Queechy Volume I Part 86

"He made me wish," said Mrs. Rossitur, hesitating, "that I could be something different from what I am ? I believe I should be a great deal happier."

The last word was hardly spoken. Fleda rose to her knees, and putting both arms about her aunt, pressed face to face, with a clinging sympathy that told how very near her spirit was, while tears from the eyes of both fell without measure.

"Dear aunt Lucy ? _dear_ aunt Lucy ? I wish you would ? I am sure you would be a great deal happier ?"

But the mixture of feelings was too much for Fleda; her head sank lower on her aunt's bosom, and she wept aloud.

"But I don't know anything about it," said Mrs. Rossitur, as well as she could speak ? "I am as ignorant as a child!"

"Dear aunty! that is nothing ? G.o.d will teach you, if you ask him ? he has promised. Oh, ask him, aunt Lucy! I know you would be happier. I know it is better ? a million times ? to be a child of G.o.d, than to have everything in the world. If they only brought us that, I would be very glad of all our troubles ? indeed I would."

"But I don't think I ever did anything right in my life," said poor Mrs. Rossitur.

"Dear aunt Lucy!" said Fleda, straining her closer, and with her very heart gushing out at these words ? "_dear_ aunty, Christ came for just such sinners ? for just such as you and I."

"_You_," said Mrs. Rossitur, but speech failed utterly, and with a muttered prayer that Fleda would help her she sunk her head upon her shoulder, and sobbed herself into quietness, or into exhaustion. The glow of the fire-light faded away till only a faint sparkle was left in the chimney.

There was not another word spoken, but when they rose up, with such kisses as gave and took unuttered affection, counsel, and sympathy, they bade each other good-night.

Fleda went to her window, for the moon rode high, and her childish habit had never been forgotten. But surely the face that looked out that night was as the face of an angel. In all the pouring moonbeams that filled the air, she could see nothing but the flood of G.o.d's goodness on a dark world. And her heart that night had nothing but an unbounded and unqualified thanksgiving for all the "gentle discipline" they had felt ? for every sorrow, and weariness, and disappointment; except, besides, the prayer, almost too deep to be put into words, that its due and hoped-for fruit might be brought forth unto perfection.

CHAPTER XXVII.

"If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up."

SHAKESPEARE.

Every day could not be as bright as the last, even by the help of pitch pine knots. They blazed, indeed, many a time, but the blaze shone upon faces that it could not sometimes light up.

Matters drew gradually within a smaller and smaller compa.s.s.

Another five dollars came from uncle Orrin, and the hope of more; but these were carefully laid by to pay Philetus; and for all other wants of the household excepting those the farm supplied, the family were dependent on mere driblets of sums.

None came from Mr. Rossitur. Hugh managed to collect a very little. That kept them from absolute distress ? that, and Fleda's delicate instrumentality. Regular dinners were given up, fresh meat being now unheard of, unless when a kind neighbour made them a present; and appet.i.te would have lagged sadly but for Fleda's untiring care. She thought no time nor pains ill bestowed which could prevent her aunt and Hugh from feeling the want of old comforts; and her nicest skill was displayed in varying the combinations of their very few and simple stores. The diversity and deliciousness of her bread- stuffs, Barby said, was "beyond everything!" and a cup of rich coffee was found to cover all deficiencies of removes and _entremets;_ and this was always served, Barby said further, as if the President of the United States was expected. Fleda never permitted the least slackness in the manner of doing this or anything else that she could control.

Mr. Plumfield had sent down an opportune present of a fine porker. One cold day in the beginning of February, Fleda was busy in the kitchen, making something. for dinner, and Hugh at another table was vigorously chopping sausage-meat.

"I should like to have some cake again," said Fleda.

"Well, why don't you?" said Hugh, chopping away.

"No eggs, Mr. Rossitur ? and can't afford 'em at two shillings a dozen. I believe I am getting discontented ? I have a great desire to do something to distinguish myself ? I would make a plumpudding if I had raisins, but there is not one in the house."

"You can get 'em up to Mr. Hemps's for six pence a pound,"

said Barby.

But Fleda shook her head at the sixpence, and went on moulding out her biscuits diligently.

"I wish Philetus would make his appearance with the cows ? it is a very odd thing they should be gone since yesterday morning, and no news of them."

"I only hope the snow aint so bright it'll blind his eyes,"

said Barby.

"There he is this minute," said Hugh. "It is impossible to tell from his countenance whether successful or not."

"Well, where are the cows, Mr. Skillcorn?" said Barby, as he came in.

"I have went all over town," said the person addressed, "and they aint no place."

"Have you asked news of them, Philetus?"

"I have asked the hull town, and I have went all over, 'till I was a'most beat out with the cold ? and I ha'n't seen the first sight of 'em yet!"

Fleda and Hugh exchanged looks, while Barby and Mr. Skillcorn entered into an animated discussion of probabilities and impossibilities.

"If we should be driven from our coffee dinners to tea with no milk in it!" said Hugh, softly, in mock dismay.

"Wouldn't!" said Fled. "We'd beat up an egg and put it in the coffee."

"We couldn't afford it," said Hugh, smiling.

"Could! ? cheaper than to keep the cows. I'll have some sugar at any rate, I'm determined. ? Philetus!"

"Marm!"

"I wish, when you have got a good pile of wood chopped, you would make some troughs to put under the maple trees ? you know how to make them, don't you?"

"I do."

"I wish you would make some ? you have pine logs out there large enough, haven't you?"

"They hadn't ought to want much of it ? there's some 'gregious big ones!"

"I don't know how many we shall want, but a hundred or two, at any rate; and the sooner the better. Do you know how much sugar they make from one tree?"

"Waul, I don't," said Mr. Skillcorn, with the air of a person who was at fault on no other point; "the big trees gives more than the little ones ?"

Fleda's eyes flashed at Hugh, who took to chopping in sheer desperation; and the muscles of both gave them full occupation for five minutes. Philetus stood comfortably warming himself at the fire, looking first at one and then at the other, as if they were a show, and he had paid for it. Barby grew impatient.

"I guess this cold weather makes lazy people of me!' she said, bustling about her fire with an amount of energy that was significant. It seemed to signify nothing to Philetus; he only moved a little out of the way.

"Didenhover's cleared out," he burst forth, at length, abruptly.

"What!" said Fleda and Barby at once, the broom and the biscuits standing still.

"Mr. Didenhover."

"What of him?"