The Harvest of Years | Page 3

if any dared
to show their heads an untimely word or deed would bring a
reproach--if only in the three words, "Emily did it"--and this reproach
was like the stamping of feet on violet buds, breaking, crushing and
robbing them of their sweet promise. The life then must go back into
the roots and a long time elapse ere 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