear; but I get so impatient, days,
I want to be gone. It's better waiting."
" Perhaps you'll have something yet to do for us, Karen,"
said Winnie.
" Te're too fur off," said the old woman. " Karen's done all
she can for ye when she's took eare of ye this time. But I'll
find what I have to do — and I'll do it — and then I'll go ! "
she said, with a curious modulation of the tones of her voice that
came near some of the Methodist airs in which she delighted.
"Governor '11 take care o' you, Winnie; and the Lord '11 take
care o' bim ! "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE 6HATEMUC. 335
Botli brother and sister smiled a. little at Karen's arrangement
of things; but neither eoatradicted her,
" And how do you manage here, Karen, all alone ? — do you
keep comfortable ? "
" I'm comfortable, Mr. Wiathrop," she said with half a smile ;
— " I hare lived comfortable all my life. I seem to see Mis'
Landholm round now, times, jus' like she used to be; and I
know we'll bo soon all together again, I think o' that when I'm
dreary."
Sae was a singular old figure, as she sat in the corner there
with her head a little on one side, leaning her cheek on her finger,
and with the quick change of energetic life and subdued patience
" Don't get any dinner for us, Karen," said Winthrop as they
rose from table. " We have enough for dinner in our basket."
" Ye must take it back again to Mannahatta," said Karon.
" Te'r dinner '11 be ready — roast chickens and new potatoes and
huckleberry pie — the chickens are just fat, and ye never see nicer
potatoes this time o' year ; and Anderese don't pick very fast,
but he'll have huckleberries enough home for you to eat all the
■ways ye like. And milk I know ye like 'm with, Governor."
" G-ive me the basket then, Karen, and I'll furnish the buckle-
berried."
" He'll do it — ^Anderese '11 get 'em, Mr. Wintlirop, — not
you."
"Give me the basket I 1 would rather do it, Karen.
Andereae has got to dig the potatoea"
" 0 yes, and we'll go out and spend the morning in the woods,
won't we, Governor ? " said his sister.
The basket and Winnie were ready together and the brother
and sister struck off into the woods to the north of the house.
They had to cross but a little piece of level ground and sunshine
and they were under the shade of the evergreens which skirted
all the home valley. The ground as soon became uneven and
rocky, broken into little heights and hollows, and strewn all over
with a bedding of stones, large and small; except where narrow
foot-tracks or cowpatha wound along the mimic ravines or gently
climbed the hilly ridges. Among these stones and sharing the
soil with them, uprose the cedars, pines, hemlocks, and a pretty
intermingling of deciduous trees; not of very tall or vigorous
growth, for tbe land favoured them not, but elegant and pietu-
resc[ue in varied and sweet degree. That it pleased those eyes
to which it had bees long familiar, and lone strange, was in no
HcsledbyGoOgle
336 THE TTTT.T.B OF THE EHATEMUC.
LeaviDg the beatea paths, the brother and sister tiirDed to
tlie right ot the first little ravine they had entered, just where a
large boulder crowned with a tuft of ferns marked the spot, and
toiled up a very rough and steep rising. Winthrop'a help was
needed here to enable Winnie to keep footing at all, much more
to make her way to the top. There were steep descents of ground,
spread with dead pine leaves, a pretty red-brown carpeting most
dainty to the eyes but very unsure to the foot ; — there were sharp
turns in the rocky way, with huge granitic obstacles before and
around them ; — Winnie could not keep on her feet with.out Win-
throp's strong ana; although in many a rough pitch and steep
rise of the way, young hickories and oaks lent their aid to her
hand that was free. Mosses and lichens, brown and black with
the summer's heat, clothed the rooks and dressed out their barren-
ness ; green tufts of fern nodded in many a nook, and kept their
greenness still; and huukleberry bushes were on every hand, iu
every spare plaee, and standing full of the unreaped black and blue
harvest. And in the very path, under their feet, sprang many
au unassuming little green plant, that in the Spring had lifted its
head in glorious beauty with some delicate crown of a flower. A
stranger would have made nothing of them ; but Winnie and
Winthrop knew them, all, crowned or uncrowned.
"It's pretty hard getting up here. Governor — I guess I
haven't grown strong since I was here last; and these old yellow
pines are so rotten I am afraid to take hold of anything — -but your
hand. It's good you are sure-footed. 0 look at the Solomon's
Seal — don't you wish it was in flower ! "
" If it was, we shouldn't have any huekloberries," said her
brother.
"There's a fine parcel of them, isn't there, Winthrop? 0
let's stop and pick these — there are nice ones — and let me rest."
Winnie sat down to breathe, with her arm round the trunk of
a pine tree, drinking in everything with her eyes, while that cluster
of bushes was stripped of its most promising berries ; and then a
few steps more brought Winthrop and Winnie to the top of the
height.
Greater barrenness of soil, or greater exposure to storms, or
both causes together, had left this hill-top comparatively bare ;
and a few cedars that had lived and died there had been cut away
by the ase, for firewood; making a still further clearance. But
the shallow soil everywhere supported a covering of short grass or
more luxuriant mosses ; and enough cedars yet made good their hold
of life and standing to overshadow pretty well the whole ground ;
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLS OF THE SHATEMUO. 337
leaving _ the eye nndiecked in its upward or downward rovings.
The height was about two hundred feet above the level of the
river, and seemed to stand in mid-channel, Sliahweetah thrusting
itself out between the north and southerly courses of the stream,
and obliging it to bend for a little space at a sharp angle to the
West. The north aud south reaches, and the bend were all eom-
manded hj the height, together with the whole western shore and
southern and southeastern hills. To the northwest was Wut-a-
qut-o, seen almost from the water's edge to the top ; hut the out-
jutting woods of Shahweetah impinged upon the mountain's base,
and cut the line of the river there to the eye. But north there
was no obstruction. The low foreground of woods over which
the hOl-top looked, served but as a base to the picture, a setting
on the hither side. Beyond It the Shatemuc rolled down from
the north iu uninterrupted view, the guardian hills, Wut-a-qut-o
aad its companions, standing on either side ; and beyond them,
far beyond, was the low western shore of the river sweeping round
to the right, where the river made another angle, shewing its soft
tinte; and some faint and clear blue mountains still further off,
the extreme distance of all. But what varied colouring,- —
what fresh lights and shades, what sweet contrast of fair blue
sky and fair blue river,— the one, earth's motion; the other
heaven's rest; what deep and bright greens in the foreground,
and what shadowy, faint, cloud-like, tints of those far off moun-
tains. The soft north wind that had greeted the travellers in the
early morning, was blowing yet, soft and warm ; it flickered the
leases of the oaks and chestnuts with a lazy summer stir; white
sails spotted the broad bosom of the Shatemuc and came dowr
with summer gentleness from the upper reaches of the river. And
here and there a cloud floated over; and now and then a looust
SMg his monotone; and another soft breath of the North wind
said tliat it was August; and the grasshoppers down in the dell
said yes, it was.
Winnie sat or lay down under the trees, and there Winthrop
left her for a while ; when he came hack it was with flushed face
and crisped hair and a basket full of berries. He threw himself
down on the ground beside Winnie, threw his hat off on the
other side, and gave her the basket. Winnie set it down again,
after a word of comment, and her head took its wonted place of
rest with a little smothered sigh,
"How do you feel, Winnie?" said her br:ther, passing hii
hand gently overier cheek.
HcsledbyGoOgle
S38 THE HlltS OF THE 8HATEMU0.
"01 feel very well," said Winnie. " But Govertior, I wiab
you could keep all this ! — "
"I couldn't live here and ia Mannahatta too, Winnie.'
" But Governor, you don't mean always to live in Mannahatta,
do you ? — and nowhere else ? "
■' My work ia there, Winnie."
" Yes, but jou can't play there, Governor."
" I don't want to play," he said gently and lightly.
" Bat why. Governor ? " — said Winnie, whom the remark made
uneasy, she couldn't tell why; — " why don't you want to play ?
why Wouldn't you ? "
" I feel more appetite for work."
" But you didn't use to he so," said Winnie, raising her head
to look at him. "You used to like play as well as anyhody,
Winthrop ? "
"Perhaps I do yet, Winnie, if I had a chance.
" But then what do you mean by your having more appetite
for work ? and not wanting to play ? "
" I BTippose it meana no more but that the chance is wanting.
" But why ia it wanting, Governor ? ''
" Why ajo your Solomon's Seals not in flower ? "
Winnie turned her head to look at them, and then brought it
round again with the uneasiness in full force.
" But Governor I — you don't mean to say that your life ia like
" Like what, Winnie ? " said ho with a pleaaant look at her.
"Why, anything so dismal — ^liketho Solomon's Seals with the
fl-ower gone ? "
" Are they dismal ? "
" Why, no, — but you would he, if you were like anjthmg of
that kind."
" Do I look like anything of that kind ? "
" No " said Winnie, " mdeed you don't, — you never looJc the
least bit dismal in the world."
" I am not the least hit in the world, Winnie."
" I wish you had everything in the world that would give you
pleasure ! " she said, looking at him wistfully, with a vague nn-
selfish consciousness that it might not all he for hers.
" That would he too much for any man's share, Winnie. You
would make a Prince in a fairy tale of me."
" Well, what if I would ? " said Winnie, half smiling, half
sighing, and paying him all sort of leal homage in her heart's
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 339
" That 13 not oomtnon] J the lot of those who are to reign here-
after in a better kingdom."
Winnie rose up a little so that she eonid put both hands on
his shoulders, and kissed him on forehead and cheeks ; moat lov-
ing kisses.
" But dear Governor, it isn't wrong for me to wish you to
have both things, is it ? "
" I hope not, dear Winnie. I don't thmt your wishes will do
any mischief But I am content to bo here to-day,"
" Are you ? do you enjoy it ? " she asked eagerly
" Very much."
" I am so glad ! I was afraid somehow you didn't — as much as
I did. But I am sorry you can't keep it, Governor. Isn't it all
beautiful ? I didn't know it was so delightful as it is."
And Winnie sighed her wish over again.
" You can't have your possessions in both worlds, Winnie."
" No, — and I don't want to."
" You only wish that I could," he said smiling.
" Well, Winthrop, 1 can't help that."
" I am in better hands than yours, Wiirnie. Look at that
shadow creeping down the mountain."
" It's from that little white cloud up there," said Winnie.
" 0 how beautiful ! "
" You see how something that ia bright enough in itself may
east a shadow," he said.
" Was that what you thought of when you told me to look at
it?"
" No, — not at that minute."
" But then we can see the cloud and we know that it is
bright."
" And in the other case we don't see the cloud and we know
that it is bright. ' We know that all things shall work together
for good to fiiem that love God, to them who are the called ac-
eording to his purpose 1 ' "
" But Governor, what are you talking of? "
" That little cloud which is rolling away from Wut-a-qut-o."
" But what cloud is over you, or rolling away from you? "
" I thought the whole land was in shadow to you, Winnie,
because I cannot buy it."
" Why no it isn't," said Winnie. " It never looked so bright
to me. It never seemed near so beautiful when it was ours."
' The other land never seemed so bright and never will seem
HcsledbyGoOgle
340 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEmTO.
SO beautiful, as when it is ours. ' Thine eyes shall see the King
in his beauty; they shall behold, the land that is very far off.' "
Winnie smiled a most rested, pleased, gratified smile at him ;
and turned to anotlier subject.
" I wonder what's become of your old little boat. Governor —
the Merry-go-round ? "
" I suppose it is lying in the barn-loft yet," he replied rather
gravely.
" I wonder if it is all gone to pieces."
" 1 should think not. Why ? "
"I was looking at the river and thinking how pleasant it
would be to go out on it, if we could."
" If we can get home, Winnie, I'll see how the matter stands."
" I don't want to go home," said Winnie.
" But I want to have you. And Karen will want the huck-
leberries."
" Wei! — I'll go," said Winnie. " But we'll come again,
Governor — won't we ?"
" As often as you please. Now shall I carry you ? "
" 0 no I "
But Winthrop presently judged of that also for himself, and
taking his little sister on one arm, made his way steadily and
swiftly down to the level ground.
" Tou're a good climber," was Winnie's remark when he set
her on her feet again. " And I don't know but I was once. I've
almost forgotten. But it's as good to have you carry me, and to
see you do it."
The Merry-go-round was found in cood condition, only with
her seams a little, or not a little, opened. That trouble however
was got over by the help of a little caulking and submersion and
time; and she floated again as lightly as ever. Some days still
passed, owing to weather or other causes, before the first evening
came when tiey went out to try her.
That evening, — it was the seventeenth of August, and very
fair, — they went down to the rocks, just when the afternoon had
grown cool in the edge of the evening. Winnie put herself in
tho stem of the little white boat, and Winthrop took his old place
and the oars. Winnie's eyes were sparkling.
" It will be harder work to pull than it used to be," she re-
marked joyously, — " you're so out of the habit of it."
Winthrop only replied by pushing the little skiff off.
" However," continued Winnie, " I guess it isn't much to
pull me anywhere."
HcsledbyGoOgle
TffE HILLS OF THE SHATEJIUC. 3il
" Which way ahall we go ? " said Winthrop, one or two slow
strokes of hia oar sending the little boat forward in a way that
made Winnie smile.
" I don't know — I want to go everywhere — Let's go up, Win-
throp, and Bee how it looks — Let's go over under Wut-a-qut-o.
O liow beautiful it is, Winthrop ! — "
Winthrop said nothing, but a repetition of those leisurely
strokes brought the boat swiftly past the cedars and rocks of
Shahweetah's shore and then out to the middle of the river, grad-
ually drawing nearer to the other side. But when the mid-river
was gained, nigh enough up to be clear of the obstructing point
of Shahweotab, Winnie's ecstatic cry of delight brought Winthrop'a
head round ; and with that he lay upon his oars and looked too.
He might. The mountains and the northern sky and clouds
were all floating as it were in a warm flash of light — it was upon
the clouds, and through the air, and upon the mountains' sides, — ■
BO fair, so clear, but beyond that, so rich in its glowing suffusion
of beauty, that eyes and tongue were stayed, — the one from leav-
ing the subject, the other from touching it. Winthrop's oars lay
still, the drops falling more and more slowly from the wet bladea.
The first word was a half awed whisper from Winnie —
" 0 Winthrop, — did you ever see it look so ? "
The oars dipped again, and again lay still.
" 0 Winthrop, this isn't much like Maniiahatta ! " Winnie
SMd nest, under breath.
The oars dipped again, and this time to purpose. The boat
began to move slowly onward.
"ButWinthrop you don't say anything?" Winnie said un-
easily.
" I don't know how."
" I wish I could keep a picture of that," she went on with
regretful accent as her eyes turned again to the wonderful scene
before them in the north, floating as it seemed in that living soft
" I shall keep a picture of it," said Winthrop.
Winnie sighed her regrets again, and then resigned herself to
looking with her present eyes, while the little boat moved steadily
on and the view was constantly changing; tilt tliey were close
under the shadow of Wut-a-qut-o, and from beneath its high
green and grey precipice rising just above them, only the long
sunny roach of the eastern shore remained in view. They looked
at it, till the sunset began to make a change.
HcsledbyGoOgle
342 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
" 0 Winthrop, there ia Brigtt Spot," saicl Winnie, as her
head came round to the lesa highly coloured western shore.
" ^fi^i"' — ^^'^ Winthrop, letting the hoat drop a little down
from, under the mountain.
" How it has grown up ! — and what are all those hushes at
the water's edge?"
" Alders. Look at those olouds in the south."
There lay, crossing the whole breadth of the riyer, a spread
of close-folded masses of cloud, the under edges of which the sun
touched, making a long network of salmon or flame-coloured lines.
And then abore the near bright-leaded horizon of foliage that
rose o er Bright Spot the we^-tem sky was brilliantly clear ;
flecked w th 1 ttle reaches of elo 1 stretcl mg upw rd and col-
oured w th t ry sunl ght colon a g Id p pie nd rose, in a
very w t hery f m ngl ng
W nthrop pushed the boat gpntly out a 1 ttle f rther from
the shore and they sat look ng hardly hearmg to take their eyes
from the cl d ka c do [ above th or to j eak tl e mind
had so muoh to do at the ey 0 Ij a gl nee now ^nd then for
contrast of bea ty at the s uth an 1 to the n rth where two or
three btfle masses of grey hung n the clear sky Gently Win-
throp 0 ars d ppod fr m t n e to t it e b ng ng them i littlo
further from the western shoie and w thm fulkr msw of the
opening n the mounta ns As they went % purpl h shade came
upon tt e grey masses in the north — the s nl ght colours over
Bright Sp t to k cl r "inl d epe hue ot purple and red;
the salm n netw rk the south hinged for ro e And then,
before they ha 1 ^nt far the no n a crescent two or three days
old, a ^1 ttei ng s Iyer thread hung tself out anid the bright
rosy flecks ot cloud m the west just hard by the mountain s brow,
Winaie had to look sharp to find it.
" And there is Venus too," B^d Winthrop; — "look at her."
" Where ? "
"In the blue— a little lower down than the mooa; and
further to the south — do you see ? — "
" That white bright star ? — 0 how beautiful ! — in that clear
blue sky. 0 how bright !— how much brighter than the moon,
Winthrop ? "
" Yes, — she has a way of looking bright."
" How did you know it was Venus, or how do you know ¥ "
"Very much in the same way that I know it is Winnie. I
have seen her before. I never saw those clouds before,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO. 343
" Bid you ever see such clouds before ! And how long thoy
stay, Winthrop. 0 wliat a place ! "
Slowly the little boat pulled over the river, getting further
and further from Bright Spot and its bright bit of sltj scenery,
which faded and changed very slowly as they sailed away. They
neared the high rocky point of Shahweetah, and then instead of
turning down the river, kept an easterly course along the low
woody shore which stretched back from the point. As they went
on, and as the clouds lost their glory, the sky in the west over
Wut-arqut^o's head tinged itself with violet and grew to an opal
light, the white flushing up liquidly into rosy violet, which in the
northeast quarter of the horizoa melted away to a clear grave
" It's more beautiful than the clouds," said Winnio.
" It is a wonderful evening," said Winthrop, as he set his
oars more earnestly in the water and tho little boat skimmed
along.
" But dear Governor, where are you going i "
" Going to land, somewhere."
" To iMid ! But it'll be time to go home, won't it ? We're
a great way from there."
" We'll take a short cut home," said Winthrop, looking round
for a place to execute his pnrpoec.
" How can you ? "
" Through the woods. Wouldn't you like it ? You've had
no exercise to-day."
" 0 I'd like it. But what will you do with the boat ? leave
her here ? — 0 in the iEgean sea, Winthrop ! "
" That is what I am steering for," said her brother. " But I
want to see the after-glow come out first,"
The ' .^gean Sea' was a little bay-like cove on the north
side of Shahweetah; to which a number of little rock-heads
rising out of the water, or some freak of play, had long ago given
its classic name. Winthrop pushed his boat to the shore there,
and made her fast ; and then he and Winnie waited for the after-
glow. But it was long coming and the twilight grew on; and
at last they left the bay and plunged into the woods, A few
steps brought them to a path, which rough and untravelled as it
was, their knowledge of the land enabled them easily to follow.
Easily for all bat their feet. Winnie's would have faltered ut-
terly, so rough, stony, and broken it was, without her brother's
strong arm ; but helped and led and lifted by him, she went on
joyously through the gathering gloom and under the leafy canopy
HcsledbyGoOgle
34i
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMTJO.
that sliut out all the sky and all knowledge of the after-glow, if it
came. But when they had got free of the woods, and had come
out upon the little opeu cedar field that waa on the river side of
Shahweetah, near home, — there it was ! Over Wut-a-qut-o's head
lay a solid little long maaa of cloud with its under edges close-
lined with fine deep beautiful red. The opal light was all gone :
the face of the heavens was all clear blue, in the grayitj of
twilight. Venus and the moon were there yet, almost down-
bright as ever; the moon more brilliant and bright; for now the
contrast of her sharp crescent waa with Wut-a-qut-o's dark shad-
owy side.
That was the beginning of that August boating. And often
again as in old times the little skiff flew over the water, in the
shadow of the mountain and the sunlight of the bay, coasting the
shores, making acquaintance with tho evergreens and oaks that
skirted them and looked over into the water's edge. Where once
Eliaabeth had gone, Winthrop and Winnie with swifter and surer
progress went ; many an hour, in the early and the late sunbeams.
Por those weeks that they stayed, they lived in the beauties of
the land, rather than aeeording to old Karen's wish, on the fat-
ness of it.
But she did her best; and when at last Winthrop must return
to his business, and they bid her good bye and left her and Wut-
a-qut-o once more, the old woman declared even while she was
wiping the eyes that would not be dry, that their coming had
" done both of 'em real good — a power of it — and her too."
" He hasn't his beat in this country," she said to old And-
ercse her brother, as she was trying to take up again her wonted
walk through the house.—" And she, dear thing I ain't long for
Ihia world ; but she's ready for a better."
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXXI.
It is not growins iike n Ires
In bnik, dt;l> make msL better be.
To WL at ioat slog, dry, bald* andaear. ''"^''
AHIyofadar
iB^rar&r. IdMb;
" What has become of the Landholms ? " said Mr. Ilaye'a
joung wife, one evening in the end of December.
" Confound the Landholma ! " was Mr. Haye's answering
ejaculation, as lie kicked his bootjack out of the way of his just-
slippered foot.
" Why Mr. Haye ! " said Eose, bridling over her netting-wort.
" What have the Landholma done ? "
'• Done ! "
" Well, what have they ? "
" One of them won't pay me his dues, and the other is fight-
ing me for trying to get them," said Mr. Haye, looking at the
evening paper with infinite disgust.
"What duos?"
and " What fighting, Mr. Haye ? " said Eiiaabett and Eoae
" I can't answer you if you both speak at once."
"Well what do you mean by fighting, Mr. Haye ? "
" Fighting."
" Well, but what sort ? " said Hose laughing, while the othei
lady laid down her book and waited.
" With his own cursed weapons."
" And what are those, Mr. Haye ? you haven't told us which
of the Landholms you mean, yet."
" One of 'em hasn't any weapons but his fists and his tODgue,"
16*
HcsledbyGoOgle
diO 'rHE -HILLS OF THE SHATKMtrC.
said Mr. Haye. " He hasn't tried the first on me I have
some small knowledge of the laat."
" What has the other done ? " said Elizabeth.
"He is doing what he can, to hinder mv setting mv rights
of his brother." o j o
" What does his brother owe you ? "
" Money, " gaid Mr. Haye shortly.
" I suppose so. But what for ? "
" Business ! What does it signify what for ? "
" I should like to know, father. It must be Boniethin? which
can he told." ^
" He bought cotton of me."
" Can he pay for it ? "
" I suppose so. I'll try."
" But what is his brother doing ? "
" Trying to hinder, as I told you."
" But how ? How can he ? "
" Don't ask me what lawyers oaa or can't do. They can put
their fingers into any dirty job that ofi'ers ! "
Elizabeth sat silent a minute with a very disturbed look.
Eose had gone back to her netting, only glancing up once in a
while at the faces of the other two,
"Upon what plea does He pretend to hinder it, father?"
" A plea he won't be able to boar out, I fancy," said Mr
Haye, turning round in his chair so as to bring bia other side to
the fire, and not ceasing to look at the paper ail this while.
" But what ? "
"What does it signify what / Something you can't under-
stand."
"I can understand it, father; and I want to know."
"A plea oi fraud, on my part, in selling the cotton. I sup-
pose you would like to cultivate his acquMntance after that."
Elizabeth sat back in her seat with a little start, and did not
speak again during the conyeraation. Eoae looked up from her
mesh-stick and poured out a flood of indignant and somewhat
incoherent words; to which Mr. Haye responded briefly, as a
man who was not fond of the subject, and finally put an end to
them bytaking the paper and walking off. Elizabeth changed
ber position then for a low seat, and resting her chin on her hand
sat looking into the fire with eyes in which there burned a daik
glow that rivalled it.
_ " Lizzie," said her companion, " did you ever hear of such a
thmg I "
HcsledbyGoOgle
' TIIE BHATEMDC. 347
" Not ' such a thing,' "
" Aren't you as provoied aa you can he ? "
" ' Provoked' is not exactly the word," Elizabeth repUed,
" Well jou know what to think of Winthrop Landiolm now,
don't you ? "
" Yes."
" Aren't you surprised ? "
" I wish I could never be Burprised again," she answered, lay-
ing her head down for au instant on hor lap ; hut then giving it
the position it held before,
" You take it coolly ! " said Rose, jerking away at her net-
ting.
"Do I? yoM don't."
" No, and I shouldn't think you would. Don't you hate
those Landholms ? "
" No."
" Don't you 1 You ought. What are you looking at in the
fire t "
" Winthrop Landtolm,— just at that minute."
" I do believe," said Rose indignantly, " you like Winthrop
Landholni better than you do Mr. Haye ! "
Elizabeth's eyes glared at her, but though there seemed a mo-
ment's readiness to speak, she did not speak, but presently rose
up and quitted the room. She went to hor own; locked the door,
and sat down. There was a moment's quiver of the lip and draw-
ing of the brow, while the eyes in their fire seemed to throw off
sparks from the volcano below; and then the head bent, with a
cry of pain, and the flood of sorrow broke; so bitter, that she
sometimes pressed both hands to her head, as if it were in danger
of parting in two. The proud forehead was stooped to the knees,
and the shoulders convulsed in her agony. And it lasted long.
Half hour and half hour passed before the struggle was over and
Elizabeth had quieted herself enough, to go to bed. When at
last she rose to begin the business of undressing, she startled not
a little to see her handmaid 01am present herself.
" When did yon come in ? " said Elizabeth after a moment's
hesitation.
" When the door opened," said Clam collectedly.
" How long ago ? "
" How long have you been here, do you s'pose, Miss 'Liza«
beth?"
" That's not an answer to my question,"
"Not eiackly," said Clam; "but if you'd tell, I could give a
better gueaa."
HcsledbyGoOgle
348 THE BILLS OF 1
Elizabeth kept a vexed ailence for a little while.
" Well Clam," she said when she had made up her mind, " I
have just one word to say to you — keep your tongue between
your teeth about all my concerns. You are quite wise enough,
and I hope, good enough for that."
" I ain't so bad I mightn't be better," said Clam picking up
her mistress's scattered things. " Mr. Winthrop didn't give
up all hopes of me. I 'spect he'll bring us all right some of
these days."
With which sentence, delivered in a most oracular and en-
couraging tone, Clam departed ; for Elizabeth made no answer
tkereto.
The next morning, after having securely locked herself into
her room for an hour or more, Elizabeth summoned her hand-
" I want you to put on your bonnet, Clam, and take this note
for me up to Mr. Landholm's ; and give it with yoTir own hand to
him or to his sister."
Clam rather looked her intelligence than gave any otter elgQ
of it.
" If he's out, shall I wait till I see him ? "
" No, — give it to his sister."
" I may put on more than my bonnet, mayn't I, Miss 'Liza-
be^h ? This won't keep me warm, with the snow on the ground,"
But Elizabeth did not choose to hear ; and Clara went off
with the note.
Much against her expectations, she found Mr Wmthrop at
home and in his room, and his sister not there
" Mornin', Mr. Winthrop ! " said Clam, with more of a
courtesy than she ever vouchsafed to her mi?tri,sH oi to any one
else whomsoever. He camo forward and shook her hand very
kindly and made her sit down by the fire. The black girl's eyes
followed him, as if, though she didn't say it, it was good to see
him again.
" What's the word with you. Clam ? "
" 'Tain't with me — the word's with you, Mr. Winthrop."
" What is it ? "
" 1 don' know, sir. I've nothin' to do but to bring it."
" How do you do this cold day ? "
"J ain't cold," said Clam. " I bethought me to put my cloak
on my shoulders. Miss 'Lizabett wanted me to come off with
only my bonnet."
And she produced the note, which Winthrop looked at and
laid on the table.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE H1LL8 or THE SHATEMUC. 349
" How is Miss Elizabeth ? "
" Slie's sort o'," said Clam, " Ste has her ups acd downs like
other folka. She was down last night and she's up this momiD'
— part way."
"I hope she is pleased with yon, Clara."
" She ain't pleased with anything, mueli," said Clam ; " so it
can't be expected. I bolieye she's pleased with me as much as
with anything ebe in our house. Last night she was cryin' as if
her head would split — hy the hour long."
" That is not part of your word to me, is it ? "
" Not just," said Clam. " Mr. Winthrop, will you have me
come back for an answer ? "
" Did Miss Elizabeth desire it ? "
" I guess so," said Clam. " But she didn't tell me to como
hut once."
" Then don't come again."
Clara rose to go and settled her eloak as she moved towards
the door.
" If she sends rae I may come again, mayn't I, Mr. Win-
throp ? " she said pausing.
" Yes," he said with a, sraile ; hut it was a very little hit
of one.
" How is Winifred ? " said Clam.
" She is not well."
The smile had entirely passed away; his face was more grave
than ever.
" Is she more than common unwell ? "
" Yes. Very much."
" Can I go in and see her, Mr. Winthrop ? "
"Yes, if you please."
Clara wont; and Winthrop took up Elizabeth's note.
"No 11 Parade, Dec 20, 1831.
" I have just heard, briefly and vaguely, of the difficulties be
tween my father and your brother, and of the remedies you, Mr.
Landholm, ar^ employing. I do not know the truth nor the de-
tails of anything beyond the bare outlines. Those are enough,
and more than I know how to bear. I don't wish to have any-
thing explained to me. But Mr. Landholm, grant me one fa-
vour— you must grant it, if you please — do not let it be explained
any further to anybody. All you want, I suppose, is to see your
brother righted. I will pay the utmost of what is due to him,
I do not understand how the business lies — ^but I will fumiah all
HcsledbyGoOgle
350 THE HILLS OF THE EHATEMgc.
the money that is wanting to set it right and put an end to these
proceedings, if jou will only let me know what it is. Please let
me know it, and let me do this, Mr. Landholm; it is my right ;
and I need not ask you, keep my knowledge of it secret from
everybody. I am suro you must see that what I ask is my right.
"Elizabeth Haye."
Winthrop had hardly more than time to read this when
01am put herself within his door again, shutting it at her hack.
" If the Grovernor '11 let me," she said, " I'U come and take
care of her ; — or I'll run up and down jtairs, from the bottom to
the top, — whichever's useful."
" It ia very kind of you, Clait. Winnie and I thank you ¥ery
mueh. But your mistress will want you."
" She won't. She'U want me here. Let me come, Governor.
I shan't do notkin' for Miss 'Lizabcth if I stay with her."
" Go and do all she wants you to do. No, I can't let you
come. My sister is taken care of."
" She'd he that where you are," muttered Clam as she went
out and went down the stairs, — " and so would anybody else. I
wish some of the rest of us had a chance. Well — maybe we'll
get it yet ! — "
Slie found Elizabeth at her desk where she had left Lat,
waiting.
" Did you find him ? "
" And you gave him the note ? "
' No, miss — I mean, yes, miss."
" Don't say ' miss ' in tnat kind of way. Put a name to it."
" What name ? " said Clam.
" Any ono you like. Did you see anybody else ? ''
" I see the brother and the sister," said Clam. " The brother
waa never lookin' better, and the sister was never lookin' worse ; —
she ain't lookin' bad, neith';r."
" Is she ill ? "
" She's lyia' abed, and so far from bein' well that she'll never
be well again."
" She hasn't been well this great while, Clam; that's nothing
aaw."
" This is," said Clam.
" Does her brother think she is very ill ? "
" He knows more about it than I do," said Clam. " I said I
would go to take care of her, and he said I wouldn't, for you'd
be a wantiu' me."
HcsledbyGoOgle
" I don't want you at all ! " said Elizabeth, — " if joa could
be of any use. Are you quiet and careful enougli for a nurse ? "
"Firstrate!" — said Clam; — "no, I guesa I'm not ezaekly,
here ; but I were, up to Wutsey-Qutsey."
" Up where ? " said Elizabeth.
"Yes, misa,"
" I told you not to speak to me so."
Olam stood and gaye no sign.
" Do you think you could be of any use up there, Clam ? "
" Mr. Winthrop says everybody can be of use."
" Then ^o and try ; I don't want you ; and stay as long as
they would like to have you."
" When will I go. Mis' Landholci ? "
" What ? "
" I asked Mia' Landholm, when will I go."
" What do you mean, Clam 1 "
" You said call you any name 1 liked — and I like that 'bout
as well as any one," said Clara sturdily.
" But it isn't my name."
" I wish 'twas," said Clam ;^" no, I don' know as I do,
neither ; but it comes kind o' handy."
" Make some other serve your turn," said Elizabeth gravely,
" Go up this afternoon, and say I don't want you and shall be
most happy if you can be of any service to Mi^ Winifred."
" Or Mr. Winthrop—" said Clara. " I'll do all I can for
both of 'em, Miss 'Lizabeth."
She was not permitted to do much. She went and stayed a
night and a day, and served well ; but Winifred did not like her
company, and at last confessed to Winthrop that she could not
bear to have her about. It was of no use to reason the matter ;
ind Clara was sent home. The answer to Elizabeth's note came
just before her handmaiden, by sorae other conYeyanee.
" Little Sonth St. Deo. 31, 1S21.
" Your note. Miss Haye, has put me in some difficulty, but
after a good deal of consideration I have made up my mind to
allow the ' right ' you claim. It is your right, and I have no right
*i0 deprive you of it. Yet the difficulty reaches further still ;
for without details, which you waive, the result which you wish
to know must stand upon my word alone. I dislike exceedingly
it should so stand ; but I am constrained here al.so to admit, that
if you choose to trust me rather than have the trouble of the ac-
counts, it is Just that you should have your choice.
HcsledbyGoOgle
352 THE HILL8 OF THE BHATEMUC.
" My brother's owing to Mr. Haye, for which he is held !&■
sponsible, is in the sum of eleven Inmdred and forty-one dollars.
"I Lave the honour to be, with great respect,
" WiNiHBOP Landholm."
Elizabeth lead and re-read.
" It is TCry polite — it is very banusome — nothing could be
clearer from any shadow of implications or insinuations — no, nor
of anything but ' great respect ' either," sbe said to herself. " It's
very good of him to trust and understand me and give me just
what I want, without any palaver. That isn't like common
people, any more. Well, my note wasn't, either. But he hasn't
said a word but just what was necessary. — Well, why should
he ? "
She looked up and saw Clam.
" What's brought you back again ? "
" I don' know," said Clam. " My two foot 1
but I don' know what sent me."
" Why did you come then ? "
" 'Cause I bad to," said Clam. " Nothin' else wouldn't ha'
made me. I told you it was good livin' with him. I'd stay as
long as I got a chance, if I was anybody ! "
" Then what made you come borne ? "
" I don' know," said Clam. " He wouldn't let me stay. He
don't stop to make everything clear; he thinks it's good enough
for him to say so; and so it is, I suppose; and he told me to
"I am afraid you didn't do your duty well."
" I'd like to see who wouldn't," said Clam. " I did mine as
well as be did his'c."
" How is Winifred ? "
" She's pretty bad. I guess he don't think he'll have muoh
more of her, and ho means to have all be can these last days.
And she thinks she's almost in Paradise when he's alongside
Elizabeth laid ber face down and asked no more questions.
But sbe concerned herself greatly to know bow much and
what sbe might do in the premises, to shew ber kind feel-
ing and remembrance, without doing too much. She sent
Clam once with jellies; then sbe would not do that again.
Should she go to see Winifred herself? Inclination said yes;
aud backed its consent with sundry arguments. It was polite
and kind ; and everybody likes kindness ; sbe had known Win-
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUC. 35d
ifred, and her trotLer, long ago, and had received kindness in
tlie family, yes, even just now from Winthrop iiraself; and
tliough his visiting Iiad so long been, at an end, this late inter-
course of notes and business gave her an opening. And probably
Winifred had very few friends in the city to look after her.
And again inclination said ' Go.' But then came in another feeling
that said ' Go not. You have not opening enough. Mr. Land-
holm's long and iitt«r cessation of visits, from whatever cause,
says plainly enough that ho does not desire the pleasure of your
society ; don't do anything that even looks like forcing it upon
him. People wUi give it a name that will not please you.' ' But
then,' said inclination on the other hand, ' my Koins eotUd not
have that air, to him, for he tnows and I know that in the exist-
ing state of affairs it is perfectly impossible that he should ever
enter the doors of my fether's house — let me do what I will.'
' People .don't know as much,' said the other feeling ; ' err on the
isafe side if at all, and stay at home.' ' And I don't care much for
people,' — said Elizabeth.
It was so uncommon a thing for her to find any self-imposod
check upon what she wished to do, that Miss Haje was very
much 'puzzled ; and tried and annoyed out of all proportion by
her sefr-eonsultations. She was in a fidget of uneasiness all day
long; and the next was no better.
"What is the matter, Lizzie?" said Rose, as she busily
threaded her netting-needle through mosh after mesh, and Elizar
beth was patiently or impatiently measuring the length of the
parlour with iier steps. " You look as if you had lost all your
friends."
"Do I?"
" Yes. Why do you look so ? "
" What is the difference between losing al! one's friends, and
having none to lose 'i "
" Why haven't yuu any ? "
" Whom havo I ? "
"Well, you might have. I am sure / havo a great many."
" Friends ! " said Elizabeth.
" Well — I don't know who you call friends," Bald Rose, break-
ing her silk-with an impatient tug at a knot, " There ! — dear I
how ihall I tie it again? 1 Siould think you needn't look so
" Why shouldn't I ? "
"Why — because. You have everything in the world."
" Have I ? " said Elizabeth bitterly. " I am alone as I can
be."
HcsledbyGoOgle
35i
■ THE SHATEimO.
" Alone I " said Rose.
" Yes. I am alone. My father is buried in his business; I
hare nothing of him, even what I might have, or used to have
«/0M never were anything to me. There is net a faee in the world
that my heart jumps to see."
" Except that one ? " said fioae.
'' ' That one,' as you elegantly express it, I do not see, as it
'_' It's a pity ho didu't know what effect his coming and look-
rag in at our windows might have," said Rose. " I am sure be
would be good enough to do it."
But Elizabeth thought a retort unworthy of the subject; or
else her mind was full of other things; for after a dignified silence
of a few minutes she left Rose and went to her own quarters.
Perhaps the slight antagonistic spirit which was raised by Rose's
tali came in aid of her wavering inclinations, or brought back her
mind to its old tone of wilfulness; for she decided at onoe that
she would go and see Winifred. She bad a further reason for
going, she said to herself, in the matter of the money which she
wished to convey to Winthi-op's hands. She did not want to
send Clam with it; she did not like to commit it to the post;
there was no other way but to give it to him herself; and that,
she said, she would do ; or to Winifred's iands for him.
She left home accordingly, when the morning was about half
gone, and set out for Little South Street; with a quick but less
firm step than usual, speaking both doubt and decision. Decisioa
enough to carry her soon and without stopping to her place of
destination, and doubt enough to make her tremble when she got
there. But without pausing she went in, mounted the stairs,
with the same quick footstep, and tapped at the door, as she had
been accustomed to do on her former visits to Wiuifrod.
^ No gentle voice said ' come in,' however, and the step which
Elizabeth heard witbinside after her knock, was not Winiired's.
She had not expected that it would be; she had no reason to sup-
pose that Winifred was well enough to be moving about as usual,
and she was not surprised to see Winthrop open the door. The
shadow of a surprise crossed his faee for an instant, then bow-
ing, he (stepped back and opened the door wide for her to enter,
but there was not the shadow of a smile.
" Well, you do look wonderfully grave ! " was Klizabeth's
thought as her foot crossed the threshold, " I wonder if I am
doing something dreadful "
And the instant impulse was to account for her being there,
HcsledbyGoOgle
TIIE HILLS OF THE 9IIATEMUC. 355
by preaentiug her business — not the business sbo Lad intended to
mention first.
She came in and stood by tbe tahle and began to spcaJt ; then
be placed a chair for her, and after a second of hesitation she sat
down. She was embarrassed for a minute, then she looked up
and looked him full in the face.
" Mr. Landholm, I am exceedingly obliged to jou for your
kindness in tliis late business, you were rery good to mo."
" It was not kindness 1 felt you had a right to ask what
I could not refuse. Miss Elizabeth."
" I have come to bring you the money which I did not like
to get to you by any other means."
She handed it to him, and he took it and counted it over.
Elizabeth sat looking on, musing how tremulous her own hand
had been, and how very cool and firm his was ; and thinking that
whatever were said by some people, there certainly was character
in some hands.
" This will be handed to Mr. Have," he said, as he finished
the counting, " and all the proceemngs will faU to the ground
"I cannot receive any thanks, Misa Elizabeth. I am merely
an agent, doing what I have been obliged to conclude was my
duty."
" I mast thank you, though," said Elizabetli. " I feci so much
relieved. You are not obliged to disclose my name to Mr. Kufus
Landholm ? "
"Notata'l. To no one."
" That is all my excuse for being here," said Elizabeth with
a slight hesitation, — " except I thought I might take the privi-
lege of old friendship to come and see your sister."
" Thank you," he said in his turn, but without raising hia
eyes. Yet it was not coldly spoken. Elizabeth did not know
what to think of him.
" Can I see her, Mr. Landholm ? Is she well enough to see
He looked up then; and there was, hardly a 3mile, but a
singular light upon his whole face, that made Elizabeth feel es-
ceedingly grave.
" She is well, hut she will not see you again. Miss Elizabeth.
Winnie has left me."
" Left I " said Elizabeth bewildered.
" Yea. She haa gone to her home. Winnie died yesterday
morning. Miss Haye."
HcsledbyGoOgle
Elizabeth met the clear intent eye which, she did not know
why, fixed hers while he spoke; and then dropping her own,
trembled greatly with constrained feeling. She could not tell iu
the least how to answer, either words or look; hut it would have
been impossible for her to stir an iacli from the spot where she
stood.
" Does it seem terrible to yoa ? " ho said. " It need not. Will
you see her ? "
Elizabeth wished very stroLgly not; but as she hesitated
how to speak, he tad gently taken her hand and was leading her
forward out of the room; and Elizabeth could not draw away her
hand nor hinder the action of his; she let him lead her whither
he would,
" Are you afraid ? " he said, as he paused with his hand up-
on the door of the other room. Elizabeth uttered an incompre-
hensible ' no,' and they went in.
" There is no need," he said again in a gentle grave tone
as he led her to the side of the bed and then let go her hand,
Elizabeth stood where he had placed her, like a person under a,
' There was no need ' indeed, she confessed to herself, half un-
consciously, for all her thoughts were in a terrible whirl. Win-
nie's face looked as though it might have been the prison of a released
angel. Nothing but its sweetne^ and purity was left, of all that
disease and weariness had ever wrought there ; the very fair and
delicate skin and the clustering sunny locks seemed like angel
trappings left behind. Innocence and rest were the two prevail-
ing expressions of the face, — entire, both seemed. Elizabeth
stood looking, at first awe-stricken ; but presently thoughts and
feelings, many and different ones, began to rise and crowd upon
one another with struggling force. She stood still and motionless,
all the more.
"There is no pain in looking there?" said
softly. Elizabeth's lips formed the same unintelligible
which her voice failed to bring out.
" Little sleeper 1 " said Winthrop, combing back with his
fingers the golden curls, which returned instantly to their former
position, — " she has done her work. She has begun upon her
rest. I have reason to thank God that ever she lived. — I shall
see the day when I can quietly thank him that she has died."
Elizabeth trembled, and in her heart prayed Winthrop not
to say another word.
" Does not this face look, Mira Haye, as if its once owner had
' entered into peace ? ' "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHA.TEMUC. 357
If worlds had depended on Elizabeth's answering, she could
not have spoken. She could not look at the eye which, she knew,
as this questioD ivas put, sought hers; her own rested only ou
the hand that was moTing hack those golden locks, and on the
white brow it touched ; she dared not stir. The contact of those
two, and the signification of them, was as much as she could bear,
without any help. She knew his eye was upon her.
" Isn't it worth while," he said, " to have such a sure foothold
in that other world, that the signal for removing thither shall be
a signal oS^eaee ? "
Elizabeth bowed her head low in answer.
" Have yon it ? " was his next c[uestJon. He iiad left the
bed's side and stood by hers.
Elizabeth wrung her hands and threw them apart with al-
most a cry, — " Oh I would give uncounted worlds if I bad ! — "
And the channel being once opened, the seal of silence and
reserve taken off, her passion of feeling burst forth into wild
weeping that shook her from head to foot. Involuntarily she
took hold of the bedpost to stay herself, and clung to it, bonding
her head there like a broken reed.
She felt even at the time, and remembered better aftei-wards,
how gently and kindly she was drawn away from there and taken
hack into the other room and made to sit down. She eouM do
nothing at the moment but yield to the tempest of feeling, in
which it seemed as if every wind of heaven shook her by turns.
Wh 1 1 f t h d t d th violence of it, and she took
mdfh it "a tw en then with a very sobered
d dmd Afhth ht afterwards, as if that storm
h d b Ilk m t th natural world, the forerunner
1 h f p t h f weather. She looked up at
\\ th p wb h was q t d d he brought her a glass of
wt tlk hprs ththd looked at him when 3ie first
came in. He waited till she had drunk the water and was to ap-
pearance quite mistress of herself again.
" You must not go yet," he said, as she was making some
movement towards it; — "you are cold. You must wait til! you
are warmed."
He mended the fire and placed a chair for her, and handed
her to it. Elizabeth did as she was bade, like a child ; and sat
tLere before the fire a little while, unable to keep quiet tears from
coming and coming again.
