The Harvest of Years | Page 3

they could again burst forth; so all my better nature, with its higher thoughts longing to develop, was forced down and back, and now, in the enjoyment of more favorable environment, I was beginning to realize the fruitful life which daily grew upon me, and with it came strength of mind and purpose and an imagery of thought that filled my soul to a delicious fullness.
What a power those conditions were to me! I drank joy in everything. My mother's step was as music, and her teachings even in household affairs a blessing to my spirit. I remember how one day in September I was dishing soup for dinner, the thought--suppose that she dies--came rushing over me like a cold wave, and I screamed aloud; dropping my soup-dish and all, and frightening poor mother almost out of her senses.
"Have you scalded yourself, dear?" she cried, running toward me, and I was nearly faint as I replied:
"Only a thought. I am so sorry about the soup, but it was a terrible thought," and then I told her.
No word of chiding came from her lips. I thought I saw tears in her eyes as she said: "I should not like to leave you, dear. We are very happy here together," and I know my eyes were moist as I thought, "Emily did it," but her mother understands her.
How necessary all those days of feeling, full and deep, combined with the details of practical life were to me, and although I shall never date pleasant memories back to my earlier years, still if I had been too carefully handled and nursed I never could have enjoyed those days so much.
Nearly twenty-four months of uninterrupted work and enjoyment passed over me--and here is a thought from that first experience in soul growth; I cannot ever believe that people will enjoy themselves lazily in heaven more than here; I have another, only a vague idea of how it will be, but I cannot think of being idle there--when a little change appeared, only to usher in what proved to be a greater one, and the days of the June month in which the first came I shall never forget. It was when Hal came to me, hemming and thinking under my favorite tree in the old orchard, while beside me lay my scrap-book in which I from time to time jotted thoughts as they came to me. Hal sat down beside me and said at once:
"I'm going to try it, Emily." I dropped hemming and thinking together, and said:
"Try what?"
"Try my luck."
I was only bewildered by his answer, and he continued:
"Emily, I'm determined to carry out the desires of my life, and now I am intent on a Western city as the place best calculated to inspire me with the courage and strength I need to carry out my aims and purposes, and I thought I'd tell you now that I feel decided, and you will tell mother for me; will you?"
Never before in my life had I felt Hal so near to me. His manner toward me had changed, of course, as he grew into manhood, and "Emily, will you sew on this button?" or "Emily, are my stockings ready?" were given in place of "Emily did it," but now, as he looked full in my face, and even passed his arm about me with true brotherly affection, he seemed so near, that the hot tears chased each other down my cheeks, and I sat speechless with the feelings that overcame me. I thought of the handsome face--always handsome in whatever mood--opposite me at the table, of the manly form and dignified carriage I had watched with pride, and when I could speak, I said,
"Hal I cannot let you go." Hal was brave, but I knew he felt what I said, for his looks spoke volumes as he said,
"Shall you miss me so much?"
"Oh! Hal," I cried, "we love you, mother and I, I never knew how much till now." His head dropped a moment, and then he suddenly said,
"You are the best sister a fellow ever had," and swallowing something that rose in his throat, marched off through the fields directly away from the house. I gathered up my work and scrap book, went in and prepared the supper, showing outwardly no emotion, but with my heart throbbing as if it would tell the secret on which I pondered, while I wondered how I should tell my mother.
Hal came in late to supper. I rushed from the table when I heard his footsteps, and sought my room until I heard him coming up to his room, when I went down stairs and busied myself with my work as usual.
I washed the milk pans three or four times over that night, and was about