Mrs. Morris gave the physician her account of the accident, the
physician gave the reporters his, and no other ever got into the old
street or the town it looks down upon with such sweet superiority.
Said the rustic vestryman to another pall-bearer, as they turned toward
their homes, "Many's the time All Angels's been craowded, but I never
see it craowded as 'twas this time."
The new mound was white under January snows when Godfrey and Isabel
first stood beside it together; and when summer had come and gone again,
and at last the time drew near when, by the regular alternations of the
service, the ocean wanderer's three years afloat were to be followed by
three ashore, it was beside that mound that Ruth let him ask the
long-withheld question.
And once more the new year followed the old.
On one of its earliest days, "I cal'late," a certain somebody began to
say to General Byington, "th' never was a happier weddin' so quiet, nor
a qui--" But he caught the sheen of his daughter's spectacles and
forebore.
And still moved on the heavenly procession of the seasons; and as each
new one passed with smile and song, and strewed its flowers or fruits
on Bylow Hill, the memory of one who after life's fitful fever slept
soundly at last was ever a sweet forgetting of all that had once been
bitter, and a sweeter and sweeter remembrance of whatsoever things had
been pure, lovely, and of good report.
One day the travelling salesman of fruit trees came again. This time he
met Minnie, some of whose information puzzled him.
"But I thought you said the young Mrs. Winslow lived in the large house
on this side."
"Yes, but that's the other one; that's Mrs. Isabel Winslow, the widow.
Captain Winslow, he's so much o' the time to the navy yard that him and
his wife they just keep their home along with her father and Mr.
Leonard."
"And who is it that, I understand, a Mr. Giles over here is about to
marry?"
For reply Minnie covered her mouth and nose with her hand, sputtered,
and shut the door in his face.
Another year went by, yet another followed, and still Ruth--daughter,
sister, wife, and mother--remained the happy mistress of the house in
which she was born, and Leonard remained one of her household. Mrs.
Morris turned the cottage over to Mr. and Mrs. Giles--hem!--and dwelt in
the Winslow house with Isabel; who, even the young said, grew more
beautiful and lovable all the time.
But there came a day, after all,--year uncertain,--when Leonard, with
Mrs. Morris's little namesake on his knee, asked Isabel if she did not
think it would be well for him to go away for a while; and Isabel
murmured no.
So by and by the Winslow pair went to live in the Winslow house, and the
Byington pair in the Byington house; and if you listen well, you may
hear an aged voice, a voice with a brogue, saying:--
"Ay! there's a Linnard Winslow, now, and there's a Godfrey Boyington.
And there's still an Isable Winslow and a Ruth Boyington. But the mother
of Ruth Boyington is she that wor Isable Winslow, moy graciouz! and the
mother of Isable Winslow is she that wor Ruth Boyington. And so there
be's an Isable in the wan house and an Isable in th' other; and there
be's a Ruth in the wan house and a Ruth in th' other, moy graciouz! and
there's an Airthur in each, whatsomiver!"