Hills of the Shatemuc Part 121

What did I go 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.

CHAPTER VII

Since he doth lack Of going back Little, whose will Doth urge him to run wrong, or to stand still.

BEN JONSON.

One of the warm evenings in that summer, when the windows were all open of Winthrop's attic and the candles flared in the soft breeze from the sea, Rufus came in. Winthrop only gave him a look and a smile from his papers as he appeared; and Rufus flung himself, or rather dropped down, upon the empty couch where Winnie used to lie. Perhaps the thought of her came 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 somewhat else; he was certainly looking at him. Winthrop looked at nothing but his papers; and the rustling of them was all that was heard, beside the soft rush of the wind.

"Always at work?" said Rufus, in a dismal tone, half desponding and wholly disconsolate.

"Try to be. --"

"Why don't you snuff those candles?" was the next question, given with a good deal more life.

"I didn't know you wanted more light," said Winthrop, stopping to put in order the unruly wicks his brother referred to.

"What are you at there?"

"A long answer in chancery."

"Ryle's?"

"No -- Mr. Eversham's case."

"How does Ryle's business get on?"

"Very satisfactorily. I've got light upon that now."

"What's the last thing done?"

"The last thing I did was to file a replication, bringing 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 was silent, going on with his 'answer.'

"How much do you expect you'll get from them?"

"Can't tell yet. I somewhat expect to recover a very large sum."

"Winthrop -- I wish I was a lawyer --" Rufus said presently with a sigh.

"Why?" said his brother calmly.

"I should -- or at least I might -- 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," Rufus said despondingly.

Rufus got off his couch and began gloomily to walk up and down.

"How easily those who are doing well themselves can bear the ill haps of their friends!" he said.

Winthrop went back to his papers and studied them, with his usual calm face and in silence, for some time. Rufus walked and cogitated for half an hour.

"I ought not to have said that, Winthrop," were his first words. "But now look at me!"

"With pleasure," said Winthrop laying down his 'answer' -- "I have looked at many a worse man."

"Can't you be serious?" said Rufus, a provoked smile forcing itself upon him.

"I thought I was rarely anything else," said Winthrop. "But now I look at you, 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. "You always made the best show, in any position."

"Other people don't think so," said Rufus, turning with a curious struggle of feeling in his face, and turning to hide it in his walk up and down.

"What ails you, Will? -- I don't know what you mean."

"You deserve it!" said Rufus, swallowing something in his mind apparently, that cost him some trouble.

"I don't know what I deserve," said Winthrop gravely. "I am afraid I have not got it."

"How oddly and rightly we were nicknamed in childhood!" Rufus went on bitterly, half communing with himself. -- "I for fiery impulse, and you for calm rule."

"I don't want to rule," said Winthrop half laughing. "And I a.s.sure you I make no effort after it."

"You do it, and always will. You have the love and respect 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," said Winthrop after a little pause. "But even suppose it were -- those are not the things one lives for."

"What _does_ one live for then!" Rufus said almost fiercely.

"At least they are not what I live for," said Winthrop correcting himself.

"What do _you_ live for?"