" I don't know what yoa must think of me, Mr. Winthrop,"
she said at last, when she wai? about ready to go. " I could not
lielp myself. — I have never ojuu death before."
ibyGoogle
^00 THE HILLS OF THE BHAXEMUO.
" You must see it again, Miss Elizabeth ; — you must meet it
face to face."
She looked up at him as he said it, witt eager eyes, from
which tears ran yet, and that were very expressive in the inten-
sity of their gaze. His were not less intent, hut as gentle and
calm as hers were trouhled.
" Are you ready ? " to added.
She shook her head, still lookiBg at him, and her lips formed
that Toioelesa 'no.' She never forgot the face with which he
turned away, — the face of grave gentleness, of sweet gravity,— all
the volume of reproof, of counsel, of truth, that was in that look.
But it was truth that, as it was known to him, he seemed to as-
sume to be known to her; he did not open his lips.
Elizabeth rose ; she must go ; she would have given a world
to have him say something more. But he stood and saw her
put on her gloves and arrange her cloak for going out, and he
said nothing. Elizabeth longed to ask him the question, " What
must I do?" — she longed and almost lingered to askit;^hut
something, she did not know what, stopped her and choked her,
and she did not ask it. He saw her down to the street, in silence
on both sides, and they parted there, with a single grasp of the
hand. That said something again ; and Elizabeth cried all the
way home, and was well nigh sick by the time she got there.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXXII.
SO qnlcHy mnj ona caleli Ibe pl»gii9
Miss Haye came down to breakfast the next moming; but
after little more than a nominal presentation oi herself there,
she escaped from Eose's looks and words of comment and inuend<,
and regained hor own room. And there ste sat down in the win-
dow to muse, having carefully locked out Clam. She Lad reason.
Clam would certainly have decided tliat her raistress 'wanted
fixing,' if ehe could have watched the glowing intent eyes with
which Elizabeth waa going deep into some subject — it might be
herself, or some otter. Heraelf it was.
" Well," — she thought, very unconscious how clearly one of
the houses on the opposite side of the street was defined on the
retina of either eye, — " I have learned two things by my precious
yesterday's expedition, that I didn't know before — or that if I
did, it was in a sort of latent, unrecognized way ; — two pretty
important things! — That I wirfi I was a Christian, — yes, I do,
— and that there is a person in the world who don't care a pin
for me, whom I would lay down my life for I — How people would
laugh at mo if they knew it— and just because themselves they
are not capable of it, and cannot understand it, — Why shouldn't
I like what is worthy to be liked? — why shouldn't I love it?
It is to my honour that I do ! — Because he don't like me, people
would say ; — and why should he like me ? or what difference
does it make ? It is not a fine face or a fair manner that has
taken me — if it were, I should be only a fool like a great many
others; — it is those things which will be as beautiful in heaven
as they are here — the beauty of goodness — of truth — and fine
character. — Why should I not love it when I see it ? I shall not
HcsledbyGoOgle
360 THE raiXS OF THE EHATEMTJC.
see it often in my life-time. And what has Lis liking of me to
do with it ? How should he like me ! The very reasons for
which I look at him would hinder liis ever looking at me— and
onglit. I am not good, — not good enough for him to look at mo ;
there are good thicga in rae, hut all run wild, or other things
running wild over them, I am not worthy to be spoken of in the
day that his name is mentioned. I wish I was good ! — I wish I
was a Christian ! — but I know one half of that wish is because
he is a Christian. — That's the sort of power that human beings
have over each other 1 The beauty of religion, in him, has drawn
me more, unspeakably, than all the sermons I ever heard in my
life. What a, beautiful thing such a Christian is ! — what living
preaching ! — and without a word said. Without a word said, —
it is in the eye, the brow, the lips, — the very carriage has the
dignity of one who isn't a piece of this world. Why aren't there
more such I— and this is lie only one that ever I knew ! — of all
I have seen that called theiiiseSves Christians. — Would any pos-
sible combination ever make me such a person ? — Never I — never.
I shall be a rough piece of Christianity if ever I am one at all.
But I don't even know what it is to be one. Oh, why couldn't
he say three words more yesterday ! But he acted — and looked
— as if I could do without them. What did he mean ! "
When she had got to this point, Elizabeth left her seat by the
window and crossed the room to a large wardrobe closet, on a high
shelf of which sundry unused articles of lumber had found a hiding-
place. And having fetched a chair in, she mounted upon the top
of it and rummaged, till there came to her hand a certain old
bible which had belonged once to her mother or her grandmother.
Elizabeth hardly knew which, but had kept a vague reeoUeetion
of the book's being in existence and of its having been thrust
away up on that shelf. She brought it down and dusted off the
tokens of many a month's forgetfulness and dishonour ; and with
an odd sense of the hands to which it had once been familiar asd
precious, and of the distant influence under the power of which it
was now in her own hands, she laid it on the bod, and half curi-
ously, half fearfully, opened it. The book had once been in hands
that loved it, for it was ready of itself to lie open at several places,
Elizabeth turned the leaves aimlessly, and finally left it spread at
one of these open places ; and with both elbows resting on the bed
and both hands supporting her head, looked to see what she was
to find there. It chanced to be the beginning of the 119th psalm.
" Blessed are the uNDEriLBu in the way, who walk in the
LAW OB THE LoRD,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS or THE BHATSailllO. 361
By what thread of association was it, that the water rushed
to her ejea when they read this, and for some minutes hindered
her seeing another word, escopt through a veil of tears.
" Am I becoming a Christian 1 " she said to herself, " But
BOmethiug more must be wanting thau merely to be sorry that I
am not what he is. How every upright look and word bear wit-
ness that this description belongs to him. And I 1 am out of
' the way ' altogether."
"Blessed are they that keep his testimonies, and that
seek him with the whole heakt,"
" ' Keep his testimonies,' " said Elizabeth, — " and ' seek him
with the whole heart.' — I never did, or legan to do, the one or
the other. ' With the whole heo/t-t ' — and I never gave one bit
of my heart to it — and how is he to be sought? "
" They also »o ko isiqdiiy ; they walk im his ways."
The water stood in Elizabeth's eyes again.
" How far from me I — how very far I am from it ! 'Do no
iniquity,' — and I suppose I am always doing it — ' They walk in
his waya,' and I don't even so much aa know what they are. —
I wish Mr. Winthrop had said a little more yesterday ! " —
She pondered this verse a little, feeling if she did not recog-
nize its high and purified atmosphere; but at the nestle sprang
up and went back to her window.
" Thou hast commanded us to keep thy precepts dilioently,"
Elizabeth and the Bible were at issue.
She could heartily wish that her character were that fair and
sweet oce the first three verses had lined out ; but the command
met a denial ; or at the least a puttmg off of its claim. She ac-
knowledged ail that went before, even in its application to herself;
but she was not willing, or certainly she was not ready, to take
the pains and bear the restraint that should make her and it at
one. She did not put the case so fairly before herself. She kept
that fourth verse at arm's length, as it were, conscious that
it held something she could not get over; unconscious what
was the precise why. She rushed back to her conclusion that
the Bible teaching was unsatisfactory, and that she wanted other ;
and so trayelling round in a circle she came to the point from
which she had begun. With a more saddened and sorrowful
feeling, she stood looking at Winthrop's character and at her
own ; more certified, if that had been wanting, that she herself
was astray ; and well she resolved that if ever she got another
chance she would ask him to teD her more about her duty, and
how she should manage to do it.
16
HcsledbyGoOgle
362 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMXTC.
But how was she to gpt another chaneo ? Wintlirop neTer
came nur could come, to Mr. Hayo's; all that was at an end;
hhe never could go igain to hh rooms. That singular visit of
yeBteidaj had once happened, but could never happen again by
auy possibility. She knew it ; she must wait. And weeks went
on, and still her two wishes lived in her heart; and still she
waited. There was nobody else of whom she chose to ask her
questions ; either from want of knowledge, or from want of trust,
or from want of attraction. And there were few indeed that
came to tbe house whom she could suppose capable of answering
them.
One evenmg it happened that Mr. Satterthwaite oame in.
He often did that ; he had never lost the habit of finding it a
pleasant place. This time he threw himself down at the tear
table, in tired feshion, just as the lady of the house asked him
for the news.
" No news, Mrs. Haye — sorry I haven't any. Been all day
attending court, till I preaumo I'm not fit for general society. I
hope a cup of tea '11 do something for me."
" What's taken yon into court ? " said Rose, as she gave the
asked-for tea.
" A large dish of my own affairs, — that is to say, my
uncle's and fathers and grandfather's— which is in precious
confusion."
" I hope, getting on well ? " said Rose sweetly.
" Don't know," said Mr. Satterthwaite contentedly. " Don't
know till we get out of the confusion. But I have the satisfac-
tion of knowing it's getting on as well as it can get on, — from
tbe hands it is in."
" Whose hands are they? " EliBabeth asked.
" In Mr. Iiandholm's.~He'll set it right, if anybody can, I
know he will. Never saw such a feUow. Mrs. Haye— thank
you— this bread and butter is all sufficient. Uncommon to have
a friend for one's lawyer, and to know he is both a friend and
" Rather uncommon," said Elizabeth.
" Is Winthrop Landholm your friend ? " said Rose dryly.
" Yes ! The best friend I've got. I'd do anything in the
world for that fellow. He deserves it."
" Mr. Satterthwaite," said Elizabeth, " that bread and butter
isn't BO good as these biscuits — try one."
" He don't deserve it from everybody ! " said Rose, as Mr.
Satterthwaite gratefully took a biscuit.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMtJC. 363
" Why not 'i "
" He don't deserve it from me. I've known him to do un-
handsome things. Mean ! "
" Winthrop Landholm ! — My dear Mrs. Haye, you arc under
some misapprehension. I'll stake my reputation he never did
an unhandsome or a mean thing. He couldn't"
"He did," said Bose,
" Will you favour me with the particulars you have heard ? "
" I haven't fteard,'" said Rose, — " I know."
" You have heard ! " said Elizaheth sternly, — " and only
heard. You forget. You may not have understood anything
The gentleman looked in a little astonishment from the hright-
eoloured cheeks of one lady to the cloudy brow of the other ;
but as neither added anything further, he took up the matter.
" I am almost certain Miss Elizabeth is right. I am sure
Mr. Landholm woidd not do what you suspect him of. He could
not do it."
" He IB mortal, I suppose," said Kose sourly, " and so he
could do what other mortals do."
" He is better thaa some other mortals," said Mr. Satter-
thwaite. " I am not a religious man myself; but if anything
would make me believe in it, it would bo that man."
" Don't you ' believe in it,' Mr. Satterthwaite ? " asked
Elizabeth.
" In a sort of way, yes, I do; — I suppose it's a thing one
must come to at last."
" If you want to come to it at last, I should think you would
at first," said EHaabeth-. " J would. I shouldn't think it was a
very safe' way to put it off."
Mr. Satterthwaite mused over his tea and made no answer ;
clearly the conversation had got upon the wrong tack.
" Are you going to be in court to-morrow again, Mr, Satter-
thwaite ? " asked the lady of the house.
" I don't know — not for my own affairs— I don't know but I
shall go in to hear Winthrop's cause come on agaiast Mr, Ryle,"
" I never was in court in my life," said Elizabeth.
" Suppose yon go, Miss Elizabeth — If you'll allow me to have
the honour of taking care of you, I shall be very happy. There'll
be something to hear, between Chancellor Justice and my friend
Winthrop and Mr. Brick."
" Is Mr. Brick going to speak to-morrow ? " said Rose,
" Yes — ^he is on the other side."
HcsledbyGoOgle
364 THK HILLS OF THE SHATEMtTO,
" Let's go, Liade," said her cousin. " Will you take mo too,
Mr. Brisk ?— Mr. Satterthwaite, I mean."
Mr. Satterthwaite declared himself Lononrcd, prospeetivelj ;
Eliaabeth put no objection of her own in the way ; and the
Bcheme was agreed on.
The morrow came, and at the proper hour the trio repaired
to the City Hall and mounted its high white stops.
" Don't jou feel afraid, Lizaie, to be coming here ? " wud her
cousin. " I do."
" Afraid of what, Mra. Haye ? " inquired their attendant.
"01 don't know, — ^it looks so ; — it makea me think of prison-
ers and judges and all such awful things ! "
Mr. Satterthwaite laughed, and stole a glsjice heyond Mrs,
Haye to see what the other lady was thinking of But Elizabeth
said nothing and looked nothing; she marched on like an autom-
aton beside her two companions, through the great halls, one after
another, till the room was reached and they had secured their
seats. Then certainly no one who had looked at her face would
have taken it for an automaton. Though she was aa still as a
piece of machine-work, except the face. Itose was in a fidget of
■business, and the tip of her bonnet's white feather executed all
manner of arcs and curves in the air, within imminent distance
of Mr. Satterthwaite's face.
" Who's who ? — and where's anybody, Mr. Satterthwaite," she
inquired.
" That's the Chancellor, sitting up there at the end, do you
see " — Sitting alone, and leaning back in his chair."
'• That f " said Kose. " I see. Is that Chancellor Justice ?
A fine-looking man, very, isn't he ? "
" Well — I suppose he is," said Mr. Satterthwaite. " He's a
strong man."
"Strong?" said Kose; — "is he? Lizzie! — isn't Chancellor
Justice a fine-looking man ? "
"Fine-looking?"— said Elizabeth, bringing her eyes in the
Chancellor's direction. " No, I should think not."
" Is there anybody that is fine-looking here ? " whispered
Rose in Eliaabeth's bonnet.
" Our tastes are so different, it is impossible for cue to tell
what will please the other," replied Elizabeth coolly.
" Where's Mr. Landholm, Mr. Satterthwaite ? "
" Winthrop ? — He is down there — don't you see him ? "
" ' Down there ? ' " said Rose, — " There are a great many
people down there "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL8 OF THE SHATEMUC. 365
" There's Mr. Herder shaking hands with him now — "
» Mr Herder ? — Lizzie, do you see them ? "
"Who?"
" WiDtfcrop Landholm and Mr. Herder,'
" Yes."
" "Where are they ? "
For iust then proeeedings hestn, and Rose's tongue for a few
minutes gave way in favour of her ears. And by the time aho
had found out that she could not make anything of what was go-
ine on Mr Herder had found his way to their side.
" MissfiHsabet' ! " he said,—" and Mistress Haye 1 what has
made you to eome here to-day ? " ^ ■ t«
" Mr Sattecthwaite wanted us to hear youi tavourite Mr.
Landholm," said Rose,—" so I came. Lizzie didn't come for
Elizabeth shook hands with her friend soiiiingly, hut said
never a word as to why she was there.
"Winthropis good to hear," said Mr. Herder, "when you
can understand him. He knows how to speak. I can under-
stand ftim— but I cannot understaad Mr. Brick— I cannot make
noziDB of him when lie speaks." . , -r.,- ,. ^i.
"What are they doing to-day, Mr. Herder ? said Elizabeth.
"It is the cause of my brother-iu-law, Jean Laasmg, against
Mr Ryle —he thinks .that Mr. Ryle has got some of his money,
and I think so too, and so Winthrop thinks; but nobody knows,
except Mr. Eyle— he knows all of it. Winthrop has been ask-
ing some questions about it, to Mr. Ryle and Mr. Brick —
"When?" , ^ .
" 0 a little while ago— a few weeks;— and they say no,—
they do not choose tj make answer to his questions. Now Win-
throp ia going to see if the Chancellor will not make that they
must tell what he wants to know; and Mr. Brick will fight so
hard as he can not to tell. But Winthrop will get what be
wants."
" How do you know, Mr. Herder ?
"He docs, always."
" What does be want, Mr. Herder ? " said Rose.
" It is my brother-in-law's business," said the naturahst.
" He wants to know if Mr. Ryle have not got a good deal of bis
money someveres ; and Mr. Ryle, he does not want to say uozing
about it; and Winthrop and Mr. Brick, they fight; and the
HcsledbyGoOgle
3b6 THE HILLS OP THE EHATEMtlO.
Chancellor ho eajs, ' Mr. Landholin, you have the right ; Mr
Brick, you do what he toll you.' "
" Then why isn't the cause ended ? " said Elizabetli.
" Because we have not found out all yet ; we are pushing them,
Mr, Ryle and Mr. Brick, leetle by leetle, into the coroer ; and
when we get 'em into the corner, then they will have to pay us
to get out."
" You seem very sure about it, Mr. Herder," said Rose.
'' I do not know," said the naturalist. " I am not much
afraid. My friend Winthrop — ^he knows what he is doing."
And to that gentleman the party presently gave their atten-
tion; as also did the sturdy strong face of Mr. Justice the
Chancellor, and the estremely diflei'ent physiognomy of Mr.
Dustua Brick.
Winthrop and Mr. Brick spoke alternately; and s-s this was
the case on each point, or question, — as Mr. Herder called them,
— and as oneat least of the speakers was particularly clear and
happy in setting forth his meaning, the listeners were kept from
weariness and rewarded, those of them that had minds for it, with
some intellectual pleasure. It was pretty much on this occasion
as Mr. Herder had given the general course of the suit to be;
after every opening of a matter on Winthrop's part, the Chancellor
would say, very cartly,
" I allow that exception ! Mr. Brick, what have you got to
Bay ? " — ■
Mr. Brick generally had a good deal to say. He seemed to
multiply his defences in proportion to the little he had to defend ;
in strong contrast to his antagonist's short, nervous, home-thrust
arguments. The Court generally seemed tired with Mr. Brick.
" Oh that man !— I wish he would stop 1 " said Kose.
Elizabeth, who for the most part was as still as a mouse,
glanced round at these words, one of her few and rare seeondings
0? anything said by her cousin. She did not know that her glance
shewed cheeks of fire, and eyes all the power of which seemed to
be in full life.
" Can you understand that man ? " said the naturalist.
" He don't understand himself," said Elizabeth.
" I don't understand anybody," said Eose. " But I like to
hear the Chancellor speak — he's so funnv,_only I'm getting tired.
I wish he would stop that man. Oh that Mr. Brick ! — Now see
the OhanceUor !^ — "
" I've decided that point, Mr. Brick ! "
Mr. Brick could not think it decided. At least it seemed so,
for he went on.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE eHiTEMCC. 367
" What a stupid man ! " said Eose.
" He will have the last word," said Mr. Herder.
" Miss Haje, are you tired ? " asked Mr. Satterthwaite, lean-
ing past the white feather.
"I?— No."
" I am," said Eoae. " And so is tlie CLanoellor. Now look
at him "
" Mr. Brick — I have decided that point ! " camo from the
lips of Mr. Justice, a little more curtly than before.
" Now he will stop,^" said Eose.
No — Mr. Brick was unmoveable.
" Very well ! " said the Chancellor, throwing himself half
way round on his chair with a jerk " you may go on, and I'll
read the newspaper !— "
Which he did, amid a general titter that went round the court-
room, till the discomited Mr. Brick came to a stand. And Win-
throp rose for his next poiot.
" Are you going to wait till it's all done, Mr. Herder ? " said
Eose. " I'm tired to death. Lizzie — Lizzie ! " — she urged,
paUing her cousin's shoulder.
" What ! " said Elizabeth, giving her another sight of the
same face that had flashed upon her half an hour before,
" My goodness ! " said Rose. " What's the matter with
" What do you want ? — " said Elizabeth with a sort of fiery
impatience, into which not a little disdain found its way.
" You are not interested, are you ? " swd Rose with a satiri-
cal smile,
" Of course I am ! "
"In that man, Lizzie ?"
" What do yon want ! " said Elizabeth, answering the whisper
" I want to go home."
" I'm not ready to go yet."
And her head went round to its former position.
" Lizzie — Liazie ! " urged Rose in a whisper, — " How can you
Ibten to that man ! — you oughtn't to, — Lizzie ! — "
" Hush, Rose ! be quiet ! — I viill listen. Let me alone."
Nor could Rose move her again by words, whispers, or puila
of her shoulder. " I am not ready," — she would coolly reply.
Mrs. Haye was in despair, but constrained to keep it to herself
for fear she should be obliged to accept an escort home, and be-
cause of an undefined unwillingness to leave Elizabeth there
HcsledbyGoOgle
SbO THE HILLS OF THE 8HATEMU0.
alone. She had to wait, and play the agreeahle to Mr. Batter-
thwaite, for both her other companions were busj listening ; until
Wintlirop had finished his argument, and the Chancellor had
aodded,
" I allow that exception, Mr. Laudholm— it is well taken
Mr. Bi'ick, what have you to say ? "
Mr. Brick rose to respond. Elizabeth rose too then, and
faced about upon her companions, giving thorn this silent notice
for she deigned no word, that she waa wiUing Hose's pleasure
should take its oonrse. Mr. Sattcrthwaite was quite ready, and
they went home ; Elizabeth changed to an automaton again,
But when sho got into her own room she sat down, without
taking off her bonnet, to think.
" This is that farmer's boy that father wouldn't help — and
that he has managed to separate from himself— and from mo I
What did I eo there for to-day? Not for my own happiness—
And now perhaps I shall never see him again. But I am glad I
did go ;— if that is the last."
And spring months and summer months succeeded each other:
and she did not see him again.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER SXXIII.
One of the warm eTOnings in that summer, when tte windows
were all open of WintLrop'a attic and the e^ndles flared in the
soft breeze from the sea, Eufas came m Winthtop only gave
him, a look and a smile from hia papers a^ he appeared ; and
Biufua flung himself, or rather dropped down, upon the emptj
couch where Winnie used to lie. Perhaps the thought of her
eame to him, for he looked exceedingly sober ; only he had done
that ever since he shewed his face at the door. For some minutes
he sat in absorbed contemplation of Winthrop, or of aomewhat
else ; he was certainly looking at him. Wiothrop looked at
nothing but his papers ; and the rustling of them was all that
was heard, beside the soft rusb. of the wind.
" Always at work ? " said Rufus, in a dismal tone, half de-
eponding and wholly disconsolate.
" Try to be. "
" Why don't you snuff those candles f " was the next question,
given with a good deal more life.
"I didn't know you wanted more light," said Winthrop, stop-
ping to put in order the unruly wicka hii brother referred to.
" What are you at there ? "
" A long answer in chancery."
"Kyle's?"
" No — Mr. Evcrsbam's ease,"
" How does Kyle's business get on ? "
" Very satisfactorily. I'to got light upon that now."
Id*
HcsledbyGoOgle
" What's tte last thing done ? "
" The last thing I did was to file a replication, hringing the
cause to an issue for proofs; and proofs are now taking before
an Examiner."
" You have succeeded in every step in that cause ? "
" In every step."
" The steps must have been well taken."
Winthrop waa silent, going on with hia 'answer.'
" How much do you expect you'll get from them ? "
" Can't tell yet. I somewhat expect to recover a very large
" "Winthrop — I wish I was a lawyer — " Kufus said presently
with a sigh.
" Why ? " said his brother calmly.
" I should — or at least I mightr— be doing something."
" Then you think all the work of the world rests upon the
shoulders of lawyers ? I knew they had a good deal to do, but
not so much as that." ■
" I don't see anything for me to do," Eufus said dcapondingly.
" Is it not poseiblo you might, if you looked in some otter
direction than my papers ? "
Rufus got off his couch and'began gloomily to walk up and
" How easily those who are doing well themselves can bear
the ill haps of their friends 1 " he said.
Winthrop went back to hia papers and atudied them, with his
usual calm face and in silence, for some time. Rufiia walked and
cogitated for half an hour.
" I ought not to have said that, Winthrop," were his first
words. " But now look at me I "
"With pleasure," said Winthrop laying down his 'answer' —
' I have looked at many a worse man."
" Can't you be eeriouB ? " said Rufus, a provoked smile forc-
ing itself upon him.
" I thought I was rarely anything else," said Winthi-op.
"But now I look at yoii, I don't see anything in the world the
matter."
" Yet look at our different positions — yours and mine."
" I'd as lieve be excused," said Winthrop. " Yon always
made the best show, in any position."
" Other people don't think BO," said Itufiis, turning with a
curious struggle of feeling in his face, and turning to hide it in
hia walk up and down.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHiTEMUO. 371
" What ails you, Will? — I dou't know what you mean."
" You deserve it ! " said Rufus, awallowing something in hia
mind apparently, that cost hira some trouble.
" I don't know wkat I deserve," said Winthrop gravely. " I
am afraid I have not got it."
" How oddly and rightly we were nicknamed in childhood ! '
Kufua went on hitterly, half commuBing with himself. — " I for
fiery impulse, and you for calm rule."
" I don't want to rule," said Winthrop half laughing. " And
I assure you I make no effort after it."
" You do it, and always will. You have the love and rospeet
and admiration of everybody that knows you — in a very high
degree ; and there is not a soul in the world that cares for me,
except yourself."
" I do not think that is true, Will," s&id Winthrop after a
little pause. " But evea suppose it wore — those are not the things
one lives for."
" Wliat does one live for tlien ! " Rufus said almost fiercely.
" At least they are not what I live for," said Winthrop cor-
recting himself.
" What do you live for ? "
His brother hesitated.
" For another sort of approbation — That I may hear ' Well
done,' from the lipa of my King, — by and by."
Rufus bit his lip and for several turns walked tie room in
silence— evidently because he could not speak. Perhaps the
words, ' Tliem that honour me, I will honour,'— might have come
to his mind. But when at last he began to talk, it was not upon
that themr,
" Governor," — he said in a quieter tone, — " I wish you would
"Iwill— if loan."
" TeU me what I shall do."
" Tell me your own thoughts first. Will."
" I have hardly any. The world at large seems a wretched
and utter blank to me."
" Make your mark on it, then."
" Ah I— that is what we used to say.— I don't see how it is to
lie done,"
" It is to be done in many ways, Ruius ; in many courses of
action ; and there is hardly one you can set your hand to, in
which it may not be done."
Rufus again struggled with some feeling that was too much
tot him.
HcsledbyGoOgle
3T2 THE HILLS OF 1
" Your notions have obanged a little from the oH ones, —
and I have kept mine," he said.
" I spoie of making your mark, — not of being seen to do
it," his brother returned.
Again Rufiis was silent,
" Well but the question is not of that now," ho said, " but of
doing something ; — to escape from the dishonour and the miserj
of doing nothing."
" Still you have not told me your thoughts, Wilh You are not
fit for a merchant."
" I'll never enter a counting-house again ! — for anything ! "
was Rufus's reply.
" If I were in your place, I shodd take up my old trade of
eagineerjug again^ just where I left it off."
Eufus walked, and walked.
" But I am fit for better things," — he said at length.
" Then you are fit for that."
" I suppose that follows," said Eufus with some disdainful
" There is no more respeetable profeaaion."
" It gives a mau small chance to distinguish himself," said
Bufus, — " and it takes one out of the world."
" Distinction may be attained almost anywheroj" said Wiu-
" I should like to seo you do it ! " was Kufus's scornful
rejoinder.
" "What ? "
" Sweep rooms by way of distinction."
"I don't know about the distinction," said Winthrop; "but the
thing you may sec me do any morning, if you come at the right
" Sweep these rooms ? "
" With a broomstick."
" Why Winthrop, that's heneath you ! "
" I have been thinking so lately," said Winthrop. " It wasn't,
in the days when I couldn't afford to pay any one for doing it ;
and those days reached down to a very late point."
"Afi'ord!" said Bufus, stauding still in his walk;— "Why
you have made money enough over since you began practice, to
afford such a thing as that."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLa OF THE SHATE1I0C. 373
" Ay — if r could hare put it all on the floor."
" Where had you to put it ? "
" I had Mr. Inchbald to reward for his long trust in me, and
Mr. Herder to reimburse for his kindness, — and some other
sources of expenditure to meet."
" Mr. Herder could have been paid out of tie costs of this
lawsuit."
"No, he couldn't."
" And thereupon, you would recommend the profession of a
street-sweeper to me ! " said Eufus, beginning his walk with re-
newed energy,
" On the whole, I think I would not," said Wmthrop gravely,
' I am of opinion you can do something better
" I don't like engineering ! " said Kufus presently
" What do you like ? "
Kufus stopped and stood looking thoughtfully on the table
where Wtnthrop's papers lay.
" I consider that to be as konourible aa useful tnd I should
think r[uito as pleasant a way of life, as the one I follow
" Do you ?-— " said Eufus, lookm^ at the long ' an^wei in
Chancery.'
" I would as lieve go into it to moriow and make over my
inkstand to you, if I were only fit for that and you for this."
" Would you I " said Ilufus, mentally conceding that hia
brother was ' fit ' for anything.
"Just as lieve."
Bufiis's brow lightened considerably, and he took up his walk
" What would you like better, Will ? "
"I don't know — ' said Eufus meditatively — "I believe I'll
take your advice. There was an offer made to me a week or two
ago — at least I was spoken to, ia reference to a Southern piece
of business "
" Not another agency ? "
"No — no, engineering; — ^but I threw it off, not thinking then,
or not knowing, that I would have anything more to do with
the matter — I dare say it's not too late yet."
" But Will," said his brother, " whatever choice you make
now, it is your last choice."
".How do you know it is my last choice ? " said Rufua.
" Because it ought to be."
Rufus took to silence and meditating again.
HcsledbyGoOgle
374 THE HILLS Of THE SUATEMtlC.
" Any profession rightly managed, will carry you to the goal
of honour ; but no two will, ridden alternately.
" It seems so," aaid Rafua bitterly.
And he walked and meditated, back and forth through the
room; while Winthrop lost himself in hia ' answer.' The silence
lasted this time till Knfus came up to the table and extending
his hand bid his brother ' good night.'
" Are yoii <roiniT ? " said Winthrop starting up.
" Yes — go dg S h dg go be an engineer,
and if possihl h h g h the back of that
calling, by aom m d w h I see not."
" Stay her "ft
" No, I ca t — I g m b
" All nigh
" Why, n d E m I pp se I could come
back ; more e p m g g b fide away. By the
way, Winthrop d k w h h yellow feyer is
" I know they say so.
" What will you do ? "
" Nothing."
" I mean, of course, if the report is true."
"So I mean."
" But you wUl not stay here ? "
" I think I will."
" But it would be much better to go out of town."
" If I think so, I'll go."
" I'll make you think so," aaid Knfus putting on his hat,—
" or else I won't go engineering ! I'll be back in an hour."
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XXXiy.
Tea, men mny wonder, while Ihey icna
A Uvlng, UUDklng, t^og dud,
In encb a rest his heart to keep;
But ugels SM,— and throngh tbe word
I ween thelrblesand smile fi heard,—
Notwithstanding howeyer Rufua's assurance, lie did go off to
his engineering and he did not succeed ia changing his brother's
mmd. Wbthrop ahode m his place, to meet whatever the summer
had in store for him.
It brought the city's old plague, though not with sueh fearful
presence as in years past. Still the name and the dread of it
were abroad, and enough of its power to justify them. Many
that could, ran away from the city; and business, if it was not
absolutely cheeked, moved sluggishly. There was much less
than usual done.
There was little in "Winthrop'a line, certainly. Yet in the
days of vacant courts and laid-by court business, the tenant of
Mr, Inohbald's attic went out and came in as often as formerly.
What he did with his time was best known to himself.
" I wonder bow he does, now, aU alone," said Mrs, Nettley
to her brother.
"I've a notion he isn't so muoh of the time alone," said Mr.
Inchbaid. " He's not at home any more thaa he used to be, nor
so much. I hear him going up or down the stairs — night
and day."
"Surely there aro no courts now ?" said Mrs. Nettley.
"Never are in August— and especially not now, of course."
" I'm afraid he's lonesome, poor follow ! "
" Never saw a fellow look less like it," said Mr, Inchbaid.
HcsledbyGoOgle
376 THE HILLS OF T
" He's a strong man, he h, in his heart and mind. I should
expect to see one of the pyramids of Egypt eome down as soon as
either of 'em. Lonesome ? I never saw him look lonesome."
" He has a tricic of not shewing what ho feels then," said his
sister. " I've seen him times when I know he fdi lonesome,—
though as you say, I can't Bay he shewed it. He's a strong huild
of a man, too, George."
" Like body, like mind," said her brother. " Yes. I like
to see a man al! of a piece. But his brother has a finer figure."
" Do you think so ? " said Mrs. Nettley. " That's for a
painter. Now I like Winthrop's the best."
" That's for a woman," said Mr. Inchbald laughing. " You
always like what you love."
" Well what do you suppose he finds to keep him out so
much of the time f "
" I don't know," said Mr. Inchbald, — " and I daren't ask
him. I doubt some poor friends of his know."
" Why do you ? "
" I can't tell you why ; — something — the least trifle, once or
twice, has given me the idea."
" He's a Christian to look at ! " said Mrs. Nettley, busying
herself round her stove and speaking in rather an undertone.
" He's worse than a sermon to me, many timca."
Her brother turned slowly and went out, thereby confessing,
his sister thought, that Winthrop had been as bad as a sermon
to him.
As he went out ho saw a girl just mounting the stairs.
" Is Mr. Landholm in ? " she said putting her head over the
" I don't know, my girl — I think he may be."
" I'll know before long," she rejoined, taking the stairs at a
rate that shewed she meant what she said. Like no client at law
that ever sought his lawyer's chambers, on any errand. Before
Mr. Inchbald had reached the first landing, she was posted before
the desired door, and had tapped there with very alert fingers.
Winthrop opened the door.
" Clam I " — said he, — " Come in."
" Mr. Winthrop," said Clam, coming in as slowly as she had
mounted the stairs fast, and speaking with unusual deliberation,
and not in the least out of breath, — " don't you want to help
the distressed ? "
" What's the matter, Clam ? "
" Why Mr. Haye's took, and Miss 'Lizabeth's all alone with
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLa OF THE SHA.TEMUO. 377
him; and she's a little too good to be let die of fright and worry,
if she ain't perfect. Few people are,"
" All alone ! "
" She's keeping house with him all alone this minute."
" What do you mean by all alone ? "
" When there ain't hut two people in the house and ono o'
them's deathly aicL"
" Wnere are the serYants ? and Mrs. Haye ? "
" They waa all afraid they'd be took — she and them both ;
so they all run — tho first one the best feller. I stayed, 'cause I
thought the yaller fever wouldu't do much with one o' my skin ;
and anyhow it waa as good to die iu the house as in the street —
I'd rather."
" When did they go ? " said Winthrop beginning to put up
boohs and papers,
" Cleared out this mornin' — as soon as they hnowed what was
the matter with Mr. Haye."
" His wife too ? " said Winthrop.
" Not she 1 she went off for fear she'd be scared — years ago."
" Has Miss Haye sent for no friends ? "
" She says there ain't none to send to ; and I guess there
" Run home to your mistress, Clam, as fast as you can. —
When was Mr. Haye taken sick ? "
" Some time yesterday. Then you're comin', Mr. Winthrop ? "
" Yes. Hun."
Clam ran homo. But quick as her a^
fot the handle of the door in her hand she saw a figure >
new, coming down the street ; and waited fof him to <
Winthrop and she passed into the house together.
The gentleman turned into one of the deserted parlours; and
Clam with a quick amd soft step ran up stairs and into the sick
room. Mr. Haye lay there unconscious. Elizabeth was sitting
by the side of the bed, with a face of stern and concentrated
anxiety.
" Here's the stufi'," said Clatn, setting some medicine on. the
table; — " and there's a gentleman down stairs that wants to see
you, Miss 'Iiizabeth — on business."
" Business I " said Elizabeth,— " Did yon tell him what was
in the house ? "
"I told him," said Olam, " and he don't care. He wants to
see you."
Elizabeth had no words to waste, nor heart to speak them.
HcsledbyGoOgle
878 THE HILLS OF THE SEATEMTJC.
She got Up and went down stairs and in at tbe open parloiir door,
like a person who wallis in a dreara through a dreadful labyrinth
of pain, made up of what used to he familiar objects of pleasure.
So she went in. But so soon as her eye caught the figure stand-
ing before the fireplace, though she did not tnow what he had
come there for, only that be was there, her heart sprang as to a
pillar of hope. She stopped short and her two hands were brought
together with an indescribable expression, telling of relief.
" Oh Mr. Landholm I what brought^ou here ! "
He came forward to where she stood and took one of her
hands ; and felt that she was trembling like a shaking leaf
" How is your father ? " was his question.
" I don't know I " said Elizabeth bending down her head
while tears began to run fast, — " I don't know anything about
sickness— I never was with anybody before "
She had felt one other time the geutle kind hands which,
while her own eyes were blinded with tears, led her and placed
her on the sofa, EliBabeth took the sofa cushion in both arms
and laid her head upon it
and her whole frame i
agitation.
In a few minutes this violent expression of feeling came to an
end She took her arms from the pillow and sat up and spoke
agam to the tuend at her side; who meanwhile had been per-
fectly quiet, offering neither to check nor to comfort her. Eliza-
beth went btck to a repetition of her last remark, as if for an
excuse
"I never eien tried to nurse anybody before — and the doctor
couldn't stiy with me this morning
" I will do both now," said Wintirop.
" What ? " — said Elizabeth looking afc him bewilderedlj.
" Stay with you, and take care of Mr. Haye,"
" Oh no I you must not ! " she said with a sort of eager
seriousness ; — " I shouldn't like to have you."
" I have seen something of the disease," he said smiling
slightly, " and I am not afraid of it. — Are you ? "
" Oh yes !— oh yes ! ! "
How much was confessed in the tone of those words ! — and
she hid her face again. But her companion made no remark.
" Is there no friend you would like to have sent for ? "
" No," said Elizabeth, — " not one ! not one here and not
anywhere, that I should care to have with me."
" May I go np and see Mr. Hayo now ? " he said presently.
"Which is the room?"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE H1LL6 OF THE SHATBMUC. 379
Elizabeth rose up to shew him.
" No," he eaid, gently motioning her back, — " I am going
alone. You must stay here."
"But I must go too, Mr. Landholm ! "
" Not if I go," he said.
" But I am his daughter, — I must."
" I am not his daughter — so as far as that goes we are even.
And hy your own confession you irnow nothing of the matter ;
and I do. No — you must not go above this floor."
" Until when, Mr. Landholm ? " said Elizabeth looking
" Until new rules are made," he said quietly. " While you
can do nothing in your father's room, both for him and for you it
is much better that you should not be there."
" And can't I do anything ? " said Elizabeth.
" If I think you are wanted, I will let you know. Mean-
while there is one thing that can be done everywhere."
He spoke, looking at her with a face of steady kind gravity.
Elizabeth could not meet it; she trembled with the effort aha
made to control herself.
" It is the thing of all others that I cannot do, Mr. Landholm."
" Learn it now, then. Which is the room ? "
Elizabeth told him, without raising her eyes ; and stood
motionless on the floor where he left her, without stirring a finger,
as long as she could hear the sound of his footsteps. They went
first to the front door and she heard him turn the key ■ then
th y w t p th t ir
Thlktfthtd wtthhtwth f
mf t f d p d f
b dd t t
th h d
the
hea t th h d th t h d d
t It d
th t kmn ff
£ t t d g !1
th t m It f p
th t
h d
d ft h fi t m g
Sh d pp d
h k
by
th f d w PI mg h
d th h
h
h d
d bf h 1 Ih h d
1 w t dt
llf h g
1 d
hi t d wn t h b tt
d d p a 1
g b 1
1 k
d i, dh b t
bh w al t th L b
tt 1 dth
d Ig
f t,
A 1 h w m h tun th
d ig ft
htt k
It
w p tm Sh w
t ti d wh t h
d t k h Id
fh d L 1
" If you do in this way, I s
hall have two patients instead of
one, Miss Elizabeth."
Elizabeth suffered herself to be lifted up and
placed 01
I the
H™.db,Googlc
Bofa, and sat down like a child. Even at the instant came a flash
of recoUeotion bringing back the time, long pMt, when Winthrop
had lifted her out of the rattlesnake's way. She felt ashamed
and rebuked.
" This is not the lesson I set you," he said gently.
Elizabeth's head drooped lower. She felt that he had two
patients — -if he had only known it !
" You might set mo s, great many lessons that I should be
slow to learn, Mr. Landliolm," she said sadly.
" I hope not," he said in his usual tone. " There is no present
occasion for this distress. I eanootsee that Mr. Hayc's symptoms
are partioulaily unfarourable."
Elizabeth oould have answered a great deal to that; but ske
only said, tearfully,
" How good you are to take eare of him ! "
" I will bo as good as I can," said he smiling a little. " I
should like to have you promise to do as much."
" That would be to promise a great deal, Mr. Landliolm,"
Baid Elizabetli looking up earnestly.
" What then ? "
Elizabeth looked down and was silent, but musing muck
to herself.
" Is it too much of a promise to make ? " said he gravely.
" No — ■" said Elizabeth slowly, — " but more than I am ready
to make."
"Why is that?"
" Because, Mr. Landholm," said she looking up again at him,
" I don't believe I should keep it if I made it."
" You expect me to say, in that case you are quite right not
to make it. No, — you are quite wrong."
Ho waited a little ; but said no more, and Elizabetli could
not. Then Le left the room and she heard him going down
stairs/ Her first thought was to spring up and go after to help
him to whatever he wanted ; then she remembered that he and
Clam oould manage it without her, and that he would eertainly
choose to have it so. She curled herself up on her sofa and lay-
ing her head on the cushion in more quiet wise, she went off into
a long fit of musing; for Winthrop's steps, when they came
from down stairs went straight up stairs again, without turning
into the parlour. She mused, on her duty, her danger, her
sorrow and her joy. There was something akin to joy in the
enormous comfort, rest, and pleasure she felt in Winthrop's pre-
sence. But it was very grave musing after all ; for her duty, or
HcsledbyGoOgle
THTi HILLS OF THE BHATEMUC. 381
the image of it, she shrank from ; her danger she ahranlc from
more unequivocally ; and joy and sorrow could hut hold a mixed
and miserable reign. The loss of her father could not he to
Elizabeth what the loss of his mother had heen to Wiathrop.
Mr. Haje had never made himself a part of hia daughter's daily
inner life ; to her his death could be only the breaking of the old
.name and tie and associations, which of late ycai;s had become
far less dear than they used to be. Yet to Elizabeth, who had
nothing else, they were very much ; and she looked to the possible
loss of them as to a wild and dreary setting adrift upon the sea of
life without harbour or shore to make anywhere. And then rose the
shadowy image of a fair port and land of safety, which conscience
whispered she could gain if she wonld. Bat sailing was necessary
for that; and char t- studying ; and watchful care of the ship, and
many an observation taken by heavenly lights ; and Elizabeth
had not even begun to ho a sailor. She turned these things over
and over in her mind a hundred times, one after another, like
J of a dream, while the tom-H of the day stole away
The afternoon waned ; the doctor came. Elizabeth sprang
out to meet him, referred him to her coadjutor up stairs, and then
waited for his coming down again. But the doctor when he
came could tell her nothing ; there was no declarative symptom
as yet ; ho knew no more than she did ; she must wait. She
went back to her sofa and her musing.
The windows were open, but with the sultry breath of August
little din of business came into the room ; the place was very
quiet. The house was empty and still ; seldom a footfall eould
be heard overhead. Clam was busy, up stairs and down, but she
went with a light step when she pleased, and she pleased it now.
It was a relief to have the change of falling night; and then the
breeze from the sea began to eome in at the windows and freshen
the hot rooms; and twilight deepened. Elizabeth wished for a
light then, but for onco in her life hesitated about ringing the
bell; for she had heard Clam going up and down and feared she
might be busied for some one else. And she thought, with a
heart full, how dismal this coming on of night would have been,
but for the friend up stairs. Elizabeth wished bitterly she could
follow his advice.
She sat looking out of the open window into the duskiness,
and at the yellow lights of the street lamps which by this time
spotted it ; thinking so, and fooling very miserable. By and by
Clam came ia with a candle and began to let down the blinds.
HcsledbyGoOgle
OOJ THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMUO.
'' What are you going to do ? " said ter mislireBs. " You
needn't pull tliose down."
" Folks '11 see in," said Clam.
" No they won't^there's no light here."
" There's goin' to be, though," said Clam. " Things is eoin'
straight in this house, aa two folks can make 'em."
"I don't want anything— you may let the lamps alone,
Clam ^ '
I dur t d Clara going on leisurely to light the two
larg 1 f th m tl lamps,—' Mr. Winthrop told me to
f®* ' y ^^ ything just as it was every night ; so
kn w d th h d t b flarin' up— You ain't goin' to be al-
low d t t tl h d n longer."
I d at w nf ythng!" said Elizabeth. "Don't bring
any t h "
. '^' I ^1 g 1 It " him his orders is contradiokied,"
St 1 I sad 1 rat as when she had reached the door
walL g ff — d y ny foolish speech up stairs at such
a tl n a. th — f t h wh t you lite and do what you like,— I
doa t ■^ '
The room was brilliantly lighted now; and Clam set the
salver on the table and brought in the tea-urn ; and miserable as
she felt, Elizabeth half confessed to herself that her coadjutor up
stairs was right. Better this paiu than the other. If the body
was nothing a gainer, the mind perhaps might be, for keeping up
the wonted habits and appeaj-ances.
" Ask Mr. Landholm to come down, Clam."
"^ I did ask him," said the handmaiden, " and he don't want
nothin' but biscuits, aad he's got lots o' them."
" Wou't he have a cup of tea ? "
" He knows his own mind mostly," said Clam ; " aad he savs
he won't." •'
" What arrangements can you make for his sleeping up there
to-uight, Clam ? "
" Him and me '11 see to it," responded Clam confidently.
"I know pretty much what's in the house; and the best of it
aia't too good for him."
