CHAPTER XXVIII.

Mrs. Kinalden was in a terrible flutter. Her lodger's "traps" had come,

and were well disposed in his silent room; she had every thing in order

to receive him. The light and the sun were admitted into the long-time

darkened space, and puss was curled up upon the rug as if she had never

known another resting-place. The dove-colored merino went up and down

the stairs, and the clean cap-border flew backward with every agitated

movement.

"It was very strange that he didn't come! Hadn't the boat been in since

ten o'clock in the morning? so the truckman told her, and here were the

hands at two in the afternoon! There was no accounting for it after all

that had passed between them!" However, it couldn't be helped, and as

the hour of three struck, and no Mr. Bond appeared, the despairing woman

betook herself to her green moreen rocking-chair, and, what else could

she do?--wept. Yes, wept! and while the red silk handkerchief hid her

disappointed face, a heavy step sounded in the hall, and a familiar

voice came through the half-open door of the little parlor. "Heigh-ho!

what's the matter here? I thought I'd escaped the terrors of the briny

deep; but bless my heart! here I am in the midst of it again!" and Mr.

Bond's plump hand was extended to greet his landlady, who quickly wiped

away the offending drops, and grew calm. "Couldn't come before, madam,"

said he, in reply to her question as to what had detained him so long.

"Had to go first and see how Nannie and Pat got on, you know!" That was

rather overwhelming--so inconsistent with "My dear Mrs. Kinalden."

The shocked widow looked indignant and muttered something about

"professions of regard," and "affectionate epistles," etc.; but it was

all lost upon the obtuse man who talked on, about what especially

concerned him, and then went gleefully up the stairs.

What wonder if his heart did beat quicker as his hand touched the knob

of his room-door! Isn't it like meeting a dear friend, after a long

absence, to cross the threshold of a cherished locality? The very

inanimate things seemed invested with a silent joy at his return, and

the face from the portrait beamed out a glad welcome. There are tears in

the bachelor's eyes as they meet the blue orbs so fondly fastened upon

him, for his thoughts are upon the gentle and confiding embrace that was

once his. Woe unto you, Mrs. Kinalden! If there were a single

impregnable spot in the good man's bosom, that tear would never have

found its birth.

Puss, awakened by the heavy foot-falls, leaps about her master's legs,

and gives a spring into his narrow lap, as he takes his chair,

maintaining her precarious position by fastening her claws tightly in

his broadcloth, to the no small danger of the limbs beneath, and purrs

her perfect satisfaction. Oh! it's a good thing to get home! There's not

so comfortable a place on the face of the earth, as the spot we call our

own, with the objects that meet our daily touch strewn all about in

their accustomed places. It's a pleasant thing to go out into the wide

world too, and gather up a noble stock of incidents and experience, and

thoughts, to expand the ideas that get pent-up and contracted by a

narrow and confined position; but it is far better to turn about with

one's face toward the dearer haunts and the best loved friends, and the

familiar pleasures!

So thought the weary old man, as he sat in his big arm-chair, while his

vision roved from one thing to another in his cosey room, and the warm

breath of his favorite puss touched his hand.

It was all like a dream to him--the path he had trodden upon the deep,

and the wanderings amid tropical scenes, and the transition from place

to place within the last few months! He arose and looked into the garden

below. When he had left, a white covering was spread over every thing

and the sun's rays fell coldly upon snow and ice. Now there was fresh

foliage upon trees and shrubs, and the perfume from newly-blown roses

came up to greet his willing senses, and the little girls were playing

under the thick shade. They looked up with a merry shout, as a shower of

bon-bons fell upon their heads, and clapped their hands for very

rapture, as the happy face peered out upon them through the half-closed

blinds.

The Elm Tree Tales · 第 28 / 36 章