A Little Girl in Old Salem | Page 5

"I tell her that's a good deal to be thankful for," remarked Cousin Giles.
"It is indeed," commented Chilian.

"And I have a lad who is all for study and wants to come in to Harvard.
He has been teaching school this winter. His father's quite set against it,
and I don't know how it will end. He will be only nineteen in August,
and his father thinks he has a hold on him two years longer."
Mrs. Drayton looked up rather appealingly.
"If his mind is made up to that, he will work his way through," said
Chilian, and he thought he should like to know the boy.
"You see the next two are girls and they can't help much about a farm.
Father really needs him. And I seem to stand between two fires. His
teaching term will end in May, but he has planned to take the school
next winter. He has made quite a bit of money."
Chilian thought he would be a lad fully worth helping, and made a
mental note of it. He liked the mother.
It was settled that they would reach Salem about noon in the stage, the
only mode of conveyance, and they parted with a pleased friendliness.
Chilian rehearsed the interview at home to the great delight of the
household. Indeed, he had been very well pleased with the prospective
visitors and he felt rather thankful for the respite from the shadow the
coming event was casting. A little girl! It did annoy him.
He did not allow it to interfere with his duties as host, however. The
three ladies had a most delightful visit at Salem, looking up points of
interest and hearing old history concerning the Leveretts. Chilian's
father had jotted down many facts. There were seafaring uncles, who
had brought home trophies; there were men in the family, who had died
for their country if they had not filled eminent positions; others who
had. How this branch of the family seemed to have dwindled away!
Serena Thatcher was more than pleased with her cousin, though she felt
somewhat awed by his attainments and his rather punctilious ways. Mrs.
Brent set him down as a good deal of a Miss Nancy. But the ladies had
a delightful time going over family histories and getting relationships

disentangled.
When the eventful day of parting came it brought a very real sorrow.
They made promises that they would renew their meetings and keep
each other in mind.
It was Saturday evening when the Leverett household sat around the
cheerful fire in the cozy room where the small family gathered on this
evening of the week with their work all done, after the fashion of the
past, still strictly observed by many of the older Puritan families. The
industrious ladies sat with folded hands. Sometimes Chilian read aloud
from a volume of the divines who had finished their good fight.
This night he was gazing idly in the fire, the lines in his face deepening
now and then.
"I suppose he is tired with all the talk, and rambles, and confusion of
the week," Elizabeth thought, stealing furtive glances at him.
He straightened himself presently and made a pretence of clearing his
throat, as an embarrassed person often does.
"I have something to tell you," he began. "I thought I would not disturb
you while our relatives were here. We found enough to talk about;"
with a short half-laugh.
"And it tired you out, I know. We live so quietly that such an event
quite upsets us," Eunice said in a gentle, deprecating tone.
"It was very pleasant," he added. "I was a good deal interested in
Anthony Drayton. But this is something quite different. Can you recall
that I had a letter from the East Indies the morning the word came from
Cousin Giles?"
"Why, yes!" Elizabeth started in surprise. "I had really forgotten about
it. Business, I suppose, with Anthony Leverett. Why, I think it is high
time he came home."

Chilian sighed. "I am afraid--though I cannot see why we should fear
so much to enter the other portal, since it is the destiny of all, and we
believe in a better world. He was hopelessly ill when he wrote and was
winding up some business matters. He is a brave man to meet death so
composedly. The only pang is parting from his child."
"Oh, his little girl! Let me see--she must be eight or nine years old.
What will become of her?"
"He makes me executor and guardian of the child. She was to start
three weeks after his letter with Captain Corwin in the Flying Star.
That will be due, if it meets with no mishap, from the middle to the last
of April."
"But she doesn't come alone!"