So Elizabeth draak her cup of tea alone; and sat alone through
the long eveaing and mused. For still it was rather musing
than thiniiag ; going over things past and things present ; things
future she eared not much to meddle with. It was not a good
time, she said for taking up her religious wants aad duties; and
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHiTEMtJC. oHd
in part that was true, severely as ate felt them ; for hor mind
was in such a slow fever that none of its pulses were healthful.
Fear, and foreboding, for her father and for herself, — hope spring-
'ng 1 nj, with the tear; a strong sense that her character was
d tt nt f n h t it ought to be, and a strong wish that it were
n t — nd a y t mightier leaning in another direction ; — all of
th m tin and modifying each other and struggling together,
m d t un 11 her veins and to tell in each beat of the tiny
t n k p at h wrist. How could she disentangle one from
th th a quiet mind to anything, when she had it not
to give ?
She was just bitterly asking herself this question, when Win-
throp came in at the open parlour door ; and the immediate bitter
thought which arose next was, did he ever have any hut a quiet
mind to give to anything ? The two bitters were so strong upon
her tongue that they kept it still ; till he had walked up to the
neighbourhood of her sofa.
" How is my father, Mr. Landholm ? " she said rising and
meeting tim..
" As you mean the question I cannot answer it — There is
nothing declarative, Miss Elizabeth. Yes," he said kindly,
meeting and answering her face, — "you must wait yet awhile
longer."
Elizabeth sat down again, and looked down.
" Arc you troubled with fears for yourself? " he said gently,
taking a chair near her.
" fJo— " Elizabeth said, and said truly. She could have told
him, what indeed she could not, that since his coming into the
honse another feeling had overmastered that fear, and kept
it under.
" At least," she added, — " I suppose I have it, but it doesn't
trouble me now."
" I came down on principle," said he,~" to exchange the
office of nurse for that of physician ; — thinking it probably better
that you should see me for a few minutes, than see nobody at all."
" I am sure you were right," said Elizabeth. " I felt awhile
ago as if my head would go crazy with too many thoughts."
" Must bo unruly thoughts," said Winthrop.
" They were," said she looking up.
" Can't you manage unruly thoughts ? "
" No I — never could."
" Do vou know what happens in that case ? — They manage
yon."
HcsledbyGoOgle
384 THE HILL9 OF THJi BHATEMXTC.
" But how can I help it, Mr, Landholm ? Tiiere they are,
and here am I ; — thoy are strong and I am weai."
" If they are the strongest, they will rule."
Eliaabeth sat silent, thinking her counsellor was rery un-
satisfactory,
" Are you going to sit up all night, Miss Blizaheth f "
" No — I suppose not—"
" I shall ; so you may feel easy about being alone down here.
There could be no disturbance, I thmi, without my knowing it.
Let 01am be here to keep you company; and take the best rest
you can."
It was impossible for Elizabeth to say a word of thanks, or
of his kindness ; tho words choked her ; she was mute.
" Can I do anything, Mr. Landholm ? "
" Nothing in the world — but manage your thoughts," he said
smiling.
Elizabeth was almost ehoked again, with the rising of tears
this time.
" But Mr, Landholm— about that — what is wrong cannot be
necessary ; there must be some way of managing them ? "
" You know it," he said simply.
But it finished Elizabeth's power of speech. She did not
even attempt to look up; she sat pressing hor chin with her
hand, eniJeaYOuring to keep down her heart and to keep steady
her quivering lips. Her companion, who in the midst of all her
troubles she many times that eyening thought was unlike any
other person that ever walked, presently went out into the hall
and called to Clam over the balusters.
" la he going to give her directions about taking care of me ? "
thought Elizabeth in a great maze, as Winthi-op came back into
the parlour and sat down again. When Clam appeared however
ho only bade her take a seat ; and then bringing forth a bible
from his pocket he opened it and read the ninety-first psaJm.
Hardly till then it dawned upon Elizabeth what he waa thinking
to do ; and then the words that he read went through and through
her heart like drawn daggers. One after another, one after
another. Little he imagined, who read, what strength her esti-
mate of the reader's character gave them ; nor how that same
estimate made erery word of his prayer tell, and go home to her
spirit with the sharpness as well as the gentleness of Ithuriel'a
spear. When Elizabeth rose from her knees, it was with a bowed
head which she could in no wise lift up ; and after Winthrop had
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTJC. 385
left the room, Clam stood looking at her mistress and thinking
her own thoughts, as long aa she pleased unrebuked.
" One feels sort o' good after that, now, don't they ? " was ter
opening remark, when Elizabeth's head was at last raised from her
hands. " Do yoa think the roof of any house would ever fall in
over his head? He's better'n a regiment o' soldiers."
" Is everything attended to down stairs. Clam ? "
"All's straight where the G-ovemor is," said Clam with a
sweeping bend of her head, and going about to set the room in
order ; — " there ain't two straws laid the wrong way,"
" Where he is I " repeated Elizabetk— " He isn't in the
kitchen, I suppose. Clam."
" Whenever he's in the house, always seems to me lie's all
over," said Clam. " It's about that. He's a governor, you know.
Now Miss 'Lizabeth, how am I goin' to fix you for the night ? "
" Ko way," said Elizabeth. " I shall just sleep here, as I am.
Let the lamps burn, and shut down the blinds."
" And then will I go off to the second story and leave you ? "
" No, indeed — Fetch something that ym can lay on the floor,
and stay here with me,"
Which Clam presently did; nothing more than a blanket
however ; and remarked as she curled herself down with her head
upon her arm,
" Ain't be a handsome man. Miss 'Lizabeth ? "
" Who ? — " ungraoioiisly enough.
" Why, the Governor."
" Yes, for aught I know. Lie still and go to sleep. Clam, if
you can ; and let me."
Very promptly Clam obeyed this command; but her leas
happy mistress, aa soon as the deep drawn breaths told her she
was alone again, sat up oa her sofa to get in a change of posture
a change from pain.
How alone ! — In the parlour after midnight, with the lamps
burning as if the room were gay with company j herself, in her
morning dress, on the sofa for a night's rest, and there on hor
blanket on the carpet. Clam already taking it. How it told the
Btory, of illness and watching and desertion and danger ; how it
put life and death in near and strong eootrast ; and the summer
wind blew in through the blinds and pushed the blinds them-
selves gently out into the room, just as Elizabeth had seen and
felt in many a bright and happy hour not so long past. The
same summer breath, and the summer so different ! Elizabeth
could hardly bear it. She longed to rush up stairs whero there
HcsledbyGoOgle
386 THE HILLB OF THE 8HA.TEMU0.
W33 BOmebody ; liiit then ate must not ; and then the reniembi ance
that somebody was there c[uietcd her again. That thought stirred
another train, the old contrast betweeo him and Leraelf, the con-
trast between his condition and hers, now b ou^lit ore painfully
than ever home. " He is ready to meet anyth ^ she thoaght,
— "nothing can come amiss to him — he s as eaiy for that
world as for this — and more ! " —
The impression of the words ne had e d t at evening came
back to her afresh, and the recollection of the t e with which
he had read them, — calm, happy, and at — in I Ehzabeth
threw herself off the sofa and kneeled down to lay her head and
arms upon it, in mere agony of wish to change something, or
rather of the felt want that something should be changed. 0
that she were at peace like hira ! 0 that she had like him a sure
home and possession beyond the reach of sickness and death ! 0
that aho were that rectified, self-contained, pure, strong spirit,
that he was I — The utmost of passionate wish was in the tears
that wept out these yearnings of heart — petitions they half were, —
for her mind in giving them form, had a half look to the only
possible power that could give them fruition. But it was wtti
only the refreshment of tears and exhaustion tlat she laid herself
OD her oonoh and went to sleep.
Clam had carried away her blanket bed and put out the lamps,
before Elizabeth awoke the next morning. It was a question
whether the room looked drearier by night or by day. She got
up and went to the window. Clam Lad pulled up the blinds. The
light of the summer morning was rising again, but it shone only
without ; all was darkness inside. Except that light-surrounded
watcher up stairs. How Elizabeth's heart blessed him.
The next thing was, to get ready to receive his report That
morning's toilet was soon made, and Eliaabeth sat waiting. He
might come soon, or he might not; for it was early, and he
might not know whether she was awake and risen yet. She was
unaccustomed, poor cbild, to a waiting of pain ; and her heart felt
tired and sore already from the last forty-eight hours of fears and
hopes. Fears and hopes were in strong life now, but a life that
had become very tender to every touch. Clam was setting the
breakfast-table — Could breakfast be eaten or not? The very
cups and saucers made Elizabeth's heart ache. She was glad
when Clam had done her work and was gone and she sat waiting
alone. But the breaths came painfully now, and her heart was
weary with its own aching.
The little knock at the door came at last. Elizabeth ran t^
HcsledbyGoOgle
IHE HILLS OF THE eHATi^nrc. 387
open it, and exebanged a silent grasp of the hand with the newa-
bearer ; her eyes looked her question. He came ia just aa he
came last night ; calm and grave,
" I eaii tell you nothing new, Miss Elizabeth," he said, " I
cannot see that Mr. Haye is any better — I do not know that he
But Elizabeth was weak to bear longer suspense; she burst
into tears and eat down hiding her face. Her companion stood
near, but said nothing further.
" May I call Clam ? " he asked after i few minutes,
Elizabeth gave eager assent ; and the act of last niglit was
repeated, to her unspeakable gratification. She drank in every
word, and not only because she drank in the voice with them.
" Breakfast's just ready, Mr. Winthrop," said Clam when she
was leaving the room ■ — " fo you needn't go up stairs."
The breakfa t wis i very silent one on Elizabeth's part,
Wnthrop talked on Different subjects; but she was too fuU-
hea ted and too s ck he fed to answer him with many words.
And when tho sh al was ended and ha was about q^uitting
the parlour he jun ped up and followed him a step or two.
Mr W nthr [ — won t you say a word of comfort to me be-
fo e you go
He saw slie needed t exceedingly; and came back and eat
down on the nfa th he
I d n t know wh t to say tu you better than this, Miss
Eiizabeth, he ^aid, turnmg over again the leaves of his little
bible ; — " I came to it in the course of my reading this morning ;
and it comforted me."
He put the book in her hands, but Eliaabeth had to clear
her eyes more than once from hot tears, before she could read
the words to which iie directed her.
" And there shall be a tabernacle for a shadow in the day-
time from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and for a covert
from storm and from rain."
Elizabeth looked at it.
" But I don't understand it, Mr. Laadholm ? " she said, rais-
ing her eyes to Ms face.
He said nothing; he took the book from her and turning a
few leaves over, put it again in her hands. Elizabeth read ; —
" And a man shall be aa an hiding-place from the wind, and
a covert from the tempest ; as rivers of water in a dry place ; as
the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land."
" Is that plainer ? " ho asked.
HcsledbyGoOgle
iJ»» THE HILLS 05" THE SHATEMUC.
" It means the Saviour? " said Elizabetli.
" Ccrtiiiiily it docs ! To whom, else should we go ? "
" But Mr. Landholm," said Elizabeth after a, minute's strug-
gle, " why do you shew me this, when you know / can do nothing
with it ? "
" WiU you do nothing ? " he sai(3.
The words implied that she could; an implication she would
not deny; but her answer was another burst of tears. And with
the book in her hand he left her.
The words were well studied that Jay I by a heart feeling the
blast of the tempest and bitterly wanting to hide itself from the
wind. But the fact of her want and of a sure remedy, was all
she made clear; how to match the one with the other she did not
know. The book itself she turned oyer with the curiosity and
the interest of fresh insight into character. It was well worn,
and had been carefully handled; it lay open easily anywhere,
and in many places various marks of pencilling shewed that not
only the eyes but the miud of its owner had been all over it.
It was almost an awfui book to Elizabetli's handling. It seemed
a thing too good to be in her hold. It bore witness to its
owner's truth of character, and to her own consec[uent being
far astray ; it gave her an opening such aa she never had before
to look into his mind and life and guess at the secret spring and
strength of them. Of many of the marks of his pencil she could
make nothing at all ; she eoulS not divine why they had been
made, nor what could possibly be the notable thing in the passage
pointed out ; and longing to get at more of his mind than she
could in one morning's hurried work, she found another bible in
the house and took off a number of his notes, for future and
more leisurely study.
It was a happy occupation for her that day. No other could
have so softened its eseeeding weariness and sadness. The doctor
five her no comfort. Ho said he could tell nothing yet; and
lizabeth could not fancy that this delay of amendment gave any
encouragement to hope for it. She did not see Winthrop at
dinner. She spent the most of the day over his bible. Sickness
of heart sometimes made her throw it aside, but so surely sickness
of heart made her take it up again.
The thought of Winthrop himself getting sick, did once or
twice look in through the window of Elizabeth's mind ; but her
miud could not take it in. She had so much already to bear,
that this tremendous possibility she could not bear so much ad
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE fllLLS OF THE eHATEMCTO. 389
to look at; she left it a one side ; and it can Imrdly lie numliered
among her recognized causes of trouble.
The day wore to aa end. The evening and the soa-breeze
came again. The lamps were lit and the table dressed with, the
salver and tea-urn. And Elizabeth was thankful the day was
over ; and waited impatiently for her friend to make his ap-
pearance.
She thought he looked thoughtfuller than ever when he came.
That might have been fancy.
" I don't know, Miss Eliaabetb," he said, taking her hand as
lie had done in the morning, and answering her face. " We must
wait yet, — How have you borne the day ?
" I have borne it by the help of your book," she said looking
down at it and trembling,
" You could have no better help," he said with a little sigh,
as he turned away to the table, — " except that of the Author
of it."
The tea was very silent, for even Winthrop did not talk
much ; and very sod, for Elizabeth could hardly hold her head up.
" Mr. Winthrop," she said when he rose,-—*' can you give me
a minute or two before you go ? — I want to ask you a question."
"Certainly," — he said; and waited, both standing, while she
opened his bible and found the place he had shewed her in the
morning. She showed it to him now.
" This — I don't quite understand it.— I see what is spoken of,
and the need of it,— but — how can I make it my own ? "
She looked up as she put the question, with most earnest eyes,
and lips tliat only extreme determination kept from giving way.
He looked at her, and at his book,
" By giving your trust to the Maker of tlie promise,"
" How ? — "
" The same unquestioning faith and dependence that you
would give to any sure and undoubted refuge of human strength."
Eliaabeth looked down and pressed her hands close together
upon her breast. She knew so well how to give that I — so little
how to give the other.
"Do you understand what Christ requires of those who would
follow him ? "
" No," she said looking up again, — " not clearly — hardly
at all."
" One is — that you give up everything, even in thouglit, that
is contrary to his authority."
He was stUl, and so was she, both looking at eaeh other.
HcsledbyGoOgle
3!)0 TnE HILLS OF THE
" Tiat is wliat is meant by repentance. The other thing is,
— that you trust yourself for all your wants— from the forgivenesa
of sin, to the snpplj of this moment's need,— to tke strength and
love of Jesus Christ ; — and that hecaase he has paid your price
and bought you with his own blood."
" You mean," said Elizabeth slowly, " that hia life was girea
in place of mine."
Winthrop was silent. Elizabeth stood apparently coasidering.
" 'Everything iliat is oontraiy to hia authority ' " — she added
after a minute, — " how can I know oxaDtly all that? "
He still said nothing, but touched with hia finger once or
twice the book in his hani
Elizabeth looked, and the tears eame to hex eyes.
" You know,—" she said, hesitating a little, — " what physi-
cians say of involuntary muscular resistance, that the physical
frame makes sometimes?"
He answered her with an instant's light of mtelligence, and
then with the darkened look of soitow. But he took Ms bible
away witti him and siud no more.
Elizabeth sat down and struggled with herself and with the
different passions which had been at work in her mind, til! she
was wearied out; and then she slept.
She waked up in tlie middle of the night, to find the lamps
burning bright and Clam asleep on the floor by her side ; she her-
self was sitting yet where she had been sitting in the evening, on
a low seat with her head on the sofa cushion. She got up and
with a sort of new spring of hope and cheer, whence come she
knew not, laid herself on the sofa and slept till the morning.
" You'd best be up, Misa 'Liaabeth," were Clam's first words.
" Why ? " saij. Elizabeth springing up.
" It's time," said her handmaiden.
Elizabeth rose from her sofa and put her face and dress in
such order as a few miuutes could do. She had but come back
from doing this, and was standing before the table, when "Win-
throp came in. It was much earlier than usual. Elizabeth
looked, but he did not answer, the wonted question. He led her
gently to the window and placed himself opposite to her.
" You must leave here, Miss Elizabeth," he said.
" Must I ? " — said Elizabeth looking up at him and trembling
" You must—" ho answered very gently.
" Why, Mr. Landholm ? " Elizabeth dared to say.
" Because tbere is no longer any reason why jou should
stay here."
HcsledbyGoOgle
TIIK HILLS 0¥ TilE SHATEMtTC. 391
She trembled exceedingly, but thougb ber very lips trembleiJ,
she did not cry. He would have placed her on a chair, but she
resisted that and stood atiU.
" Where do you want me to go, Mr. Winthrop ? " she said
presently, like a child.
" I will take you wherever you eay — to some friend's house ? "
She caught at hia arm and her breath at once, with a kind of
sob ; then releasing his arm, she said,
" There isn't anywhere."
" No house in the city ? "
She shook her head.
" If you will let me, I will take jou to a safe and ^uiot
place ; and as soon as possible away from the city,"
"When?" '
" Whea from here ? — Now, — as soon as you caa be ready."
Elizabeth's eye waadered vaguely towards the table like a
person in a maze.
" Mayn't I go up stairs again ? " she said, her eye coming
I uld rather you did not,"
Sh gave way then and sat down covering her face with her
h d And sobs as violent as her trembliiigs had been, held
h f little while. The moment she could, she rose up and
1 k d p again, throwing off her tears aa it were, though a
b nd then even while she was speaking interrupted her
breath,
" But Mr. "Winthrop — the house,— how can I go and leave it
with everything in it? "
" I will take care, if you will trust me "
"I will trust JOU," she said with running tears, "But
you ? "
" I will take care of it and you too, — I will try to."
" That was not what I meant "
" i. am safe," he said.
He gently seated her; and then going off to 01am at tne
other side of the room he bade her fetch Tier mistress's bonnet
and sluiwl. He himsolf put them on, and taking her arm in his,
tlicy wont forth of the house.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXXV.
The dawn of the Bammer morning waa just flushing up over
the citj, when WiDthrop aud his trerabling oompaiiloQ came out
of the house. The flush eamo up upon a fair blue sky, into which
little curls of amoke were here and there stealing ; and a fresh
air in the streets aa yet held place of the sun's hot breath. One
person felt the refreshment of it, aa he descended the steps of the
house and begau a rather swift walk up the Parade. But those
were very trembling feet that hfe had to guide during that early
walk ; though his charge was perfectly quiet. She did not weep at
all; she did not speak, nor question any of his movements. Neither
did he speak. He kept a steady and swift course till they reached
Mr. Inchbald's house in Little South Street, and then only paused
to open the door. He led Elizabeth up-stairs to his own room, and
there and not before took her band from his arm and placed her
on a chair. Himself quietly went round the room, opening the
windows and altering the disposition of one or two things. Then
he came back to her where she sat like a statue, and in kind
fashion again took one of her hands,
" I will see that you are waited upon," he said gently ; " and
I will send Clam to you by and by for your orders. Will you
stay here for a little while 'i — and then I will take care of you."
How she wished his words meant more than she knew they
did. She bowed her head, thinking so.
" Can I give you anything ? "
She managed to say a smothered ' no,' and he went ; first
pulling out of his pocket his little bible which he laid upon the
table.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE Bitten OP THE SaATEMCC. 393
Was that by way of ansWeriug his own question ? It might
be, or he might not haye wanted it in his pocket. Whether or nOj
Elizabeth seized it and drew it towards her, and as if it had con-
tained the secret charm and panacea for all her troubles, she laid
her hands and her head upon it, and poured out there her new
and her old sorrows ; wishing even then that Winthrop could
have given her the foundation of strength on which his own
strong spirit rested.
After a long while, or what seemed such, she heard the
door softly open and some one come in. The slow careful step
was none that she knew, and Elizabeth did not look up till it
had gone out and the door had closed again. It was Mrs. Net-
tley, and Mrs. Nettley had softly left on the table a waiter of
breakfast. Elizabeth looked at it, and laid her head down again.
The next interruption came an hour later and was a smarter
one. Elizabeth had wearied herself with weeping, and lay com-
paratively quiet on the couch.
" Miss 'Lizabeth," said the new-comer, in more gentle wise
than it was her fasliion to look or speak,—" Mr, Winthrop said I
Was to come and get your orders about what you Wanted.''
" I can't give orders — Do what you like," said Elizabeth
keeping her face hid.
" If I knowed what 'twas,"— -saiJ Clam, sending her eye
round the room for information or suggestion. " Mr. Winthrop
said I was to come. — Why you haven't took no breakfast ? "
" I didn't want any."
" You can't go out o' town that way," said Clam. " The
Ckivernor desired you would take some breakfast, and his ordera
must be follerod. You can't drink cold coffee neither — "
And away went Clara, coffee-pot in hand.
In so short a space of time that it shewed Clam's business
faculties, she vfaa back again with the coffee smoking hot. She
made a cup carefully and brought it to her mistress.
" You can't do nothin' without it," said Clam. " Mr. Win-
throp would say, ' Drink it ' if he was here — "
Which Elizabeth knew, and perhaps considered in swallowing
the eofiee. Before she had done, Clam stood at her couch again
with a plate of more substantial supports.
" He would say ' Eat,' if he was here — " she remarked.
" Attend a little to what I have to say," said her mistress.
" While you're catiu'," said Clam. " I wasn't to stop to get
breakfast."
A few words of directions were despatched, and Clam was off
HcsledbyGoOgle
394 THE llILtS Of THE BlrATESItJC.
ogain ; and Elizabeth ky still and looked at the atraDge room and
thought over the strange meaiiiiig and Bignificance of her heiug
there. A woineDt's harbour, with a moment's friend. She vsta
shiveringly alone in the world; she felt very much at a loss what
to do, or what would become of her. She felt it, but she could
not think about it. Tears came again for a long uninterrupted
The daj had reached the afternoon, when Clam returned, and
coming into Mrs. Ncttlcy's kitchen inc[uired if her mistress had
had any refreshment. Mrs. Nettley declared that she dursn't
take it up and that she had waited for Clara. Upon which that
damsel set about getting ready a cup of tea, with a sort of im-
patient promptitude.
" Have you got all through ? " Mrs. Nettley asked in the
course of this preparation.
" What ? " said Clam.
" Your work."
" No," said Clam. " Never espeot to. My work don't get
done."
" But has Mr. Lacdholm got through his work, down at the
house ? "
" Don't know," said Clam. " He don't tell me. But if we
was to work on, at the rate we've been a goin' to-day — we'd do
up all Mannahatta in a week or so."
" What's been so much to do ? — the funeral, I know."
" The funeral," said Clara, " and everything else. That was
only one thing. There was everything to be locked up, and every*
thing to be put up, and the rest to be packed; and the silver sent
off to the Bank; and everybody to be seen to. I did all I could,
and Mr. Winthrop he did the rest."
" He'll be worn out ! " said Mrs. Nettley.
" No he won't," said Clam. " He ain't one o' them that have
to try hard to make things go^works like oiled 'chinery— power-
ful too, I can tell you."
" What's going to be done ? " said Mrs. Nettley meditatively.
" Can't say," said 01am. " I wish my wishes was goin' to be
done — but I s'pose they ain't. People's ain't mostly, iu this
She went off with her dish of tea and what not, to her mistress
up-stairs. But Elizabeth this time would endure neither her
treaenoe nor her proposal. Clam was obliged to go down again
eaviog her mistress as she had found her. Alone with herself.
Thesj when the sua waa long past the meridian, Elisabeth
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OS' TllE BHA.TEMUO. S95
heard upon the stair another step, of the only friend, a t s n d
to her, that she had. She raised her head and lisi n d t t
The step went past her door, and into the other roon and h
sat waiting. " How little he knows," she thought, " h rah
of a friend he is ! how little he guesses it. How far h f m.
thinking that when ho shall have bid me good bye — som wh —
he will have taken away all of help and comfort I hay —
But clear and well defined as this thought was in h m nd
at the moment, it did not prevent her meeting her benefactor with
as much outward oaimneas as if it had not been there. Yet the
quiet meetiog of hands had much that was hard to bear. Eliza-
beth did not dare let her thoughts take hold of it,
" Have you had what you wanted ? " he said, in the way m
which one asks a question of no moment when important ones
are behind.
" I have had all I could have," Elizabeth answered.
There was a pause ; and then he aaked,
" What are your plans, Miss Elizabeth?"
" I haven't formed any. — I couldn't, yet."
" Do yon wiali to atay in the city, or to go out of it ? "
" Oh to go out of it ! " said Elizabeth, — " if I eoutd — if I
knew where."
" Where is your cousin ? "
" She was at Vantassel ; hut she left it for some friend's house
in the country, I believe. I don't waBt to be where she is."
Eliaaheth's tears came again,
" It seems very strange — " she said presently, trying to put
a stop to them, but her words stopped.
" What ? " said Winthrop.
" It seems very strange, — but I hardly know where to go. I
have no friends near — no near friends, in any sense; there are
some ^hundreds of miles off, in distance, and further than that in
kind regard. I know plenty of people, but I have no friends. — I
would ^o up to Wut-a-qut-o, if there was anybody there," she
added alter a minute or two.
"Shahweetah has passed into other hands," said Winthrop,
" I know it," said Elizabeth; — " it passed into mine."
Winthrop started a little, and then after another monient'a
pause said quietly,
" Arc you sorioos in wishing to go there bow ? "
" Very serious ! " said Elizabeth, " if I had anybody to taho
care of me. I couldn't be there with only Clam and Karen,"
" Yon would find things very rough and uncomfortable."
HcsledbyGoOgle
396 THE huls of the shatsmuc.
" What do you suppose I care about how rough? " said Eliza-
beth. " I would rather bo there than in aoj other place I can
thinli of."
" I am afraid you would still ho muoli alone there — your own
household would be all."
" I must be that anywhere," said Elizabeth bitterly. " I wish
I could be there."
" Then I will see what I can do," said he rising.
" Abont what ? " said Tillizabeth.
" I will tell you if I succeed."
Mr. Landholm walked down staira into Mrs. Nettley's sanctum,
where the good lady was diligently at work in kitchen affairs,
" Mrs. Nettby, will you leave your brother and me to keep
things together here, and go into the country with this bereaved
friend of mine? "
Mrs. Nettley stood still with her hands in the dough of _ her
bread aad looked at the maker of this extraordinary proposition.
"Into the country, Mr. Landholm! — When?"
" Perhaps this afternoon— in two or three honra."
" Dear Mr. Landholm ! — "
"Dear Mrs. Nettley."
" But it's impossible."
"Is it?"
" Why — ^Wliat does she want me for, Mr. Landholm ? "
" She is alone, and without friends at hand. She wishes to
leaTe the city and take refuge in her own house in the country,
but it is uninhabited except by servants. She does not know of
my application to you, which I make believing it to bo a case
of charity."
Mrs. Nettley began to knead her dough with a haste and
vigour which told of other matters on hand.
" Will you go, Mr. Landholm ? "
" Certainly — to see you safe there — and then I will come
baek and take care of Mr. Inchbald."
" How far is it, sir ? "
" So far as my old home, which Miss Haye has bought."
" What, Wut that place of yours ? " said Mrs. Nettley.
" Yes," Winthrop said gravely.
" And how long shall I be wanted, Mr. Landholm ? "
" I do not know, Mrs. Nettley."
Mrs. Nettley hastily cut her dough into loaves and threw it
into the pans.
" You are going, Mrs. Nettley ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMTO. 397
" WLy sir — in. two houra, you say ? "
"Perhaps in so Httlc as that — I am going to see."
" But Mr. Landliolm," said the good lady, facing round upon
him after bestowing her pans in their place, and lookicg some-
what concerned, — " Mr. Landholm, do you think she will like
me? — Miss Haye ? "
"Winthrop smiled a little.
" I tliink she wiU fee very thankfnl to you, Mrs. Nettley— I
can answer no further."
" I suppose it's right to risk that," Mrs. Nettley concluded.
" I'll do what you say, Mr, Landholm."
Without more words Mr. Landholm went out and left the
house.
" Are Miss Haye's things all ready ? " asked Mrs. Ncttley of
Clam, while she nervously untied her apron,
" All's ready that he hns to do with," Clam answered a iittl6
curtly.
" But has he to do with your mistress's things."
" He has to do with everything, just now," said Clam. " I
wish the now 'd last for ever I "
" How can we go to-night ? — the boats and the stages aud all
don't set off so late."
" Boats don't stop near Wutsey Qutaey," said 01am.
Mrs. Nettley went off to make her own preparations.
When Mr. Landholm came again, after an interval of some
length, he came with a carriage.
" Are you ready, Mrs. Nettley ? " he Baid looking into that
lady's quarters.
" In a little bit, Mr. Landholm !— "
Whereupon he went up-stairs.
" If you wish to go to Wut-a-qut-o, Miss Elizabeth," he said,
"my friend Mrs. Nettley will go with you and stay with you, till
you have made other arrangements. I can answer for her kind-
ness of heart, and unobtrusive manners, and good sense. Would
you like her for a companion ? "
" I would like anybody — that you can recommend."
" My Jriend Cowslip's little sloop sets sail for the neighbour-
hood of Wttt-a-qut-o this evening."
" Oh thank you '—Will she take us ? "
" If you wish it."
" Oh thank you ! "
" Would you not be better to wait till to-morrow ?■— I can
make the sloop wait,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
"i'O IHK niLL9 OF TUm SHATEMUO.
_ " Oil no, let Tis go," said Elizabeth rising. " But your friend
13 very good — your friend wlio is going witt me. I mean."
" Mrs, Nettley. But you jieod not move yet — rest while
you can."
" Kest ! "— said Elizabeth. And tears said what words did
not.
" There is only one rest," said Winthrop gravely ; " aad it is
in Christ's hand. ' Come unto me, all ye that laboui- and are
heavy laden, anh i will give you hkst.' "
Elizabeth's sobs were bitter. Her counsellor added no more
however ; ha left the room after a little while, and soon returned
to tell her that all was ready, gbt was ready too by that time.
" But Mr. Wintliropj" she said lookiua at him earnestly, " is
everything here so that you can leave it ? ''
_ She dared not put the whole of her mtaning into words. But
Winthrop understood, and answered a quiet "yes; " and Ehza-
betS lowered her veil and her head together and let him lead her
to the carriage.
A few minutes brought them to the pier at the eud of whicili
the Julia Ann lay.
" You're sliarp upon the time, Mr. Landholm," said her
master ;— " we're just goin' to cast off. But we shouldn't have
done it, nother, till you come. All right ! "
" Is all right iu the cabin ? " said Winthrop as thev came
on board.
_ " Well it's slicked up all it could be on such short notice,"
aaid the skipper. " I guess you wont have to live in it long ;
the wind's coming up pretty smart ahind us. Haul away
there ! — "
_ It was past sis o'clock, and the August sun had much lessoned
of its heat, when, as once before with Mr. Landholm for a passen-
ger, the Julia Ann stood out into the middle of the river with
her head set for the North.
Mrs. Nettley and Clam hid themselves straightway ia the
precincts of the cabin, Elizabeth stood still where she had first
placed herself on the deck, in a cold abstracted sort of careless-
ness, conscious only that her protector was standing by her side
and that she was not willing to lose sight of him. The vessel,
and her crew, and their work before her very eyes, she could
hardly be said to see. The sloop got clear of the wharf and
edged out into the mid-channel, wliere she stood bravely along
before the fair wind. Slowly the trees and houses along shore
were dropped behind, and fresher the wind and fairer the green
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHAl-EMTJO 399
river-side seemed to become. Elizabeth's senses hardly knew it,
or only in a. kind of underhand way ; not recognized.
" Will you go into the oabia ? or will you have a seat here ? "
ahe heard Winthrop say.
Mechanically she looked about for one. He brought a chair
and placed her in it, and ahe sat down ; choosing rather the opon
air and free sky than any shut-up place, and his neighbourhood
rather than ■where he was not ; but with a dulled and impassive
state of feeling that refused to take up anything, past, present or
future. It was not rest, it was not relief, though there was a
seeming of rest about it. She knew then it would not last. It
was only a little lull between storma; the enforced quiet of
wearied and worn-out powers. She sat mazily taking in the sun-
light, and the view of the aunlighted earth and water, the breath
of the sweeping fresh air, the creaking of the sloop's cordage, in
the one consciousness that Winthrop kept his place at her side all
this time. How she thanked him for that I though, she could
not ask him to sit down, nor make any sort of a speech about it.
Down went the Bun, and the shadows and the eunlight were
swept away together; and yet fresher came the sweet wind. It
was a sort of consolation to Eliaabeth, that her distress gave
Wintiirop a right and a reason to attend upon her; she had had
all along a vague feeling of it, and the feeling was very present
now. It was all of comfort she could lay hold of; and she
clutched at it with even then a foreboding sense of the desolation
there would be when that comfort was gone. She had it now;
she had it, and she held it ; and she sat there in her chair on the
deck in a curious half stupor, half quiet, her mind clinging to that
one single point where it could lean.
There came a break-up however. Supper was declared to be
ready ; and though nobody but Winthrop attended the skipper's
table, Elizabeth was obliged to take some refreshments of her
own, along with a cup of the sloop's tea, which most certainly she
would have taken from no hand but the one that presented it to
her. And after it, Elizabeth was so strongly advised to go to the
cabin and take some rest, that she could not help going; resting,
she had no thought of. Her companions were of easier mind;
for they soon addressed themselves to such sleeping conveniencies
as the little cabin could boast. Miss Haye watched them begin
and end their preparations and bestow themselves in resting
positions to sleep ; and then drawing a breath of comparative
rest herself, she placed herself just within the cabin threshold, on
HcsledbyGoOgle
400 THE S1LL9 OF THE SHATEMtfC.
the floor, where she could look out and haTo a good Tie* of tha
denk through the partly open door.
It was this night aa on the former occasion, a brillia,nt moon-
light ; and the vessel had no lamps up to hinder its power. The
mast and saila and lines stood out in sharp light and shadow. The
man at the helm Elizabetli could not see ; the moonlight poured
down upon Winthrop, walking slowly hack and forth on the deck,
his face and figure at every turn given fully and clearly to vieWi
Elizabeth herself was in shadow ; ho could not l<*ok within the
cabin door end seo her ; she could look out and see him right
well, and she did. He was pacing slowly up and down, with a
thoughtful face, but so calm in its thoughtfulness that it was a
frievous contrast to Elizabeth's own troubled and tossed nature,
t was all the more fascinating to her gaze ; while it was bitter to
her admiration. The firm quiet tread, — the manly grave repose
of the face, — spoke of somewhat in the character and life so un-
like what she knew in her own, and bo beautiful to her sense of
just and right, that she looked in a maze of admiration and self-
condemning ; rating herself lower and lower and Winthrop higher
and higher, at every fair view the moonlight gave, at every turn
that brought him near or took him further from her. And tears
—curious tears — that came from some very deep wells of her
nature, blinded her eyes, and rolled hot down her cheeks, and
were wiped away that she might look. " What shall I do when
he gets tired of that walk and goes somewhere else ? " — she
thought; and with the thought, aa instantly, Elizabeth gathered
herself up from off the floor, wiped her cheeks from the tears,
and stepped out into the moonlight. " I can't say anything,
but I suppose he will," was her meditation. " Nobody knows
when I shall have another chance."—
"They could not^make it comfortable for you in there?''
said Winthrop coming up to her.
"I don't know — yes, — I have not tried."
" Are you very much fatigued ? "
" I suppose so. — I don't feel it,"
" Can I do anything for you ? "
The real answer nearly burst Ehzabeth's bounds Of self-con-
trol, but nevertheless her words were quietly given.
" Yes, — if you will only let me stay out here a little while."
He put a chair for her instantly, and himself remained stand-
ing near, as he had done before.,
" Walk on, if you wish," said Elizabeth. " Don't mind me.'
But instead of that he drew up another chair, and sat down.
HcsledbyGoOgle
: HILL8 OF THE SHATEMUC. 401
There was silence then that might be felt. The moonlight
poured down noiselessly on the water, and over the low dusky dis-
tant shore; the ripplea muraiured under the sloop's prow; the
wind hreathed gently through the sails. Now and then the creak
of the rudder soimded, but the very stars were not more calmly
peaceful than everything else.
" There is quiet and soothing in the speech of such a scene as
tlis," Winthrop said after a time.
"Quiet I "said Elizabeth. Her voice choked, and it was a
little while before she could go on. — " Nothing ia quiet t<i a mind
in utter confusion."
" Is yours so ? "
" Yea."
The Boba were at her very lips, hut the word got out first.
" It ia no wonder," he observed gently.
" Yea it ia wonder," aaid Elizabeth ; — " or at least it is what
needn't be. Yours wouldn't he so in any circumstances."
" What makes the confusion ? "—he asked, in a gentle con-
eiderate tone that did not press for an answer.
" The want of a single fixed tiling that my thoughts can
cling to."
He was silent a good while after that.
" There is nothing fixed in this world," he said at length.
" Yes there ia," said Elizabeth bitterly, " There are friends
— and there is a self-reliant spirit— and there is a settled miud."
" Settled — about what ? "
" What it will and whai it ought to do."
" la yours not settled on the latter point ? " he asked-
" If it were," said Elizabeth with a little hesitatioa and strug-
gling,— " that don't make it aettled."
" It shews where the settling point is."
" Which leaves it as far as ever from being settled," said Eliza-
beth, almost impatiently.
" A self-reliant spirit, if it be not poised on another founda-
tion than ita own, hath no fixedness that ia worth anything, Miss
Elizabeth ;— and friends are not safe things to trust to."
" Some of them are," said Elizabeth.
" No, for they are not sure. There is but one ftiend that
cannot be taken away from us."
" But to know that, and to know everything else about him,
does not make him our friend," said Elizabeth in a voice thai
" To agree to everything about him, does."
HcsledbyGoOgle
i02 TUE HILLS OP Tira BHATEMOC.
" To agree ?-— How ?— -I do agree to it," said Elizabeth.
" Do you? Are you willing to have tim for a King to reign
over you ? — as well as a Saviour to make yon and keep you safe ? "
She did aot answer.
" You do not know everything about him, neither."
" What don't I know ? "
" Almost all. You cannot, till you begin to obey him ; for
till then he will not shew himself to you. The epitome of all
beauty is in those two words — Jesus Christ.
She made no answer yet, with her head bowed, and striving
to check the straining sobs with which her breast was heaving.
She had a feeling that he was looking on compassionately ; but it
was a good while before she could restrain herself into calmness ;
and during that time he added nothing more. When ehe could
look up, she found ho was not looking at her; his eyes were
turned upon the river, where the moon made a broad and broad-
ening streak of wavy brightness. But Elizabeth looked at the
quiet of his brow, and it smote her ; though there was now some-
what of thoughtful care upon the face. The tears that she thought
she had driven back, rushed fresh to her eyes again.
" Do you believe what I last said, Miss Elizabeth ? " he said
turning round to her.
" About the epitome of all beauty ? "
" Yes. Do you believe it ? "
" Yoii say so — I don't understand it," she said sadly and
somewhat perplesed.
" I told you BO," he answered, looking round to the moon-
light again.
" But Mr. Landholm," said Elizabeth in evident distress,
" won't you tell me something more ? "
" I cannot."
" Oh yes you can, — a^rcat deal more," she said weeping.
"I could," he said gravely, — "yet I should tell you nothing
— you would not understand me. You must- find it out for
yourself."
" How in the world can 1 V "
" There is a promise, — ' If any man will do his will, ho shall
know of the doctrine.' "
" I don't know how to begin, nor anything about it," said
Elizabeth, weeping still.
"Begin anywhere."
" How f What do you mean ? "
" Open the Bible at the first chapter of Matthew, and read.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO. 403
Ask honestly, of your own conscience and of God, at each step,
what obligation upon you grows out of wtat you are reading. If
you follow his leading he will lead you on,— to himself."
ElizahetU sobbed in silence for some little time ; then she said,
" I will do it, Mr, Landbolm."
" If you do," said he, " you will find you can do nothing."
" Nothing!" said Elizabeth.
" You will find jou are dependent upon the good pleasure of
God for power to take the smallest step,"
" His good pleasure I — Suppose it should not be given me."
'' There is no ' suppose ' about that," "Winthrop answered, with
a slight smile, which seen as it was through a veil of tears, Eliza-
betii never forgot, and to which she often looked back in after
time ; — " ' Whosoever mU, let him take the water of life freely.'
But he does not always get a draught at the first asking. The
water of life was not bought so cheap as that. However, ' to
him that knocketh, it shall be opened.' "
, Elizabeth hearkened to him, with a curious mixture of yield-
ing and rebellion at once in her mind. She felt them both
there. But the rebellion was against the words ; her yielding
was for the voice that brought the words to her ear. She paused
awhile,
" At that rate, people
what tliey wanted," she observed,
some little time.
" Thoy might," said Winthrop quietly.
" I should thiak many might,"
" Many have been," he answered.
" What then ? " she asked a little abruptly.
" They did not get what ihey wanted."
Elizabeth started a little, and shivered, and tears began to
come again.
" what's to binder their being discouraged, Mr. Landholm ? "
she asked in a tone that was a little querulous.
" Believing God's word."
So sweet the words came, her tears ceased at that ; the power
of the truth sank for a moment with calming effect upon her re-
bellious feeling; but with this came also as truly the thought,
" You have a marvellous beautiful way of saying things quietly ! "
— However for the time her objections wore silenced ; and she
sat still, looking out upon the water, and thinking that with
the first quiet opportunity she would begin the &st chapter
of Matthew.
HcsledbyGoOgle
40i THE HILLS OF TUE BIIATEMtTC.
For a little while they both were motionless and silent; aild
then rising, Wintlirop began his walk up and down the deck again.
Elizabeth was left to her meditations; which BOmetimsB roved
hither and thither, and sometimes concentred themselves upon
tho beat of his feet, which indeed formed a sort of background of
cadence to them all. It was sueh a soothing reminder of one
strong and sure stay that she might for the present lean upon ;
and the knowledge that she might soon lose it, made the reminder
only tho more precious. She was weeping most bitter tears during
some of that time ; but those footsteps behind her were like quiet
music through all. She listened to them eometimes, and felt
them always, with a secret gratification of knowing they would
not quit the deck till she did. Then she had some qualms about
his getting tired ; and then she said to herself that she could not
put a stop to what was so much to her s.nd which she was not to
have again. So she sat and listened to them, weary and half be-
wildered with the changes and pain of the last few days and hours ;
hardly recognizing the reality of her own situation, or that the
sloop, Winthrop's walk behind her, the moonlight, her lonely seat
on tie deck, and her truly lonely place in the world, were not all
parts of a curious phantasm. Or if realizing them, with senses so
tried and blunted with recent wear and tear, that they refused to
act and left her to realize it quietly and almost it seemed stupidly.
She oatled it so to herself, but she could not help it ; and she was
in a manner thankful for that. She would wake up again. She
would have liked to sit there all night under that moonlight and
with the regular tall of Wintlirop's step to and fro ou the vessel.
" How long can you stand this ? " said he, pausing beside her.
" What ? " said Elizabeth looking up,
" How long can you do without resting ' "
"I am resting. — I could t t so w 11 jwl 1 e."
" Couldn't you ? "
" No ! — "she said m tly
He turned away d w t w 11> f, Kl b th blessed
him for it.
The moon shone, d th w d bl d t d 1 j the vessel
sailed on ; till higher d b g t th de of her,
and hills stood back t h 11 mb t f 1 th standing,
and threw their deep had w 11 1 th m g f the river.
As the sloop entered b tw th n wi g a d bf ing walls
of the river channel, th d ht f b m g tier, often
hindered by some out ta d g h i,h i nt h 1 d 1 ft behind;
more slowly she made i w j p h U i h 11 mb y d curves
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE H1LL8 OF THE SHATEUTTC. 405
of the river, less stoutly Ler sails were filled, more gently
her prow rippled over the smoother water. Sometimes she passed
within the shadow of a lofty hill-side ; and then slipped out again
into the clear iaii sparkling water where the moon shone.
" Are we near there ? said EHzaheth suddenly, turning her
head to arrest her walking companion. He came to the back of
the chair.
" Near Wut-a-qut-o f "
"Yes."
" No. Nearing it, but not near it yet."
" How soon shall we be ? "
" If the wind holds, I should think in two hours."
" Whore do we stop ? "
" At the sloop's quarters — -the old mill-— «bout two miles down
the river from Shahweetah."
" Why wouldn't she carry us straight up to the place ? "
" It would be inconvenient landing there, and would very
much delay the sloop's getting to her moorings."
" I'll pay for that !— "
" We can get home as well in another way."
" But then we shall have to stay here all night,"
"Here, on the sloop, you mean? The night ia far gone
already."
" Not half ! " said Elizabeth, " It's only a little past twelve."
" Aren't you. tired ? "
" I suppose so, but I don't feci it."
" Don't you want to take some sleep before morning ? "
" No, I can't. But you needn't walk there to take care of
me, Mr, Winthrop. I shall be quit* safe alone."
" No, you will not," he said ; and going to some of the sloop's
receptacles, he drew out an old sail and laying it on the deck by
her side he placed himself upon it, in a half sitting, half reclining
posture, which told of some need of rest on his part.
