Hills of the Shatemuc Part 24

"Plenty," said Asahel.

"What?" said Miss Cadwallader; "tell us, will you; for I've come here to live upon wild fruit."

"Yes, ma'am," said Asahel staring a little; -- "there's red raspberries, and black raspberries, and low-bush blackberries and high blackberries, and huckleberries, 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. Oh 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 the clouds; and there he seemed to be disporting himself with all the colours of his palette. There were half a dozen at a time flung on his vapoury canva.s.s, and those were changed and shaded, and mixed and deepened, -- till the eye could but confess there was only one such storehouse of glory. And when the painting had faded, and the soft scattering ma.s.ses 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 radiance 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 clouds; and I am sorry to come down again."

Mr. Landholm 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, Governor?" whispered the little boy, crouching upon the rocks to get nearer his brother's ear.

"How do I like 'em?" said Winthrop; -- "I can't like anybody upon five minutes' notice."

"One of 'em's pretty, ain't she? -- the one with the light- coloured hair?"

"I suppose so," said Winthrop, tying his chain.

"I guess they like it here pretty well," Asahel went on.

"Didn't you see how they looked at everything?"

"No."

"They looked up, and they looked down, and on one side and the other side; and every now and then they looked at you."

"And what did you look at?"

"I looked at them, -- some."

"Well," said Winthrop laughing, "don't look at them too much, Asahel."

"Why not?"

"Why, you wouldn't want to do anything _too_ much, would you?"

"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 Asahel.

But that little speech went home, and for half the way as he walked up to the house holding Asahel's hand, there was something like bitterness in the heart of the elder brother.

So long, but no longer. They had got only so far when he 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 clear-sighted as I am, Asahel, for I always know when you are looking at me."

"Ah, I don't believe you do!" said Asahel laughing up at him; "I very often look at you when you don't look at me."

"Don't trust to that," said Winthrop.

There was in the little boy's laugh, and in the way he wagged his brother's hand backwards and forwards, a happy and confident a.s.surance that Winthrop could do anything, that it was good to do.

Everybody was at the supper-table; there was nothing for Winthrop then to do but to take his place; but his _countenance_ to his mother, all supper-time, was worth a great deal. His cool collected 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, talking, and eating, managed to do her full share of all three. She was certainly very pretty.

Her "light-coloured" hair was not so light as to be uncomely, and fell in luxuriant ringlets all round the sides of her pretty head; and the head moved about enough to shake the ringlets, till they threatened to form a mazy net to catch men's eyes. The prettiest mouth in the world, set with two little rows of the most kissable 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 business was the last thing thought of. Yet it was wonderful how much business they managed to transact on their own account, too. The other girl sat grave and reserved, even almost with an air of shyness, eat much less, and talked none at all; and indeed her face was pale and thin, and justified what her father had said about her wanting the country. Rufus seemed to have got back his good-humour. He quite kept up the credit of his side of the table.

Immediately after supper the two girls went to their room.

"Well, how do you like 'em?" said Mr. Landholm. "Did ye ever see a prettier creature, now, than that Rose? Her face is like a rose itself."

"It is more like a peach-blossom," said Rufus.

"The little one don't look well," said Mrs. Landholm.

"I wonder who'll go strawberrying with them," said Asahel.

CHAPTER IX.

_Mat_. "He is of a rustical cut, I know not how; he doth not carry himself like a gentleman of fashion."

_Wet_. "Oh, Mr. Matthew, that's a grace peculiar but to a few."

EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR.

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 unpainted. An extraordinary gay satin toilet-cushion; and over it a little looking-gla.s.s, surrounded and surmounted with more than an equal surface of dark carved wooden framing.

It was to this unwonted prospect that the early June sun opened the young ladies' eyes the next 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. Miss Cadwallader's pretty face lay back on the pillow, 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 quite beyond control of herself. Elizabeth did not ask again.

"Isn't this a funny place we've come to!" said Miss Cadwallader at last, relapsing.

"I don't see anything very laughable," said Elizabeth.

"But isn't it a _quizzical_ place?"