The Hero of Hill House | Page 2

play."
Three little people trooped off to bed to be tucked in a little later after the good-night kisses and evening prayers. Soon the girls went sleepily off to bed with a good-night kiss. Just Mother and her boys were left, and now was the time for a quiet talk with them. A gentle word from her and the conversation was begun.
Softly she led them on till they were telling her of their doings among the boys, and their plans and hopes. It was only a friendly visit, but into it she put wise counsel as well as thoughtful understanding. They wondered, afterward, if she this evening felt the other shadow which at this time was entirely hidden from their eyes, that she should talk to them so. Perhaps she did. We can not know. But deeper than this was her yearning for her sons just entering manhood. She knew that only a little way at best could she go with them, and then they must choose their own path. She wanted the little time left to be filled with those things that would make their pathway light.
The evening passed, and after a time all were in their beds. Only one low light remained, and that was set to guide the father when he should return.
When the father came, if he had been in condition to notice, he would have seen a bare little room now that the mother was out of it, with signs of poverty everywhere. The old table and worn chairs, bare floors scarred with the tread of little feet, the scant cupboard, the worn shoes by the fire, all told how little the queen of the home had to work with. There was nothing of beauty here but herself and her love.
But Henry Hill did not think any of these thoughts. He was already half asleep, and he crawled into his bed without a word or thought for those whom he should have loved and protected. And in the morning each one of the family secretly thanked God that Father had lain down without disturbing them.
The morning brought another day of busy care for Elizabeth Hill. Her hands were full from morning till night helping, lifting the heavy burdens, and directing the work of the children, in all bearing the responsibility of the family.
Was she happy? Yes, in their love, and in the anticipation of the future of her children, especially her boys just entering manhood. Her thoughts were always with them, and her prayers followed them in all that they did. So much was at stake. Three lives to be made or marred. Three men to bless the world or to curse it. And they had the blight upon them which their father was bringing. Every woman who is a real mother knows that Elizabeth Hill's face was often wet with tears as she contemplated what the future might bring. And happy are the sons who are blessed with such a mother. Her value is untold. The wealth of the world has nothing to compare with her. Yet how often it is taken for granted that she will be as good as she is, and her life made unhappy by the ones for whom she works and prays!
If Elizabeth Hall had known, and if her boys had known, what lay just ahead, perhaps the days would have been made fuller yet of loving counsel and happy association. But the veil was before their faces, and they did not know. Possibly that was best. If the veil were lifted and we knew our future, our hearts might faint within us. It is enough that for each day is given grace for its toils. Elizabeth loved her boys and was giving them the best of herself, and that is all she could have done if she had known.
CHAPTER 2
THE STRICKEN HOME
Henry Hill sat before the fire with his head in his hands and his elbows upon his knees, a picture of utter dejection and sorrow. The house was quiet with an unearthly quietness, those who were compelled to speak using the lowest tones, and tiptoeing about. The little ones, Doyle, Lila, and Harry, were not at home. Amy and Nell were silently, tearfully, trying to wash the few dishes that had been used at the almost untouched breakfast. The boys were attending to the morning chores, with faces as solemn and hearts as heavy as each could carry. A neighbor woman, kind, sympathetic, and busy, but with the same sadness pictured upon her face, kept coming and going between the bedroom and the room in which Mr. Hill sat.
Only that morning the physician had been there and had told them that she whose life had been the light and strength of the home was lying now upon her