Hills of the Shatemuc Part 39

"Why?"

Winifred was silent and looked thoughtfully into the box.

"Rufus and Governor will not care if it is."

"They needn't care," said Asahel, who was also at the box- side. "They can bear to be not quite so smart as other folks.

Mr. Haye said 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 _she_ would like to have them smart.

"O 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 -- n.o.body 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.

At last Mr. Landholm went off, recommending to all of them to go to bed. Asahel, who had been in good spirits on the matter all along, followed his father. The mother and daughter and the two boys were left alone round the kitchen fire.

They were more silent than ever then, for a good s.p.a.ce; 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 the silence.

"What mark are you aiming at, boys? -- what are you setting before you as the object of life?"

"What _mark_, mother?" said Rufus after an instant's pause.

"Yes."

"To make something of myself!" he said rising, and with that fire-flashing 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 be. I am not, I feel, a t.i.the of that now."

"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 Rufus.

"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 Rufus, -- "if I can, -- in some way."

"I am afraid it is no better than that with me, mother," said Winthrop; "though perhaps I should rather say my desire is to _be distinguished_."

"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! -- "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. Remember 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'! --"

Not preach to them? And what was her hidden face and bowed head? -- a preaching the like of which they were never to hear from mortal voices. But not a word, not a lisp, fell from one of them. Winifred had run off; the rest hardly stirred; till Mrs. Landholm 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 somewhere praying for you."

They said no more, even to each other, that night.

Nor much the next day. It was the time for doing, not thinking. There was not indeed much to do, except to get off; but that seemed a great deal. It was done at last. Mrs.

Landholm from the window of the kitchen watched them get into the wagon and drive off; and then she sat down by the window to cry.

Asahel had gone to ride as far as the mountain's foot with his 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 was only to help 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 quiet, the same 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 be 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 gazing 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.

"Rest, daughter, can't you?"

"I wasn't worrying, mamma."

"Wa'n't you?"

"I was thinking of 'They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.'"

"Why, dear?"

"I am so glad I can wash mine, mother."

"Yes -- Why, my dear child?"

"There are so many spots on them."

Her mother stooped down beside her and spoke cheerfully.

"What are you thinking of now, Winnie?"

"Only, mamma, I am glad to think of it," she said, nestling her sunny little 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 given them better if I had had them."

"But mamma, ought I to have wished that?"