snowy. But he is no worse; a little better and brighter, if anything.
But all the same, I want you to stay."
"Well, I don't care if I do a spell. You must be hard up for company to
be so glad to see me."
Miss Betsey sat down by the fire, and took her knitting from her pocket.
There were tears in Elizabeth's eyes which Betsey pretended not to see,
and which Elizabeth did her best to keep back. She went into her
father's room for a minute, and looked cheerful enough as she took her
seat on the other side of the hearth opposite her cousin, with her work
in her hand. But when she began to answer Betsey's questions about her
father--his appetite, his strength, his nights, his days--the tears came
again, and this time they fell over her cheeks. For she found herself
sorrowfully telling that though he had comfortable days, and days when
he seemed just as he used to do, it was evident that his strength was
failing more rapidly than it had ever done during any winter before.
She let her work fall on her lap, and leaning her elbow on the table,
covered her face with her hands.
"He is an old man," said Betsey, gravely.
"Yes. But he is all I have got," said Elizabeth, speaking with
difficulty.
"He is your father, but he is not all you've got. Don't say that."
"There is no one else that cares very much about me. If I were sick or
in trouble, I think I would have a better right to come to you, Cousin
Betsey, than to any one else in the world."
"Well, and why not? You ought to have had a sister," said Betsey.
Elizabeth laughed a little hysterically.
"I have--Jacob's wife," said she.
"Humph," said Betsey. "I'll tell you what's the matter with you; you're
nervous, and no wonder."
"Oh, Cousin Betsey! don't be hard on me. I'll be all right in a minute.
I know I'm foolish, and it is a shame now that you are here not to be
better company."
"You are nervous," repeated Betsey. "And what you want is to feel the
fresh air blowing about you. See here, old Samson is right here in the
shed. You go and put on your things and have a drive. It will do you
all the good in the world."
"And will you come with me?"
"No, I guess not. Then you'd want to hurry right home again, because of
your father. I'll stay with him, and then you won't worry. If he's
pretty well, I want to have a talk with him anyway, and now will be as
good a time as any. So don't you hurry back."
"Well, I won't. But it doesn't seem worth while to go alone."
"Yes, it does. And see here! You go over as far as Mrs Fleming's.
She'll do you good, and maybe she'll let Katie come home with you to
stay a day or two. What you want is to have somebody to look at besides
Sally Griffith, and I don't know anybody any better for that than little
Katie Fleming. Her grandmother will let her come, seeing you are
alone."
It was not a blight day even yet, though the snow had ceased to fall,
and the clouds were clearing away. Elizabeth looked out of the window,
hesitating.
"If any one should come in," said she.
"Well, I guess I could say all that need be said--unless it was anybody
very particular, and then I could keep them till you came home again."
"Well, I'll go; and thank you, cousin," said Elizabeth, laughing.
She did not drive old Samson. He was safely stabled by this time. She
drove her own horse and sleigh with its pretty robes, and acknowledged
herself better the very first breath of wind that fanned her cheek. The
snow had fallen so heavily as to make it not easy to drive rapidly, and
so she enjoyed all the more the winter sights and sounds that were about
her. The whole earth was dazzlingly white. The evergreen trees in the
graveyard looked like pyramids of snow. The trunks of the great maples
under which she passed as she drew near Mr Fleming's house, showed
black and rugged, and so did the leafless boughs that met each other
overhead.
But even the great boughs were bending under their load of new-fallen
snow, and every now and then, as the wind stirred them, it fell in
great, soft masses silently to the ground. How still and restful it
was. The sleigh-bells tinkled softly, and there was a faint rushing of
the wind through the trees, and the sharp stroke of an axe was heard now
and then in the distance. That was all. Elizabeth put away all
troubled thoughts to enjoy it, and there were no traces of tears, no
signs of nerves visible, when she drove up to Mrs Fleming's door. She
had been there a good many times since the night she had made the visit
with Clifton and the minister, and she never came but that she was
heartily welcomed by them all.
"Especially welcome to-day, when we never expected to see any one after
such a fall of snow. Come awa' ben, Miss Elizabeth, and when Davie
comes down with his load of wood, he'll put in the horse, and you'll
bide to your tea, and go home by light of the new moon."
