Hills of the Shatemuc Part 13

"You are a good walker, Miss Elizabeth."

A slight glance at him, and no answer.

"Do you often go out alone so late?"

"Whenever I want to."

"How do you like living in the city?"

"I? -- I don't know. I have never lived there."

"Have you lived here?"

"Yes."

The tone was perfectly self-possessed and equally dry. He tried her again.

"My brother says you have a very pleasant place."

There was no answer at all this time. Winthrop gave it up as a bad business.

It had grown nearly dark. She hurried on, as much as was consistent with a pace perfectly steady. About half a mile from the village she came to a full stop, and looked towards him, almost for the first time.

"You can leave me now. I can see the light in the windows."

"Not yet," said Winthrop smiling -- "Mr. Glanbally would hardly think I had done my duty."

"Mr. Glanbally needn't trouble himself about me! He has nothing to do with it. This is far enough."

"I must go a little further."

She started forward again, and a moment after hardly made her own words good. They encountered a large drove of cattle, that spread all over the road. Little independence plainly faltered here and was glad to walk behind her guard, till they had pa.s.sed quite through. They came then to the iron gate of her grounds.

"You needn't come any further," she said. "Thank you."

And as she spoke she opened and shut the gate in his face.

Winthrop turned about and retraced his steps homeward, to read his brother's letter. It was read by his little end of candle after he went up to bed at night.

"Little River, Nov. 1807.

"My dear governor,

"For I expect you will be all that, one of these days, (a literal "governor," I mean,) or in some other way a.s.sert your supremacy over nineteen twentieths of the rest of the human race. Methinks even now from afar I see Joseph's dream enacting, in your favour, only you will perforce lack something of his _baker's dozen_ of homages in your own family.

Unless -- but n.o.body can tell what may happen. For my part I am sincerely willing to be surpa.s.sed, so it be _only by you;_ and will swing my cap and hurrah for you louder than anybody, the first time you are elected. Do not think I am more than half mad. In truth I expect great things from you, and I expect without any fear of disappointment. You have an obstinacy of perseverance, under that calm face of yours, that will be more than a match for all obstacles in your way; indeed obstacles only make the rush of the stream the greater, if once it get by them; the very things which this minute threatened to check it, the next are but trophies in the foaming triumph of its onward course. You can do what you will; and you will aim high. Aim at the highest.

"_I_ am aiming as hard as I can, and so fast that I can't see whether my arrows. .h.i.t. Not at the capture of any pretty face, -- though there are a few here that would be prizes worth capturing; but really I am not skilled in that kind of archery and on the whole am not quite ready for it. An archer needs to be better equipped, to enter those lists with any chance of success, than alas! I am at present. I am aiming hard at the dressing up of my mind, in the sincere hope that the dressing up of my person may have some place in the after-piece. In other words, I am so busy that I don't know what I am doing.

Asphodel was a miserable place (though I am very glad you are in it) -- my chances of success at Little River are much better. Indeed I am very much to my mind here; were I, as I said, a little better equipped outwardly, and if my aunt Landholm only had mamma's recipe for making pumpkin pies; or, as an alternative, had the pumpkin crop this season but failed. But alas! the huge number of the copper-coloured tribe that lurked among the corn forests a few weeks ago, forbid me to hope for any respite till St. Nicholas jogs my aunt L.'s elbow.

"I have left myself no room to say with how much delight I received your letter, nor with what satisfaction I think of you as having fairly started in the race. You have entered your plough, now, Governor, -- quick, quick, for the other side.

"Thine in the dearest rivalry,

"Will. Rufus Landholm

"All manner of love to mamma, papa, and the little ones, from Will."

In another corner, -- "I am sorry Mr. Haye makes so little stay at Asphodel at this time -- you will not see anything of him, nor of his place."

"I can bear that," thought Winthrop.

He was much too busy to see men or places. One fortnight was given to the diligent study of Algebra; two other little fortnights to Latin; and then his father came and took him home, sooner than he expected. But he had "entered his plough."

Yet it was hard to leave it there just entered; and the ride home was rather a thoughtful one. Little his father knew what he had been about. _He_ thought his son had been "getting a little schooling;" he had no notion he had begun to fit himself for College!

Just as they reached the river, at a little hamlet under the hill at the foot of the north bay, where the road branched off to skirt the face of the tableland towards the home promontory, the wagon was stopped by Mr. Underhill. He came forward and unceremoniously rested both arms upon the tire of the fore wheel.

"Mornin'. Where' you been?"

"A little way back. 'Been to Asphodel, to fetch my son Winthrop home."

"Asphodel? -- that's a good way back, ain't it?"

"Well, a dozen miles or so," said Mr. Landholm laughing.

"Has he been to the 'cademy too?"

"Yes -- for a little while back, he has."

"What are you going to make of your sons, neighbour Landholm?"

"Ah! -- I don't know," said Mr. Landholm, touching his whip gently first on one side and then on the other side of his off horse; -- "_I_ can't make much of 'em -- they've got to make themselves."

Neighbour Underhill gave a sharp glance at Winthrop and then came back again.

"What do you reckon's the use of all this edication, farmer?"

"O -- I guess it has its uses," said Mr. Landholm, smiling a little bit.

"Well, do you s'pose these boys are goin' to be smarter men than you and I be?"

"I hope so."

"You do! Well, drive on! --" said he, taking his arms from the top of the wheel. But then replacing them before the wagon had time to move --

"Where's Will?"