" You are tired," she said earnestly. " Please don't stay here
for me I "
" It pleases me to stay," he said lightly, " It is no hardship,
under ordinary circumstances, to pass such a night as this out of
"What is it in these circumstances?" said Elizabeth quickly.
"Not a hardship."
" You don't say much more than you are obliged to," thought
Elizabeth bitterly. " It is ' not a hardiihip ' to stay there to taka
HcsledbyGoOgle
406 TIIE HILL8 OF THE SHA.TEMUC.
care of me ; — ^and there is not in the world another person left to
me who could say even as much," —
" There is a silent peace -speaking in such a scen-a as this,"'
presently said Winthrop, lying on hissail and looking at the river.
" I dare say there is," Elizabeth answered sadly.
" You eancot feel it, perhaps?"
" Not a particle. I can just see that it might be,"
" The Bible makes such constant use of natuial imagery, that
to one familiar with it, the obieots of nature bring bai,k as coa-
stantly its teachings — its wammgs — its consolations "
" What now ? " said Elizabeth
" Many things. Look at those deep and overlapping shadows.
' As the mountains are round about Jeru-alem, so the Lord is
round about his people, from henceforth '
"Stop, Mr. Wiuthrop ' " Ellz^heth esclaimed,— ' Stop ! I
can't bear it."
"Why?"
" I can't bear it," she repeated, m a passion of tears
" Why ? " said he ag<un m the same tone, when a minute had
gone by.
"Those words don't belong to me — IS e nothing to do with
them," she said, raising her head and dashing her tearo right and
left.
But Winthrop made no sort of answer to that, and a dead
silence fell between the parties Again the piow of the sloop was
heard rippling against the waves ; and slowly she glided past
mountain and shadow, and other hills rose and other deep shadows
lay before them. Elizabeth, between other thoughts, was tempted
to think that her companioa was aa impassive and cold as the
moonlight, and as moveless as the dark mountain lines that
stood against the sky. And yet she knew and ti-usted him
better than that. It was but the working of passing impatience
and bitter feeling; it was only the chafing of passion against what
seemed so self-contained and so calm And jet that very eelf-
continence and calmness was whit passion liked, and what passion
involuntarily bent down before
She had cot got over yet the stunned effect of the past days
and nights. She sat feeling coldly miserable and forlorn and
solitary; conscious that one interest was Inmg at her heart yet,
but also conscious that it was lo live and die by its own strength
as it might ; and that in all the world she had nothing else ; nu,
nor never should have anything else. She could not have a father
again ; and even he had been nothing for the companionship of
HcsledbyGoOgle
TUB HILLS OF THE BHATEMCO. 407
Burfi a spirit aa hors, Dot what she wanted to make her either
good or happy. But little aa lie had doue of late to malto her
eitlier, the name, and even the nomina! guard iauship, and what
the old chOdish. afiectioa had clung to, were gone — and never
could come back ; and Elizabeth wept sometimes with a very
bowed head and heart, and sometimes sat stiff and quiet, gazing
at the varying mountain outline, and the fathomless shadows that
repeated it upon the water.
The night drew on, as the hills closed in more and more upon
the narrowing river channel, and the mountain heads lifted
themselves more high, and the shadows spread out broader upon
the river. Every light along shore had long been out; but now
one glimmered down at them faintly from under a high thick
wooded bluff, on the east shore; and the Julia Ann as she came
up towards it, edged down a little constantly to that side of the
" Where are we going f " said Ehzaheth presently. " We're
getting out of the channel."
But she saw immediately that Winthrop was asleep. It made
her feel more utterly alone and forlorn than she had done before.
With a sort of additional chiU at her heart, she looked round for
some one else of whom to ask her question, and saw the skipper
just come on deck. Elizabeth got up to speak to him.
" Aren t we getting out of our course ? "
" Eg-zackly," said Mr. Hildobrand. " 'Most out of it. That
light's 3ie Mill, marm."
" The Mill ! Cowslip's Mill ? "
" Well it's called along o' my father, 'cause he's lived there, I
s'pose, — and made it, — and owns to it, too, as far as that goes ; —
I s'pose it's as good a right to have his name aa any oue's."
Elizabeth sat down and looked at the light, which now bad a
particularly cheerless and hopeless look for her. It was the
token of somebody's home, shining upon one who had none ; it
was a signal of the near ending of a guardianship and society
which for the moment had taken home's place ; a reminder that
presently she mu-st be thrown upon her own guidance ; left to
take care of herself alone in the world, as beat she might The
journey, with all its pain, had beea a sort of little set-off from
the rest of her life, where the contrasts of the past and the future
did not meet. They were coming back now. She felt their
shadows lying cold upon her. It was one of the times in her life
of greatest desolation, the while the sloop was drawing down to
her berth under the home light, and making fast in her moorings.
HcsledbyGoOgle
408 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMPC.
The moon was riding high, and dimly shewed Elizabeth the but
Lalf-remembered points and outlines; — and there was a contrast I
She did not cry ; she looked, with a cold chilled feeling of eye
and mind that would have been almost despair, if it had not been
for the one friend asleep at her side. And he was nothing to her.
Nothing, He was nothiag to her. Elizabeth said it to herself;
but for all that he was there, and it was a comfort to see him
there.
The sails rattled down to the deck; and with wind and head-
way the sloop gently swung up to her appointed place. Another
light came out of the house, in a lantern ; and another hand on
shore aided the sloop's crew in making her fast.
" now can ho sleep through it all I " thought Elizabeth. " I
wonder if anything over could shake him out of his settled com-
posure— asleep or awake, it's all the same."
" Ain't you goin' ashore ? " said the sicipper at her side.
" No — not now."
" Tliey'll slick up a better place for you than we could fix up
in this here little hulk. Though she ain't a small sloop neither,
by no means."
"What have you got aboard there, Hild'?" called out a
voice that came from somewhere in the neighbourhood of the lan-
tern. "Gals?"
" Governor Landholm and some company," said the skipper
in a more moderate tone. The other voice took no hint of mod-
eration.
" Governor Landholm ?— is he along ? Well — glad to see
him. Run from the yallow fever, eh ? "
" Is mother up, father ? "
" Up ? — no . — What on arth ! "
" Tell her to get up, and make some beds for folks that
couldn't sleep aboard sloop; and have been navigatia' all night."
" Go, and I'll look after the sloop till morning, Captain," said
Winthrop sitting up on his sail.
" Won't you come ashore and be comfortable 1 " said father
and son at once.
" I am comfortable."
"But you'll be better off there, Governor,"
" Don't think I could, Hild'. I'm bound to stay by the ship."
" Won't you come, Miss ? " said the skipper addressing Eliza-
beth. " You'll be better ashore."
" Oh yes— -come along — all of you," said the old sloop-maa-
ter on the land.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUC. 409
" I'm in charge of the passengers, Captain," said Winthrop ;
" and I don't think it is safe for any of them to go off before
morning."
The request was urged to Elizaheth. But Winthrop quietly
negatived it every time it was made ; and the sloop's masters at
last withdrew. Elizabeth had not spoken at all.
" How do you do ? " said Wiutbrop gravely, when the Cow-
slips, father and son, had turned their backs upon the vessel.
" Thank you " said Elizabeth, — and stopped there.
" You are worn out."
" No," — Elizabeth answered under her breath ; and then
gathering it, went on, — " I am afraid you are."
" I am perfectly weU," be said. " But you ought to rest,"
" I will, — by and by," said Elizabeth desperately. " I will
stay here till the daylight comes. It will not be long, will it ? "
He made no answer. The sloop's deck was in parts blockaded
with a load of shingles. Winthrop went to these, and taking
down bundle after bundle, disposed them so as to make a restiiig-
plaoe of greater Gapabilitiea than tli ml w d h a
vhich Elizabeth had been sitting all n gl t 0 tb t b k,
aides and all, he spread the sail on wh h h h d b ly
" Is there nothing in the shape of a p 11 w u h tl at
you could get out of the cabin now ? ' d h
" But you have given me your sail 1 El 1 th
" I'm master of the sloop now. 0 ty gt pUw
Since so much bad been done for h El b th ted to
do this for herself. She fetched apUwfmth b ad
Wiiitlirop himself bestowed it in the ppept dwtba
choking feeling of gratitude and pleas tl t d d t p m t her
to utter one word, Elizabeth placed herself in the boi seat made
for her, took off her bonnet and laid her head down. She knew
that Winthrop laid her light shawl over her head ; but she did
not stir. Her thanks reached only her pillow, in the shape of
two or three tot tears; then she slept.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XXXYI.
1 SM a w™pi^;°Lntb^'wLle world wide
There n-M noMe to Bsfc me why I wept,—
The dawn had fairly broken, but that was all, when Winthrop
and old Mr. Cowslip met on the little wharf landing which
served instead of courtyard to the house. The hands clasped each
other cordiailj.
" How do you do ? Glad to see you in these parts ! " was
the hearty salutation of the old man to the young.
" Thank you, Mr. Cowslip," said Winthrop, returning tht-
grasp of the hand.
" I don't see but you keep your own," the old man went on,
looking at him wistfully. " Why don't you corae up our way
oftener ? It wouldn't hurt yon."
" I don't know about that," said Winthrop. " My business
lies that way, you know."
" Ah 1 — 'tain't as good business as our'n, now," said Mr. Cow-
slip. " You'd better by half be up there on the old pkce, with
your wife and half a doaea children about you. Ain't married
yet, G-oyemor, be you ? "
" No sir."
" G-otn' to be ? "
" I don't know what I am going to he, sir."
"Ah! — " said the old miller with a sly smile. "Is that
what youVe got here in the sloop with you now ? 1 gunfsed it,
and Hild' said it ws-'ti'I— not as he knowed on — but I told him
be didn't know everything."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATKMtTC. 411
"Hild'ia quito right. But there are two ladies here who
are going up to Shahwcetah. Can jou give us a boat, Mr. Cow-
slip ? "
" A boat 1 — How many of you ? "
" Four — and baggage. Your boat ia large enough — used to
be when I went in her."
" Used to be when I went in her," said the old skipper ; " but
there it is ! She won't hold nobody now."
" What's the matter ? "
" She took too many passengers the other day, — that is, she
took one too many. Shipped a cargo of fresli meat, sir, and it
wa'n't _ stowed in right, and the ' Bessie Bell ' broke her heart
about it. Like to ha' gone to the bottom."
" What do you mean ? "
_ " WLy, I was comin' home from Diver's Rock tho other day
— just a week ago last Saturday — I had been round there up the
shore after flsh ; — you know the roek where the horse mackerel
comes ? — me and little Archie ; lucky enough we had no more
along. By the by, I hopo you'll go fishing, Winthrop — the
mackerel's fine this year. How long you're goin' to stay ? "
" Ooly a day or two, sir."
" Ah I — Well — -we were comin' homo with a good mess o' fine
fish, and when we were just about in the middle of the river,
comin' over, — the fish had been jumping all along the afternoon,
shewing their heads and tails more than common; and I'd been
saym' to Arehie it was a sign o' rain — ^'tis, you know,- — and just
as wc were in the deepest of the river, about half way over, one
of 'em came up and put himself aboard of ua."
" A (sturgeon ? "
" Just that, sir ; as sound a follow as ever you saw in your
life—just tho length of one of my little oars — longer than I bo
— eight feet wanting one ioeh, he measured, for the blade of that
oar baa been broken off a bit— several inches,— and what do you
think be weighed ?_Two hundred and forty pound,"
" So it seems you got him safe to land, where you could weigh
_ " And measure him. I forgot I was talkin' to a lawyer,"
said the old man laughing. " Yes, I didn't think much how long
he was at the time, I guess ! He came in as handsome as ever
you saw anything done — just slipped himself over tlie gunwale
so — and duv under one of the th'arts and druv his nose through
the bottom of the boat."
" Kept it there, I hope ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
413 THE mU-B OF THE EHATEMUO.
" Ha, ha ! Not so fast but there came in a'most water
enough to float him again bj the time we got to land. He was a
power of a fellow ! "
" And the ' Bessie ' don't float ? "
" No i she's laid up with ttree brolien ribs,"
" No other boat on hand ? "
" There's a little punt out there, that Hild' goes a fishin' in —
tiat'd carry two or three people. But it woul£i't take the hull
on ye."
" There's the sloop's boat."
" She leaks," said the millei. " She wants to he laid up as
bad as the 'Bessie.'"
" Have you any sort of a team, Mr. Cowslip ?"
" Tea ! — there's my little wagon — it'll hold two. But you
ain't wanting it yet, be you ? "
" As soon as it can go — if it ean go. Is there a horse to the
wagon ? "
" Sartain I But won't you stop and take a bit ? "
" No sir. If you will let some of the boys take up the punt
with her load, I'll drive the wagon myself, and as soon as you can
let me have it."
" Jock ! — tackle up the wagon ! — that 'ere little red one in
the barn," shouted the miller. " Hild' '11 see to the boat-load —
or I wilt, — and send it right along. I'm sorry you won't stop."
Winthrop turned back to tte sloop. Elizabeth met him there
with the question, " if she might not go cow ? "
" As soon as you please. I am going to drive you up to
Shahweetah. The boat will carry the rest, but it is too small to
take all of us."
" I'm very glad ! " — Elizabeth could not help saying.
She granted half a word of explanation to Mrs. Nettley, her
bonnet was hastily thrown ou, and she stood with Winthrop on
the wharf before the little wagon was fairly ready. But Jock
was not tardy neither ; and a very few minutes saw tliem seated
and the horse's head turned from the Mill.
The dawn was fresh and fair yet, hardly yielding to day. lu
utter silence they drove swiftly along the road, through the
woods and out upon the crest of tableland overlooking the bay;
just above the shore where the huckleberry party Lad coasted
alone, that afternoon years before. By the time they got there,
the day had begua to assert itself. Little clouds over Wut-a-
qut-o's bead were flushing into loveliness, and casting down rosy
tints on the water; the mountain slopes were growing bright, and
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE BILLS OF THE SHATEICDC. 413
a soft warm colouring flung througt all the air from t!io coming
rajs of the coming sun. The cat-birds were wide awake and
very busy; the song sparrows full of gladness; and now and
then, further off, a wood-thrush, less worldly than the one and
less unchastened than the other, told of hidden and higher sweets,
in tones further removed from Earth than his companions knew.
The wild, pure, ethereal notes thrilled like a voice from some
clear region where earthly defilement had been overcome, and
earthly sorrows had lost their power. Between whiles, the little
BOng sparrows strained their throats with rejoicing; but that was
the joy of hilarious nature that sorrows and defilement had never
touched. The oat-birds spoke of business, and sung over it, am-
bitious and self-gratulatory, and proud. And then by turns came
the strange thrush's note, saying, as if they knew it and had
proved it,
" WUBS HEGrVETHQUIBTNBSS, THEN WHO CAN MAKE TROUBLE?"
The travellers had ridden so far without speaking a word. If
Elisabeth was sometimes weeping, she kept herself very quiet, and
perfectly stili. The sights and sounds that were abroad entered her
mind by a aide door, if they entered at all. Winthrop might have
taken the benefit of them ; but up to the bend of the bay he had
driven last and attentively. Here he suffered the horse to slacken
his pace and come even to a walk, while his eye took note of the
flushing morning, and perhaps the song of tte birds reached his
ear. it was not of them he spoke.
"Do you mean to begin upon the first chapter of Matthew?"
he said, when the horse had walked the length of some two or
three minutes.
" Yes ! — I do " — said Elizabeth, turning her face towards him.
" According to the rules ? "
The anawe." was spoken more hesitatingly, but again it was
"I am glad of that," he said.
" Mr. ft inthrop," said Elizabeth presently, speaking it seemed
with some effort, — " if I get into any difficulty — if I cannot under-
stand,— I mean, if I am in any real trouble, — may I write to you
to osk about it ? "
" With great pleasure. I mean, it would give mo great
pleasure to have you do so."
" I should be very much obliged to you," she said humbly.
She did not see, for she did not look to see, a tiny show of a
smile which spread itself over her companion's face. They drove
on fast, till the bottom of the bay was left and they d ' '
HcsledbyGoOgle
*l4 THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMTTC,
from the tableland, by Sam Doolittle's, to the road which skirted
the south side of Shahweetah. Winthrop looked keenly aa he
passed at the old fields and hillsides. They were uncultivated
now; fallow lands and uumown grass pastures held the place of
the waving harvests of grain and new-reaped atubbleflelds that
used to be there in the old time. The pastures grew rank, for
there were even no cattle to feed them; and the fallows were
grown with thistles and weeds. But over what might have been
desolate lay the soft warmth of the summer morning; and rank
pasture and uncared fallow ground took varied rich and bright
hues under the early sun's raya. Those rays had now waked the
hilltops and sky and river, and were just tipping tlio woods and
slopes of the lower ground. By the bend meadow Winthrop drew
ill his horse again and looked fixedly.
" Does it seem pleasant to you ? " he asked.
" How should it, Mr. Winthrop ? " Elizabeth said coldly.
" Do you change your mind about wishing to be here ? "
" Ho, not at all. I might as well be here as anywhere. 1
would rather— I have nowhere else to go."
He made no comment, but drove on fast again, till he drew
up onoe more at the old baek door of the old house. It seemed a
part of the solitude, for nothing was stirring. Elizabeth sat and
watched Winthrop tie the horse j then he came and helped her
out of the wagon,
" Lean on me," said he. " You are trembling all over."
He put hcT- arm within his, and led her up to the door and
knocked.
" Karen is up — unless she has forgotten her old ways," said
Wmthrop. He knocked again.
A minu^e after, the door slowly opened its upper half, and
Karen's wrinkled face and white cap and rod shortgowu were be-
fore them. Winthrop did not speak. Karen looked in bewilder-
ment; then her bewilderment changed into joy.
" Mr. Winthrop ! — Cfovornor 1 " —
And her hand was stretched out, and clasped his in a long
mute stringent clasp, which her eyes at least said was all she
could do.
" How do you do, Karen ?"
" I'm well — the Lord has kept me. But you "
" I am well," said Winthrop. " Will you let us eome in, Karen ?
— This lady haa been up all night, and wants rest and refreshment."
Karen looked suspiciously at ' this lady,' as she unbolted the
lower half of the door and let them in ; and again when Winthrop
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HtLLS OF THE SHATEMUO. 415
carefully placed her in. a ctair and then, went off into the inner
room for one which he knew was more easy, and made her change
the first fur it.
" And what have ye come up for now, governor? " she said,
when she had watched them both, with an unsatisfied look upon
her face and a tone of deep satisfaction coming out in her words.
" Breakfast, Karen. What's to he had ? "
"Breakfast? La!" — said the old woman, — " if you had told
me you's coming — What do you expeot I'll have in iJie house for
my breakfast. Governor ? "
" Something ," said Winthrop, taking the tongs and set-
tling the sticks of wood in the chimney to burn better. Karen
stood and looked at him.
" What have you got, Karen ? " said Winthrop, setting up the
tongs,
" I ha'n't got nothing for company," said Karen, grinning.
" That'll do very well," said Winthrop. " Give me the coffee
and I'll make it; and you see to the bread, Karon. You have
milk and cream, haven't you ? "
" Yes, Governor."
"And eggs?"
" La I yes."
"Where are they?"
" Mr. Landholm, don't trouble yourself, pray i " said Eliza-
beth. " I am in no hurry for anything. Pray don't ! "
" I don't intend it," said he. " Don't trouble your self. Would
you rather go into another room ? "
Elizabeth would not; and therefore and thereafter kept her-
self quiet, watching the motions of Karen and her temporary
master. Karen seemed in a maze; but a few practical advices
from Winthrop at last brought her back to the usual possession of
her senses and faculties.
" Who ia she ? " Elizabeth heard her whisper as she began to
bustle about. And Winthrop's answer, not whispered,
" How long ago do you suppose this coffee was parched ? "
" No longer ago than yesterday. La sokes ! Governor, — I'll
do some fresh for you if you want it."
" No time for that, Karen. You get on with those cakes."
Eliaabeth watched Winthrop with odd admiration and curi-
osity, mixed for the moment with not a little of gratified feeling ;
but the sense of desolation sitting back of all. He seemed to
have come out in a new oharaeter, or rather to have taken up an
old one ; for no one could suppose it worn for the first time.
HcsledbyGoOgle
416 THE HtLLe OF THE SHATEMUO.
Karen Bad been set to making cakes with all speed. Winthrop
seemed to have taken the rest of the hreakfast upon himself. He
had found the whereabout of the eggs, and ground some coffee,
and made it and set it to boil in Kareu's tin coffeepot.
" What are you after now, Mr. Winthrop ? " said Karen, look-
ing round from lier pan and moulding board. " These'U bo in the
spider before your noffee's boiled."
" They'll have to be quick, then," said Winthrop, going on
with his rummaging.
" What are you after, Governor ? — there's nothin' there but
the pots aad kittles."
Oiie of which, however, Winthrop brought out as if it was
the thing wanted, and put upon the fire with water in it. Going
back to the receptacle of ' pots and kittles,' he next came forth
with the article Karen had designated as the ' spider,' and set that
in order due upon its appropriate bed of ooals.
_" La sakes I G-overuor I " said Karea, in a sort of fond admi-
ration,— " ha'n't you forgot nothin' ? "
"Now Karen," said Winthrop, when she had covered the
bottom of the hot iron with her thin cakes," — you set the table
and I'll take care of 'em."
" There's the knife, then," said Karen. "Will ye know when
to turn them ? There ain't fire enough t<i bake 'em by the blaze."
" I've not forgotten so much," said Winthrop. " Let's have
a cup and saucer and plate, Karen."
" Ye sha'u't have o«e," said Karen, casting another inquisitive
and doubtful glance towards th3 silent, pale, fixed figure sitting in
the middle of her kitchen. He did have one, however, before she
had got the two ready; despatched Karen from the table for sugar
and cream; and then poured out himself a cup of his own prepa-
ration, and set it on Karen's half-spread table, and came to Elizar
beth. He did not ask her if she would have it, nor say anything
in feet ;^ but gently raising her with one hand, he brought forward
her chair with the other, and placed both where he wanted them
to be, in the close neighbourhood of the steaming coffee. Once
before, Elizabeth had known him take the same sort of superin-
tending care of her, when she was in no condition to take care of
herselt^ It was inexpressibly soothing ; and yet she felt as if she
could have knelt down on the floor, and given forth her very life
in tears. She looked at the coffee with a motionless face, till his
hand held it out to her. Not to drink it was impossible, thongh
she was scarcely conscious of swallowing anything but tears.
When she took the oup from her lips, she found an egg, hot out of
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE 8KATEMU0. 41T
tie water, on her plate, which was already supplied abo with but-
ter. Her provider was just adding one of the cakes \,i; liad been
" I can't eat ! " said Elizabeth, looking up.
" You must, — " Winthrop answered.
In the same tone in which he had been acting. Elizabeth
obeyed it as involuntarily.
" Who is the lady, Governor ? " Karen ventured, when she had
possessed herself of the cake-knife, and had got Winthrop fairly
seated at his breakfast.
" Thia lady is the mistress of the place, Karen."
" '-The mistress I Ain't you the master ? " — Karen inquired
instantly.
" No. I have no right here any longer, Karen."
" I heered it was selled, hut I didn't rightly believe it," the old
woman said sadly. " And the mistress 11 be turning me away
" Tell her no," whispered Elizabeth.
" I believe not, Karen, unless you wish it."
" What should I wish it for '( I've been here ever since I
come with Mis' Landholm, when she come first, and she left me
here; and I want to stay here, in her old place, till I'm called to
be with her again. D'ye think it'll be long. Governor ? "
" Are you in haste, Karen ? "
" I dop't want fur to stay " said the old woman. " She's gone,
and I can-t take care o' you no longer, nor no one. I'd like to be
gone, too — -yes, I would,"
" You have work to do yet, Karen. You may take as good
care as you can of this lady."
Again Karen looked curiously and suspiciously at her, for a
minute in ailenee.
" Is she one of the Lord's people ? " she asked suddenly.
Elizabeth looked up on the instant, in utter astonishment at
the question; first at Karen and then at Winthrop. The next
thing was a back-sweeping tide of feeling, which made her drop
her bread and her cup from her hands, and hide her face in them
with a bitter burst of tears. Winthrop looked concerned, and
Karen confounded. But she presently repeated her ijuestion in a
half whisper at Winthrop.
" Is she? — "
" There is more con.pany coming, Karen, for you to take care
of," he said quietly '' I hope you have cakes enough. Miss
HcsledbyGoOgle
4lB THE HILLS OP THE BHATEUtrO.
Haye — I see the boat-load has arrived — will you e;o into the
other room?" ^ ^
She rose, and not seeing where she went, let him lead her.
The front part of the house waa unftii-Bished ; hut to the little
sgnare passage-way where the open door let in the hreeze from the
riFor, Winthrop brought a chair, and there she sat down. He left
her there and went back to see to the other members of the party,
and as she guessed to keep them from intruding upoii her. She
was loBg alone.
The fresh sweet air blew in upon her hot face and hands, re-
minding her what sort of a world it came from ; and after the first
few Tioleut bursts of pain, Elizabeth presently raised her head to
look out and see, in a sort of dogged willingness to take the con-
trast which she knew waa there. The soft fair hilly outlines she
remembered, in the same Ausust light;— the bright bend of the
river — a sloop sail or two pua&ing lazily np ; — the same blue of a
summer morning overhead ; — the little green lawn immediately at
her feet, and the everlasting cedars, with their pointed tops and
their hues of patient sobriety — all stood nearly as she had left
them, how many years before. And herself — Elizabeth felt as if
she could have laid herself down on the doorstep and died, for
mere heart -heaviness. In this bright sunny world, what had she
to do ? The sun had gone out of her heart. What was to be-
come of her ? What miserable part should she play, all alone by
herself? She despised herself for having eaten breakfast that
morning. What business had she to eat, or to have any appetite
to eat, when she felt so ? But Winthrop had made her do it.
What for ? Why should he ? It waa mere aggravation, to take
care of her for a day, and then throw her off for ever to take care
of herself. How soon would he do that ? —
She waa musing, her eyes on the ground ; and had quite for-
gotten the sunny landscape before her with all its gentle sugges-
tions ; when Winthrop's voice sounded pleasantly in her ear, ask-
ing if slie felt better. Elizabeth looked up.
" I was thinking," she said, " that if there were nothing better
to be had in another world, I could almost find it in my heart to
wish I had never been born into this I "
She expected that he would make some answer to her, but hfc
did not. He waa quite silent ; and Elizabeth presently began to
question with herself whether she had said something dreadfuL
She was busily taking up her own words, since he had not saved
her the trouble. She found herself growing very much ashamed
of them.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMOO. 419
" I suppose that was a foolish, speech," she said, after a few
moments of perfect silence, — " a speech of impatience."
But Wiuthrop neither endorsed nor denied her opinion ; he
uaid nothing about it; and Elizabeth was exceedingly mortified.
" If jou wanted to rebuke me," she thought, " you could not
have done it better. I suppose there is no rebuke so sharp as that
one is obliged to administer to oneself. And your cool keeping
silence is about as effectual a way of telling me that you have no
interest in my concerns aa ev^en you could nave devised."
Elizabeth's eyes must have swallowed the landscape whole, for
they certainly took in no distinct part of it.
" How are you going to make yourself comfortable here ? "
aaid Wiuthrop presently; — " these rooms are unfurnished."
She might have said that she did not espeot to be comfortable
anywhere ; but she swallowed that too.
" I will go aad see what I can do in the way of getting some
furniture together," he went on. " I hope you will be able to find
some way of taking rest in the mean time — though I confess I do
not see how."
" Pray do not! "said Elizabeth starting up, and her whole
manner and expression changing. " I am sure you are tired to
death now."
" Nut at all. I slept last night."
" How much ? Pray do not go looking after anything! You
will trouble me very much."
" I should be sorry to do that."
" I can gel all the rest I want."
"Where?"
" On the rooks — on the grass."
" Might do for a little while," said Winthrop ; — " I hope it
will; bat I must try for something better."
" Where can you find anything — in this region f "
" I don't know," said he; " but it must be found. If not in
this region, in some other."
" To-morrow, Mr. Landholm,"
" To-morrow — has its own work " said he; and went.
" Will he go to-morrow ? " thought Elizabeth, with a pang at
her heart. " Ob, I wish — ^no, I dare not wish — that I had never
been born I What am I to do with myself? — "
Conscience suggested very ijuietly that something might be
done ; but Elizabeth bade conscience wait for another time, though
granting all it advanced. She put that by, as she did Mrs. Net-
HcsledbyGoOgle
i^U THE HILLS OF THE SHArEMPC.
tley and Olam who both present! j came where Winthrop had been
Staudiag, to make advances of a different nature.
"What'U I do, Misa 'Lizaheth ?" said the latter, in a tone
that argued a somewhat dismal view of affairs,
" Anything jou can find to do."
" Can't find nothin, — " said Clam," 'cept Karen. One corner of
the house is filled enough with her ; and the rest ha'n't got cothin'
in it."
" Iiet Karen alone, and take care of your own business,
Clam." ■^ '
" If I knowed what 'twas," said the perseTering damsel. " I
can't make the beds, for there ain't none ; nor sot the furnitui
to rights, for tJie rooms ia 'stressed empty."
" You can let me alooc, at all events. The rooms will have
something in them before long. You know what to do as well as
any one ; — if jou don't, ask Mr. Landholm."
. " Guess I will ! " said Clam ; " when I want to feel foolisher
than I do. Did the furnitur come by tho sloop ? "
" No. Mr. Landholm will send aome. I don't care anything
about it."
" Ha I then if Ae's goin' to send it," said Clam turning away,
" the place '11 have to be ready for it, I s'pose."
Mrs. Nettley appeared in Olam's place. Elizabeth was still
sitting on the door-step, and though she knew by a side view that
one had given place to the other, she did not seem to know it
and sat looking straight before her at the aunnj landscape.
"It's a heaatiful place," said Mrs. Nettley after a little pause
of doubt.
" Very bpautifol," said Elizabeth coldly.
" I did not know it was so beautiful. And a healthy place, I
should suppose."
Elizabeth left the supposition unquestioned.
" You are sadly fatigued. Miss Haye," said Mrs. Nettley after
a longer pause than before.
" I suppose I am," said Elizabeth rising, for patience had
drawn her last breath; — " I am going down by the water to rest.
Don't let any one follow me or call me — 1 want nothing — only to
rest by myself."
And drawing her scarf round her, she strode through the
rank grass to the foot of the lawn, and then between scattered
rocks and sweetbriars and wild rose-bushe.s, to the fringe of cedar
trees which there clothed the rocks down to the water. Between
and beaeath them, just where she came out upon the river, an
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUG. 421
otttlooking masa of granite spread itself Binoof h and wide enough
to seat two or tiiree people. The sun's rajs could not reach there,
except through tliick cedar boughs. Cedar trees and the fall of
ground hid it from the house ; and in front a clear opening gavo
her a view of the river and opposite shore, and of a cedar-covered
point of her own land, outjutting a little distance further on.
Solitude, silence, and beauty invited her gently; and Eliaabeth
threw herself down on the grey lichen-grown stone ; but rest was
not there.
"Rest!" — she said to herself in great I
How can I rest ? — or where can there be rest for n
And then passionate nature took its will, and poured out to it-
self and drank all the deep draughts of pain that passion alone can
fill and refill for its own food. Elizabeth's proud head bowed there,
to the very rock she sat on. Yet the proud heart would not lay
itself down as well ; iltat stood up to breast pain and wrestle with
it, and lake the full fierce power of the blast that eanie. Till
nature was tired out, — till tie frame subsided from convulsions
that racked it, into weary repose, — so long tlie struggle lasted ;
aiid then the struggle was not ended, but only the forces on either
eidehad lost the power of carrying it on. And then she sat,
leaning against a cedar trunk that gave her its welcome support,
which every member and muscle craved ; not relieved, but witJi
that curious respite from pain which the dulled senses take when
they have borne suffering as long and as sharply as they can.
It was hot in the sun ; but only a warm breath of sunnner
airplayedaboutElizabeth where she sat. The little waves of the
river glittered and shone and rolled lazily down upon the channel,
or curled up in rippling eddies towards the shore. The sunlight
was growing ardent upon the hills and the river; but over Eliz-
beth's bead the shade was still unbroken. A soft aromatic smell
came from the cedars, now and then broken in upon by a faint puff
of fresher air from the surface of the water. Hiirdly any sound,
but the murmur of the ripple at the water's edge and the cherup-
ing of busy grasshoppers upon the lawn. Now and then a locust
did sing out; he only said it was August and that the sun was
shilling hot and sleepily everywhere but under the cedar trees.
His song was irresistible. Elizabeth closed her eyesand listened
to it, in a queer kind of luxurious rest-taking which was had be-
cause mind and body would have it. Pain was put away, in a
sort; for the senses of pain were blurred. The aromatic smell
of the evergreens was wafted about her ; aud tlieu came a touch,
a most gentle touch, of the south river-breeae upon her face ; and
HcsledbyGoOgle
423 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMTTO.
then the long dreamy ery of the locust ; and the soft plaahiisg
sound of the water at her feet. All Elizabeth's fucultiea were
crying for sleep ; and sleep came, handed ia bj the locust and
the suuainer air, and laid its kind touch of forgetfuluesa upon
mind and body. At first she lost herself leaning against the
cedar tree, waking up by turns to place herself better ; and at
last yielding to the overpowering influences without and within,
she curled her head down upon a thick bed of moss at her side and
gave herself up to such rest as she might.
What sort of rest ? Only the rest of the body, which had
made a trace with the mind for the purpose. A cjuiet which
knew that, storms were not over, but which would be quiet never-
theless. Elisabeth felt that, iu her intervals of half-eonsciouanoaa.
But all the closer she clung to her pillow of dry moaa. She had
a dispensation from sorrow there. When her head left it, it
would he to ache again. It should not ache now. Sweet moss I
— sneet summer air! — sweet sound of plashing water! — sweet
dreamy lullaby of the locust 1 — Oh if they could put her to sleep
for ever I sing pain out and joy in 1
A vague, half-realized notion of the flght that must lie gone
through before rest ' for ever ' could in any wise be hoped for —
of the things that must be gained and the things that must be
lost before that ' for ever ' rest couid iu any sort be looked for-
ward to, and dismissing the thought, Elizabeth, blessed her
fragrant moss pillow of Lethe and went to sleep again.
How she dreaded getting rested ; how she looged for that
overpowering fatigue and exhaustion of mind and body to prolong
itself ! And as the hours went on, she knew that she was getting
rested, and that she would have to wake up to everything again
by and by. It should not be at anybody's bidding.
" Miss 'Lizabeth 1 — " sounded Clam's voice in the midst of
her slumbers.
" Go away, Olam ! " said the sleeper, without opening her eyes.
" Miss 'Lizabeth, ain't ye goin' to eat uothin' r "
" No — Go away."
" Miss 'Lizabeth I — dinner's ready."
" Well !— "
" You're a goin' to kill yourself"
" Don't you kill me ! " said Elizabeth impatiently. " Go off."
" To be sure," said Olam as she turned away, — " there ain't
much company."
It was very vexing to be disturbed. But just as she was
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL8 OF THE SHATEMOO. 423
getting quiet again, eamo the treacl of Mrs. Nettley's foot behind
uer, and Elizabeth knew another colloquy was at hand.
" Are you asleep, Misa Haye ? " said the good lady a littlo
timidly.
" No," said Elizabeth lifting her head wearily, — " I wish
" There's dinner got ready for you in the house."
"Let anybody eat it thatrcan. — I can't,"
" Wouldn't you be better for taking a little something ? I'm
afraid you'll give way if you do not."
" I don't care," said Elizabeth. " Let me give way — only
let me alone ! "
8he curled her head down determinately again.
" I am airaid, Miss Haye, you will be ill," said poor Mrs.
Nettley.
" I am willing," — said Elizabeth. " I dont care about any-
thing, but to be (jttiet ! — "
Mrs. Nettley went off in despair; and Elizabeth in despair
also, found that vexation had effeotually drivea away sleep. In
vain the locust sang and the moss smelled sweet ; the tide of
feeling had made head again, and back came a rush of disagreeable
things, worse after worse ; till Elizabeth's brow quitted the moss
pillow to be buried in her hands, and her half-quieted spirit
shook anew with the fresh-raised tempest. Exhaustion came
back again; and thankfully she once more laid herself down to
sleep and forgetfuluess.
Her sleep was sound this time. The body assorted its rights ;
and long, long she lay still upon her moss pillow, while the regu-
lar deep-drawn breath came and went, fetching slow supplies of
strength and refreshment. The sun quitted its overhead position
and dipped towards Wut-a-qut-o, behind the high brow of which,
in aummer-time, it used to hide itself. A slant ray found aa
opening in the thick tree-tops, and shone full upon Elizabeth's
face ; but it failed to rouse her ; and it soon went up higher and
touched a little song spa-row that was twittering in a cedar tree
close by. Then the shadows of the trees fell long over the grass
towards the rooks on the east.
Elizabeth was awakened at last by a familiar adjuration.
" Miss 'Lizabeth ! — you'll catch a Typhus, or an agur, or
somethia' dreadful, down there ! Don't ye want to live no
more in the world ? "
Elizabeth sat up, and rested her face on her knees, feeling
giddy and sick.
HcsledbyGoOgle
424 THE HILLe OF THE BHATEMUO.
" DoTi't ye feel bad ? "
" Husb, Clam ! "
" I'm sent after je," said Clain, — " I dursa't hush. Folka
thinks it is time you waa biick in the house."
" Hush I — I don't care what folks thinlc."
" Not what nobody thinks ? " said Clam.
" What do you mean ! " said Elizabeth flashing round upon
her. " Go back into the liouse.— I will come when I am ready."
" You're ready now," said Clam. " Miss 'Liaabsth, ye ain't
fit for anything, for want of eatin'. Come ! — they want ye."
" Not much," — thought Elizabeth bitterly, — "if they left it
t« her to bring me in."
" Are you sick, Miss 'Lizabetli ? "
" No."
" He's come home," Clam went on ; — " and you never saw the
things he has brought I Him and me's been puttin' 'em up and
down. Lots o' tbings. Ain't he a man ! "
" 'Up and down I '" repeated Elizabeth.
" Egg-zackly," — said Clam ; — " Floor-spreads — what-d'ye-call-
ema? — and bedsteads — and chairs. He said if he'd know'd the
house was all stripped, he'd never have fetched you up here."
"Yes he would," said Elizabeth. "What do I care for a
Stripped house ! "~" with a stripped heart," her thought finished it,
" Well don't you care for supper neither ? — for that old thing
is a fixin' it," said Clam.
" You must not caU her names to me."
" Ain't she old? " said Clam.
" She is a very good old woman, I believe."
" Ain't you comin' Miss 'Lizabeth ? They won't sit down
without yoTi."
" Who sent you out here ? "
"Karen axed where you was; and Mrs. Nettley said she
dursu't go look for you ; and Mr. Landholm said I was to eoma
and bring you in."
"He didn't, Claml "
" As likely as your head's been in the moss there, he did. Miss
'Lizabcth."
" Go yourself back into the house. I'll come when I am
ready, and I am not ready yet."
" He lia'u't had nothin' to eat to-day, I don't believe," said
Clam, by way of a parting argument. But Elizabeth let her go
without seeming to hear her.
She sat with her hands claaped round her knees, looking down
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC, 425
upon the water ; her eyes slowly filling with proud and hitter
tears. Yet she saw and felt how coolly the lowering suuljeaoia
were touching tho river now; tliat evening's swef't breath waa be-
ginning to freslieB up among the hills ; that the daintiest, lightest,
cheeriest gilding waa upon every mountain top, and wavelet, and
pebble, and stem of a tree. " Peace be to thee, fair nature,
and thy scenes I "-—and peace from them seems to come too.
But oh how to have it ! Elizabeth clasped her hands tight to-
gether and then wniiig them n.utely. " 0 mountains — 0 river
— 0 birds ! " — she thought, — " If I could but be as senseless as
you — or as good for something! "
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XXXVII.
Ttie sun was low, near Wut-a-qut-o's brow, when at last slowly
and liageringly, and with feet that, as it were, spurned each step
they made, Idizabetli took her way to the house. But no sooner
did her feet touch the doorstep than her listless and sullen mood
gave place to a fit of lively curiosity — to see what Winthrop tad
done. She turned to the left into the old keeping-room.
It had been very bare in the morning. Now, it was stocked
with neat cane-bottomed chairs, of bird's-eje maple. In the mid-
dle of the floor rested an ambitious little mahogany table with
claw feet. A stack of green window-blinds stood against the pier
between the windows, and at the bottom on the floor lay a paper
of screws and hinges. The floor was still bare, to be sure, and so
was the room, but yet it looked hopeful compared with the mom
ing's condition. Elizabeth stood opening her eves in a sort of
mazed bewilderment; then hearing a little noise of hammering in
the other part of the house, she turned and crossed over to the
east room — her sleeping-room of old and now. She went within
the door and stood fast.
Her feet were upon a green carpet which covered the room.
Round about were aiore of the maple chairs, looking quite hand-
some on their green footing. There was a decent dressing-table
and chest of drawers of the same wood, in their places ; and a
round mahogany stand which seemed to be meant for uo particu-
lar place but to do duty anywhere. And in the coraer of 'the
room was Winthrop, with Mrs. Nottley and Olam for assistants.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLB OF THE BKATEMUO. 42T
busy putting up a beclsteac!. He looked up sligbtly from tis
■work when Elizabetia shewed herself, but gave her no further at-
tention. Clam grinued. Mrs. Nettley was far too inteut upon
holding her leg of the bedstead true and steady, to notice or know
anythiLg else whatever.
Elizabeth looked for a moment, without being ablo to utter a
word ; and then turned about and went and stood at the open
door, her breast heaving thick and her eyes too full to Bee a thing
before her. Then she heard Wintbrop pass behind her and go
into the other room. EliEabetk followed quickly. He had stooped
to the paper of screws, but stood up when she came ia, to speak to
her.
" I am ashamed of myself for having bo carelessly brought you
to a dismantled house. I had entirely forgotten that it was so, in
this degree, — though I suppose I must at some time have iieard it."
" It would have made no difference,—" said Elizabeth, audsaid
" I will return to the city to-morrow, and send you up imme-
diately whatever you will give order for. It can be here in a very
few days."
Elizabeth looked at the maple chairs and the mahogany table,
and she could not speak, for her words choked her. "Winthrop
stooped again to his paper of screws and hinges and began turn-
ing them over.
" What are you going to do ? " said Elizabeth, coming a step
nearer.
" I am going to see if I can put up these blinds ? "
"Blinds!" said Elizabeth.
" Yes, — I was fortunate enough to find some that were not very
far from the breadth of the windows. They were too long ; and
I made the man shorten them. I think they will do."
" What did you take all that trouble for ? "
" It was no trouble."
" W here did all these things come from ? "
" From Starlings — I hadn't to go any further than that for
" H-ow far is it ? "
"Twelve miles."
" Twelve miles there and back ! "
"Makes twenty-four."
" In this hot day ! — I am very sorry, Mr. Landholm ! "
" For what ? " said he, shouldering one of the green blinds,
" You are not going to put those on yourself ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
428 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMITO.
" I am going to try — as I eaid."
" You bave done enough day's work," said Elizabeth. " Pray
don't, at least to-night. It's quite late. Please don't ! — "
" If I don't to-uight, I can't to-morrow," said Winthrop,
marching out. " I must go home to-morrow."
Home! It shook Elizabeth's heart to hear him speak the
old word. But she only caught her breath a little, and then spoke,
following him out to the front of the house.
" I would rather they were not put up, Mr. Landholm. I can
get somebody to do it."
" Kot uvileas I fail."
"It troubles me very much that you should have such a day."
" I have nad just such a day as I wanted," said Winthrop,
measuring with his eye and rule the blind and the window-frame
respectively.
" Jilias 'Lizabeth, Karen's got the tea all ready, she says,"
Clam announced from the door ; " and she hopes everybody's tired
of waitin'."
" You've not had tea ! — " exclaimed Elizabeth. " Come then,
Mr. Winthrop."
" Not now," said he, driving in his gimlet, — " I must finish this
first. ' The night cometh wherein no man can work.' "
Elizabeth shrank inwardly, and struggled witk herself
" But the morning comes also," she said.
Winthrop's eye went up to the top hinge of the blind, and down
to the lower one, and up to the top again ; busy and cool, it seemed
to consider nothing but the hinges. Elizabeth struggled with
herself again. She was morticed. But she could not let go the
matter,
" Pray leave those things ! " she said in another minute. " Come
in, and take what is more nece^ary."
- When my work li done," said he. " Go in. Miss ElizabetL
Karen will give me something by and by."
Elizabeth turned ; she could do nothing more in the way of
persuasion. As she set her foot heavily on the door-step, she saw
Clam standing in the little passage, her lips slightly parted in a
satisfied bit of a smile. Elizabeth was vesed, proud, and vexed
again, in as many successive quarter seconds. Her foot was heavy
no longer.
" Have you nothing to do. Clam ? "
" Lota," said the damsel.
" Why aren't jou about it, then ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HELLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
like folks
I was waitin' till you was about your'c, Miss 'Lizabeth. I
I my way.
"Do jou! Take caro and keep out of mine," said her mis-
treaa. " What are you going to do now ? "
" Settle yonv bed, Miss 'Lizabetb. It's good weVe got lineu
enough, anyhow."
