Hills of the Shatemuc | Page 8

do the best I can by my children. I can't do as I would by them all," said the father, with a mixture of pride expressed and pride not expressed, -- "but I'll try to make a man of Will!"
"And t'other'll make a man of himself," said Mr. Underhill, as he saw Winthrop quit the stoop. "_He'll_ never run a plough up the side of a house. But what kind of a man are you going to make of Will? -- a great man?"
"Ah, I don't know!" said Mr. Landholm with a sigh. "That must be as Providence directs."
"Hum -- I should say that Providence directs you to keep 'em both to hum," said Mr. Underhill; -- "but that's not my affair. Well, I'm going. -- I hear you are goin' to be in Vantassel this winter?"
"Yes -- I'm going to make laws for you," Mr. Landholm answered laughing.
"Well --" said Mr. Underhill taking his hat, -- "I wish they'd put you up for President -- I'd vote for you!"
"Thank you. Why?"
"'Cause I should expect you'd give me somethin' nother and make a great man of _me!_"
With a laugh at his own wit, Mr. Underhill departed.
CHAPTER III.
But who shall so forecast the years, And find in loss a gain to match? Or reach a hand through time to catch The far-off interest of tears? TENNYSON.
The day came.
The farewell dinner was got ready -- the best of the season it must be, for the honour of all parties and the love of one; but it mocked them. Mrs. Landholm's noble roast pig, and sweet chickens, and tea and fine bread; they were something to be remembered, not enjoyed, and to be remembered for ever, as part of one strong drop of life's bittersweet mixture. The travellers, for Mr. Landholm was to accompany his son, had already dressed themselves in their best; and the other eyes, when they could, gazed with almost wondering pride on the very fine and graceful figure of the young seeker of fortune. But eyes could do little, and lips worse than little. The pang of quitting the table, and the hurried and silent good-byes, were over at last; and the wagon was gone.
It seemed that the whole household was gone. The little ones had run to some corner to cry; Winthrop was nowhere; and the mother of the family stood alone and still by the table in the kitchen where they had left her.
An old black woman, the sole house servant of the family, presently came in, and while taking up two or three of the plates, cast looks of affectionate pity at her mistress and friend. She had been crying herself, but her sorrow had taken a quiet form.
"Don't ye!" she said in a troubled voice, and laying her shrivelled hand timidly on Mrs. Landholm's shoulder, -- "don't ye, Mis' Landholm. He's in the Lord's hand, -- and just you let him be there."
Mrs. Landholm threw her apron over her face and went out of the kitchen into her own room. The old woman continued to go round the table, gathering the plates, but very evidently busy with something else; and indeed humming or talking to herself, in a voice far from steady,
"'There is a happy land, Where parting is unknown --'"
She broke off and sat down and put her face in her hands and wept.
"Oh Lord! -- oh good Lord! -- I wish I was there! -- Be still Karen -- that's very wicked -- wait, wait. 'They shall not be ashamed that wait for him,' he said, -- They will not be ashamed," she repeated, looking up, while the tears streamed down her cheeks. "I will wait. But oh! -- I wisht I had patience! I want to get straight out of trouble, -- I do. Not yet, Karen, -- not yet. 'When he giveth quietness, then who can make trouble?' That's it -- that's my way."
She went about her business and quietly finished it.
It had long been done, and the afternoon was wearing well on, when Mrs. Landholm came into the kitchen again. Karen had taken care of the children meanwhile. But where was Winthrop? The mother, now quite herself, bethought her of him. Karen knew he was not about the house. But Mrs. Landholm saw that one of the big barn doors was open, and crossed over to it. A small field lay between that and the house. The great barn floor was quite empty, as she entered, except of hay and grain, with which the sides were tightly filled up to the top; the ends were neatly dressed off; the floor left clean and bare. It oddly and strongly struck her, as she saw it, the thought of the hands that had lately been so busy there; the work left, the