Minnie is in her new home in Springfield.
Springfield is a village set at the base of a series of hills, which it
is an article of faith to call mountains. They are not on the map, but
that matters little. We ought to be thankful that the dullness of the
guide-book makers and topographists has still left us here and there
serene bits of nature.
Springfield had a church, and a school, and a post office, and a tavern.
It was a scattered sort of place, and a week of it would have proved the
death of a city lady, accustomed to life only as it glows with color, or
sparkles with the champagne of passion. Minnie had never seen a city.
She was content that her days should be spent close to the calm heart of
nature. She felt the parting with old friends at Lake Megantic keenly.
She murmured "farewell" to the woods in accents choked with tears.
All the associations of childhood, and the more vivid and precious
associations of her early womanhood, crowded upon her that last day.
Donald occupied the chief place in her thoughts. He was far away. Should
they ever meet again? Should their sweet companionships ever be renewed?
The cares of her new home won her back to content.
Minnie's mother was feeble, and required careful nursing. Her own early
life had been darkened by hardships. When a young girl she had often
gone supperless to bed. Her bare feet and legs were bitten by the
cutting winds of winter. Her people had belonged to the North of
Ireland. She herself was born in the south of Antrim. Her mother was
early left a widow, without means of support. She worked in the fields
for fourpence a day, from six to six, and out of this she had to pay
a shilling a week for rent, and buy food and clothing for herself and
orphan child. Her employer was a Christian, and deeply interested in
the social and spiritual welfare of the heathen! When the outdoor
work failed in the winter, she wound cotton upon the old-fashioned
spinning-wheel, and Minnie's mother often hung upon the revolving spool
with a fearful interest. Mother and child were often hungry. The finish
of the cotton at a certain hour of the day meant a small pittance
wherewith bread could be bought. A minute after the office hour, and
to the pleading request that the goods be taken and the wages given, a
brutal "No" would be returned, and the door slammed in the face of the
applicant. This was frequently the experience of the poor woman and her
child.
At least death is merciful. It said to the widow--"Come, end the
struggle. Close your eyes, and I will put you to sleep."
Minnie's mother was adopted by a lady who subsequently took up her
residence in Scotland, and a modest ray of sunshine thence continued to
rest upon her life: but her early sufferings had left their mark.
Of her mother's life Minnie knew but little. What she perceived was that
she needed all her love and care, and these she offered in abundant
measure.