" Linen, — " said Elizabeth, — " and a bedstead, — have you got
a bed to put on it ? "
" There's been caro took for that," said Clam, with the same
satisfied expression and a little turn of her head.
Half angry and half sick, Elizabeth left her, and went in
through her new-furnished keeping-room, to Karen's apartment
where the table was bountifully spread and Mrs. Nettley and
Karen awaited her coming. Elizabeth silently sat down.
" Ain't he comin' ? " said Karen.
_ " No — I am very sorry — Mr. Landholm thinks ho must
finish what he is about first."
" He has lotso' thoughts,'^ said Karen discontentedly, — " he'd
think just as well after eatin'.— Well, Miss — Kareii'a done her
best — There's been worse chickens than those be — Mis' Laud-
holm used to cook 'em that way, and she didn't cook 'em
no better. I s'pose he'll eat some by'm by — when he's done
think in'."
She went off, and Elizabeth was punctually and silently taken
care of by Mrs. Nettley. The meal over, she did not go back to
her own premises ; but took a stand in the open kitchen door, for
a variety of reasons, and stood there, looking alternately out and
in. Tlie snn had set, the darkness was slowly gathering; soft
purple clouds floated up from the west, over Wut-a-qut-o's head,
which however the nearer heads of pines and cedars prevented
her seeiig. A delicate fringe of evergreen foliage edged upon
the clear white sky. The fresher evening air breathed through
the pine and cedar branches, hardly stirred their stiff leaves, but
brought from them tokens of rare sweetness; brought them to
Eliaabeth's sorrowful face, and passed on. Elizabeth turned her
face from the wind and looked into the house. Karen had made
her appearance again, and was diligently taking away broken
meats and soiled dishes and refreshing the look of the table; set-
ting some things to warm and some things to cool ; giving the spare
plate and knife and fork the advantage of the best place at table;
brushing away crumbs, and smoothing down the salt-cellar.
" You are over particular 1 " thought Elizabeth ; — " it would do
him no haroi to come after me in handling the salt-spoon ! — that
HcsledbyGoOgle
4dU THE HILLB OF THE SKATEMUO.
even that trace of me should be remoyed." She looked ont
Her friend the locust now and then was reminding her of the
long hot day they had passed through together; and the intervals
between were filled up by a chorus of grasshoppers and crickets
and katydids. Soft and sweet blew the west wind again ; that
spoke not of the bygone day, with its burden and heat ; but of
rest, and repose, ana the change that cometh even to sorrowful
things. The day was passed and gone. " But if one day is
passed, another is coming," — thought Elizabeth ; and tears, hot
and bitter tears, sprang to her eyes. How could those clouds
float so softly ! — how could the light and shadow rest so lovely on
them 1 — how could tho blue ether look so still and clear ! " Caa
one be like that ? " — thought Elizabeti. " Can I ? — with this
boiling depth of passion and will iu my nature ? — One can-—" and
she again turned her eyes within. But nothiag was there, save
the table, the supper, and Karen. The ijucstion arose, what she
herself was standing there for ? but passion and will said they
did not care I she would stand there ; and she did. It was pleasant
to Stand there ; for passion and will, though they had their way,
seemed to her feeling to be quieted down under nature's in-
fluences. Perhaps the most prominent thought now was of a
great discord between nature and her, between her and right, —
which was to be made up. But still, while her face was towards
the western sky and soft wind, and her mind thought this, her
ear listened for a step on the kitchen floor. The colours of the
western sky had grown graver and cooler before it came.
It came, and there was the scrape of a chair on the wooden
floor. He had sat down, and Karea had got up; but Elizabeth
would not look in.
" Are ye hungry enough now, G-overnor ? "
" I hope 80, Karen, — for your sake."
" Ye don't care much for yourown," said Karen discontentedly.
Perhaps Winthrop — perhaps Elizabeth, thought that she
made up his lack of it, Elizabeth watehed, stealthily, to see how
the old woman waited upon him — hovered about him — supplied
his wants, actual and possible, and stood looking at him when she
could do nothing else. She could not understand the low word
or' two with which Winthrop now and then rewarded her. Bitter
feeling overcame her at last ; she turned away, too much out of
tune with nature tu notice any more, unless by way of contrast,
what nature had spread about her and over her. She went round
the house again to the front and sat down in the doorway. The
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 431
stars were out, the moonliglit lay soft on the water, the dews fell
heavily.
" Miss Lizzie ! — you'll catch seven deaths out there ! — the
day's bad enough, but the night's five times worse," — Clam ex-
claimed.
" I shan't catch but one," Elizabeth said gloomily.
" Your muslin's all wet, driachin' ! "
" It will dry."
" I can hang it up, I s'pose; but what '11 1 do with you if
you get sick ? "
" Nothing whatever ! Let me alone. Clam."
" Mis' Nettles I — " said Clam going in towards the kitchen,
— " Mia' Nettles J — where's Mr. Landholm ? — G-overnor Winthrop
— here's Miss 'Lizabeth uuhoakin' all them blinds you've been a
hookin' up."
" What do you mean. Clam ? "
"I don't mean no. harm," said Clam loweiing her tone, —
" but Miss 'Lizabeth does. I wish you would go and see what
she is doing, Mr. Winthrop- she's makin' work for somebody;
and if it ain't nobody 1 b 1 ctor."
Winthrop howev U d Clam dpparted in ignorance
how he had receii d h f n ion. Presently however his
supper was fiuiahed, d h d round to the front of the
house. He paused b f h d Wiy where its mistress sat
" It is too damp f j h
" I don't feel it,
" I do."
" I am not afraid of it."
" If the fact were according to your fears, that would be a
" It will do me no harm."
" It must not ; and that it may not, you must go in," he said
gravely.
" But you are out in it," said Elizabeth, who was possessed
with an uneompromisiug spirit just then.
" I am out in it. Well ? "
" Only — that I may venture — " she did not like to finish her
sentence.
" What right have you to venture anything ? "
" The same right that other people have."
" 1 risk nothing," said he gravely.
" I haven't much to risk."
" You may risk your life."
HcsledbyGoOgle
432 THE HILLB OF TIIE
" My life ! " said Elizabeth. " What does it signify !— " But
she jumped up and ran into the house.
The next moruing there was an early breakfast, for which
Elizabeth was ready. Then Winthrop took her directions for
things to be forwarded from Mannaliatt*. Then there was a quiet
leave-taking; on his part kind and cool, on hers (oo full ot im-
passioned feeling to be guarded or constrained. But there was
reason and eseuse enough for that, as she knew, or guard and
restraint would both have been there. When ^e quitted his
hand, it was to hide herself in her room and have one struggle
with the feeling of desolation. It was a long one.
Elisabeth came out nt last, book in hand.
" Dear Miss Haye ! " Mrs. Nettley exclaimed — " you're dread-
ful worn with this hot weather and being out of doors all day
yesterday '. "
" I am going out again," said Elizabeth. " Clam will know
where to find me."
" If you had wings, I'd know where to find you," said Clam ;
" but OQ your feet 'taint so certain."
"You needn't try, unless it is necessary," aiud Elizabeth
dryly.
" But dear Miss Haye ! " pleaded Mrs. Nettley,—" you're not
surely going out to try the sun again to-day ? "
Elizabeth's lip quivered.
" It's the pleasautest place, Mrs. Nettley — I am quite in the
shade — I can't be bettor than I am there, tliank you."
" Don't she look dreadful ! " said the good lady, as Elizabeth
went from the house. " Oh, I never have seen anybody so
" She's pulled down a bit since she come," said Karen, who
gave Elizabeth but a moderate share of her good will at any
time. " She's got her mind up high enough, anyway, for all she's
gone througli."
" Who hain't ? " said Clara. " Hain't the Governor his
mind up high enough ? And you can't pull him down, but you
can her."
" His don't never need," said Karen.
" Well — I don' know, — " said Clam, picking up several
things about the fioor — " but them high minds is a triaL"
" Hain't you got one yourself, girl V " said old Karen.
"Hope so, ma'am. I take after my admirers. That's all tho
way I live, — keeping my head up — always did."
Karen deigned no reply, but went off.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HTLLS OF THE BHATEMUC. 433
"Mis' Nettles," said Clam, "do you think Misa Haye '11
ever stand it up here all alone in this hero place ? "
" Why not ? " said Mrs. Nettley innocently.
" I guess your Lead ain't high enough up for to see her'n," said
Clam, in scornful impatience. And she too quitted the c
tioQ in disgust.
19
H™.db,Googlc
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The book in Elizabeth's hand was her bible. It was the next
thing, and the only thing to be done after Winthrop's going away,
that she could tbink of, to begin upon tho first chapter of Mali-
thew. It waa action, and she craved aotion. It waa an under-
taking- for her mind remembered and laid hold of Winttrop'a
words — " Ask honestly, of your own conscience and of God, at
each step, what obligation upon you grows out of what you read."
And it waa an undertaking that Winthrop had set her upon. So
she sought out her yesterday's couch of moss with its cedar canopy,
and sat down in very different mood from yesterday's mood, and
put her bible on her lap. It waa a feeling of dull pasaive pain
now I a mood that did not want to aleep.
The day itself waa very like yesterday. Elizabeth listened
a minute to the sparrow and tfie locust and tlio summer wmd, but
presently she felt that they were overcoming her ; and sho opened
her book to the first chapter of Matthew. She was very curious
to find her first obligation. Not that she was unconscious of
many resting upon lier already ; but those were vague, old, dimly
recognized obligations ; she meant to take them up now definitely,
in the order in which they might come.
She half paused at the name in tlie first verso, — waa there not
a shadow of obligation hanging around that ? But if there were,
she would find it more clearly set forth and in detail as she went
on. Siie passed it for the present.
From that she went on smoothly as far as the twenty-first
verse. That stopped her.
HcsledbyGoOgle
*'And she aball bring
he shall save Ills people f
" ' Mis people,^ — " thought Elizabetli. " I am not one of his
people. Ought I not to be ? "
The words of the passage did not say ; hut an imperative
whisper at her heart said " Ay ! "
" His people I — but how can I be one of hia people ? " she
thought again. And impatience bade her turn over the leaf, and
find something more or something else; but conscience said, " Stop
— and deal with this obligation first."
" What obligation ? — ' He shall save his people from their
sins.' Then certainly I ought to let him save me from mine — that
is the least I can do. Bat what is the first thing — the first step
to bo taken? I wish Mr. Landholm was here to tell me. — "
She allowed herself to read on to the end of the page, but that
gave her not much additional light. She wonld not turn oyer the
leaf; she had no business with the second obligation till the first
was mastered ; she sat looking at the words in a sort of impatient
puzzle ; and not permitting herself to look forward, she turned
hsKsk. a leaf. That gave her but the titlepage of the New Testa-
meat. She turned back another, to the last chapter of the Old.
Its opening words caught her eye.
" For behold, tha day cometh that ehall bum aa an oven ; and all the
proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble; and the day that
oometh ahull born them up, saith the Lord of Hosta, that it shaE icava tiom
neither root nor branch."
" The proud, and they thai do wickedly — that is my character
and name truly," thought Elizabeth. " I am of them. — And it ia
from this, and this fate, that 'his people ' shall be delivered. But
how shall I get to be of them ? " Her oyo glanced restlessly up
to the next words above —
" ' Then' — in that day,"— thought Elizabeth, " I can discern
between them now, witiout waiting for that. — Winthrop Landholm
is one that serveth God — I am one that serve him not. There
is difference enough, I can see now — but this speaks of the difler-
enoe at that day ; another sort of difference. — Then I ought to be
a servant of G-od "
The obligation was pretty plain.
" Well, I will, when I find out how," — she began. But con-
science checked her.
HcsledbyGoOgle
*<>6 THE KILLS OF TIIE EHATEMUC.
" This ia not the first chapter of Matthew," she said then.
" I will go back to that."
Her eye fell lower, to the words.
"Bat unto j'ou that fear mj- name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise
with healing in his wings."
The tears started to Elizabeth's eyes. " This is that same who
will sa¥0 his people from their sina,— is it ?— and that Is his healing ?
Oh, I want it ! — There ia too much difference between mo and
them. He shall save his people from tlieir sins,— I have plenty,
—plenty. But how?— and what shall I do ? It don't tell me
It did not ; yet Elizabeth could not pass on. She was honest ;
she felt an obligation, arising from these words, which yet she did
not at once reoogniza It stayed her. She must do something —
what could she do ? It was a most unwelcome answer that atlaat
slid itself into her mind. Ask to be made one of his people ' — or
to be taught how to become one ? Her very soul started. Aik ?
— but now the obligation stood full and strong before her, and she
could cease to see it no more. Asle ? — why she never did such a
thing in her whole life as ask God to do anything ibr her. Not of
her own_ mind, at her own choice, and in simpEoity ; her thoughts
and fceiings had perhaps at some time joined in prayers made by
another, and in church, and in solemn time, But here ? with the
blue sky over her, in broad day, and in open air ? It did not seem
like praying time. Elizabeth shut her book. Her heart beat.
Duty and she were at a struggle now ; she knew which must give
way, but she was not ready yet. It never entered her head to
question the power or the will to which she must apply herself, no
more than if she had been a child. Herself she doubted; she
doubted not him. Elizabeth knew very little of bis works or
word, beyond a vague general outline, got from sermons ; but she
knew one servant of God. That servant glorified him ; and in the
light which she saw and loved, Elizabeth could do no other but,
in her measure, to glorify him too. She did not doubt, but she
hesitated, and trembled. The song of the birds an-1 the flow of
the water mocked her hesitancy and difficulty. But Elizabeth
was honest; and though she trembled she would not and could not
disobey the voice of conscience which set before her one clear,
plain duty. She was in great doubt whether to stand or to kneel ;
she was afraid of being seen if she knelt ; she would not be so
irreverent as to pray sitting ; she rose to her feet, and clasping a
cedar tree with her arms, ^e leaned her head beside the trunk,
: prayer, to him who saves his people from
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 437
their sins, that ho would make her one of them , she did not know
how, she confessed; she prayed that he would teach her.
She kept her position and did not move her hended head, till
the tears which had gathered were fallen or dried ; then she sat
down and took up her book again and looked down into the water.
What had she done? Entered a pledge, she felt, to be what she
bad prayed to he ; else her prajer would be but a moekery, and
Elizabeth was in earnest. " What a full-grown fair specimen he
is of hia class," she thought, her mind recurring again to her ad-
viser and exemplar ; " and I — a poor imorant thing in the dart,
groping for a bit of light to begin ! " — ^The tears gathered again;
she opened the second chapter of Matthow-
She looked off again to feel glad. Was a pledge entered only
on her side ? — was there not an assurance given somewhere, by
lips that cannot lie, that prayer earnestly offered should not be in
vain ? She could not recal the words, but she was sure of the
thing ; and there was more than one throb of pleasure, and a tiny
shoot of grateful feeling in her heart, before Elizabeth went hack
to her book. What was the next ' obligation ' ? She was all
ready for it.
Nothing stopped her much in the second chapter. The ' next
obligation ' did not start up till the words of John the Baptist in
the beginning of the third —
" Repent je, for the tingdom of heaven is at hand."
" What is repentance ? — and what is the kingdom of heaven ? "
pondered EliBabeth. "I wish somebody was here to tel) me.
Kepent ? — I know what it is to repent — it is to change one's mind
about son-.ethiag, and to will just against what one willed before.
— And what ou^t I to repent about V— Even-thing wrong ! Every-
thing wrong I — That is, to turn about ana set my face just the
other way from what it has been all my life I — I might as good
take hold of this moving earth with my two fingers and give it a
twist to go westwards, "
Elizabeth shut up her book, and laid it on the moss beside
her.
" Repent ? — yes, it's an obligation. Oh what shall I do
with it! — "
She would have liked to do with it as she did with her head-
lay it down.
" These wrong things arc iron-strong in me— how can I un-
screw them from thoir fastenings, and change all tho out-goingt
and in-comings of my mind ? — when the very hands that must do
HcsledbyGoOgle
iSS TnE HILLS OF 1
tlie work have r bent the wrong way. How can I ? — I am strong
for evil — I am weak as a child for good."
" I will try ! " she said the next instant, lifting her head up —
'_' I will try to do what I can. — But that is not changing my whole
inner way of feeling — that ia not rejwniing. Perhaps it will
come. Or is this determination of mine to iry, the beginning of
it ? I do not know that it ia — I cannot be sure that it is. Mo^
one might wish to be a good lawyer, without at all being willing to
go through all the labour and pains for it which Winthrop Land-
holm has taken. — No, this is not, or it may not be, repentance —
I cannot be sure that it is anything. But will it not come ? or
how can I get it ? How alone I am from all counsel and help 1
—Still it must be my duty to try — to try to do particular things
right, as they come up, even though I cannot feel right all at once.
And if I try, won't the help come, and the knowledge? — What a
confusion it is I In the midst of it all it is my duty to repent,
and I haven't the least idea how to set about it, and I can't du it 1
0 I wish Winthrop Landhoim was here I "
Elizabeth pondered the matter a good deal; and the mora she
thought about it, the worse the confusion grew. The duty seemed
more imminent, the difficulty more obstinate. She was driven at
last, unwillingly again, to her former resource— what she could
not give herself, to ask to have given her. She did it, with tears
again, that were wrung from breaking pride and weary wishing.
More quietly then she resolved to lay off perplexing care, and to
strive to meet the moment's duty, as it arose. And by this time
with a very humbled and quieted brow, she went on with her chapter.
The words of the nest verse caught her eye and her mind at once.
" For this is he that vas spoiea of by the prophet Esaias, saying, Tbo
voiceofonecrjqnginlhawilderoess.preparaye the wav-ofthe Lord, make his
paths straight."
" Is not this it ? " cried Eliaabeth. " If I do my part — all I
can— is not Ikai preparing ihe way for him to do what I cannot
She thought so, at any rate, and it comforted her.
" Miss 'LiEabeth," said Clam, just behind her, " Karen wants
to know what time you'll have dinner ? "
" I don't care."
" That's 'zackly Karen's time o' day," said Clam discontent-
edly.
" I don't care at all, Clam."
" And she says, what '11 you have ? "
" Nothing — or anything. Don't talk to me about it."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMITC. 439
"Ain't much good in choosing," said Clam, " when there ain't
three things to choose from. How long can jou live on pork,
Miss 'Lizabeth?"
Elizabeth looked up impatiently,
" Longer than you can. Clam I — "
" Ma'am ? "
" Let me alone. I don't care about anything."
Clam went off; but ten minutes had not gone when she was
back again.
" Miss Lizzie, — Andereae wants to know if he'll go on cattin'
wood just as he's a mind to?"
" Andereae ? — who's he ? "
" Karen and him used to be brother and sister when they was
little."
" What docs he want ? "
" Wants to know if he shall go on cnittin' Viood just as erer."
" Cutting wood ! — what wood ? "
" 1 s'peet it's your trees,''
" Mine I What trees ? "
"Why the trees in the woods, Miss Lizzie. As long as they
was nobody's, Anderese used to out 'em for the fire; now they're
yourn, he wants to know what he shall do with 'em."
" Let 'em aloue, certainly ! Don't let him cut any more."
" Then the nest ijuestion is, where'U he go for something to
make a fire ? "
" To make a fire ! "
" Yes, Miss Lizzie — unless no time '11 do foi' dinner as well as
any time. Can't cook pork without a fire. And then you'd
want the kettle boiled for tea, I reckon."
" Can't he get wood anywhere, Clam ? without cutting down
" There ain't none to soli anywheres — he says."
" What trees has he been cutting ? " said Blizabcth, rousing
herself in despair.
" Any that come handy, I s'pose, Miss Lizzie — they'll all
burn, once get 'em in the chimney."
" He mustn't do that. Toll him — but you can't teli him —
and I can't. "
She hesitated, between the intense desire to bid him oat
whatever he had a mind, and the notion of attending to all her
duties, which was strong upon her.
" Tell him to cut anything he pleases, for to-day — I'll see
about it myself the next time."
HcsledbyGoOgle
440
f THE gHATEMtrC.
Two minutes' peace ; and then Clam was at her back again.
Miss Lizzie, ho don't know notJiin' and he wants to know a
heap. Do jou want him to out down a cedar, he aajs, or an oak,
or somethm' elae. There's the most cedars, he saya; but Karen
Bays they snap all to pieces."
Elizabeth rose to her feet.
_ " I ^ppose I can find a tree in a minute that he can cut
without doing any harm.— Bring me a parasol, Clam,~and come
along with me."
Clam and the parasol came out at one door, and Andorese and
hia axe at another, as Elizabeth slowly paced towards the house
Ihe three joined company. Anderese was an old grey-haired
negro, many years younger however than his sister. Elizabeth
asked him, " Which way ? "
" Which way the young lady pleases."
"I don't please about it," said Elizabeth,—"! don't know
anything about it— lead to the nearest place— where a tree can
he soonest found."
The old man shouldered hia ase and went before, presently
entering a little wood path ; of which many atniek off into the
leafy wilderness which bordered the house. Leaves overhead
rodl and moss under foot ; a winding, jagged, up and down, stony!
aM 8oft green way, sometimes the one, sometimes the other
JLiizabeth s bible was still in her hand, her finger still kept it
open at the second chapter of Matthew; she went musingly along
over grey lichens and sunny green beds of moss, thinking of many
things. How she was wandering in Winthrop's old haunts, where
the trees had once upon a time been out by him, she now to order
the cutting of the fellow trees. Strange it waa ! How she was
desolate and alone, nobody but herself there to do it ; her father
gone ; and she without another protector or friend to care for the
trees or her either. There were times when the weight of pain
like the pressure of the atmosphere, seemed so equally distributed
that It was distinctly felt nowhere,— or else so mighty that the
nerves of feeling were benumbed. Elizabeth wandered along in
a kind of maze, half wondering half indignant at herself that she
could walk and think at aU. She did not execute much thinking
to do her justice; she passed through, the sweet broken sunlight
and still shadows, among the rough trunks of the cedars, as if it
had been the scenery of dreamland. On every hand were up-
shooting young pines, struggling oaks that were caught in thick-
ets of cedar, and ashes and elms that were humbly asking leave
to spread and see the light and reach their heads up to freedom
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF TIIE SHATEMCC. 44:1
and free air. They asked in vain, Elizabctli was odIj conscious
of the etniggling hopes and wishes that seemed crashed for ever,
her own.
" She don't see nothin','' whispered Clam to Anderese, whom
she had joined in front._ " She's lookiu' into vacancy. If you
don't stop, our ase and parasol 'II wait aU round the place, and
one '11 do as much work as the other. I can't put up my awning
till yoii cut down something to let the sun in."
The old man glanced back over his shoulder at his joaug
" What be I goin' to do ? " he whispered, with a sidelong
glance at Clam.
" Fling your axe into something," said Clam. " That'll hring
The old man presently stepped aside to a young sapling oak,
which having outgrown its strength bent its slim altitude in a beau-
tiful parabolic curve athwart the sturdy stems of cedars and yel-
low pines which lined the path. Anderese stopped there and
looked at Elizabeth. She had stopped too, without noticing him,
and stood sending an intent, fixed, far-going look into the pretty
wilderness of rock aud wood on the other side of tbe way. All
three stood silently.
" Will this do to come down, yonng lady ? " inquired Ander-
ese, with his ase on his shoulder. Eliaabeth faced about.
" 'Twou't grow up to make a good tree — it's slantin' off so
among the others." He brought his axe down,
" That ? " said Elizabeth, — " that reaching-over one ? 0 :» ■
you mustn't touch that, "What is it ? "
" It's an oak, miss ; it's good wood,"
" It's a better tree. No indeed — leave that. Never cut such
trees. Won't some of those old things do ? "
" Them ? — them are cedars, young lady."
" Well, won't they do ? "
" They'd fly all over and bum the house up," said Clam.
" What do you want ? "
" Some o' the best there is, I guess," said Clam.
" Hard wood is the beat, young lady."
" What's that ? "
" Oak — maple — hickory — and there's ash, and birch — 'tain't
very good."
Elizabeth sighed, and led the way on again, while the old
negro shouldered his ase and followed with Clam; probably
19*
HcsledbyGoOgle
4i2
! HILLS OF THE 81IATEMUC.
aigting on his own part, if habitual gentleness of spirit did not
prevent. Nobody ever knew Clam do such a thing.
'' Look at her 1 " muttered tho damsel ;— " going with her
head down,— when'U she see a tree ? Ain't we on a maroh 1
Miss Jjizabeth I— the tree won't walk hojne after it's cut."
" What ? " said her mistress.
" How'll it get there ? "
" What ? "
"The tree, Misa Lizzie — when Anderese has cut it."
" Can't he carry some home ? "
^ " He'll he a good while about it— if ho takes one stick at a
time— and we ain't nigh home, neither,"
Eliaabeth came to a stand, and finally turned in another di-
rection, homewards. But she broke from the path then, and took
up the quest m earnest, leading her panting followers over rocks
and moss-beds and fallen cedars and tangled vines and nnder-
growth, which in many places hindered their way. She found
trees enough at last, and near enough home ; but both she and
her compaosons had had tree-hunting to their satisfaction. Eliza-
beth eommiaaioned Anderese to find fuel in another way ■ and
herself m_ some disgust at her new charge, returned to her rock
^? m'^'", *''^** *" SO tlirough with the third chapter
of Matthew ; and her eye did go over it, though often swimming
m tears. But that was the end of her studies at that time
borrow claimed the rest of the day for its own, and held the
whole ground. Her household and its perplexities— her bible
and its teachings — her ignorance and her nooeasities faded
away from view; and instead thereof rose up the lost father, the
lost home, and the lost friend yet dearer than all.
"What's become of Miss Haye?" whispered Mrs. Nettley
late in the evening.
"Don' know," answered Clam. " Melted away— aU that can
melt, and shaken down— all that can shake, of her. That ain't
all, so I s'pose there's somethin' left,"
" Poor thing !— no wonder she takes it hard," said the sood
lady. *
" No," said Clam,—" she never did take nothin' easy."
" Has she been crying all tho afternoon ?"
■' Don' know," said Clam ; " the eye of curiosity ain't invited ■
Dut she don't take that easy neither, when she's about it. I've
seen her cry— once ; she'd do a year o' your crying in half an
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XXXIX.
TiiBY were days of violent grief wtich for a little while fol-
lowed each other. Elizabeth spent them out of doors ; in the
woods, on the rooks, by the water's edge. She would take her
bible out with her, and Bometimes try to read a little ; but a very
few words would generally touot some spring which set her off
upon a torrent of sorrow. Pleasant tilings past or out of her
reach, the present time a blank, the future worse than a blank,^
she knew nothing else. She did often in her distress repeat the
prayer she had made over the first chapter of Matthew ; hut that
was rather the fruit of past thought; sho did not think in those
days ; she gave up to feeling ; and the hoars were a change from
bitter and violent sorrow to dull and listless quiet. Conscience
sometimes spoke of duties resolved upon ; impatient pain always
answered that their time was not now.
The first thing that roused her was a little letter from Win-
throp, which came with the pieces of furniture and stores he seat
up to her order. It was but a word,— or two words ; one of
business, to say what he had done for her; and one of kindness,
to say what he hoped she was domg for herself. Both words
were brief, and cool; but with them, with the very handwriting
of them, came a waft of that atmosphere of iafluenee— -that silent
breath of truth which every character breathes— which m this
instance was sweetened with airs from heaven. The image of
the writer rose before her brightly, in its truth and uprightness
and high and fixed principle ; and though Elizabeth wept bitter
tears at the miserable contrast of her own, they were more heal-
HcsledbyGoOgle
444 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMCG.
ing teara tlian sbe had shed all those daya. When she dried them,
it was with a new miad, to live no more hours like those she had
been living. Something less distantly unlike him she could be,
and would be. She rose and went into the houso, while her eyes
were yet red, and gave her patient and unwearied atteution, for
hoTira, to detaih of household arrangements that needed it. Her
wits were not wandering, nor her eyes ; nor did thej suffer others
to wander. Then, when it waa all done, she took her bonnet and
went back to her old wood-place and her bible, with an 1
and quieter spirit than she had ever brought to it before,
tie fifth chapter of Matthew now.
The first beatitude puzzled her. She did not know what waa
meant by ' poor in spirit,' and she could not satisfy herself She
passed it as something to be made out by and by, and went on to
the others. There were obligations enough.
" ' Meek ? ' " said Elizabeth, — " I snpposo if there is anything
in the world I am not, it is inee!;, I am the very, very opposite.
What can I do with this ? It is like a fire in my veins. Can 1
cool it ? And if I could control the outward seeming of it, that
would not be the change of the thing itself. Besides, I couldn't,
I must be meek, if I ani ever to seem so,"
She went on sorrowfully to the nest.
'"Hunger and thirst after righteousness '—I do desire it — 1
do not ' hunger and thirst' I don't think I do — and it is those
and those only to whom the promise is given. I am so miserable
that I cannot even wish enough for what I need most. O
God, help me to know what I am seeking, and to seek it more
earnestly ! — ''
" ' Merciful ? ' " she went on with tears in her eyes — " I
think I am merciful. — I haven't been tried, but I am pretty sure
I am morcifiil. But there it is — one must have all the marks, I
suppose, to be a Christian. Some people may be merciful by
nature — I suppose I am.—"
" Blessed are the jjure in kearl,"
She stopped there, and even shut up her book, in utter sor-
row and shame, that if ' pure in heart ' meant pure to the All-see-
ing eye, hers was so very, very far from it. There was not a little
scrap of her heart fit for looking into. And what could she do with
it ? The words of Job recurred to her, — " Who can bring a
clean thing out of an unclean ? not one."
Elizabeth was growing ' poor in spirit ' before she knew what
the words meant. She went on carefully, sorrowfuDy, earnestly.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 445
— till ahe came to the twenty-fourtb verse of the sisth (.-hajiter.
It startled ter.
"No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one and
love Ihe other ; or else he will hold to tlio one and despise the tiflier. Yo
cannot serve Grod and Mammon."
" That ia to say then," said Elizalieth, " that I must devote
myself entirely to God — or not at all All my life and posses-
ion ind aims. It means all that ! — "
And tor ' all that ' she felt she was not ready. One corner
f s If w U and doing her own pleasure she wanted somt-where ;
a d w ted so obstinately, that she felt, as it were, a nioun-
I n f t ong unwillingness rise up between God's requirements
and h an iron lock upon the door of her heart, the key of
wb h h could not turn, shutting and barring it fiist against his
ent an e and rule. And she sat down before tho strong mo.mtain
a d the 1 eked door, as before something which must, and could
n t g e way ; with a desperate feeling that it must — with another
dp t feeling that it would not.
Now was Elizabeth very uncomfortable, and she hated dis-
comfort. She would have given a great deal to make herself
right; if a movement of her hand could have changed her and
cleared away the hiadranee, it would have been made on the in-
stant ; her judgment and her wish were olear ; but her will was not
Unconditional submission she thought she was ready for ; uneon-
ditional obedience was a stumbling-block before which she stopped
short. She knew there would come up occasions when her own
will would take its way — she could not promise for it that it
would not ; and she was afraid to give up her freedom utterly
and engage to serve God in everyimng. An enormous engage-
meat, she felt 1 How was she to meet with ten thousand the
enemy that came against her with twenty thousand ? — Ay, bow ?
But if he were not met — if she wore to be the servant of sin for
ever — all was lost then ! And she was not going to be lost;
therefore she was going to be the unconditional servant of God.
When?—
The tears came, but they did not flow ; they could not, for
the fever of doubt and queitioniug. She dashed thorn away as
impertinent asides. What were they to the matter in hand.
Elizabeth was in distress. But at the same time it wai distress
that she was resolved to get out of She did not know just what
to do ; but neither would she go into the house till something
" If Mr. Landholm were here ! — "
HcsledbyGoOgle
446 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEltDC.
" What oould he do ? " answered conscience ; " there is the
question hefore you, for you to deal with. You must deal with
it. It's a plain question."
"I cannot" — and "Who will undertake for me?" — were
Elizabeth's answering cry.
Her heart involuntarily turned to the great helper, but what
could or would he do for her ?— it was his will she was thwarting.
^Nevertheless, " to whom should she go ? " — the shaken needle of
her mind's compass turned more and more steadily to its great
centre. There wt^ light in no other quarter but on that ' wicket-
gate ' towards which Bunyan's Pilgrim first long ago set off to run.
With some such sorrowful blind looking, she opened to her chap-
ter of Matthew agmi, and carelessly and sadly turned over a leaf
or two ; till she saw a word which though printed in the ordinary
type of tlie rest, stood out lo her eyes like the lettering en a sign-
board. " Ask." —
" Ask, and it shall "ba ^van yon ; Eeek, and ya shall find ; knock, and it
shall be opened nnto yoa."
The tears came then with a gush.
" Ask wluit ? — it doesn't say,^ — ^but it must be whatever my
difficulty needs — there is no restriction. ' Knock ' I — I will-
till it is opened to me — as it will be ! — "
Tlie difficulty was not gone — the mouatain had not suddenly
sunk to a level; but she had got a clue to get over the one, and
daylight had broken through the other. Elizabeth felt not
changed at all ; no better, and no tenderer ; but she laid hold of
those words as ono who has but uncertain footing puts his arms
round a strong tree, — she clung as one clings there ; and clasped
then: with assurance of life. Ask ? — did she not ask, with tears
that streamed now ; she knocked, clasping that stronghold with
more glad and sure clasp ; sho knew then that everything would
be ' made plain ' in the rough places of her heart.
She did not sit still long then for meditation or to rest ; her
mood was action. She took her bible from the moss, and with
a strong beating sense both of the hopeful and of the forlorn in
her condition, flie walked slowly through the grass to the steps
of her house door. As she mounted them a new thought sud-
denly struck her, and instead of turning to the right she turned
to the left.
" Mrs. Nettley," said Elizabeth as she entered the sitting-
room, " isn't it very inconvenient for you to be staying here
with me ? "
Good Mrs. Nettley was sitting quietly at ker work, and
looked up at this quite startled.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF TEE BHATEMTTC. 447
" Isn't it ineonyeiiieiit for you ? " Elizabeth repeated.
" Miss Haye ! — it isn't inconvenient ;— I am very glad to do
it — if I can be of any aervioe "
" It ia very kind of you, and very pleasant to me; but aren't
you wanted at home ? "
" I don't think I am wanted, Miss Haye, — at least I am sure
my brother is very glad to have me do anything for Mr. Land-
holm, or for you, I am sure ; — if I can."
Elizabeth's eye flashed; but then in an instant aho called
herself a fool, and in the same breath wondered why it should he,
that Wintkrop'a benevolence must put him in the way of giving
her so much pain.
" Who fiilfi your place at home, while you are taking oare of
me here, Mrs. Nettley ? "
" I don't suppose any of 'em can just do that," said the good
laAj with a little bit of a laugh at the idea.
" Well, is there any one to take care of your bouse and your
brother ? "
" Mr. Landiolm — bo said he'd see to it."
" Mr, Landholm 1 — "
" He promised he'd take care of Gfeorge and the house as
well. — I dare say they don't manage much amiss."
" But who takes care of Mr. Landholm ? "
" Nobody does, if he don't himself," said Mrs. Nettley with
ft shake of her head. " He don't give that pleasure to any other
living person,"
" Not when you are at homo ? "
" It makes no difference, Miss Haye," said Mrs. Nettley go-
ing on with her sewing. " He never wUl. He never did."
" But surely he boards somewhere, don't be 1 He don't live
entirely by himself iu that room f "
" That's what he always used," said Mrs. Nettley ; " he does
take his dinners somewhere now, I believe. But nothing else.
He makes his own tea and breakfast, — that is ! — for he don't
drink anything. If it was any one else, one would be apt to say
one would grow unsociable, living in such away; but it don't
make any change in bim, no more than in the sun, what sort of a
place he lives in."
Elizabeth stood for a minute very still ; and then said gently,
" Mrs. Nettley, I mustn't let you stay bore with me."
" Why not. Miss Haye? — I am sure they don't want me. I
can just as well stay as not. I am very glad to stay."
" You are wanted more there than here. I must learn to
get along alone. — It don't matter how soon I begin."
HcsledbyGoOgle
448 THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMTTO,
" Dear Misa Haje, not yet. Never mind now — we'll talli
about it by and by," said Mrs. Nettiey liurriediy and Bomowhat
anxiously. Slie waa a little afraid of Elizabeth.
" How oould yon get home from this place ? "
" 0 by and by— there'll bo ways— when the time comes."
" The time must come, Mrs, Nettiey. You are very good —
I'm very much obliged to you for coming and staying with me,
— but in ooBscience I cannot let you stay any longer. It don't
make any difference, a little sooner or later."
" Later is better, Miss Elizabetb."
" No — I shall feel more comfortable to think you are at home,
than to think I am keeping you here. I would rather you should
make your arrangements and choose what day you will go ; and I
will find some way for you to go."
" I am very sorry, Miss Elizabeth," said Mrs. Nettiey most
unaffectedly. " I am sure Mr. Landholm would a great deal
rather I should stay."
It was the last word Elizabeth could stand. Her lip trem-
bled, as she crossed the passage to her own room and bolted the
door; and thcu she threw terself ou her knees by the bedside
and hid the quivering face in her hands.
Why should it, that kind care of his, pierce her like thorns
and arrows ? why give her that when he could give her no more ?
" But it will all be over," she thought to herself,— " this struggle
like all other straggles will come to an end; meanwhile I have it
to bear and my work to do. Perhaps I shall get over this feel-
ing in time — time wears out so much.— But I snould despise my-
self if I did. No, when I have taken up a liking on so good and
solid grounds, I hope I am of good enough stuff to keep it to the
end of my days."
Then came over her the feeling of forlornnesa, of loneliness,
woll and thoroughly realized; with the single gleam of better'
tilings that sprung from the promise her heart had embraced that
day. True and strong it was, and her soul clung to it. But
yet its real brightness, to her apprehension, shone upon a " land
that is very far off; " and left all the way thereunto witli but a
twilight earnest of good things to come ; and Elizabeth did not
like looking forward ; she wanted some sweetness in hand. Yet
she clung to that, her one stand-by. She had a vague notion
that its gleam might lead to more brightness even this side of
heaven ; that there might be a sort of comfort growing out of
doing one's duty, and the favour of him whose service duty is.
Winthrop Landholm was always bright, — and what else had he
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HTTJ.S OF THR 8HATEMUC. 449
to mate him so ? Sh w lil t y wh t t e there might he in
It ; she would essay tlj p tJis f w 3 m whioh are said to
be 'pleasantness;' b t m th 1 nging for help; she
felt that she knew s 1 tt! Ag^ th w d ' ask '—came hack
to her; and at last h If f rt d w! Ily wearied, she rose
from her long medit t n hy th b ds d nd went towards the
window.
There was such a sparkling beauty on everything outside,
under the clear evening sun, that its brilliancy half rebuked her.
The very shadows seemed bright, so bright were the lines of light
between them, where the tall pointed cedars were casting their
maHtleon the grass. Elizabeth stood by the open window,
wondering. She looked back to the time when she had been
there before, when she was as bright, though not as pure, as all
things else ; and now— father and friend were away from her,
and she was alone. Yet still the sun shone— might it not again
some time for her ? Poor child, as she stood there the teara
dropped fast, at that meeting of hope and sorrow ; hope as in-
tangible as the light, sorrow a thicker mantle than that of the
cedar trees. And now the sunlight seemed to say 'Jst'— and
the green glittering earth responded— " and ye shall receive."
Elizabeth looked ;— alie heard them say it constantly. She did
not question the one word or the other. It seemed very sweet to
her, the thought of doing her duty; and yet,— the tears which
had stayed, ran fast again when she thought of Mrs. Nottley's
going away and how utterly alone she should he.
She had sat down and was resting her arm on the window-sill ■
and Miss Haye's face was in a state of humbled and maddened
gravity which np one ever saw it in before these days. As she
sat there, Karen's voice reached her from the back of the house
somewhere ; and it suddenly occurred to Elizabeth that it might
be as well for her to acijuaint herself somewhat better with one of
her few remaining inmates, since their number was to be so les-
sened. She dried her eyes, and went out with quick step through
the kitchen till she neared the door of the little back porch where
Karen was at work. There she paused.
_ The old woman was singing one of her Methodist son^, in a
voice that had once very likely been sweet and strong, li was
trembling and cracked now. Yet none of the fire and spirit of
old was wanting; as was shewn, not indeed by the power of the
notes but by the loving flow or cadence the singer gave them.
Elizabeth lingered just within the door to listen. The melody
HcsledbyGoOgle
4&U THE HILLS OF THE SHATBKUO.
waa as wild and sweot as auitecl the words. The first of the song
she had lost ; it went on —
" till Jesus sHall come,
'Troteot and defend me ontjl I'm called home ;
" Thongh worms my poor bodj may claim as ibch prey,
" 'Twill out^Mne, when rising, the sun at noon-day.
" The snn Ehall be darkened, the moon turned to blood,
" The mountains all melt at the presence of God ;
" Red lightnings may flash, and loud thraiders may rosr,
"All this cannot daunt me ou Canaan's blest shore,
" A glimpse of hright glory surprises my eonl,
"I Biiik in sweet vmons to view the bright goal;
" My soul, whila I'm anging, is leaping to go,
" This moment for heaven I'd leave all below
" Away to my Saviour my spirit they'll bear.
" I am going — I'm going — but what do I see !— "
She was interrupted.
"Do JO u mean all that, Karen? "said Elizaheth, stepping
without the door.
Karen stopped her song and looked round.
" Do you moan all that you are aineinc, Karen ? "
"What I'm singing?—"
" Tea. I've been listening to you. — Do you foel and mean all
those words of your hymn ? "
" I don't say no words I don't mean," said Karen, going on
with her work; — " anyhow, I don't mean to."
" But those words you have been singing — do you mean that
you feel them all ? "
Karen stood up and laced her aa she answered,
" Yes ! "
" Do you mean that you would rather die than live ? "
" If 'twas the Lord's will, I would," said Karen, without mov-
ing her face.
" You ain't one of the Lord's people, be you, young lady ? "
" I don't kaow— " said Elizabeth, blushing and hesitatmg, — "
mean to be."
HosledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 451
" Do you mean to be one of 'em 1 " said Kaien.
" I wish to be— yes, I mean to be,— if I can."
Tte old woman dried her band which had been busy in water,
and coming up took one of Elizabeth's,- looked at its delicate
tints m her own wrinkled and black fingers, and then lifting a
moistened eye to Elizabetlj's face, she answered expressively,
" Then you'll know."
" But I want to know something about it now," said the young
lady as Karen went back to her work. " Tell me. How cim you
wish to ' leave all for heaven,' as you were singing a moment
ago?"
" I'd ha' done that plenty o' years ago," said Karen. " I'd
got enough of this world by that time."
" Is that the reason ? "
" "What reason ? " said Karen.
" Is that the reason you would like to go to heaven ? "
"It's the reason why I'm willing to leave the earth," said
Karen. " It hain't nothiu' to do with heaven."
" Anybody might be wiUing to go to heaven at that rate," s.iid
Elizabeth.
" That ain't all, young lady," said Karen, working away while
she spoke. " I'm not only wiliin' to go— I'm willin' to be there
when I get there — and I'm ready too, thank the Lord ! "
" How can one be ' ready ' for it, Karen ?— It seems such a
change."
^ " It'll be a good change," said Karen. " Mis' Landholm
thinks it IS."
Elizabeth stood silent, the tears swelling; she got little liirht
from Karen. => o o
You wa'n't one of the Lord's people when you eome ?-
now, Karen, — but I n
you?—" said Karen suddenly, looking round at
" I hardly know whether I am one i
to try."
" Tryia' ain't no use," said Karen. "If you waat to be one
of the Lord's people, you've only to knock, and it shall be opened
to yon." '^
" Did you never know that fail ? "
" I never tried it but once— it didn't fail me tben," said the
old woman. " The Lord keeps his promlBes.- 1 tried it a irood
while — it don't do to stop knockin'."
" But I must — one must try to do something— I must trv to
do my duty," said Elizabeth.
" Surely 1 " said Karen, facing round upon her ^ain, " but you
HcsledbyGoOgle
4oa THE HILLS OF THE eHATEMDC.
can't help that. Do jou s'pose you can love Jesns Christ, and
not love to please him ? 'Tain't in Hatur' — you can't help it."
" But suppose I don't love liim, Karen ? " said Elizaheth, her
voice choking as she said it. " I don't know him yet — I don't
know him enough to love him,"
There was a little pause ; and then without looking at her,
Karen said in her trcmhling voice, a little more trembCug than
it was,
" I don't know. Miss 'Llzabeth — ' To them gave he power to
become tho sons of God, even to them that believe on his name ! '
— I heard a man preach tliat once."
The tears rushed in full measure to Elizabeth's eyes. She
stood, not heeding Karen nor anything else, and the thick veil of
tears hiding everything from her sight. It was a moment of
strong joy ; for she knew she believed in him ! She was, or she
would be, one of ' his people,' Her strong pillar of assurance she
clasped again, and leaned her heart upon, with unspeakable rest.
She stood, till the water had cleared itself from her eyes ; and
then she waa turning into the house, but turned back again, and
went close up to the old black woman.
" Thank you, Karen," said she. " You have given me eom-
" You hain't got it all," said Karon without looking at her.
" What do you mean ? "
" Did you ever read a book called the ' Pilgrim's Progress,'
young lady ? "
" m."
" I ain't much like the people there," said Karen, " but they
was always glad to hear of one more tbat waa going to be a pU-
grim ; and clapped their hands, they did,"
" Did you ever read it, Karen ? "
" I hearn Mis' Landholm read it — and the Governor."
Elizabeth turned away, and she had not half crossed the
kitchen when she heard Kareu strike up, in a sweet refrain,
" 111 march to Cammn'a land,
"I'll land on Caniian'a shore,"—
Then something stopped the song, and Elizabeth, came back
to her room. She eat down by the window. The light was
changed. There seemed a strange clear brightness on all things
without that they had not a little while ago, and that they never
had before. And her bread was sweet to her that night.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTER XL.
ea doth iilUi US ss ne nith lorcbcs do:
Much against Mrs. Nottley's will, she was despatelied on her
journey homewards within a few days after. She begged to be
allowed to stay yet a week or two, or three j but Eliaabeth was
unmoveable. " It would make no difference," she said, " or at
least I would rather you should go. You ought to be there — and
I may as well learn at once to get used to it."
" But it will be very bad for you, Miss Elizabeth."
" I think it is right, Mrs. Nettley."
So Mrs. Nettley went ; and how their young lady passed her
days and bore the quietude and the sorrow of them, the rest of
the household marrelled together.
" She'd die, if there was dyin' stuff in her," said 01am ; " but
there ain't."
" What for should she die ? " said Karen.
" I'm as near dead as I can be, myself," was Clam's conclu-
sive reply.
" What ails you, girl ? "
" I can't catch my breath good among all these mountains,"
said 01am, " I guess the hills spiles the air hereabouts."
" Your young lady don't think so."
" No," said Clam,—" she looks at the mountains as if she'd
swaller them whole — them and her Bible ; — only she looks into
that as if it would swaller her."
"Poor bird! she's beat down; — it's too lonesome up here
for her 1 " said Karen more tenderly than her wont was.
" That ain't no sign she'll go," said Clam. " She's as notional
HcsledbyGoOgle
454 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO.
as the Governor himself, when she taiea a notion ; only there's
some sense in his, and you never know wliere the sense of hers is
till it comes out."
" The house is so still, it's pitiful to hear it," said Karen. " I
never minded it when there wa'n't nobody in it — I knowed the
old family was all gone — but cow I hear it, seems to me, the
whole day long. You can't hear a foot, whea yon ain't in there."
"That'll last awhile, maybe," said Clam; "andtlen you'll
have a row. 'Tain't in her to keep still niore't a certain length
o' time ; and when she cumoa out, there'll he a firing up, I
" The Lord '11 keep hia own," said Karon rising from the
table. "Which sentence Clam made nothing of.
Spite of her anticipations, the days, and the weeks, sped on
smoothly and noiselessly. Indeed more quietne^, and not less,
saemed to be the order of them. Probably too much for Eliaa-
beth's good, if sich a state of mere mind-life had been of lone
lasting. It would not long have been healthy. The stir ot
passion, at first, was fresh enough to keep iier thoughts fresh ;
hut as time weut on there were fewer tears and a more settled
borne-down look of sorrow. Even her Bible, constantly studied,
—even prayer, constantly made over it, did not hinder thia Her
active nature was in an unnatural state ; it could not be well so.
And it sometimes burst the bounds she had set to it, and in-
dulged in a passionate wrestling with the image of joys lost and
longed for. Meanwhile, the hot days of August were passed, the
first heats of September were slowly gone ; and days and nights
began to cool off in earnest towards the frosty weather.
" If there ain't some way found to keep Miss Haye's eyes from
cryin', she won't have 'em to do anything else with. And she'll
want 'em, some day."
Clam, like Elizabeth of old, having nobody else to speak to,
was sometimes driven to speak to the nearest at hand.
" Is sho cryin', now ? " said Karen.
" I don' know what you 'd callit," said Clam. " 'Tain't muoli
like other folks' cryin'."
" Well there's a letter Anderese fetched — you 'd better take
it to her as soon as it '11 do. Maybe it '11 do her good."
" Where from ? " said Clam seizing it.
" Anderese fetched it from Mountain Spring."
" Now I wish 'twas — but it ain't ! — " said Clam. " I'll take
it to her anyhow."
Elizabeth knew that it wasnH, aa soon as she took it. The
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMtlC. 455
letter was from the geatlemaa who had beea her father's lawyer
in the oity.
Maiinahatta, Sept. 36, 1817.
" Dear Mabam,
Upon^ arriiDgemeiit of Mr. Haye'a affairs, I regret to say,
we find it will take nearly all his effects to meet the Htanding
liahilitiea and cover the failure of two or three large operationa
in which Mr. Haye had ventared more upon uncertain contingen-
cies than was hia general habit in business matters. So little in-
deed will he left, at the hest issue we can hope for, that Mrs.
Haje'a interest, whose whole property, I suppose you are aware,
was inrolved, I griere to say will amount to little or nothing.
It were greatly to be wished that some settlement had in time
been made for her benefit ; but nothing of tlie kind was done,
nor I suppose in the eircumatanoes latterly was possible. The
will maicea ample provision, but I am deeply pained to say, is, as
matters stand, but a nullity. I enclose a copy.
"I have thought it right to advertise you of these painful
tidings, and am,
" Dear madam, with great respect,
" Your obedient servant,
" DnsTOS 0. Brick."
Elizabeth had r d th a 1 tt and p d red over it by turns
half the day, when a ta tl ng th ht f the first time flashed
into her mind. K s d lat di n Leas desolate than
her own indeed, insfathtE hdlss trength to feel ; but
more desolate by f a b -le b g f ndless she was much
more helpless than h It Wh t w 11 1 do, without money
and friends ? — for she never had any near and dear friends but
father and me. Where can she live ? "
Elizabeth jumped up and ran into the house to get away from
the infereuee. But when she liad sat down in her chair the in-
ference stood before her.
" Bring her here ! — I cannot. I cannot. It would ruin my
life." Then, clear and fair, stood the words sho had been read-
ing— ' Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you——'
" But there is no bod-room for hor but this — or else there
will be no sitting-room for either of us; — and then we must eat
in the kitchen ! ■"
" She has neither house, nor home, nor friend, nor money.
What wouldst thou, in her place ? "
Elizabeth put her face in her hands and almost groaned. She
HcsledbyGoOgle
456 a"HE HILLS OF THE 3HATEMUC.
took it up and looted out, but in all bright nature she could find
nothing which did not aide against her. She got up and walked
the room ; then she sat down and began to consider what arrange-
ments would be necessary, and what would he possible. Then
confessed to herself that it would not be all bad to have some-
body to break her solitude, even anybody ; then got over another
fLualm of repugnance, and drew the table neax Eer .and opened
her desk.
Shahweetah, Sept 26, 1817.
" Dear Rose,
" I am all aloae, like you. Will you come here and let
us do the best we can together ? I am at a place you don't like,
but I fihall not stay here all the time, and I think you can bear
it with me for a while. I shall have things arranged so as to
make you as comfortable aa you can be in such straitened quar-
ter, and expect you will come aa soon as you can get & good
opportunity. "Whether you come by boat or not, part of the
way, you will have to take the stage-coach from Pimpernel here;
and you must stop at the little village of Mountain Spring, op-
posite Wut-a-qut-0. From there you can get here by wagon
or boat. I can't send for you, for I have neither one nor the
other.
" Yours truly, dear Hose,
I Ha YE."
With the letter in her hand, Elizabeth went forth to the
kitchen.
" Karen, is there any sort of a cabinet-maker at Mountain
Spring? "
" What's that ? " said Karen.
" Is there any sort of a cabinet-maker at the village ?~a
cabinet-maker, — somebody that makes tables and bedsteads, and
that sort of thing ? "
" A furnitur' shop ? " said Karen.
" Yes — something of that kind. Is there such a thing in
Mountain Spring? "
Karen shook her head.
" They don't make nothin' at Mountain Spring."
" Whore do the people got their tables and chairs ? where do
they go for them ? "
" They go 'most any place," said Karen ; — " sometimes thoy
goes to Pimpernel, — and maybe to Starlings, or to Deerford ;
they don't go much n
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMITC. 457
" Can I get such things at Pimpernel ? "
" If you was ttere, you could, I s'pose," said Karen.
" Could Anderese get a, horse and eart at the village, to
" I guesa he can find a wagon round somewheres," said Karen.
" You couldn't go in a eaxt handy."
" I ! — no, but I want to send him, to fetcli home a load of
things."
" How'U he know what to get ? "
" I will tell him. Couldu't he do it ? "
"If he knowed what was wanted, he could," said Karen.
" Me and him'il go, Misa Lizzie, and we'll do it."
" Ton, Karen ! I don't want to send you."
"Guess I'll do the best," said the old woman. "Anderese
mightn't know what to fetch. What you want, Miss Lizzie ? "
Eliaaheth thought a moment whether she should ask Win-
throp to send up the things for her; hut she could not bear
to do it.
" I want a bedstead, Karen, in the first place."
" What sort'Il a one ? "
" The best you can find."
" That'll be what'U spend the ipost n^onev," said Karen
" I don't care about that, hut the nicest sort yoa can meet
with. And a bureau ^"
" What's that ? " said Karen, '< I dun' know what that
means."
" To hold clothes — with drawers — like that in my room."
"A cupboard?" said Karen; — '*some sort like that?"
"No, no; I'll shew you what I mean, in my room; it is
called a bureau. And a washstand — a large one, if you can
find it. And a rocking-ehalr — the handaomost one that can
be had."
" I know them two," said Karen. " That'll bo a load. Miss
Lizzie. I don't b'lieve the wagon '11 hold no more."
" The first fine day, Karon, I want you to go."
" The days is aU fine, I speck, tereabotits," said Karen.
" We'll start as quick as Anderese gets a wagon."
" Who's oomin'. Miss 'Lizabeth ? " said 01am as she met her
out of the kitchen,
—possibly Mrs. Haye. I wish all things to be
in readiness for her."
HcsledbyGoOgle
458 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMCC.
" Where'U she sleep, Miss 'Liaabetli," said Clam with open-
ing eyes,
" Here."
" Will slie have this for her bedroom ? — And what'll you do,
Miss 'Lizabeth ? "
" If she comes, we will eat in the kitchen." And with the
thought the youtiff lady stepped back.
"1 forgot — Karen, do yon think the wagon will hold no more ?
Anderese must get a largo one. I want a few neat chairs-
plain ones — cane-hottoiued, or rush-bottomed will do ; I want them
for this room ; for if this lady comes we shall have to take this for
our eating-room. I don't want a table; we can make tliis do ;-—
or wc can take the one I use now; but we want the chairs."
" Well, Miss Lizzie, you'll have to have 'em — we'll manage to
pile 'em on someways."
And Miss Hayo withdrew.
" Ain't this a start cow ? " said Clam after she had rubbed
her knives in silence for several minutes. " Didn't I tell
" Tell what ? " said Karen.
" Why I that Miaa 'Lizabeth couldn't keep C[uiet more'n long
enough to got bcr spunk up. What in the name of variety is she
at work at now ! "
" What's the matter with you ? " grumbled Karen.
" Why I toll you," said Clam facing round, " them two lo¥e
each other like pison ! "
" That's a queer way to love," said Karen.
" They bate each other then — do you understand rae ? they
hate so, one wouldn't thaw a piece of ice off the other's head if it
was freezin' her ! "
" Maybe 'tain't jus' so," said Karen,
" What do you know about it ! " said Clara conteraptuonsly.
" What do you, perhaps ? " suggested Karen.
" I know my young lady," said 01am rubbing her knives ,
" and I know t'other one. There ain't but one person in this
world that can make Miss 'Lizabetb keep her fire down — but she
does have an idee of mindin' him."
" Who's that ? " said Karen.
" Somebody you don't know, I guess," said Clam.
" If 'twas all true, she wouldn't want her here," said Karen.
" It's all true," said Clam, — " 'cept the last. You don't
know notbiu', Karen, We'll see what a time there'll be when
she comes. Eat in here 1 "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLS OP THE 8HATEMUC. 469
" Slie'a eat in here afore now— and I guess she can again,"
said old Karen, in a tone of yoice which spoke her by no means
so discomposed as Clam's worda would seem to justify.
Perhaps Elizabeth herself had a thought or two on the close
quarters which would be the infallible result of Mrs. Haye's
seizure of the old 'keeping-room.'
The twenty-seventh, spite of Karen's understanding of the
weather, was a rainy day. The twenty- eighth, Karen d A
derese went to Pimpernel on their furniture hunting, d a
back at night with the articles, selected somewhat in a d
with a limited experience of the usual contents of a 1 t-
maker'a warehouse. The retj next day, Elizabeth set And
to foisting out and putting together her little old b t th
Merry-go-round. Putting together, literally; she was 1 pp
to pieeea from the effects of years and confinement. A 1
was hardly eijual to the business ; Elizabeth sent for b tte h Ip
from Mountain Spring, and watched rather eagerly the t
of her favourite to strength and beauty. Watched and p d
the work, as if she was ia a harry. But after tight n g d
caulking, the boat must be repainted. Elizabeth watch d th d
ing of that ; and bargained for a pair of light oars with h f d
the workman. He was an old, respoetable-IookiDg man, of no
particular calling, that appeared.
" Where was this here boat built ? " he inquired one day as
he was at work and Elizabeth looking on.
" It was built in Mannahatta."
" A good while ago, likely ? "
" Yes, it was."
" Did this here belong to < Id Squire Landholm f "
" No."
" 'Twa'n't fetched here lately, I guess, was it ? "
" No — it has lain here a long time.''
" Who did it belong to, then f "
" It belonged to me."
" Is it your'n now ? " said the man looking up at her
" No," said Elizabeth colouring, — " it is not ; but it belongs
to a friend of mine."
" Was you ever in these parts before ? "
" Some time ago."
" Then you knew the old family, likely ? "
"Yes, I did."
" There was fine stuff in them Landholms," said the old man,
perhaps supplied with the figure by the timber he waa nailing, —
HcsledbyGoOgle
460 THE HILia OF THE SHATEMUC.
" real what I call good stuff — parents and ctildren. There was
a great deal of good in allof'en^; only the boys took notions
they wouldn't be nothin' hut ministers or lawyers or some sort o'
people that wears hlaek coats and don't have to roll up their
trowsers for nothin'. They were clever lads, too. I don't mean
to say nothin' agin 'cm."
" Do you know how they're gettin' on ? " he asked after a
pause on his part aad on Elizaheth's.
" I beliove Asahel is with Lis father, — gone "West."
" Ay, ay ; but I mean the others— them two that went to
College. I ha'u't seen Kufus for a great spell — I went down and
fetched up Winthrop when his mother died."
" Will you haYO paint enough to finish that gunwale ? "
" Guess so," said the old man looking into his paintpot.
" There's more oil in the bottle. What be 3iem two doing now ?
Winthrop's a lawyer, ain't he ? "
" Yes."
" Well he's made a smart one, ha'u't he ? — ain't he about as
smart as ary ono they've got iu Mannahatta ? "
" I'm not a judge," said Elizabeth, who could not quite keep
her oountenanee. " I dare say he is."
" He was my favourite, always, Winthrop was, — the Governor,
as they called him. Well — I'd vote for him if ho was sot up
for that office — or any other office — if they'd do it while I'm
above ground. Where is he now ? — in Mannahatta ? "
" Yes."
" Where's t'other one — the oldest— Ruf us— where's ho ? "
" I don't know where he is. How soon will this do to be put
in the water, Mr. Underbill ? "
" Well — I guess it'll want somethin' of a dryiu' fust. You
can get along without it till next week, can't you ? "
" Next week ! and this is Tuesday ! "
" Yes — will you want it afore that ? It hadn't ought to be
put in the water one day afore Monday — if you want it to look
handsomfr — or to wear worth spcakin' of."
Miss Hayo was silent, and the old man's brush made long
sweeps back and forward over the shining gunwale,
" You see," Mr. Underhill went on, " it'll be all of night
afore I get the bottom of this here done. — What's Eufus doin' ?
is he got to be a minister yet ? "
" No."
" Another lawyer ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 461
" Wliat is he thea ? "
" I don't know — I believe he waa an engineer
" An engineer ? " said the old man standing up and lool ng
at her. " I)o you mean he'a one o' them fellers that slcs to the
inginea on the boats ? — thai ain't much gettin up in the world.
I see one o' them once — I meet to Mannabatta m the boat just to
see what 'twas — ia Rafus one o' them smutty fallen standing
oyer the fires there ? "
" Not at all ; it's a very different busineaa, and as respectable
as that of a clergyman or lawyer."
" There ain't anything more respectable than what his father
was," said Mr. Underhill. " But Kufus was too handsome — he
wanted to wear shiny boots always."
Elizabeth wallied off.
So it was not till the early part of October that the little boat
waa painted and dried and in the water ; and very nice she
looked. Painted in the old colours ; Elizabeth had been particu-
lar about that, Rose in the meantime had been beard from.
She waa coming, very soon, only staying for something, it wasn't
very clearly made out what, that would however let her go in a
few days. Elizabeth threw the letter down, with the mental
conclusion that it was " just like Kose;"and resolved that her
arms should be in a good state of training before the ' few daya'
" Who's goin' in this little concern ? " said Mr. Underbill
as he pushed it into the water. " Looks kind o' handsome,
don't it ? "
" Very nice 1 " said Elizabeth.
" That old black fi:ller ain't up to rowin' you anywhere, is he ?
I don't believe he is."
"I'll find a way to get about in her, somehow."
" You must come over and see our folifs — over the other side.
My old mother's a great notion to see you — " said he, pulling the
boat round into plaee, — " and I like she should have what she's
a fancy for.".
" Thank you," said Elizabeth ; with about as much heed to
his words as if a coney had requested ber to take a look into his
burrow. But a few minutes after, some thought made her-
speak again.
" Have you a mother living, sir ? "
" Ay," he said with a little laugh, " she ain't a great deal
older than I be. She's as spry in her mind, as she was when she
was sixteen. Now — will you get into this ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
462 THE BILLS OF THE SHLATEMtTC.
" Not now. Whereabouts do you live ? "
" Just over," he said, pointing with his thumb over his
shoulder and across the river, — " Sie odIj house you can see,
under the mountain there — ^just under Wnt a qut o 'Tain't a very
sociable place and we are glad to see visiters
He went ; and Elizabeth only Wiuttd to have him out of
sight, when she took gloves and oars and plantud herself in the
little ' Merry-go-round.'
" My arms won't carry me far to-di'^ she thought as she
pushed away from the rocks and slowly sliimmed oit oitrtfae
smooth water. But how sweet te be dappling it again with her
oar-blades, — how gracefully they rose and fell— how refreshing
already that slight movement of her arms — how deliciously inde-
pendent and alone she felt in her light cai-riage. Even the thrill
of recollection could not overcome the instant's pleasure. Slowly
and lovingly EJizabeth'a oars dipped into tho water ; slowly and
stealthily the little boat glided along. She presently was far
enough out to see Mr. Underbill's bit of a farmhouse, sitting brown
and loiio at the foot of the hill, close by the water's edge. Eliza-
beth lay on her oars and stopped and looked at it.
" Go over there ! Ridiculous 1 Why should I ? "
"And why shouldn't I?" cams in another whisper. "Do
me no harm — give them some pleasure. It is doing as I would
be done by,"
" But I can't give pleasure to all the old women, in tho land,"
she went on with excessive disgust at the idea.
" And this is only one old woman," went on the other quiet
whisper, — " and K-adness is kindness, especially to the old and
. It was very disagreeable to think of; Elizabeth rebelled at
it strongly; but she could not get rid of the idea that Win-
throp in her place would go, and would make himself exceedingly
acceptable ; she knew he would ; and in tho light of that idea,
more than of any other argument that could be brought to bear,
Elizabeth's conscience troubled her. She lay still on her oars
now and then to think about it ; she could not go oa and get rid
of the matter. She pondered Winthrop's fancied doing in the
■circumstances; she linew how he would comport himself among
these poor people ; she felt it ; and then it suddenly flashed
across her mind, " Even Christ pleased not himself; " — and she
knew then why Winthi'op did not. Elizabeth's head drooped for
a minute. " I'll go," — she said to herself.
Her head was raised again then, and with a good will tho
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HII.I.8 OP THE
oars made tte little boat go over the water. She was elated to
find her arms so strong, stroDgcr now than they had been five
minutes ago ; and she took her way dowa towards the bottom
f th b y wh're onee she had gooe hucklebeiTying, and where a
h g tb f w d d the banka and shewed in one or two
f m mb h d tbere already a touch of frost. Here
d th g ddish branch of maple leaves — a yellow-
h 1 d b tt t p tly bare— a ruddying dogwood or dogwood's
fmly eot — b kory shewing suspicions of tawny among
t g A f h d ^h wall-side of beauty the woody baab
w Fi b t!i p 11 d lowly along, coasting the green wilder-
It g h f dom and escape from all possible forms
f h m nn y d trusion ; but that exalting, only a very
d b k t t w ary and painful thoughta and remem-
b It w th Iv break to them; for just then sorrow-
f I th g h d g t tl ppor hand; and even the Bible promises
t wh h h b d 1 g and the faith that laid hold of them, and
tbhp tltj,w tf them, could not make her be other
h d t d d p ding. Even a Christian life, all alone
in th w Id w th b dy and for nobody, se.emed desolate and
h g W th I Landholm led sucb a life, and was not
d 1 t h d — ' But ho is very different from me ; he
has b 1 t 11 on the road where my unsteady feet
h b tj t t th msel es; heis a manandl araa woman!"
— A d El b th n laid down her oars, and her bead upon
th h d th t h d held them, to shed the tears that would have
th w 1 1 r way of comfort and relief. The bay, and the
b t d th w ody shore, and the light, and the time of year,
all h d t m h to say about her causes of sorrow. But tears
w ht th ir wn relief; and again able to bear the burden
of lif E!iz b th pulled slowly and quietly homewards.
L k g b 1 nd ker as she neared the rooks, to make sure
that !iie was approaching them in a right direction, she was
startled to see a man's figure standing there. Startled, because
it was not the bent-shouldered form of Mr. Underbill, nor the
slouching habit of Andereae ; but tall, stately and well put on.
It was too far to see the face ; and in her one startled look Eliza-
beth did not distinctly recognize anything. Her heart gave a
pang of a leap at the possibility of its being Winthrop ; but she
could not tell whether it were he or no; she could not be sure
that it was, yet who else should come there with that habit of a
gentleman ? Could Mr. Brick ?— No, he had never such an air,
p«en at a distance. It was not Mr. Brick. Neither was it Mr.
HcsledbyGoOgle
464 THE niLLS OF THE
Herder; Mr. Herder was too short. Every nerve now trembled,
and her arma pulled nervously and weakly her boat to the shore.
Whon might ahe look again ? She did not till she must ; then
her look went first to the rocks, with a vivid impression of that
dark figure standing above them, seen and not seen — she guided
her boat in carefully— then just grazing the rocks she looked up.
The pang and the start came again, for though not Winthrop it
was Winthrop's brother. It was Eufus.
Tho nervousness and the flutter quieted themselves, almost ;
but probably Elizabeth could not have told then hj tho impulse
of what feeling or feelings it was, that she coolly looked down
again and gave her attention so steadily and minutely to the care-
ful bestowment of her skiff, before she would set foot on the rocks
and give her hand and eye to the person who had been waiting
to claim them. By what impulse also she left it to him entirely
to say what he was there for, and gave him no help whatever in
her capacity of hostess.
" You are surprised to see me," said Kufus after he had
ahaken tlio lady's hand and helped her on shore.
" Eather. I could not imagine at first who it might be."
" I am glad to find you looting so well," said the gentleman
gravely. " Very well indeed."
" It is tho flush of exercise," said Elizabeth. " I was not
looking well, a little while ago ; and shall not be, in a little time
to come."
" Rowing is good for you," said Rufus.
" It is pleasant," said Elizabeth. " I do it for tho pleasant-
ne^, not for the goodness."
" Rather severe exercise, isn't it ? "
" Not at all ! " said Elizabeth a little scornfully. " I am not
strong-armed just now — but it is nothing to move a boat like
that."
" Some ladies would not think so "
They had been slowly ra ng p the path t wards the house.
As they reached the 1 1 of th g y ga d n ground, where
the path took a turn, R tu t pp d a d fa d about upon the
river. The fair Octob n ng and 1 ^ht were there, over
the water and over tho land.
" It is beautiful ! " h ad m wl t b t tedly.
" You are not so fond of it as your brofhtr, Mr. Landholm,"
said Elizabeth.
" What makes you think so ? "
There was quick annoyance in his tone, but Miss Haye was
not careful
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILte OF THE SBiTKMUC. 4fj3
" Am I wrong ? Are you aa fond of it ? "
" I don't know," said Rufus. " His life has been as steadily
given to hia purauita as mine has to mine."
"Perhaps more. But what then? I alwaya thought you
loved the city," , t . .i-
"Ye3,"Kufus said thoughtfully, — "I did;— but I love thia
too. It would be a very cold head and heart that did not.'|
Elizabeth made no reply ; and the two enjoyed it in sUence
for a minute or two longer.
" For what do you suppose I have intruded upon you at thia
time, Miss Haye ? " , , , t i.
" For somo particular purpose — what, I don t know. 1 nave
been trying to think."
" I did not venture to presume upon making an ordinary call
of civility." i i i i ■
What less are yOu going to So ?--thought Elizabeth, looking
at him with her eyes a little opened. .
" I have been— for a few months past — constantly engaged in
business at the South ; ttnd it is but a chance which permitted
me to come here lately — I mean, to Mannahatta — on a visit to
my brother. I am not willing to let slip any such opportunity."
" I should think you would not," said Elizabeth, wondering.
" There I heard of you,— Shall we walk doi^n again ? "
" If you please. I don't care whether up or down."
" I could not go home without turning a little out of my waj
to pay thia visit to you. I hope I shall be forgiven."
"I don't know what I have to forgive, yet," said Elizabeth.
He was silent, and bit his lip nervously, _
" Will you permit me to say— that I look back with great
pleasure to former times passed in your society— iu Mannahatta ;--
that in those days I once ventured to entertain a thought whicH
I abandoned as hopeless,— I had no right to hope,— but tiiBt_ sinee
I have heard of the misfortunes which have befallen you, it has
come back to me again with a power I have not had the strength
to resist— along with my sympathy for those misfortunes. Pear'
Miss Haye, I hope for your forgiveness and noble mterpretation,
when I say that I have dared to confess thia to you from the
impulse of the very circumstancea which make it seem most
" The misfortunes you allude to, are but one," said Elizabeth.
II One yes,— but not one in the consequences it involved.
" At that rate of reckoning," said Elizabeth, " there would ba
Bo auoh a thing as one misfortune in the world."
20*
HcsledbyGoOgle
466 THE Htt-LS OP THE SHATEKOC.
" I was not thiBking of one," said Rufus quietly. " The
actual loss you have suffered ia one shared by many — pardon me,
it does not always imply equal deprivation, nor the same need of
a strong and helpiag friendly hand."
Bliaaheth answered with as niuch quietness,——
" It is probably good for me that I have care on my hands —
it would be a weak wish, however natural, to wish that I could
throw off on some agent the charge of my affairs."
" The charge I should better like," said Bufus looking at her,
— " the only charge I should care for, — would be the charge of
their mistress."
An iuToluntary quick movement of Elizabeth put several feet
between them; then after half a minute, with a flushed face and
somewhat excited breathing, she said, not knowing precisely
what she said,
"I would rather give you the charge of my property, sir.
The other is, you don't very well know what."
" My brother would be the better person to perform the first
duty, probably," Rufus returned, witii a. little of his old-fashioned
haughtiness of style,
Eliaabeth's lips parted and hor eye flashed, but as she was
Eot looking at him, it only flashed into the water. Both stood
proudly silent and still. Elizabeth was the first to speak, and her
tone was gentle, whatever the words might be.
" You cannot have your wish in this matter, Mr. Landholm,
and it would be no blessing to you if yon could. I trust it will
be no great grief to you that you cannot."
"My grief is my own," said Rufus with a mixture of espres-
sions. " How should that be no blessingto me, which it is the
greatest desire of my life to obtain, Miss Haye ? "
" I don't think it is," said Elizabeth. " At least it will not
be, You will find that it is not. It is not the desire of mine,
Mr. Landholm,"
There was silence again, a mortified silence on one part, —
for a little space.
" Yoit will do justice to my motives? " he said. " I have a
right to ask that, for I deserve so much of you. If my suit had
been an ungenerous one, it might better have been pressed years
" Why was it not ? " said Elizabeth.
It was the turn of Rufus's eyes to flash, and his lips and
teeth saluted each other vesedly.
" It would probably have been as unavailing then as now,"
HcsledbyGoOgle
467
he replied. " I bid you good eveniug, Miss Haje. _ I aak nothing
from you. I beg pardon for my unfortunate and inopportune in-
trusion just HOW. I shall annoy you no more."
Elizabeth returned his parting bow, and then stood quite still
where he left her while he walked up the path they nad just
come down. Slio did not move, except her head, till he had
passed out of sight and was quite gone; then she seated herself
on one of the rocks near which her boat was moored, and clasp-
ing her hands round her knees, looked down into the water.
Wbnt to find there ? — the grounds of the disturbance in wliich
her whole nature was working ? it lay deeper than that. It
wrought and wrought, whatever it was — the colour flushed and
the lips moved tremulously, — her brow knit, — till at last the
hands came to her eyes and her face sunk down, and passionate
tears, passionate sohhing, told what Elizabeth could tell in no
other way. Tears proud and humble — rebelline and submitting.
" It is good for me, I suppose," she said as ^e at last rose to
her feet, fearing that her handmaid might come to seek her, —
" my proud heart needed to bo brought down in some such way
— needed to be mortified even to this. Even to this last point of
humiliation. To have my desire come and mock mc so and as it
mere shake my wish in my face ! But how could he think of me ?
—he could not— he is too good— and I am a poor thing, that may
be made good, I suppose "
Tears fiowed again, hot and unbidden ; for she was walking
up to the house and did not want anybody to see them. And in
truth before she was near the house Clam came out and met her
half way down the path.
" Miss 'Lizabeth, — I don' know as you want to see nobody — "
" Who is there foi mo to see ? "
" Well— there's an anivaJ —I s'pect we'll have to have supper
in the kitchen to-nigh(."
HcsledbyGoOgle
CIIAPTEE XLI.
with B-eary stops I loiter on,
Th'ragh nlwaya under ntWred tfcla
Tbe purple ftom ttie dlsUoea dies,
My prospMl and horizon gone.
Tehbtsok.
Whbtiieb or not Elizabeth wanted to see anybody sho did
not say— except to herself. She walked into the house, fortified
with ail the munmieuts of her spirit for the meeting. It was a
quiet one on the whole. Kose cried a good deal, hut Elizabeth
bore It without any giving way ; saving once or twice a slight
twinkling of lip and eye, instantly commanded hack. Hose had
all the demonstration to herself, of whatever kind. Elizabeth
sat still, silent and pale ; and when she could get free went and
ordered sapper.
The supper waa in Mrs. Landholm'a old kitchen; they two
alone at the table. Perhaps Elizabeth thought of the old time,
perhaps her thoughts had enough to do with the present ; she
was silent, gravo and stern, not wanting in any kind care never-
theless. Eoae iook tears and bread and butter by turns ; and
then sat with her face in her handkerchief all the evening. It
seemed a very, very long evening to her hostess, whose faee be-
spoke her more tired, weary, and grave, with every succeeding
half hour. Why was this companion, whose company of all
others she least loved, to be yet her sole and only companion, of
all the world ? Elizabeth by turns fretted and by turns scolded
herself for being ungrateful, since she confessed that even Rose
was better for her than to be utterly alone. Yet Rose was a bless-
ing that greatly irritated her composure and peace of mind. So
the evening literally wore away. But when at last Eose was Mas'
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMPC. 469
ing her hostess for good night, between sobs she Btammered, " I
am very glad to be here Lizzie, — it seems like being at home
Elizabeth gave her no answer besides the answering kiss ; but
her eyes filled full at that, and as soon as she reached her own
room the tears came in long and swift flow, but sweeter and
gentler and softer than they had flowed lately. And very thank-
ful that she had done right, very soothed and refreshed that her
right doing had promised to work good, she laid herself down
to sleep.
But her eyes had hardly closed when the click of her door-
latch made them open again. Hose's pretty night-cap was present-
ing itself.
" Lizzie !— aren't you afraid without a man in the house ? "
" There is a man in the house."
" Is there ? "
" Yes. Andereae — Karen's brother."
" But he ia old."
"He's a man."
" But aren't you ever afraid ? "
" It's no use to be afraid," said Elizabeth. " I am accustomed
to it. I don't often think of it."
" I heard such queer Eoises," said Rose whispering. " I
didn't think of anything before, either. May I come in here V "
" It's of no use. Rose," said Elizabeth. " You would bo
just as much afraid to-morrow night. There is nothing in the
world tc be afraid of."
Rose slowly took her night-cap away and Elizabeth's head
went down on her pillow. But her closing eyes opened again at
the click of the latch of the other door.
" Miss 'Lizabeth ! "
"Well, 01am?- "
" Karen's all alive, and says she ain't goin' to live no longer."
" What I—"
" What's the matter ? "
" Maybe she's goin', as she says she is ; but I think maybe
fihe ain't."
" Where is she ? " said Elizabeth jumping up.
" In here," said Clam. " She won't die out of the kitchen."
Elizabeth threw on her dressing-gown and hurried out ;
thinking by the way that one had got into a thorn forest of
difficulties, and wishing the daylight would look through, Karen
HcsledbyGoOgle
470 THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMUC,
was sitting tefore tte fire, wrapped up in shawls, in tte rocking
" What's the matter, Karea ? "
Karen's reply was to break forth into a tremulous scrap of
her old song, —
" TiQ going,— I'la going,— I'm going,-—-'"
'■ Stop," said Elizabeth. " Don't sing. Tell me what's the
matter."
" It's nothin' else, Misa Lizzie," said the old woman. " I'm
goin' — I think I be."
" Why do you think so ? How do jou feel ? "
"I don't feel no ways, somehow; — it's a kinder givin' away.
I think I'm just goin', ma'am."
" But what ails you, Karen ? "
" It's time," said Karen, jerking herself backwards and for-
wards in her rocking-chair. " I'm seventy years and more old.
I hain't got no more work to do. I'm goin' ; and I'm ready,
praise the Lord I They're most all gone ; — and the rest is eomin'
after; — it's time old Karen was there."
" But that's no sign you mayn't live longer," said Elizabeth.
" Seventy years is nothing. How do you feel sick ? "
" It's ail over, Mis8 Lizzie," said the old woman, " Its givin'
away. I'm goin' — I know I he. The time's come."
" I will send Anderese for a doctor — where is there one ? "
Karen shivered and put her head in her hands, before she
spoke.
" There ain't none— I don't want none — there was Doctor
Kipp to Mountain Spring, hut he ain't uo 'count ; and he's gone
" Clam, do speak to Anderese and ask him about it, and tell
him to go directly, if there is any one he can go for. — What can
I do for you, Karen 1 "
" I guess nothin', Miss Lizzie.— -If the Governor was here,
he'd pray for me; hut it ain't no matter— I've been prayin' all
my life — It's no matter if I can't pray good just right now. The
Lord knows all."
Elisabeth stood silent and still.
" Shall I — would you like to have mc read for you ? " she
ftsked somewhat timidly.
" No," said Karen — "not now — I couldn't hear. Bead for
yourself. Miss Lisaie. I wish the Governor was here."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE miXS OF THE SHATEMUC. iTl
What a throbbing wish to the same effect waa in Elizabeth's
heart ! She stood, silent, sorrowful, diama.jed, watching Karen,
wondering at herself in her changed circumstancos and life and
occnpation ; and wondering if she were only going down into tho
TftUey of hnlniliatioD, or if she had got to the bottom. And
almost thinking Karen to be envied if she were, as she said,
'going.'
"What's the matter ?"eaid Rose and her niglit-cap at the
other door.
" Karen don't feel verj well. Don't come here, Rose."
" What are you there for ? "
" I want to be here. You go to bod and keep quiet — I'll tell
jou another time."
" la she sick ?"
" Yes — I don't know — Go in, Rose, and be quiet 1 "
Which Rose did. Clam came back and reported that there
was no doctor to be sent for, short of a great many miles. Eiiaa-
beth'a heart sunk fearfully. What could she and her companions
do with a dying woman? — if she were really that. Karen crept
nearer the fire, and Clam bnilt it up and made it blaze. Then
she stood on one aide, and her young mistress on the other.
" Go to bed, Miss 'Lizabeth," said Clam. " I'll see to her,"
But Elizabeth did not move so much as an eyelid.
" I don't want nothin'," said Karen presently. " Miss Lizzie,
if you see the GoTernor — tell him — "
" Tell him what ? "
" TeLl him to hold on, — will yon ? — the way his mother went
and the way he's a goin'. Tell him to hold on till he gets there.
Will you tell him ? "
" Certainly 1 I will tell him anything you please."
Karen was silent for a little space, and then began again.
"la't your way? "
Elizabeth's lips moved a little, but they closed and she made
no answer.
" Mis' Landholm went that way, and Governor's goin', and
I'm goin' too.
" ' I'm going, — rm going, — I'm ' "
" Do you feel better, Karen ? " said Elizabeth interrupting her.
" I'm goin' — I don' know how soon axactly, Miss Lizzie —
but I feel it. I am all givin' away. It's time. I've seen my
life all through, and I'm ready. I'm ready — praise the Lord.
HcsledbyGoOgle
473 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMtTC.
I was ready a great while ago, but it wa'n'i the Lord's time j
and now if he pleases, I'm ready."
" Wouldn't you feel hetter if you were to go to your own room
and lie down? "
Karen made no answer for some time and then only w s hilf
understood to aay that " this was t!ie best place,' LI zih th 1 1
not move. Clam fetched a thick coarse coverl d and wrapj ng
herself in it, lay down at full length on the floor.
" Go to bed, Miss 'Lizabeth, — I'm settled. 1 11 =ee to her
I gucsa she ain't goin' afore mornin'."
" You will go to sleep, Clam, and then she wdl have nobody
to do anything for her."
" I'll wake up once in a while. Miss 'Lizabeth, to see she don't
do nothin' to me."
Elizabeth stood another minute, thinking bitterly boW in-
valuable Winthrop would be, in the very place where she knew
herself so valueless. Another aharp contrast of their two selves^
and then she drew up a chair to the fire and sat down too ; de-
termined at least to do the little she could do, give her eyes and
her presence. Clam'a entreaties and representations were of no
avaU. Karen made none.
They watched by her, or at least Elizabeth did, through hour
after hour. She watched aloncj for Clam slept and snored most
comfortably; and Karen's poor head much of the time rested in
her hands. Whether conscious or unoonscious, she was very
quiet ; and her watcher trimmed the fire and mused with no in-
terruption. At first with much fear and trembling ; for she did
not know how soon Karen's prophecy might come true; but as
the night wore on and no change was to be seen or felt, this feel-
ing quieted down and changed into ft very sober and sad review
of all the things of her own life, in the past and ia the future.
The present was but a point, she did not dwell on it; yet in that
point was the sweetest and fairest thing her miad had in posses-
sion ; her beginning of a new life and her hold of the promise
which assured her that strength should not be wanting to live it
until the end. She did look over her several present duties and
made up her mind to the self-denying and faithful performance
of them ; hut then her longing came back, for a human hand to
hold her and help her on the journey's way. And her head bowed
to the chair-back ; and it was a good while before she recollected
again to look at the fire or at her charge in front of it.
Karen's attitude was more easy ; and Elizabeth exccEsivelj
fatigued, with pain aa well as weariness, felt ineiiued to steal
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HTtLa OP THE 8HATEMF0, 473
off to bed and leave her door open, that aiie might readily bear
if she waa wanted. But it occurred to her that Winthrop for
his own ease never would have deserted his post. She dismissed
the thought of sleep and rest ; and disposed herself to wear out the
remnant of the night os she had begun it ; in attendance on what
she was not sure needed her attendance.
A longer night Eliaabetb never knew, and with fear in the
first part and watching in the last part of' it, the morning found
her really haggard and ill. But Karen was no worse ; and not
knowing what to think about her, but comforting herself with
the hope that at least her danger was not imminent, Elizabeth
went to bed, coveting sleep inexpressibly, for its forgotfulness as
well as its rest. But sleep was not to be had so promptly,
" Miss 'LiEabeth ! — " And there stood Clam before her open-
ing eyes, i
.8 black as ever, with a clean turbar
last state of smartness,
" What is the matter ? "
" Where will you have brcalifast ? Karen ain't goin' at all at
present. Where will you bare it ? "
"Nowhere."
" Will I clear her out of the kitchen ? "
" No ! — let her alone. Mrs. Have's woman may see to break-
fast in her mistress's room — I don't want anything — but sleep.
Let Karen have and do lUst what she wants."
" Won't Clam do as much 1 " — said the toss of the clean
turban as its owner went out of the room. And the issue waa,
a very nice little b-eakfast brought to Miss Haye's bed-side in
the space of half an hour Elizabeth was waked up and looked
dubious.
" You want it," s^ld her handmaid. " The Governor said
you was to take it."
" Is he here I " exchimed Elizabeth, with an amount of fire
in eye and action that, as Clam declared afterwards, " had
like to have made her uphct o\ery thing." But she answered
demurely,
" He ain't here ju«t jet I giiets he's comin', though."
Elizabeth's eye went down, and an eye as observant if not so
brilliant as her own, watched how the pink tinge rose and mounted
in the cheeks as she betook herself to the bread and coffee.
" Ain't she eatin' her breakfast like a good child 1 " said Clam to
herself. " That put her down."
And with a " Now you'll sleep — " Clam carried off the
breakfast tray, and took care her mistress should have no
HcsledbyGoOgle
474 TUE HII,LS or HL HATEM
second disturbance from any F
once or twice in the course of te
from lier ; so slept her sleep o
It was slept out at last, an E g
dress. Or rather, took her d ss g m
berself in front of the window,
do. It was a fine afternoon ot 0 be
eery fair outside. Tbe hills tou d d g
with a frost-spot — ^yellow, or ta d g
very calm ; and a calm sky ove as p as gh
vapours and mists were refined P
of the woodland shewed in roun g g
such an atmosphere ; the rock t
water ; the nearer cedars arou m te
their indiiridual leaves. Here m
Virginia creeper's luxuriant \ gu
picious tokens of crimson. N ul
trees and tlie vine-leaves wer
could not imagiue them more fa
" So bright withoat ! — and — E
thought. " When will it end — l g g
a fiood of brightness was over me a little while ago, — and now,
there is one burden in one room, and another ia another room, and
I myself am the greatest burden of all. Because my life has
nothing to look forward to — in this world — and heaven is not
enough ; I want something in this world.— Yes, I do. — Yet Win-
throp Lacdholm has nothing more than I have, in this world's
things, and ho don't feel like me. What is the reason? Why is
his face always so at rest, — so bright — so strong ? Ah, it must be
that he is so much better than 1 1 — he has more, not of this
world's things ; religion is something to him thai: it is not to me;
he must love his Master far better than I do. — Then religion
might be more to me. — It shall be — I will try;-^but ohl if I
had never seen another Christian in all my life, how well his
single esample would make me know tliat religion is a strong
reality. What a reward his will be I I wonder how many besides
me he will have drawn to heaven— he does not dream that he has
ever done mo any good. Yet it is pleasant to owe so muoh to
him — and it's bitter ! "
" You'll tire youi-self with lookin', Miss 'Lizabeth," said Clam
behind her. " Mannahatta ain't so far off as that."
Elizabeth started a little from her fixed attitude and began
to handle her dressing- comb.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THS 8IIATEMUC. 475
" 'Taint so far folks can't get here, I guess."
" Clam I " — said h.er mistress facing about.
" WeU, Miss Lizzie "
" Go and take care of Karen. I don't want jou."
"She don't want me," said Clam, "And you've Lad no
dinner."
" Do as I tell you. I shall not hare any."
With this spur, Elizabeth was soon dressed, and then walked
into Mrs. Haye's room. Rose apparently had had leisure fur
meditation and had made up her mind upon several things;
but her brow changed as her cousin came in.
" Lizzie 1 — Why you've been up all night, Emma sa.ys."
" That's nothing. I have been down all day."
" Uut what's the matter with this old woman ? "
" I don't know. She don't know herself."
" But Emma said she thought she was dying ? "
" So she did. I don't know whether she is right or not."
" Dying I — is she ! " said Hose with a little Bcream.
" I don't know. I hope not, so soon as she thinks. She la
BO worse to-night."
" But what are you going to do ? "
"Nothing — more than I have done."
" But are you going to stay here ? "
" Stay here, Rose !— "
' Yes — I mean — who's going to take care of her ? And isn't
she your cook ? "
A curious quick gleam of a laugh passed over Elizabeth's face ;
it settled graver than before.
" Clam can cook al! you and I want,"
" But who's going to take care of her f "
" I have sent for help, and for a doctor,"
" Haven't you sent for a doctor before 1 Why Lizzie 1 "
" I sent early this morning. The messenger had to go a num-
ber of miles."
" And isn't there anybody about the house but Clam and
" Anderese is here. I sent s<
" What use is an old thing like that about a place ? "
Elizabeth was silent The cloud gathered on Rose's face, and
as if that it might not cast its shadow on her cousin, she looked
out of the window. Then Clam came in,
" Where'll supper be. Miss 'Lizabeth? "
" la Karen in the kitchen ? "
HcsledbyGoOgle
i76 THE HILL3 OF THE 8HATEM0O.
" Oh ! — I won't have tea in there I " said Rose with one of her
old little screams.
" Let it be here, Clam."
" What'll it be, Miss 'Lizabeth ? "
" Anything you please."
"There's nothing in the house to be pleased with," said Clara;
" and you've had no dinner."
" Bread and butter and tea — and boil an egg."
" That would be pleasant," said Clam, capacity and fun shining
out of every feature ; — " but Karen's hens don't lay bo eggs
when she ain't round."
" Bread and butter and tea, then."
" Butter's gone," said Clam.
" Bread and cold meat, then."
" Fresh meat was all eat up days ago ; and you and Mis' Haye
don't make no 'count of ham."
Elizabeth got up and went out to Auderese and despatched
him to Mountain Spriug after what forage he could find. Then
from a sense of duty went back to lier cousin. Rose was looking
oat of the window again when she came in, and kept silence for
a little space j but silence waa never Kose's forte.
'■ Lizzie-— what makes you live in such a place ? "
" It was the pleasuntest place I could find," said her cousin,
with a tone of suppressed feeling.
" It's so lonely I " said Hose.
"It suited me,"
" But it isn't safe," said Kose, " What if s<
to you, with nobody about, — what woidd you d
" It has not been a subject of fear with me," said Elizabeth,
" I haven't thought about it."
" Who comes to see you here ? anybody ? "
" No. Who should come? " said Elizabeth sternly. " Whom
should I want to see ? "
" Don't you waut to see anybody, ever ? I do. I don't like
to be in a desert so."
Elizabeth was silent, with a set of the lips that told of thoughts
at work.
" Doesn't Wintbrop Landholm eomo hero ? "
" No ! "
" I'm not used to it," said Rose whimpering, — " 1 can't live
BO. It makes me feel dreadfully."
" Whom do you want to see, Kose ? " said Elizabeth, with an
expression that ought to have reminded her compauioa whom she
was dealing with.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLS OF THE BHATEMtTO. 477
" I don't cire who — any one. It's dreadful to liTe so, and
SCO notliing but the leaves shakiDg and the river rolling and this
great empty place."
" Empty 1 " said Elizabeth, with again a quick glancing laugh.
" Well ! — you arc yourself yet ! But at any rate the leaves don't
shalte much to-day."
" They did last night," said Rose. " I was so frightened I
didn't know what to do, and with no man in the house either,
good for anything — I didn't sleep a. wink till after one o'clock"
" Was your sleep ever disturbed by anything of more import-
ance than the wind ? "
" I don't know what you mean," said Rose in tears. " I
think you're very unkind ! "
"*VVhat would you like me to do. Rose ? "
" Let's go away from here."
"Where?"
" I don't care — to Mannahatta."
" What do you want to do in Mannahatta f "
" Why, nothing, — what everyhody does — live like other peo-
ple. I shall die here."
" Is the memory of the best friend you ever had, so little
worthj Rose, that you are in a hurry to tanish it your company
already ? "
" I don't know what you mean," said Rose, with one of her
old pouts and then bursting into fresh weeping. " I don't know
why one should be miserable a»y more than one can help. I
have been miserable enough, I am sure. Oh Lizzie I — I think
you're very unkind 1 — "
Elizabeth's lace was a study ; for the fire in her eyes shone
through water, and every feature was alive. Rut her lips only
moved fo tremble.
" I W5n't stay here I " said Rose. " I'U go away and do
something, I don't care what I do. I dare say there's enough
left for me to live upon ; and I can do without Emma. I can
live somehow, if not quite as wel! as you do."
" Hush, Rose, and keep a little sense along with you," said
Eliaabeth.
" Theromust be enough left for me somehow," Rose went on,
" ' Lg. " Nobody had any right to take my money. It was
Nobody else had a right to it^ It is mine. I ought to
have it."
" Rose 1 "
RoBe involuntarily looked up at the speaker who was standing
HcsledbyGoOgle
478 THE Tm.T.s or the shatemitc.
before her, fire flashing from eye and lip, like the relations of
Queen Gulnare in the fairy story.
" Rose !~do not dare speak to me in that way ! — ever agaiu 1
— whatever else you do. I will leave jou to get baek your
With very prompt and deeided aetion, Hiss Haye sought
her rowing glovea in her own room, put them on, and went down
to the rocka where the Merry-go-round lay. She stopped not to
look at anything ; she loosened tho boat and pushed out into the
water. And quick and smartly the oars were pulled, till the
skiff was half way over the river towards Mr. TJnderhill'a house.
Suddenly there they stopped, Elizabeth's eyes were bent on the
wat^r about two yards from the stern of the boat ; while the
paddles hung dripping, dripping more and more slowly, at tho
aides, and the little skiff floated gently up with the tide. But if
Elizabeth's eyes were looking into nature, it was her own ; her
faee grew more settled and grave and then sorrowful every
minute ; and at last the paddle-handlea were thrown across the
boat and her arms and her head rested upon them. And the
little skiff floated gently up stream.
It had got some distance above Mr, UnderhUl's, when its mis-
tress lifted her head and looked about, with wet eyelashes, to see
where she was. Then the boat's head was turned, and some steady
palling brought her to the gravelly beach in front of Mr. Under-
Iiill's house. Its owner was luckily there to help her out,
" Well, I declare that's clever of you," said ho, as he grasped
the bow of the little vessel to draw it further up. " I didn't
much expect ^ou'd come when I asked you. Why you oan row,
real smart."
" I don't see how I am going to get out, Mr, TJndcrhill."
" St«p up on there, can't you — I'll hold her, — can you
" But Mr. Underhill, that's going to do no good to my
boat. "
" What aint ? "
" That gravel— grating and grinding on it, as the tide makes."
" 'T won't do nothin' — it'll just stay still so. Well, you go
in and speak to mother, and I'll see to her. I didn't know you
could row so smart, — real handsome ! "
" I learnt a good while ago," said Elizabeth. " I'll not be
gone long, Mr. Underhill."
Up the neglected green slope she ran, wondering at herself the
while. What new steps were these, which Miss Haye waa not
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE 8HATffiM0O. 479
taking for her own pleasure. Wliat a strange visit was this,
which her heart shrank from more and more as she neared the
house door.
The house was tenanted hy sundry younger fry of the femi-
nine gender, of various ages, who met Ehzabetli with woader
equal to her own, and a sort of mised politeness and curiosity
to which her experience ha,d no parallel. By the fireside sat the
old grandam, very old, and blind, as Elizabeth now perceived she
was. MiBS Haye drew near with the most utter want of know-
ledge what to do or say to such a person, — how to give the plea-
sure she had come to give. She hoped the mere fact of her
coming and presence would do it, for to anything fiirther she felt
herself unequal. The old lady looked up curiously, lieariag the
Eoise of entering feet and a stranger's among them.
" Will you toll your grandmother who I am," Elizabeth
asked, with a shy ignorance how to address her, and an exceeding
telnetance to it.
young lady from
The old woman turned her sightless eyes towards her visiter,
got up and curtseyed.
" Don't do that," said Elizabeth, taking a seat near her.
"Mr, Underhill asked me somo time ago to come and see his
" I've heerd of ye," said the old woman. " 'Siah was over to
your place, makin' of a boat, or meodin', or somethin', he telled
me. I'm glad to ^ee ye. How did ye eome across ? "
" In a boat — in the boat ho mended for me."
" Have you got somebody to row ye over ?
" I rowed myself over."
_ "Why did ye? — ain't ye afeard ? I wouldn't ha' thought!
'Siah said she was a slim handsome girl, as one would see in the
country,"
"Well I can row," said Elizabeth colouring; for sho had an
instant. sense that several pairs of eyes not blind were comparing
the report with the reality.
" Be you the owner of Shahweetah now ? "
" Tcs."
" I heerd it was so. And what's become of the old family ? "
" They are scattered. Mr. Landholm is gone West, with one
of his sons; the others are in different places?'
"And the girl is dead, ain't she ? "
" Winnie ? — yes."
HcsledbyGoOgle
iSO THE HILLS OF THE BHATEMHO.
Slizabcth knew tliat I
" The mother was gone first — to a better place. She had a
fine lot o' children. Will was a pictur; — the fanner, he was a
fine maatoo; — but there was one^tLe second boy — Wintbrop,
— be was the flower of the flock, to my tbinkin'. I ba'n't seen
him this great while. He's been here since I lost my sight, but
I thought I could see him when I heerd him speak."
There was silence. Elizabeth did not feel inclined to break it.
" Do yon koow him, maybe ? " the old woman said presently.
Wintbrop had made himself pleasant there I
" Yea."
" Is he lookin' as well as he used to ? "
" Quite as well, I believe."
" Is he gettin' along well ? "
" Yes— I belieye so— very well."
" Whatever be does '11 prosper, J believe," said Mrs. Under-
bill; " for the Lord kuowetb the way of the righteous. Is that
a way you have any knowledge of, young lady ? "
" Not much—" said Elizabeth hesitating.
" '8iak says he 'specta you're rich,"
" What makes him think so ? "
" He says that's what he 'Bpeots. Boes the hull Shahweetab
ferm belong to jou f "
" Yes."
" It's a good farm. Wio's goia' to take care of it for you ? "
" I doa't know, yet."
" I 'spose you'll be gettin' married, one of these days, and
then there '11 be some one to do it for you. Be you handsome,
particular, as 'Siab says ? "
Elizabeth coloured exceedingly, and a tittering laugh, some-
what boisterous, ran round the group of spectators and listeners,
with a murmured '' Oh Grand'ma ! — "
" Whiabt 1 "— said the old woman;— "I'm not talkin' like
you. I'm old and blind. I can't see for myself, and I want to
know. She can tell me."
" Father telled ye already," said the eldest girl.
" I can tell better from what she says," said Mrs. Underbill,
turning her face towards her visiter. " What does she say ? Be
you uncommon fair and handsome ?-:-or not more than the
3 on Elizabeth's cheek and brow, but sbe
answered, not without some hesitation,
" I believe— -more than the common."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILI.8 OF TOE SHATEMUC. 481
A little glimpse of a smile stole over the old ■woman's face.
" Handsome, and rich. Well — Be jou happy too, joung
lady, above the common ? "
" I have learned, ma'am, that that depends upon right-doing ;
— so I am aot always happy."
" Have yon learned that lesson ? " said the old woman. " It's
a good one. Let me see your hand ? "
Elizabeth dreTf near and gave it.
^ " It's a pretty hand," — said the old woman. " It's soft— it
hain't done muoli work. It feels rich and handsome. Don't jou
Sve it to no one who will help you to forget that the blessing of
od is better than silver and gold."
" Thank jou. I will not."
" Be you a servant of the Lord, youQg lady ? "
"I hope I am, Mrs. Underhill," Elizabeth answered with
Bome hesitation. " Not a good one."
The old woman dropped her hand and fell back in her cha'r,
only saying, for Elizabeth had risen,
" Come and see me again — I'll be pleased to see ye."
" If I do ! — " thought Elizabeth as she ran down to her
boat. The free air seemed doubly free. But then came the
instant thought,—" Winthrop Landholra would not have said
that. How far I am — how far I — from where be stands I " —
She walked slowly down to the water's edge.
" Mr. Underhill," she said as she prepared to spring into the
boat which ho held for her, — " I have forgotten, while I was at
the house, what I partly came for to-night. We are out of pro-
visions— have you any eggs, or anything of any kind, to spare ?"
" Eggs ? " — said Mr. "Underbill, holding the boat, — " what
else would you like along of eggs ? "
" Almost anything, that is not salt meat."
" Chickens ?— we've got some o' them."
" Very glad of them indeed, — or fresh meat."
" Ha'n't got any of that just to-day," said the old farmer
shaking bis bead, " I'll see. The boat won't stir — tide's makin'
yet. You'll have a pull home, I expect."
He went back to the house, and Elizabeth stood waiting,
alone with her boat^
There was refreshment and strength to be had from nature's
pure and calm face ; so very pure and calm the mountains lookec
down upon her and the river smiled up. The opposite hill-tops
shone in the warm clear light of the October setting sun, the
more warm and bright for the occasional red and yellow leaves
HcsledbyGoOgle
482 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.
that chequered their green, and many tawny and half turned trees
that mellowed the whole mountain side. Such clear light at, elione
upon them ! such unearthly blue as rose above them ! such a soft
and fair water face that gave back the blue ! What could eyes
do but look ; what could the mind do but wonder, and be thank-
ful ; and wonder again, at tbe beauty, and grow bright in the
sunlight, and grow pure in that shadowless atmospkere. The
sharp cedar tops on Shaliwcetah were so many illuminated points,
and further down the riFcr the sunlight caught just the deep
bend of the water in the bay ; tbe rest was under shadow of the
western hills. All was under a still and hush, — ^nothing sound-
ed or moved but here and there a cricket ; the tide was near
flood and crept up noiselessly; the wind blew somewhere else,
but cot in October. Softly the sun went down and the shadows
Bt«le up,
Elizabeth stood with her hands pressed upon her breast,
drioking in all the sights and sounds, and many of their soft
whispermgs that only the spirit catches ; when her ear was caught
by very dissimilar and discordant notes behind ker.^the scream-
ing of discomposed chickens and the grating of Mr. Underbill's
boots on the gravel.
" Here's chickens for ye," said the farmer, who held the legs
of two pair in his single hand, tte beads of tte same depending
aod screaming in company, — " and here's three dozen of fresh
eggs — if you want more jou can send for 'em. Will you take
these along in tbe Merry-go-round ? "
" If you please — there is no other way," said Elizabeth.
" Wait — let me get in first, Mr, Underbill — Are they tied so
tliey can't get loose ? "
" Lai yes," said tbe old man putting them into the bow of
tue boat, — " they can't do nothiu' ! I'll engage they won't hurt
ye. Do you good, if you eat 'em right. Good bye I — it's pretty
nigh slack water, I gness — you'll go home easy. Come again! —
and you shall have some more fowls to take home with yel" —
Elizabeth bowed her acknowledgments, and pulled away to-
wards home, over the bright water, wondering again very much
at herself and her chickens. Tbe dark barrier of the western
biUs rose up now before her, darkening and growing more dis-
tant— as she went all the way over the river home. Elizabeth
admired them and admired at herself by turns.
Near the landing, however, the boat paused again, and one
oar splashed discontentedly in the water and then lay still, while
the feee of its owner betrayed a struggle of some sort going on.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE
The displeased brow, and the firm-sct lips, said respectively, ' I
would not,' and ' I must ; ' nnd it was five minutes good before
the brow cleared up and the lips unheiit to their usual fail free
outline; and the oars were in play once more, and the Merry-go-
round brought iu and made fast.
" Well, Miss 'Lizabeth ! " said Clam who met her at the door,
— " where have jou been I Here's Mis' Haye been cryin' and
the tea-kettle singing an hour and a half, if it isn't two hours."
" Has Anderese come home ? "
" Yes, and supper's ready, and 'taint bad, for Mis' Landholm
learned mo how to do fresh mutton and eream ; and it's all ready.
You look as if you wanted it, Misa 'Lizabeth. My ! "
" There are some eggs and chickens down in the boat, Clam "
" In what boat. Miss 'Lizabeth ? "
" In mine — down at the rocks."
" Who fetched 'em ? "
" I did, from Mr. Undethill's. You may bring them up to
the house."
Lcaviug her handmaid in an excess of astouishraent unusual
with her, Elizabeth walked into her guest's room, where the table
was laid. Rose sat yet by the window, her head in her haiidker-
obief on the window-sill. Elizabeth went up to her,
" Rose "
" What ? "■ — said Rose without moving.
" Rose — look up at me "
The pretty face was lifted at her bidding, but it was sullen,
and the response was a sullen " Well "
" I am very sorry I spoke to you so — I was very wrong. I
am very sorry. Forgive me aud forget it— will you ? "
" It was very unkind I " — said Rose, her head going down
again in fresh tears.
" It was very unkind and unhandsome. What can I say
more, but that I am ejrry ? Won't you forget it ? "
" Of course," said Rose wiping her eyes, — " I doa't waiat
to remember it if you waut to forget it. I dare say I was
foolish "
" Then come to supper," said Elizabeth. " Here's the tea —
I'm very hungry."
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEK XLII.
All! Phont'aic, I lel[ yon. iias areams Ihm have winga.
A TEW days more passed; days of samenesa in tLo touse,
while Autumn's beautiful work was goiug on without, and the
woods were changing from day to day with added glories. It
Bcemed as if the sun had broken one or two of his beams across
the hills, and left fragments of coloured splendour all over. The
elm trees reared heads of straw-colour among their forest brethren;
the maples shewed yellow and red and flame-colour ; the hirches
were in bright orange. Sad purple ashes stood tlie moderators
of the Assembly; and hickories of gold made sunny slopes down
the mountain sides. All softened together ia the distance to a
mellow, ruddy, glowing hue over the whole wood country.
The two cousins sat by the two windows watching the fiiding
light, in what used once to he the ' keeping-room'— Silrs. Hayc's
now. Elizabeth had been long looking out of the window, with
a fixed, thoughtful, sorrowful, gaze. Rose's look was never fixed
long upon anything and never betrayed her thoughts to he so.
It wavered now uneasily between her cousin and the broad and
bright hills and river — which probably Mrs. Haye did not see.
" How long are you going to stay here, Lizzie ? "
" I don't know."
" How is that old woman ? "
" I don't know. There don't seem to be much difference from
one day to another."
" What aila her ? "
"I don't know. I suppose it ia as the doctor says, — that
there is a general breaking up of nature."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLa OF THE BHATEMXTC.
" Is she going to live long? "
" I don'tknow. He said probably not."
" Well, who's going to take eare of ter ? "
" She is taken care of. There is a woman hei
tain Spi'ingj to do all that is necessary."
" Why must we stay here, lAvat: ? — It's so disi
" We mustn't — I must."
" Why ? "
" I would rather — and I think it is right.'
" To take care of that old woman ? "
" No — I can't do much for her — ^but I can e
taken care of"
" But how would she have dene if you had nevi
"I don't know. I don't know what that has
seeing that I am here."
" You wouldn't stay for her now, if she wasi
old nurse."
Elizabeth did not answer.
" But how long do you mean to stay here, Lizzie ? — anyhow ? "
"Till I must go — till it is less pleasant here than some-
where else."
" And when will you think that ? "
" Not for a good while."
" But when, Lizzie ? "
" 1 don't know. I suppose when the cold weather comes
in earnest."
" I'm sure it has come now ! " said Rose shrugging her
shoulders. " I'm shivering every morning after the fire goes out.
What sort of cold weather do you mean ? "
" Snow and ice ! — And tlien you will go — where will you go?"
said Rose discontentedly.
" I suppose, to Mannahatta."
" Will you go the first snow ? "
" I cannot tell yet, Rose."
There was a pause. Elizabeth had not stirred from her
position. Her head rested yet on her hand, her eyes looked
steadily out of the window.
" It will seem so lonely there ! " said Rose whimpering.
" Tes ! — more lonely than here."
" I meant in the house. But there one can get out and see
" There isn't a soul in Mamiahatta I care to see."
HcsledbyGoOgle
486 THE HII.L3 OF TOE SHATKMIIO.
" Lizzie !- — "
" Not that I know of."
" Lizzie ! — Hr. Landholm ? "
" I mean, not one that I am like to see."
" What do you go to Mannahatta for, then ? " said Rose un-
belicTingly.
" One must be somewhere, to do something in the world."
"To do what?"
" I don't know — I suppose I shall find my work,"
" Work ? — what work ? " — said Eose wonderingly.
" I don't know yet, Eoae, But evtrybody has something to
do in the world — so I have, — and you have."
" I havea't anything. What have we to do, except what we
like to do ? "
"I hope I shall like my work," BS,-d Elizabeth. "I most
like it, if I am to do it well."
" What do you mean ? — what are you talking of, Lizzie ? "
" Listen to me, Eose. Do you think that you and I have
been put in this world with so many means of usefulness, of one
sort and another, and that it was never meant we should do any-
thing but trifle away them 'and life till the end of it came ? Do
you thiuk God has giyen us nothing to do for him ? "
" J haven't much means of doing anything," said Eose, half
pouting, half sobbing. " Have you taken up your friend Win-
throp Landholm's notions ? "
There was a rush to Elizabeth's heart, that his name and hers,
in such a connection, should be named in the same day ; but the
colour started and the eyes flushed with tears, and she said
nothing.
" What sort of ' work ' do you suppose you are going to do ? "
" I don't know. I shall find out, Eose, I hope, in time."
" I guess he can tell you, — if you were to ask him," said Rose
meaningly.
Elizabeth sat a minute silent, with quickened breath.
" Eose," she said, leaning back into the room that she might
sec and be seen,—" look at me and listen to me."
Rose obeyed.
" Don't Eay that kind of thing to me again."
" One may say what one has a mind to, io a free land," said
Rose pouting, — " and one needn't be commanded like a cliild or a
servant. Don't T know you would never plague yourself with that
old woman if she wasn't Winthrop's old nurse ? "
Elizabeth rose and came near to ter.
HcsledbyGoOgle
TilK HILLS OF THE 8ILA.TEUUC. 487
" J will not have this thing; said to me ! " sho repeated.
" My anotives, in any deed of chanty, arc no man's or woman's to
meddle with. Mr. Landholm is most absolutely nothing to me,
nor I to him ; except m the respect and regard ho has from me,
which he has more or less I presume, from everybody that has
tie happiness of knowing him Do you understand me, Rose ?
clearly V "
Another answer was upon Eose's tongue, but she was cowed,
and only responded a meek ' yes.' Elizabeth turned and walked
off in stately fashion to the door of the kitchen. The lateh was
raised, and then she let it fall a^ain, came back, and stood again
with a very different face and voice before her guest,
" Hose," she said gravely, " I didn't spoak just in the best
way to you ; but I do not always recollect niyself quickly enough.
You mustn't say that sort of thing to mc — I can't bear it. I am
sorry for anything in my manner that was disagreeable to you
And before Rose had in the least made up her mind how to
answer her, Elizabeth had quitted the room.
" She ain't goin' never 1 " said Olaro, meeting and passing her
mistress as she entered the kitchen. " / don't believe I She's
a goin' tfl stay."
Karen sat in her wonted rocking-chair before the firo, rock-
ing a very little jog on her rockers. Blinabcth came up to the
side of the fireplace and stood there, silent and probably medita-
tive. She had at any rate forgotten Karen, when the old woman
spoke, in a feebler voice than usuah
" Is the Governor comin' ? "
" What, Karen ? " said Elizabeth, knowing very well what
sho had asked, but not knowing so well the drift and intent of It.
" Is the Governor comin' ? wUI he be along directly ? "
" No I suppose not. Do you want to see him, Karea? "
" T'd like to see him," said the old woman covering her eyes
with her withered hand. " I thought he was comin'."
" Perhaps something may bring him, some day. I dare say
you will see him by and by — I don't know how soon."
" I'il sec him there," said the old woman. " I can't stay here
" Why you don't seem any worse, Karen, do you ? Aren't
you going to be well again ? "
" Not here," said the old woman. " I'm all goin' to pieces.
I'll go to bed to-nig!it, and I won't get up again."
" Don't say that, Karen ; because I think you will."
HcsledbyGoOgle
488 THE HILLS OF THE SHiTEMDC.
" I'll go to bed," she repeated in a rather plaintive n
" I thouglit he'd be here."
It touched Elizabeth acutely,; perhaps because she had so iieai
a fellow feeling that answered Karen's, and allowed her to com-
prehend how exceedingly the desire for his presence might grow
strong in one who had a right to wish for it, And she knew that
he would rcehou old Karen his friend, whatever other people
would do.
" What caa I do for you, Karen ? " ahe said gently. " Lot
me be the best substitute I can. What can I do for you, that he
could do better?"
" There can't nobody do just the Governor's work," said his
old nurse. " I thought he'd ha' been hero. This '11 be my last
night, and I'd like to spend it hearin' good things."
" Would you like me to send for anybody," said Elizabeth.
" Could ye sand for Mm ? " said Karen earnestly.
" Not in time. No, Karen, — there'd be no time to send
a message from here to Mannahatta and get him here to-night."
She jogged herself back and forward a little while on her
rocking-chair ; and then said she 'would go to bed. Elizabeth
helped Tier into the little room, fonnerly Asahel's, opening out of
the kitchen, which she had insisted Karen should ti^e during her
illness; and after she was put to bed, came again and asked her what
she should do for her. Karen requested to have the Bible read,
Elizabeth set open the kitchen door, took a low seat by
Karen's bedside, and established herself with her book. It was
strange work to her, to read the Bible to a person who thought
herself dying. She, who so lately had to do with everything else
bat the Bible, now seated by the bedside of an old black woman,
and the Bible the only matter in hand between the two. Karen's
manner made it moro strange. She was every now and then
breaking in upon the reading, or accompanying it, with remarks
and interjections. Sometimes it was " Hallelujah I " — some-
times, " That's true, that's true!" — somotimos, and very often,
"PriMse the Lord!" Not loud, nor boisterous; they were most
of the time little underbreath words said to herself, words seem-.
ingly that she could not help, the good of which she took and
meant for nobody else's edification. They were however very
disagreeable and troublesome to Elizabetli's ears and thoughts;
ahe Lad haif a mind to ask Karen to stop them; but the nest
sighing " That's true ! " — checked her ; if it was such a com-
fort to the old woman to hold counsel witli herself, and Elizabeth
^ouldflffer nothing better, the least she could do was to let hei
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILL3 OP THE SHATEMCC. 489
ftlone. And then EliKabcth grew accustomed to it j and at last
thoughts wandered a little by turns to take up their new trade
of wondering at herself and at the new, unwonted life she seemed
beginning to lead. There was a singular pleasantness in what
she was doing ; she found a grave sweet consciousness of being
about the right work; but presently to her roving sp'rit the
question arose whether this,—thia new and certainly v-.ry sub-
stantial pleasure, — were perhaps the chief kind she was hereafter
to look forward to, or find in this life ;— and Elizabeth's heart
confessed to a longing desire for something else. And then her
attention suddenly came back to poor Karen at her side saying,
softly, " Bless the Lord, 0 my soul I "—Elizabeth stopped short ;
she was choked.
At this juncture Olara noiselessly presented herself
"He's come, Miss 'Lizabeth."
The start that Miss Haye's inward spirits gave at this, was
Dot to be seen at all on the outside. She Jooked at Clam, but
she gave no sigu that her words had been understood. Yet
EUEabctb. bad understood them so well, that she did not even
think at first to ask the question, and when she did, it was for
form's sake, who had come ? Probably Clam knew as much, for
she only repeated her words.
" He's come. What 'U I do with him, Miss 'Lizabcth ? "
" Where is he f "
" He ain't come yet^-he's oomin'."
" Coming when ? And what do you mean by saying he
is come ? "
" I don't mean nothin' bad," said Clam. " He's just a
comin' up the walk from the boat— I sec him by the moon."
" See who it is, first, before you do anything witb him ; and
then you can bring me word."
Elizabeth closed her book however, in some little doubt what
flho should do with herself. She knew, — it darted into her mind,
*— that it would please Winthrop to find her there ; that it would
meet his approbation; and then with the stern determination
. that motives of self-praise, if they came into her head should not
eome into her life, she hurried out and across the kitchen and hid
her book in her own room. Then came out into the kitchen and
stood waiting for the steps outside and for the opening of the
" Tea are come in good time," she said, as she met and
red Wiuthrop's oifered hand.
[ am glad I am iu time," he said.
21*
HcsledbyGoOgle
490 ■ruE HULS OP the shatemuo,
" Karen has been wishing for you particularly to-night — hut
I don't know that that ia any sign, except to the superstitious,
that she is in particular danger."
" I shall be all the more welcome, at any rate."
" I don't know whether that is possible, in Karen's case.
But did you know she wanted you ? — did jou know she was ill ? "
" Do you suppose nothing hut an errand of mercy could bring
me ? " he answered slightly, though with a little opening of the
eyes which Elizabeth afterwards remembered and specuhted
upon. But for the present she was content with the pleasant
implication of his words. 01am was ordered to bring refresh-
ments. These Winthrop declined; he had had all ho wanted.
Then Elizabeth asked if he would like to see Karen.
She opened the door, which she had taken care to shut, and
went in with him.
" Karen — here is the G-overnor, that you were wishing for."
The old woman turned her face towards them ; then stretched
out her hand, and spoke with an accent of satisfied longing that
went at least to one heart.
" I thought he'd come," she said. " Governor I — "
_ Winthrop leaned over to speak to her and take her hand.
Elizabeth longed to hear what he would say, hut she had no
business there ; she went out, softly closing the door.
She was alone then ; and she stood on the hearth before the
fire in a little tumult of pleasure, thinking how she should dispose
of her guest and what sho might do for him.
" Once more I have a chance," she thought; "and I may
never in the world ha¥e another — He will not come here again
before I go back to Mannahatta, he cannot stay in my house there,
— and another summer ia very far off, and very uncertain. He'll
not be very likely to come here — he may be married — and I am
very sure I shall not want to see his wife here— I shall not do
it. — Though I might ask her for his sake — No 1 I should hotter
break with him at once and have no more to do with him ; it
would be only misery," " And what is it now ? " said something
else. And " Not misery " — was the answer.
" Where will I put him, Miss 'Lizaheth ? " said the voice of
Clam softly at her elbow. Elizabeth started.
" You must take my room. I will sleep with Mrs. Haye.
Clam — what have we got in the house ? and what can you do in
the way of cooking ? "
" I can do some things — for some folks," said Clara. " Wa'n't
my cream gravy good the other day f "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HITjLS of the SHATEMtJC. *y-l
" Gream gravy ! — with wtat ? "
" Fresh lamb, — mutton, I would say."
" But you have got no fresh mutton now, have you ? "
" Maybe Mr. Uaderhill has," said Clam with a twinkle of her
bright eye.
" Mr. Uaderhill's fresh mutton is on the other side of the
river. What have we got on this eide ? "
" Pretty much of nothing," said Clam, " this side o' Mountain
Spring. Andereae ain't no good but to malce the fire — it takes
mor'n him to fiad somethin' to put over it."
" Then you'll have to go to Mountain Spring before break-
fast, Clam." . „ ^,
" Well, ni'm. Who'll take care of the house w.iile I'm gone,
Miss 'Lizabeth ? "
" Mrs. Gives — can't slie ? "
" Mis' Gives is gone oif home."
" Gone home ! — what, to Mountain Spring ? "
" That's where her home is, she says."
" What for ? and without asking ? "
" She wanted to spend to-night at home, she said ; and she
asked no questions and went."
" To night of all nights ! when Karen seems so much
worse 1 " ■ , n-i
" It's good we've got the G-ovcrnor," said Clam.
" But lie can't sit up all niglit with her."
" Guess be will," said Glam. " Pretty much like i>im. You
oan sleep in your bed, Miss 'Lizabeth."
" You go and get the room ready — he must not sit up ail
night— aud we'U see in the morning about Mountain Spring.
Somebody must gc."
" He'll go if you ask him," said Clam. " He'd do the mar-
keting best, now, of all of us. He knows just where everything
is. 'Fact is, we want him in the family pretty much aU tke
'^" Let him know when his room is ready, and offer' him le-
freshmeots,— and call me if I am wanted."
Clam departed; but Elizabeth, instead of doing the same,
took a chair on the kitchen hearth and sat down to await any pos-
sible demands upon her. She could hear a quiet sound of talking
in Karon's room; now and then the old woman's less regulated
voice more low or more shrill, broke in upon the subdued tones
of the other. Elizabetk thought she would have given anything
to be a hearer of wKat was eaii and liatened to there ; but tue
HcsledbyGoOgle
492 THE HILLS OP TlIE 8HATEM!TC,
doorwaa stut; it was all for Karen and not for her; and sLe
gave up at last in despair and retreated to her cousin's room.
"So he's come?" said Rose.
" Yes I — he's oome, Did you know he waa coining ? "
—No, — I didn't know he was coming. How should I ? "
1 T.n.. jl.;„7. u. ;__ -n g i.
" Did you think h
'°fi -
"I didn't know but he'd come/' laid Rose a little awkwardly,
" I didn't know anything ahout it."
Elizabeth chose to ask no further question. Somewhat mor-
tified already, she would not give herself any more certain ground
of mortification, not at that time. She would talk no more with
Rose. She wont to bed ; and long after her companion was
asleep, she listened for Winthrop's coming out or Clam's colloquy
with him, and for any possible enquiry after herself. She heard
Clam tap at the door — she heard the undistinguished sound of
words, and only gathered that Winthrop probably mus declining
all proffered comforts and luxuries and choosing to spend the
nig;ht by Karon's pillow. And weary and sorry and sick of every-
thing in the world, Elizabeth went to sleep.
She waked up in the morning to hear the twittering of the
birds around the house. They were singing busily of the coming
day, but the day had not come yet ; at least it was some time be-
fore sunrise. Elizabeth softly got up, softly dressed herself, and
went out into the kitchen. That messenger must be despatched
for something for breakfast.
She was met by Clam coming in from another door.
" Well, Clam said her mistress, " where is everybody this
morning ? "
" I don't know where I am yet," said Clam. " Everybody's
abed and asleep I apDsi Where be you. Miss 'Lizabeth ?"
" Did Mr. L<mdhjlm tit up all night ? "
" 'Most. He said twas near upon two o'clock."
" When ? "
" When he had done sittin' up, and went to bed."
" How was Karen ? "
" I 'spose she was gain', but she ain't in no hurry — she aiu't
gone yet."
" Then she was no worse ? "
" She was better. She was slicked up wonderful after scein'
the Governor, she telled me. I wonder who ain't."
" He has not come out of his room yet, I suppose ? "
'' I hope he haint," said Clam, " or I don' know when we*j;
get breakfast — 'less he turns to and helps us."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OP THE SHATEMtrO. 493
" He will want a good one, after laat night, and yeaterdaj's
journey. Where's Andcrese ? "
" He took some bread and milk," said Clam.
" Well — where's Anderese ? we must send him to Mountain
Spring."
" He's got to go after wood. Miss 'Lizabeth—tbere ain't three
eticka more 'n '11 set the fire agoing,"
' Must he ! Then jou must go, Clam."
" Vci7 good. Who'll set the table, Miss 'Lizabeth ? "
" Emma can. Or yon can, after you get back."
" And there's tbe fire to make, and the floor to sweep, and
the knives to clean, and the bread to malce^"
" Bread 1—" said Miss Haye.
" Or oaies," said Clam. " One or t'other '11 be wanted. I
don't care which."
" Don't Emma know tow ? "
" She don't know a thing, but bow to put Mrs. Hajc's curls
over a stick — when she ain't doin' her owb."
" Then gire me a basket^ — I'll go to Mountam Spring my-
self."
" Wbo'II bring the moat and things home ? "
" I will; — or fish, or eggs, — something, whatever I can get.''
"It '11 tire you, Miss 'Lizabeth — I guesa, before you get
back."
" Ton find me a basket — while I put on my bonnet," said
Clam's mistress. And the one thing was done as soon as the
" I 'apeet I'll wake up some morning and find myself playing
on tbe pianny-forty," said Clam, as she watched her young mia-
tresa ■walking off with the basket.
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XLIil.
Vhva did the sir an emlle. the wli
Miss Have, however, bad never sent her fingers over tie keys
with more energy, than now her feet tripped over the dry leaves
and stones in the path to Mountain Spring, She took a very
rough way, through the woods. There was another, much plainer,
round by the wagon road ; but Elizabeth chose the more solitary
and prettier way, roandahoat and hard to the foot though it was.
For some little distance there was a rude wagon-track, very
rough, probably made for the convenience of getting wood. It
stood thick with pretty large stones or licads of roek ; but it was
softly grass-grown between the stones and gave at least a clear
way through the woods, upon which the morning light if not the
morning sun beamed fairly. A light touch of white frost lay
upon the grass and covered the rocks with bloom, the promise of
a mild day. After a little, the roadway descended into a bit of
smooth meadow, well walled in with trees, and lost itself there.
In the tree-tops the morning sun was glittering; it could not get
to the bottom yet; but up there among the leaves it gave a
bright shimmering prophecy of what it would do ; it was a sparkle
of heavenly light touching the earth. Elizabeth had never seen
it before; she had never in her life been in the woods at so early
an hour. She stood still to look. It was impossible to help feel-
ing the light of that glittering promise; its play upon the leaves
was too joyous, too pure, too fresh. She felt her heart grow
stronger and her breath come freer. What was the speech of
those light-touched leaves, she might not have told; soniethin"
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HIIXB OP THE SHATEMUa 495
het spirit took knowledge of whUe ber reason did not. Or had
not leisure to do ; for if she did not get to Mountain Spring in
good season alie would not be home for breakfast. Yet she had
plenty of time, but she did not wish to run abort. So she went
on her way.
From the valley meadow for half a mile, it was not much
more or much better than a cow-path, beaten a, little by the feet
of the herdsman seeking his cattle or of an occasional foot-travel-
ler to Mountain Spring. It was very rougli indeed. Often
Elizabeth must make ijuite a circuit among cat-briars and huckle-
berry bushes and young underwood, or keep the path at the ex-
pense of stepping up and steppiiig down again orer a great atone
or rock blocking up the whole way. Sometimes the track was
only marked over the grey lichens of an immense head of granite
that refused moss and vegetation of every other kind ; sometimes
it wound among thick alder bushes by the edge of wet ground;
and at alt times its course was among a wilderness of uncared-for
woodland, overgrown with creepers and vines tangled with under-
brush, and thickly strewn with larger and smaller fragments and
boulders of granite rock. But how beautiful it was 1 The alders,
reddish and soft-tinted, looked when the sun struck through them
as if they were exotica out of witeh-land; the Gornus family, from
beautiful dogwood a dozen feet high stretching over Elizabeth's
head, to little humble nameless plants at her feet, had edged and
parted their green leaves with most dainty clear hues of madder
lake; white birches and hickories glimmered in the sunliglit liko
trees of gold, the first with stems of silver; sear leaves strewed
the way; and fresh pines and hemlocks stretched out their arms
amidst the changing foliage, with their evergreen promise and
performanc9. The morning air and the morning walk no doubt
had something to do with the effect of the whole ; but Elizabeth
thought, with all the beauty her eyes had ever seen they had
never been more bewitched than they were that day.
With such a mood upon her, it was no wonder that on arriving
at Mountain Spring she speedily made out her errand. She found
whom and what she had come for; she filled her basket with no
loss of time or pleasure; and very proud of her success set out
again through the wood-path homeward.
Half way back to the bit of tree-enclosed meadow-ground, the
path and the north shore of Shahwoctah approached each other,
where a little bay curve, no other than the jSgean Sea, swept in
among the rooks. Through the stems of the trees Elizabeth could
Bee the blue water with the brightness of the hour upon it. Its
HcsledbyGoOgle
i96 THE mtLS Off THE siLmatoc.
sparklo tempted her. She had plenty of time, or she resolveil
that she had, and she wanted to look at the fair hroad view she
knew the shore edge would give her. She hesitated, and turned,
A few bounding and plunging steps amid rocks and huokleherry
bushes brought her where she wished to be. She stood on the
border, where no trees eame in the way of the northern view.
The mountains were full before her, and the wide Shatemuc
rolled down between them, ruffled with little waves, every one
sparklmg cool in the sunlight. Elizabeth looked at the water a
minute, and turned to the west. Wut-a-qut-o's head had caught
more of the frosts than Shahweetah had felt yet; there were
broad belts of buff and yellow along the mountain, even changing
into sear where its sides felt the north wind. On al! that shore
the full sunlight lay. The opposite hills, on the east, were in
dainty sunshine and shadow, every undulation, every ridge and
hollow, softly marked out. With what wonderful sharp outlluo
the mountain edges rose against the bright sky ; how wondei-ful
soft the changes of shade and colour adown their eloping sides:
what brilliant little ripples of water rolled up to the pebbles al
Elizabeth's feet. She stood and looked at it all, at one thing and
the other, half dazzled with the beauty; until she recollected her'
self, and with a deep sigliful expression of thougjits and wishes un'
known, turned away to find her path again.
But she could not find it. Whereabouts it was, she was sure ;
but the where was an uufindable thing. And she dared not strike
forward without the track; she might get further and further
from it, and never get home to breakfast at all! — There was
nothing for it but to grope about seeking for indications; and
Miss Haye's eyes were untrained to wood'work. The woodland
was a mazy wilderness now indeed. Points of stone, beds of
looss, cat-briar vines and huckleberry bushes, in every direction;
and between which of them lay that little invisible track of a foot-
path ? The more she looked the more she got perplexed. She
couldrcmember no waymarks, The way was all oat-hriars, moss,
bushes, and rooks j and rocks, bushes, moss and cat-briars were in
every variety all around her. She turned her face towards the
cjuartei; from which she had come and tried to recognize some tree
or waymark she could remember having passed. One part of
the wood looked just like another; but for the mountains and
the river she coiUd not have told where lay Mountain Spring.
Then a little sound of rustling leaves and crackling twigsi
reached her ear from behind her.
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE IItt.1.3 Olf THE SHATEimC. 497
" There ia a cow ! " thought Elizabeth; — " now I can find the
path by Ker. But then ! — cows don't always — "
Her eye had been sweeping round the woody skirts of her
position, in search of her expected four-footed guide, wlien her
thoughts were suddenly brought to a point by seeing a two-footed
creature approaching, and one whom she instantly knew.
" It ia Winthrop Landholm ! — he is going to Mountain
Spring to take an early coach, without his breakfast ! — Well, you
fool, what is it to you ? " waa the next tliought. " What does it
signify whether he goes sooner or later, when it would be better
for you not to see him at all, if your heart is going to start in
that fashion at cyery time. — "
Meanwhile she was making her way as well as she could, over
rocks and briars, towards the new-comer ; and did not look up till
she answered his greeting —
" Good morning ! — "
It was very cheerfully spoken.
"Good jnomiug," said Elizabeth, entangled in a cat-briar,
from which with a desperate effort she broke free before any help
could be giyen lier.
" Those are naughty things."
" No," said Elizabeth, " they look beautiful bow when they are
f rowing tawny, as a contrast with the other creepers and the
eep green cedars. And they are a beautiful green at other
times."
" Make the best of them. What were you looking at, a
minute ago?"
" Looking for my way. I bad lost it."
" You don't know it very well, I guess."
" Yes. — No, not very well, but I could follow it, and did, till
coming home I thought I had time to look at the view ; and tien
I couldn't find it again. I got turned about."
" You were completely turned about when I saw you."
"01 was not going that way — I knew better than that. I
was trying to discover some waymark."
" How did you got out of the way ? "
" I went to look at the view — ^from the water's edge there."
" Have you a mind to go back to the river edge again? I
have not seen that view in a long while. I shall not lose the
path."
" Then you cannot be intending to go by an early coach,"
thought Elizabeth, as she picked her way back over rocks and
moss to the water's edge. Eut Winthrop knew the ground, and
HcsledbyGoOgle
498 TIIK HILLS OF THE
brought her a few steps further to a hroad standing-place of rock
where the look-out was freer. There Wiis again before her the
sparkling river, the frost-touehed mountain, the sharp outliues,
the varying shadows, that she had looked at a few minutes hack.
Eliiabeth looked at them again, thinking now cot of them but of
something dilFerent at every turn.
" The rock is too wet," said Winthrop, " or I should propose
your sitting down."
" You. certainly must have had your breakfast," thought
Elisabeth, " and not know that I haven't had mine."
■■ I don't want to sit down," she said quietly. A pang of fear
again came to her heart, that in another minute or two he would
be off to Mountain Spring. But hia next movement negatived
that. It was to take her basket, which she had till then tried to
carry so that it would not be noticed. She was thankful he did
not know what was in it.
" Do you often take such early walks as this?"
" No, not often," said Elizabeth guiltily. " I row more."
" So early?"
" No, not generally. Though there is no time more plea-
" You are looking well," he said gravely. " Better than I ever
saw you look."
" It's very odd," thought Elizabeth, — " it must be the flush
of my walk — I didn't look so this morning in the glass — ^nor last
night. — " But s'jc looked up and said boldly, laughing,
" I thought you came here to see the prospect. Sir. Land-
" I have been looking at it," he said quietly. " I need not
say auything about that — it never changes."
" Po you mean that I do ? " said Elizabeth.
" Everybody ought to change for the better, always," he said
with a little smile, — " so I hope you are capable of that."
Elizabeth thought in her heart, though she waa no better, yet
that she had truly changed for the better, since former times ; she
half wanted to tell him so, tlie friend who had had most to do
with changing her. But a consciousness of many things and aa
honest fear of speaking good of herself, kept her lips shut ; though
her heart beat with the wish and the doubt. Winthrop's next
words in a few minutes decided it.
" What is the fact, Miss Elizabeth ? "
Elizabeth hesitated, — and hesitated. He looked at her.
HcsledbyGoOgle
" I hope I am changed, a little, Mr. Landholm ; hut there is
a great deal more to cliaiige I "
Her face was very ingenuous and somewhat sorrowful, aa she
turned it towards him; but hia looked so much brighter than she
Lad ever seen it, that the meeting of the two tides was just more
than her spirits could bear. The power of cooimanding herself,
which for the last few minutes had been growing less and less,
gave way. Her look shrank from his. WinUirop had come
nearer to her, and had clasped the hand that was nearest him
and held it in his own. It was a further expression of the plea-
sure she had seen in his smile. Elizabeth was glad that her own
face was hidden bj her suubonnet. She would not have either its
pain or its pleasure to be seen. Both wore sharp enough just
then. But strong necessity made her keep outwardly quiet.
" What does the change date from ? "
" As to time, do you mean ? " said Elizabeth struggling,
" As to time, and motive."
" The time is but lately," she said with a tremulous voice, —
" though I have thought about it, more or less, for a good while."
" Thought what ? "
" Felt that you were right and I was wrong, Mr, Landholm,"
" What made you think you were wrong ? "
" I felt that I was — I knew it."
" What makes you think you are changed now ? "
" I hardly dare speak of it — it is so little."
" You may, I hope, — to me."
" It is hardly / tiiat am changed, so much as my motives and
views."
" And they — how ? " he said after waiting a moment.
" It seems to me," she said slowly, " lately, that I am willing
to go by a new rule of life from that I used to follow."
" What is the new rule ? "
" Well — Not my own will, Mr. Landholm."
He stood silent a little while. Her hand was still held in
his. Elizabeth would have thought he had forgotten it, but that
it was held in a free clasp which did not seem to imply forgetful-
ness. It was enough to forbid it ou her part.
" How does the new rule work ? " was his next question.
" It works hard, Mr. Landholm 1 " said Elizabeth, turning her
face suddenly upon him for an instant. His look was bright, hut
she felt that her own eyes were swimming.
" Do you know that I am very glad to hear all this ? " he said
after another little pause.
HcsledbyGoOgle
BOO
? THE BHATEMDC.
" Yes," said Elizabett under breath, — " I aupposed yju would
be. — I knew you would."
" I Iiope you like being catecLized," he said in a lighter tone.
Yes— I do — by anybody that has a right to do it."
" I have taken the right."
" Certainly !— You havo the best in the world."
" I am glad you think eo, though I don't exactly see how you
make it out."
" Why!— it's not necessary to explain how I make it oat,"
said Elizabeth.
" No, — especially as I am going to ask you to give it to me
for the future."
" What ? " — said she looking at him.
He became grare,
" Miss Ilaye, I have a great boon to ask of you."
" V\ ell r "— said Elizabeth eagerly. " I am very glad you
"Why?"
" Why ? — why, because it's pleasant."
" You don't know what it is, yet."
" No," said Elizabeth,—" but mj words are safe."
" I want you to give mo something."
/ 0" preface it as if it were some great thing, and you look
as if It was nothing," thought Elizabeth a little in wonderment.
But she said only,
" You may have it. What is it ? "
" Guess."
" I can't possibly."
" You are incautious. You don't know what you are givin"
" What is it ? " said Elizabeth a little impatiently.
" Yourself."
Elizabeth looked quick away, not to see anything, with the
mind's eye or any other, for a blur came over both. She was no
fainter; she was strong of mind and body; but the one and the
other were shaken ; and for that bit of time, and it was several
minutes, her senses performed no office at all. And when con-
sciousness of distinct things began to come back, there came
among all her other feeliags an odd perverse fear of shewing the
uppermost one or two, and a sort of mortified unreadiness to strike
her colours and yield at once without having made a bit of fight
for it. Yet these were not the uppermost feelings, but they were
there, among them and struggling with them. She stood quite
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE niLLS OF THE SHATEMUC. 501
Btill, her face hidden by her sunhonnet, and her companion was
qaite still too with her hand atill ia his, held in the same free
light claap ; and she had a resed consciousness of his being far
the cooler of the two. While she was thus silent, however,
Elizabeth's head, and her very figure, was bowed lower and lower
with intensity of feeling.
"What is the matter?" Winthrop said; and the tone of
those words conquered her. The proud Miss Haye made a very
binnble answer.
" I am very glad, BIr. Landholm — but I am not good
" For what?"
But Elizabeth did not answer.
" I will take my risk of that," said he kindly. Besides, you
have confessed the power of changing."
The risk, or something else, seemed to lie upon Elizabeth's
mind, from the efforts she was making to overcome emotion.
Winthrop observed her for a moment.
" But you have not spoken, yet," said he. " I want a oon-
firmation of my grant,"
She knew from his tone that hia mood was the very reverse
of hers; and it roused the struggle again. "Provoking man I"
she thought, " why couldn't he ask me ia any other way ! — And
why need he smile when I am crying 1 — " She commanded her-
self to raise her head, however, though she did not dare look.
" Am I to have it ? "
" To have what ? "
" An answer."
" I don't know what it's to bo, Mr. Landholm," Elizabeth
stammered. " What do you want ? "
" Will you give mo what I asked you for ? "
" I thought you knew you had it already," she said, not a
little vexed to have the words drawn from her.
" It is mine then ? "
"Yes—"
" Then," said he, coming in full view of her blushing face and
taking the other hand, — " what are you troubled for ? "
Elizabeth could not have borne it one instant, to meet bis eye,
without breaking into a flood of tears she had no bands to cover.
As her only way of escape, she sprang to one side freeing one of
her hands on the sudden, and jumped down the rock, muttering
something very unintelligibly about ' breakfast.' But her other
hand was fast still, and so was she at the foot of the rock.
HcsledbyGoOgle
502 THE BILLS OF THE eHATEHUC.
" Stop," Eaid Wintlirop, — " we must take this l)a'*iet along. —
I don't know if there is anything very precious in it," —
He reached after it as he spoke, and then tliej went on ; and
by the help of his hand her backward journey over rocks, stones,
and trunks of trees in the path, was easily and lightly made ; till
they reached the little hit of meadow. Which backward journey
EJiaabeth accomplished in about two minutes and a quarter.
There Winthrop transferred to his arm the hand that tad rested
in his, and walked more leisurely.
" Are you in such a hurry for your breakfast ? " said he. " I
have had mine."
" Had it ! — before you came out ? "
" No," — said he smiling, — " since."
"Arc you laughing at me? — or have you had it?" said
Elizabeth looking puzzled,
" Both," said Winthrop. " What Jre you trembling so
for ? "
It hushed Elizabeth again, till they got quit of the meadow,
and began more slowly etill, tho ascent of the rough half-made
wheel-road.
" Miss Haye — " said Winthrop gently.
She paused in her walk, looking at him.
" What are you thinking of? "
" Thinking of 1—"
" Yes. You don't look as happy as 1 feel."
" I am," — she said.
" How do you know ? "
What a colour spread over Elizabeth's face ! But she
laughed too, so perhaps his end was gained.
" I was thinking," she said, with the desperate need of saying
something, — " a little while ago, when you were helping me
through the woods, — how a very few minutes before, I had been
80 quite alone in the world."
" Don't forget there is one arm that never can fail you," he
replied gravely, " Mine may."
Elizabeth looked at him rather timidly, and his face changed.
" There was no harm in that," he said, with so bright an ex-
pression as she had never before seen given to her. " What will
you say, if I tell you that I myself at that same time was think-
ing over in my mind very much the same thing — with relation to
myself, I mean."
Elizabeth's heart boat and her breath came short. That was
what she had never thought of. Like many another woman, what
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE 8HATEMUC. 1)06
he was to ter, she knew well ; what she migtt be to him, it had
never entered her head to think. It seemed almost a new and
superfluous addition to her joy, yet not superfluous from that tiuie
forth for ever. Once known, It was too precious a thought to bo
again nntasted. She hung her head oyer it; she stepped ail un-
wittingly on rocks and short grass and wet places and dry,
wherever she was led. It made her heart beat thick to think she
could be so valued. How was it possible 1 How she wished —
how keenly — that she could have been of the solid purity of silver
or gold, to answer the value put npoa her. But instead of that
— what a far-ofF difference ! Winthrop could not know how great,
or he would never have said that, or folt it ; nor could he ? What
about her could possibly have attracted it ?
She had not much leisure to ponder the question, for her it-
tention was called off to answer present demands. And there was
another subject for pondering — Winthrop did not seem like the
same person she had known under the same name, he was so much
more free and pleasant and bright to talk than he had ever been
to her before, or in her observation, to anybody. He talked to a
very silent listener, albeit she lost never a word nor a tone. She
wondered at him and at everything, and stepped along wonder-
ing, with a heart too full to speak, almost too full to hide its
agitation.
They were nearing home, they had got quit of the woodway
road, and were in a cleared field, grown with tall cedars, which
skirted the river. Half way across it, Elizabeth's foot paused,
and came to a full stop. What was the matter?
Elizabeth faced round a little, as if addressing her judge,
though slie spoke without lifting her eyes.
" Mr. Landholm — do you know that I am /«ZZ of faults? "
" Yes."
" And aren't you afraid of theia ? "
" No,— not at all," he said, smiling, Elizabeth knew. But
she answered very gravely,
" Which Is the best reason in the world why I should not be.
It is written ' Blessed is the man that feareth always.' "
" I am afraid-— you don't know me."
" I don't know," said he smiling. " You haven't told me
anything new yet."
"I am afraid you think of me, somehow, better than I
deserve."
" What is the remedy for that f "
HcsledbyGoOgle
504 TIIE HILLS OF 1
Elizabeth. Lesitated, with an instant's vexed consciousness of
Lis provoking coolnesa ; then, looking up met his eye for a second,
laugbecl, and went on perfectly contented. But she wondered
■with a little secret mortification, that Winthrop was as perfectly
ut homo and at his ease in the newly established relations between
them as if they Lad subsisted for six months. " Is it nothing
new to him ? " she said to herself. " Did he know that it only
depended on him to speak ? — or is it his way with all the world ? "
It was not that she was undervalued, or slightly regarded, but
valued and regarded with such unchanged self-possession. Mean-
while they reached the edge of the woodland, from which the
Louse and garden were to be seen close at Land.
" Stay here," said Winthrop ; — " I will carry this basket in
and let them know you may be expected to breakfast."
"But if you do that, — " said Klizabett colouring —
" What then ? "
" I don't know what they will think
" They may think what they have a m d d lie with a
little bit of a smile again. " I want to p k j
Elizabeth winced a bit. He was g n a d h t id think
ing, among other things, that he might La k d ivhat she
would like. And how did ho know b t b ktaat wis ready
then? Or did he know everything? And I wq tly and un
qualifiedly, to be sure, he had taken he t hit morn-
ing. She did not know whether to like t n 1 1 k t —till she
saw him coming again from the house,
" After all," said be, " I think we had better go m and
take breakfast, and talk afterwards. It seems to be in i good
state of forwardness."
HcsledbyGoOgle
CHAPTEE XLIT.
dfi aquADderlng ;
It was sufficiently proven at that breakfast, to Elizabeth's
eatisfaction, tliat it is possible for one to be at the same time both
very happy and a little uncomfortable. She had a degree of
conaeioTisness upon her that amounted to that, more especially as
she had a vexed knowledge that it was shared by at least one person
in the room. The line of Clam's white teeth had never glimmered
more mischievously. Elizabeth daied not look at her. And
she dared not look at Winthiop, and she dared not look at Rose.
But Kose, to do her justice, seemed to be troubled with no eon-
aciousnesa beyond what was usual with her, and which generally
concerned only herself; aud she and Wiuthrop kept up the spirit
of talk with great ease all breakfast time.
" Now how in the world are we going to get away ? " thought
Elizabeth when breakfast was finishing; — "without saying flat
and bald why we do it. Rose will want to go too, for she likes
Winthrop quite well enough for that." —
And with the consciousness that she could not make the
slightest manceuvre, Elizabeth rose from table.
" How soon must you go, Mr. Laudholm ? " said Rose
winningly.
" Presently, ma'am."
" I am sorry you must go so soon I But we haven't a room
to ask you to sit down in, if you were to stay."
22
HcsledbyGoOgle
506 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEmTO.
" I am afraid I shouldn't wait to be asked, if I stayed," said
Wiathrop. " But as I am not to sit down again — -Miss Haje —
if you will put on your bonnet and give mo your company a little
part of mj way, I will keep my promise."
" What promise ? " said Eoae.
" T will do better ttan my promise, for I mean to shew Miss
Haje a point of lior property which perhaps she baa not looked
at lately."
" Oh will you shew it to me too ? " said Rose.
" I will if there is time enough after I haye brought Miss
Haye back — I can't take both at oace."
Rose looked mystified, and Elizabeth very glad to put oa her
bonnet, was the first out of the house ; half laughing, aud half
trembling with the excitement of getting off.
" There is no need to be in such anurry," said Winthrop as
he came up,— now that breakfast is over."
Elizabeth was silent troubled with that consciousness still,
though now alone with the subicct of it. He turned off from the
road, and led her biek int the woods a little way, in the same
path i>J which she h^d once g ne hunting for a tree to cut
" It isn't as pretty a time of diy as when I went out this
morning," she said for(,ing herself to say something.
But Winthrop seemed in a state of pre-oooupation too ; till
they reached •% boulder cappe 1 with green ferns.
" Now give me your hand," said ne. " Can you climb ?"
They turned short by the boulder and began to mount the steep
rugged hill-path, down which he had once carried his little sister.
Elizabeth could make better footing than poor Winifred ; and
very soon they stood on the old height from which thoy could
see the fair Shatemuo coming down between the hills and sweep-
ing round their own little woody Shahweetah and off to the South
Bend. The sun was bright on all the land now, though the cedars
shielded the bit of hill-top well ; and Wuta-qut-o looked down
upon them in all his gay Autumn attire. The sun was bright,
but the air was clear and soft and free from mist and cloud and
obscurity, as no sky is but October's.
" Sit down," said Winthrop, throwing himself on the bank
which was carpeted with very short green grass.
" I would just as lieve stand," said Elizabeth.
" I wouldn't as lieve have you. You've been on your feet
long enough to-day. Come ! "
She yielded to the gentle pulling of her hand, and sat down
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE 6HATEMU0. 507
on the grass ; half amused and half fretted ; wonderiDg what he
was going to say nest. Wiuthrop was silent for a little space ;
and Eliziibeth sat looking straight before her, or rather with her
head a little turned to the right, from her companion, towards
Wut-a-c[ut-o ; the deep sides of her eun-bonnet shutting out all
hut a little framed picture of the gay woody foreground, a bit of
the blue river, and the mountain's yellow side,
" How beautiful it was all down therej three or four hours
ago," said Elizabeth.
" I didn't know you had so much romance in jour disposition
— to go there this morning to meet me."
"I didn't go there to meet you."
" Tes you did."
" I didn't ! " said Elizabeth. " I never thought of such a
thing as meeting you."
" Nevertheless, in the regular chain and sequence of events,
Jou went there to meet me— if you hadn't gone you wouldn't
are met me."
" O, if you put it in that way," said Elizabeth, — " there's no
harm in that."
" There is no harm in it at all. Quite the contrary,"
" I think it was the prettiest walk I ever took in my life,"
said Elizabeth, — " before that, I mean," she added blushing.
" My experience would say, after it," said Winthrop, in an
aroused tone.
" It was rather a confused walk after that," said Elizabeth.
" I never was quite so much surprised."
" You see I nad not that disadvantage. I was only — gratified."
"Why," said Elizabeth, her jealous fear instantly starting
again, " you didn't know what my answer would he before you
asked me ? "
She waited for Winthrop's answer, but none came. Elizabeth
could not bear it,
" Did you ? " she said, looking round in her eagerness.
He hesitated an instant, and then answered,
" Did you ? "
Elizabeth had no words. Her face sought the shelter of her
Bunbonnet again, and she almost felt as if she would have liked
to seek the shelter of the earth bodily, by diving down into it.
Her brain was swimming. There was a rush of thoughts and
ideas, a train of scattered causes and consequences., which then
she had no power to set in order ; but the rush almost over-
whelmed her, and what was wantmg, shame added. She was
HcsledbyGoOgle
OUS THE HILLB OF THE BHATEMUC.
vexed with herself for her jealousy in diyiniiig and her impatience
in asking foolish questions ; and in her vexation was ready to be
vexed with Winthrop,— if she only knew how. She longed to
lay her head down in her hands, but pride kept it up. She
rested her chin on one hand and wondered when Winthrop would
speak again, — she could not, — and what he would say ; gazing at
the blue bit of water and gay mountain-side, and thinking that
she was not giving him a particularly favourable specimen of her-
self that morning, and vesed out of measure to think it.
Then upon this, a very quietly spoken " Elizabeth I " — came
to her ear. It was the first time Winthrop had called her so ;
but that was not all. Quietly spoken as it was, there was not
only a little inquiry, there was a little amusement and a little
admonition, in the tone. It starred Elizabeth to her spirit's
depths, but with several feelings ; and for the life of her she
oould not have spoken,
" What is the reason you should hide your face so carefully
from me ? " he went on presently, much in the same tone. " Mine
is open to you — it isn't fair play."
Elizabeth could have laughed if she had not been afraid of
crying. She kept herself hid in her sunbonnet and made no
reply.
" Suppose you take that thing off, and let me look at you."
" It shades my face from the sun."
" The cedar trees will do that for you."
" No — they wouldn't."
And she kept her face steadily fised upon the opposite shore,
only brought straight before her now; thinking to herself that
she would carry this point at any rate. But in another minute
she was somewhat astounded to find Winthrop's left hand, he was
supporting himself carelessly on his right, quietly, very quietly,
untying her sunbonnet strings; and then rousing himself, with
the other hand be lifted the bonnet from her head. It gave a
full view then of hair in very nice order and a face not quite so ;
for the colour had now flushed to her very temples with more
feelings than one, and her eye was downcast, not caring to shew
its revelations. She knew that Winthrop took an observation
of all, to his heart's content; but she could not look at him for
an instant. Then without saying anything, he got up and
went off to a little distance where he made himself busy among
some of the hushes and vines which were gay with the fall colouring
Elizabeth sat drooping her head on her knees, for she could not
absolutely hold it up. She looked at her sunbonnet lying oa
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE FTT.T.B OP THE SH4TEMIJC.
509
the bank beside ber ; but it is not an improper use of language
to saj tbat she dared not put it oa.
" I have met my master now," ahe tbougtt, and ber eyes
sparkled,—" once for aU— if I never did before.— Wbat a fool
I am ! "
For sbe knew, abe aclinowledged to herself at the same mo-
ment, that abe did not like him the less for it^she liked him ex-
ceedingly the more ; in spite of a twinge of deep mortifieation
about it, and though there was bitter shame tbat he sboald know
or guess any of her feeling. If her eyes sparkled, they sparkled
through tears.
The tears were got rid of, for Wiuthrop came back and threw
himself down again. Then with tbat he began to put wreaths of
the orange and red winterberriea and sprays of wych hazel and bits
of exquisite ivy, one after the other, into her hands. Her hands
toot tiiem mechanically, one after the other. Her eyoa buried
themselves in them. She wished for her sunbonnct shield again.
" What do you bring these to me for ? " she said rather
abruptly.
" Don't you like to have them ? " said he, puttmg into her
fingers another magnificent piece of Virginia creeper.
" Yes indeed — very much — but — "
" It will be some time before I see you again," said be as he
added the last piece of bis bunch. " These will he all gone."
" Some time ! " said ElJBabeth.
" Yes. There is work on my bands down yonder tbat admits
of no delay. I could but just snatch time enough to come up
" I am very much obliged to you for these ! " said, Elizabeth,
returning to her bunch of brilliant vine branehea.
" You can pay me for them in any way you please."
The colour started again, but it was a very gentle, humble,
and frank look which she turned round upon him. His was
bright enough.
" How soon do you think of coming to Mannahatta ?
" I don't know, — " said Elizabeth, not choosing to say ex-
actly the words that came to her tongue.
" If I could be here too, I should say this is the best place."
" Can't you come often enough ? "
" How often would be often enough ? " said be with an
amused look.
" Leave definitions on one side, and please answer me."
" Willingly. I leave the definition on your side. I don't
like to speak in the dark."
HcsledbyGoOgle
610 THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUO.
"Well, eaa't you come tolerably often?" aaid Elizabetli
colouring.
He smiled,
" Not for some time. My tands are very full just now,"
" You contrive to have them so always, don't you ? "
" I like to baye tbem so. It is not always my contnTance."
" What has become of that suit — I don't know the names now
— in wbioh you were engaged two or three years ago — in which
you took so many objections, and the Chancellor allowed them
all, — against Mr. Brick ? "
"Kyis!"
" Yes !— I believe that's the name,"
" For a man called Jean Lessing ? "
" I don't know anything about Lessing — I think Ryle waa
the other name — You were against Byle."
" Lessing waa Mr. Herder's brothor-in-law,"
" I don't remember Mr. Herder's brother-in-law — ^though I
believe Mr, Herder did have something to do with the case, or
some interest in it."
" How did you know anything about it ? "
" You haven't answered me," said Elizabeth, laughing and
colouring brightly.
" One question is as good as another," said Winthrop
" But one answer u much better than another," said Elizabeth .
in a little confusion.
" The suit against Ryle was very successful. I recovered for
him some nbety thousand dollars."
" Ninety thousand dollars I " — Her thoughts took somewhat
of a wide circle and came back.
" The amount recovered is hardly a fair criterion of the skill
employed, in every instance. I must correct your judgment."
" I know more about it than that," said Elizabeth. " How
far your education has gone ! — and mine is only just beginning."
" I should be sorry to think mine was much more thaai begin-
ning. Now do you know we must go down ? — for I must be at
Mountain Spring to meet the stage-coach."
" How soon f " said Elizabeth springing up.
" There is time enough, but I want not to hurry you down
the hill."
Ha bad put her suubonnet on her head again and was re-
tying it.
" Mr. Landholm — "
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SHATEUTUC.
511
" You must not call me that," lie said.
" Let me, till I can get courage to call you something else."
" How much courage does it want ? "
" If you dou't stop," said Elizabeth, her eyes fiUiog with
tears, " I shall not be able to say one word of what I want to
He stood still, holding the strings of her sunbonnet in either
hand. Elizabeth gathered breath, or courage, and went on.
" A little while ago I was grieving myself to thiuk that you
did not know me — now, I am very much ashamed to think that
yon do." —
He did not move, nor she.
" I know I am not worthy to have you look at me. My only
hope is, that you will make me better."
The bonnet did not hide her face this time. He looked at it
a little, at the simplicity of ingenuous trouble which was working
in it, — and then pushing the bonnet a little back, kissed first one
cheek and then the lips, which by that time were bent down al-
most out of reach. But he reached tliem; and Elizabeth was
obliged to take her answer, in which there was as much of gentle
forgiveness and promise as of affection.
" You see what you have to expect, if you talk t« mo in this
strain," said he lightly, " I think I shall not be troubled with
muck more of it. I don't like to leave you in this frame of mind.
I would take you to Mountain Spring in the boat— if I could
bring you back again."
" I could bring myself back," said Elizabeth. They were
going down the hill; in the course of which, it may bo remarked,
Winthrop had no reason to suppose that she once saw anything
but the ground.
" I am afraid you are too tired."
" No indeed I am not. I should like it— if there is time.
" Go in less time that way than the other."
So they presently reached the lower ground.
" Do you want anything from the house ?" said Winthrop as
they came near it.
" Only the oars — If you will get those, I will untie the boat
" Then 111 not get the oara I'll get them on condition that
you stand still here. '
So they went down together to the rocks, and Elizabeth put
herself in the stern of the little boat and they pushid off
To any people who could think of anything but each other,
October offered enough to fill eyes, ears, and understandrng , that
HcsledbyGoOgle
OF THE 8HATEMU0.
'rv''
fil dw
h
wh h
h ps is predicable.
Abs.
h
3 there was a good
deal
b
dn d
d g, perhaps it may
safe!
h
h
w p
e Merry-go-round
took
ev y
g
hyp d
n heir way; with a
redi.
P
wh
li
n he throwing and
catc
b
a
n
wh h, liie the herb-
stuff
A b
ph
d — ay perdu certain
hidd
f ymp
h
B Sh hw
tab s low rocky shore
b
h
to theirs that day,
as tl._
.lowly r.
und it. Colours,
colours! If October
had been
a dyer
, he could not have shewn a greater variety of
There were some locust trees in the open cedar-grown field by
the river; trees that Mr. Landholm had planted long ago. They
were slow to turn, yet they were changing. One soft feathery
head waa in yellowish green, another of more neutral colour; and
blending with them were the tints of a few reddish soft-tinted
aiders bolow. That group waa not gay. Further on were a
thicket of dull coloured alders at the edge of some flags, and
above them blazed a giant huckleberry bush in bright flame
colour ; close by that were the purple red tufts of some common
sumachs — ^the one beautifully rich, the other beautifully striking.
A little way from them stood a tulip tree, its green changing wim
yellow. Beyond came cedars, in groups, wreathed with bright
tawny grape vines and splendid Virginia creepers, now in full
glory. Above their tops, on the higher ground, was a rich green
belt of pines — above them, the dianging trees of tho forest
Here shewed an elm its straw-coloured head — there stood an
ash in beautiful grej-purple ; very stately. The cornus family in
rioh crimson — others crimson purple; maples shewing yellow and
flame-eolour and red all at once; one beauty still in greon was
orange-iipped with rich orange. The birches were a darker hue
of the same colour; hickories bright as gold.
Then came the rocks, and rocky precipitous point of Shahwee-
tah; and the echo of the row-locks from the wall. Then the
point was turned, and the little boat sought the bottom of the
bay, nearing Mountain Spring all the while. The water waa
glassy smooth; the boat went — too fast.
Down in the bay the character of the woodland was a little
different. It was of fuller growth, and with many fewer ever-
greens, and some addition to the variety of the changing deciduous
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE HILLS OF THE SH4TEMU0. 513
leavea, Whea they got quite to the bottom of the hay and were
coasting along close under the shore, there was perhaps a more
striking display of Autumn's glories at their side, than the rocks
of Shahweetali could shew them. They coasted slowly along,
looking and talking. The comhinations were beautiful
Tkere was the dark fine bright red of some pepperidges shew-
ing behind the green of an unchanged maple ; near by stood
another maple the leaves of which were all seemingly withered,
a plain reddish light wood-colour; while below its withered
foliage a thrifty poison sumach wreathing round its trunk and
lower branches, was in a beautiful confusion of fresh green and
the orange and red changes, yet but just begun. Then another
slight maple with the same dead wood-coloured leaves, into which
to the very top a Virginia creeper had twined itself, and that was
cow brilliantly scarlet, magnificent in the last degree. Another
like it a few trees off — both reflected gorgeously in the still water,
Eock oaia were part green and part sear,- at the edge of the
shore below them a quantity of reddish low shrubbery ; the oomus,
dark crimson and red brown, with its white berries shewing un-
derneath, and more pepperidges in very bright red. One maple
stood with its leaves parti- coloured reddish and green — another
with beautiful orange-coloured foliage, Aahes in superb rery
dark purple; they were all changed. Then alders, oaks, and
chestnuts still green. A kaleidoscope view, on water and land,
as the little boat glided along sending rainbow ripples in towards
the shore-
In the bottom of the bay Winthrop brought the boat to land,
under a great red oak which stood in its fair dark green beauty
yet at the very edge of the water. Mountain Spring was a little
way off, hidden by an outsetting point of woods. As the boat
touched the tree-roots, Winthrop laid in the oars and came and
took a seat by the boat's mistress.-
" Are you going to walk to Mountain Spring the rest of the
way ? " she said.
" No."
'• W ill the stage-coach take you up here ? "
" If it comes, it will. What are you going to do with your-
self now, till I see you agaia ? "
" There's enough to do," said Elizabeth sighing. " I am
going to try to behave myself. How soon wOl the coach be here
" I think, not until I have seen you about half way over the
bay on your way home."
HcsledbyGoOgle
THS HILLS OP THE SHATEMUO.
e me," said Elizabeth. " I am not going
Boaeh does."
" Yes you are."
" "What makes you ttink so ? "
" Because it will not come till I have seen you at least, 1
Bhould judge, half across the bay."
" But I don't want to go."
" You are so unaccustomed to doing things you don't want to
do, that it ia good discipline for you."
" Do you mean that seriously ? " said Elizabeth, looking a
little disturbed.
" I mean it half seriously," said he laughing, getting up to
push the boat to Bhore, which had swung a little off.
" But nobody likes, or wants, self-imposed discipline," said
Elizabeth.
" This isn't self-imposed — I impose it," said he throwing tho
rope round a branch of the tree. " I don't mean anytliing that
need make you look so," he added as he came back to his place.
Elizabeth looktd up and her brow cleared.
" I dare say you are right," she said. " I will do just as you
please."
" Stop a minute," said he gently taking her hand — " What do
yon ' dare say ' I am right about ? "
" This — or anything," Elizabeth said, her eye wavering be-
tween the water and the shore.
" I don't want you to think that."
" But how am I going to help it ? "
He smiled a little and looked grave too.
" I am going to give you a lesson to study."
"Well? — " said Elizabeth with quick pleasure; and she
watched, very like a child, while Winthrop sought in his pocket
and brought out an old letter, tore off a piece of the back and
wrote on his knee with a pencil.
Then he gave it to her.
But it was the precept, —
' Little children, keep jourselves from idola."
Elizabeth's faee changed, and her eyes lifted themselves not
up again. The colour rose, and spread, and deepened, and her
head only bent lower down over the paper. That thrust was
with a barbed weapon. And there was a profound hush, and a
bended head and a pained brow, till a hand came gently between
her eyes and the paper and occupied the fingers that held ifc It
HcsledbyGoOgle
THE miXB OF THE eHATEMITO- 515
was the same hand that her faney had once seen full of character
— she saw it again now; her thoughts made a spricg back to
that time and then to this. She looked np.
It was a look to see. There was a witching mingling of the
frank, the childlike, and the womanly, in her trouhled face ;
frankness that would not deuy the truth that her monitor seemed
to have read, a childlike simplicity of shame that he should
have divined it, and a womanly self-respect that owned it had
nothing to ho ashamed of. These were not all the feelings that
were at work, nor that shewed their working ; and it was a face
of brilliant expression that Elizabeth lifted to her companion.
In the cheeks the biood apoko brightly; in the eyes, fire; there
was more than one tear thovo, too ; and the ourre of the lips was
unhent with a little tremulous play. Winthrop must have heen
a man of self-command to have stood it; hut he looked ap-
parently no more concerned than if old Karen had lifted up her
face at him.
" Do you know," she said, and the moved line of the lips
might plainly be seen, — " you are making it the more hard for
me to learn your lesson, even in the very giving it me ? "
" What shall I do ? "
Elizabeth hesitated, and conquered herself.
" I guess you needn't do anything," she said half laughing.
" m try and do my part."
There was a little answer of the face then, that sent Eliza-
beth's eyes to the ground.
"What do you mean by these words? "she said looking at
them again.
" I don't mean anything. I simply give them to yon."
" Yes, and I might see an old musket standing round the
house ; but if you take it up and present it at me, it b fair to ask,
what you mean ? "
" It is not an old musket, to begin with," said Winthrop
laughing ; " and if it goes off, it will shoot you through the
heart."
" You have the advantage of me entirely, this morning I "
s^d Elizabeth. " I give up. I hope the next time you have
the pleasure of seeing me, I shall be myself."
" I hope so. I intend to keep my identity. Now aa that stage-
coach will not come tiU you get half over the hay "
And a few minutes thereafter, the little boat was skimming
back for the point of Shahweetah, though not quite so swiftly as
it had come. But Elizabeth was not a mean oarsman ; and in good
HcsledbyGoOgle
616 THE HILL8 OF THE EHA.TEMUO.
time aha got home, ancl moored the Merry-go-round in its
place.
She was walking up to the house then, in very happy mood,
one hand dependiDg musingly at either string of her suuhonuet,
when she was met by her eonain.
" Well," said Kose, — " haye you been out in the woods all
this while ? "
" No."
" I suppose it's all settled between you and Mr. Land-
holm ? ■'
Elizabeth stood an instant, with hands depending as aforesaid,
and then with a little inclination of her person, somewhat stately
and more graceful, gave Rose to understand, that she had no con-
tradietion to make to this insinuation,
" la it I " said Rose, " Did he come up for that ? "
" I suppose you know what he came for better than I do."
" Did you know I wrote a letter to him ? "
" I guessed it afterwards. Kose ! "—said Elizabeth suddenly,
"there was nothing but about Karen in it?"
" Nothing in the world ! " said Rose quickly. " What should
there be ? "
" What did you write for ? "
" I was frightened to death, and I wanted to see somebody;
and I knew you wouldn't send for him. Wasn't it good I
did 1 — "
Rose clapped her hands. The colour in Elizabeth's face was
gradually getting brilliant. She passed on,
" And now you U live in Manuahatta ? "
Elizabeth did not answer.
" And will you send for old Mr. Landholm to come back and
take care of this place again? "
" Hush, Rose! — Mr. Landholm will do what he pleases."
" You don't please about it, I suppose ? "
" Yes I do, Rose, — not to talk at all on the subject 1 "
HcsledbyGoOgle
A LIST
N :Eyv WORKS
iE N E I
D. APPLE
ITERATUl
30MPAKT,
& 318 BroMway.
',• Omiplttf CufcitouiMB, containing fuU deKcripliots, (o be had m appMeai**» *b
A^onltnra ani Bural AfMiv.
Aiti, Haiin&etiiTeB, and ArcUtw
luimni MLUIn; Biid(«, ■ ■
aM'iiCin ArcJl^GliuVt -
imil'l UnrilH ArcUMUta,
Hv>pi^ ThBOTT of ErklCT Cooatrurtion, -
HdUya'a DieUmuy oT SelenbOc Tflim^
HuTTfl Uaaml oT Elflrtr>rb^>la^,
l^U'A UkiDt] of Ge<ili«;f , , .
RgyiKld^ TreiuLiB oD HADanlilng,
Kographr.
CapL CuitL, or Tw«t; vWra nf .
life at Copt. JohD SnJtb,
Uoon^ LHe of Cht^ CWrut,
Book! of Osneral Utility,
Cranmeted and Meraajitilo Aflkirs*
Ge^raxdiy and AUbhe.
*< TU«b Scb^l GecigrMpli^, . - ■
AntDld'i HkLoiy of RoiuB, . . p - 3 ^
"''f"'Th.«im,Jolio,«Wi Map^ . . »»
Uobon^ (Luid) HUoi? «f Qrorliuid, « tqU, . 4 01
UiolieleAHkiiayof fmoiVl'oti ' ■ » >•
•• HinoTI si Ibo Romu RoiHlUlo, . I «
Aoviin'i Hl^biry nf Oa frfpi^ Rovd1d1vh» ' 41
ningtraCed Worka for Presenl*.
HcsledbyGoOgle
D. ipplttQn & CoMptLBf >g LUt of New Works.
j e^iniiUiSitBiiej rLii«(^' '.
'At &»eDa of England. EyAgiis
'ttojal Qami hm Uii QbIIciIu of Europe,
lb tin Diym of Wadtin^in. ai PorLFail
TheV.mm Otlieiy', II iisiiiv'ni.' 4to.' Aj
The Wgnum of Die Bibla. ^-IIS 18 Ed^i
Willito etWtn. CnuKiauig t^ Splindii En^
CJiild'a Picture and \^^ fook. Joo Engi '.
HKbinu v-urure, NoUilag Hift^
LWDlivflHjr GqoIui. By ArUB Pratt, T T 3a
llUn Smlolplu A Tall Dt raiiDis.' Br
Dfiil|Bn a^DlLsffOut. B; Mia. ^Ib, . * ',
Early Friwilabip. Bj Wn, Cuplav^
F.nnort DaogHBrlthrt. By Ibi. Camorm
Fim InnnuHliinL Br Ali^ &1IB. .
Hwa Oa, Hcqie EruT I B^ I^ary HowlH,
LilDa Q^ Muth (^la. Sr do. . 7
Ulnkbit^ Fui"£. If iSS, Ell'iH^ ''' .'
My dxiM, S'tiSfcinSir. '^V :
"uioiviiio hSil ^ Sra. ii lij' ; ;
owing ima R«iL|iln|. By Ujuy Honittp
T-in Slmn"(TtaT% H^ Sai^dhaiii"'
«-hiot Itlli.AViaorl By Maij Howllt,
-■ -11,11 IwG^aloalf By ,/o. . \
rravolaoT fliibite SaLUTnl, .
H™.db,Googlc
D. IppletOB K Compsny'B List of Mew Works.
Hiseellaneous and Cleaerai Litera-
IABMlifcrBomiMrTiimliiUn dmnliT,
Bildirio-i FLid Tlnn hi Alibima,
mh^ World ID ■ Wdrbabc^ ,
Uei •^d'oHriUa. Bi Kciifiieamitti,
il't HiriotTof CtvililUkd,
^.^^-tt-Sitm. By BBS. a. fusMd, .
HctlHiL My Doeh Bud I, . . .
iSwn'i Hud CnWii,' _- - ■ ■
Jolmmi'i M.uiing °'J^'?^1|^^, ■ ■
LiKoiBlpliin. i Tale ot Hlujmj, .
MnwM UaillBrf, . ,^ . , . ■ -
Muiden Had Ua-rud LHt flfMarj Po^"^i
Huiuil of MaTrimony,
9 pBdliiervD and Lke P«llhi^»iiuri»
™ Prom tte QwiTlarlj Ratlf-L ,r ' ^
.Mil ol ilH Ciliai Slim. lU Dutiu ^
,1 h* i>^llri» Btf ChM, QayHm, .
Tlulosophloal Works.
CoirpiPi PwUnl WorhL . ,
ChuoMrt CoiMrtmrr Tela, . .
Qmio'io iolllpiiiiiili'riiuri". TlonlMsd, .
SilDlliui'i Kdilim of lli8 Enuii Potu. 11 toll.
publlilied. Priti wtol. clMli,
Orlffl'lfi (HalfioJ P"a™,' '■ ■
MoDtCHJntBr^ e«CF0d PodU*. 1 V4
Balif^cnu Torks.
HcsledbyGoOgle
J>. Appleton k Compaaj's List a! K«ir Works.
luobr-i C^niilili Woiki. s ^ '
SSE"^
&l«H«'t ChrinjHIi laabTucUd,
&li«lMh^ FiaellHl ChrisiiBii,
Ti^agBS and Traveb.
CompLeic V- a. l^de Oook, .
ClTCnlnll'i Vd^mm. 9 roll.
UmV TnybiB to l^nuy and Thn«i. 1
NMHI e( ft ThenlcigUKl SludroL IflUD.
Worbi oC FifltioiL
Enp?rJA!, E.l. 'rtoCt..pi™c^r,' !
: \t^ U^Ued 1 or, 1 K^w Von WhiI'
WKftto™!
q 1 UT, Cloud! ofdo
Tbe Lc^ty awl ^ Lowly, i vole. .
Horloa MwilripiB;ar,TheClirl9lua'aCbri»,
H™.db,Googlc
D. AFFLETON & CO:S PUBLIC ATJOUO.
1 Wark Bbonndlng in Eitltlng Scenes and Bemarlcabte Incidents.
Capt. Canot ;
OB,
TWENTY TEAES OF AN AFEIOAIT SLAVER :
THE INTBBIOS, t
WHtltn out and EiiteS/rom the Captain's Jovrjials. Mtmoramda, rami Ocfimirsaliont.
BY BRANTZ MATER.
Odb Tolume. ISmo. With eight Illustratlona. Prica tl SO-
CriUeimis <^ &» Preta,
by Miiyei ftom owsomI oonvarsadons with Canol, and from Journsis which tbs slnverfiir-
nbtied of hla own lite."— WoreeOf Pnttadium.
" Capt fianol, the hero of the nirraUve, la. to onr own knowledge, a Terilable petaon-
ue, snd redd«a In B^tlmors. Tbsre ia no ilnnbl Uist the main Inctilents coDncDt^d with
hfc wtraordliiBiy aaeen hb In avaiy respect true. '—Artlmr^s Borne GazeUe.
•'DndMOnsMpeot,Mlh«bfoer»phrof • remsttiWa man who passed thtongh » sin-
gnlnrly atiura Bud BTentM eapwleoce, it la as Interssling as aoj aea story that we have
evtf' read."^»-!&wA>A Sv«ti*ig J^aveiler.
"Capt Canot has certatnlv passed through a lil^ of dlfflonlty. danger, aod wild, dating
adventure, Hhlchhaamoohiiio air ofromanM. and still he, or rather his edibir tella the
laio with BO niBcL atraightfcrwarinesa, that we cannot donbt 11a tmthfnloeas,"— Jfeto York
"T6e «£k Eonlil not have been better done If the prinelpal aotor had combiaed
the deacrlpHve talent of De Fi» wllh the aatnteness of Fouche aod the doslerlty of Ql
Bias, which trails are ascrlliea 10 the worthy whose araiOBlnlanos we shall soon make by
hia adniWng edttor."— if. Y. IHbime.
"Theaenaial sWIeoflha worklsattrsctiTO, and the narrative spirited and bold— well
lolted lo ttia dating and haaardons onntae of lU^ led bv the adventurer. This booli ia illns-
trated by soveiBl eiwUent engiavlnge.''— SalUmo:
■■TheWogranhy ofBn AMoHi slaver aa taken ft
EDies in this trdSa tor twenty ysBca. Willi great nniurai Keennoan oi jn
ma and uAai he aote, the latter beiiw tk.; phalograiii of the Negro it
beeoao long wanted Au^ewofHr. Maver has illusnaled the voh
nrirable drawings. We aboald think no bool
■o keen an IntereBt"— fi«ne Joamal.
" Oi^ Oaoot has paaed most of his 111^
idTentoree at na and on land, ilvs! In erotes;
fals c* EoMnsoB Orosoe."— Somiifl Pott,
"irsUrrloglniildentB,halr-breadtli escapi
BtereBttag, thie must posseas abundant atlrai
" TMsto a Irae remra of the life of one w
IsUbis In hnnia.. a(«b. We commend tl
Obiaaan B/aorder. _ ,
ldmhiB*L^9aBeaidDnolMd"Jllnger7d'ong over'the'cWmlng pages 3 Gil ElM
uid EoWnson Crusoa— every on^ Bro-slavety or antl-shivery, lo poiobaae this book "—
H™.db,Googlc
p. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
le most intli«Dt1e and Ealertalnlng Life of NapoleoD,
Memoirs of Napoleon,
HIS COUKT A AD FAMILY.
BY THE DUCHEaS D'ABRANTES, (Msdamb Junot.)
Two Volnmes, Svo. 1134 pagci Price »4.
Ksf of Stttl iEnanbinaii tontaintlr iit tJU JlliLBirattly JStrtfloit.
NAPOLEON THE 6EBAT
:ked btm in hia oradlo, md wl
qultled Brlenno onrt r.mo t/. PoH. .>
8(1 ana protecti
dtiiiiic the
If <\>ye. Boarcel
liw the perioil wblcli precadod hfs dopa
COMMAHDEE-IN-CHIEF.
wstohing tlie ilevdopaient of the great genii
MARSHAL JUBOT,
who tecame allied to the oamornf this \ya\
poleun, in^ B^red In most of tlie
BEILLIaNT BNOAQEMEKTS
II tbusc
THIRTY TEAK8,
NAPOLEOH'S ACTIONS,
JOSEPHINE,
THE EMPEEOES AND KINSS,
THE QEEAT MEN OF THE DAT,
THE MARSHALS OF TEEE EMPIRE,
rilB DISTINGUISHED LADIES OF
THE COUKT,
TO deaoribed with minnteneas, whloh pei
BATTLES AND BALLS,
CO JRT INTRIGUES AND BOUDOIE
GOSSIP,
TREATIES AHD FLIRTATIONS,
■■ Erery thine relating to Napoleon is eagerly sought for and road In this conotrr a» weJ
?«lrt?'"l''''?H' w'rt T 'f* estraiirdlnaiT, attraoSona, will not M to command
Btetorr of the
iry of the gieit CoralcBi
lUiatrateit
H™.db,Googlc
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
ReT. SamHcI Osgood's Two Papular Books.
I.
Mile Stones in our Life Journey
Oplnioas cf the Frees.
"fn ao unall i compims, we rBralv meet wiUi more CiUiolLc ajTupatlJos, Bia-wUlil
alBBTcr or mora piacttisal view of the ptlTilMea enjoyed by, Knd the dodfB enjoined, npoi
'il^es
rmy of idfllaon »nd flor ' '
rith an Interest nhloh loses notbii^ W ehange or atttaa«U,aixa,''—I'6nasykia'Kiim.
He wriies kindly; etrong^ sod rwidiibW; or-'- "■■' .m^- i- .w. ™i — . ^ .
^..-a Riiig.lieraid,
perilneot snil sdinlrable in logte, uid glorloiu In conclnslna and cilnuT."— AuyoA
li la written with esqulalte tssle. la full of beautiful thongbt most fellcltousls oi-
led, and la pervaded by a genial and benevolent aplrit"— ^r. Spm^ue.
Almoat every page has a Unctore of elegant scbolusUlp, and bears wltDOEs to an t
Ive resdlnj of geod BaOiora."--Mryani.
II.
The Hearth-Stone ;
THOUGnrS TJPOW HOME LIFE IN" OUR CITIES.
BY SAMUEL OSGOOD,
One Volume, 12mo. Cloth ?rice«l.
diannlnjaiid animated style, winning tlia reader's Jmlgment rather than coercing it tn —
motor's (xmoluslana. The predonilnanl eentintents in the book are purity, sincerity, and
lore. A more clelightfnl culome bos rarel; been pabilshed, and we trust it will baia I
wltlo ofronlatlon, fijr lis InfiuencB lonat be oalntarj npon bnUi old and yoUug."— Comwsr.
f£a^ A4veytie^.
••The 'Hearthstone' Is the avrahol if all those deltghtftil truths which Mr. Dagood heit
■■holy'tblnE^aDd"bomelytTuthl"lS3vomme will find muf warm hesMs ki whlS^lt
*1U tddma ttssU,"— b%Htfian Suamiaa:
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