But Elizabeth could not stay long. Betsey, who was with her father,
would be anxious to be home early, and she must not leave her father
alone, though she would like to stay.
"Well, you know best, and we winna spoil the time you're here by teasing
you about staying longer. So sit you down here by the fire and warm
your hands, though you look anything but chilled and cold. Your cheeks
are like twin roses."
Elizabeth thought of Betsey's dismissal of her and laughed.
"My drive has done me good."
She stayed a good while and enjoyed every minute of it. It was a great
rest and pleasure to listen to Mrs Fleming's cheerful talk, with
Katie's quiet mother putting in a word, and now and then Katie herself.
Neither Katie nor Davie were at the school this winter. The studies
that Davie liked best he would have had to go on with alone, even if he
had gone, and he liked as well to get a little help from the master now
and then and stay at home. But he had not much time for study. For he
had taken "just a wonderful turn for work," his grandmother said, and
much was told of the land he was clearing and the cord-wood he was
piling for the market. Katie brought in a wonderful bee-hive he had
made, to show Miss Elizabeth, and told her how much honey they had had,
and how much more they were to have next year, because of Davie's skill.
Davie had made an ice-house too, for the summer butter--a rather
primitive one it seemed to be as Katie described it--on a plan of
Davie's own, and it had to be proved yet, but it gave great satisfaction
in the meantime. And the frame of the new dairy was lying ready beside
the burn to be put up as soon as the snow melted, and the water was to
be made to run round the milk-pans in the warm nights, and Katie, under
the direction of her grandmother, was to make the best butter in the
country. All this might not seem of much interest to any one but
themselves, but listening to them, and watching their happy, eager
faces, Elizabeth, who had more than the common power of enjoying other
people's happiness, felt herself to be refreshed and encouraged as she
listened, especially to what was said about Davie. The troubles of the
Flemings would soon be over should Davie prove to be a prop on which, in
their old age, they might lean.
"He is wonderfully taken up about the work, and the best way of doing it
just now, and I only hope it may last," said Mrs Fleming, and then
Katie said, "Oh, grannie!" so deprecatingly that they all laughed at
her.
When Mr Fleming came in, and had heard all about the squire, and how
Cousin Betsey was staying with him while Elizabeth made her visit and
got a breath of fresh air, she took courage to present her petition that
Katie might be allowed to go home with her and stay a day or two. It
needed some courage to urge it, for she knew that her grandfather was
never quite at peace when Katie was not at home. "It was Cousin Betsey,
Mrs Fleming, that bade me ask you for Katie for a little while. She
said her coming would do me good, and Katie no harm; and she said you
would be sure to let her come since I was so lonesome at home."
Katie looked with wistful eyes at her grandmother, and she looked at the
old man.
"We might spare her a while to Miss Elizabeth, who is kept so close at
home with her father. And you must take your seam with you, Katie, my
lassie," added the old lady, as no dissenting frown from the grandfather
followed her first words. "And maybe Miss Elizabeth has a new stitch,
or some other new thing to teach you. These things are easy carried
about with a person, and they ay have a chance to come in use sometime.
Oh, ay, you can take a while with a book, too, now and then when Miss
Elizabeth is occupied with her father. Only be reasonable, and don't
forget all else, as is awhiles the way with you. And you can put on
your bonny blue frock, but be sure and take good care o' it," and many
more last words the happy Katie heard, and then they went away.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
TWO FRIENDS.
A day with Miss Elizabeth was one of Katie's chief pleasures, and it was
scarcely less a pleasure to Miss Elizabeth to have her with her; so the
faces of both were bright and smiling as they drove away from the door.
"It's no' often that you see two like these two," said Mrs Fleming, as
they all stood looking after them for a minute. "And it's only good
that they are like to do one another. May the Lord have them both in
His keeping. There is nothing else that can keep them safe and happy;
but that is enough, and I'm not afraid."
They drove slowly down the slope, and waited at the gate for a word with
Davie, who was coming from the wood with his great brown oxen, with the
last load for the night. He did not look more than half pleased to see
his sister at Miss Elizabeth's side.
"You are not to grudge her to me, Davie, for a little while," said Miss
Holt.
"Oh, she can please herself," said Davie, with a shrug. "When will you
be home again, Katie?"
"Oh, in a day or two. I cannot just tell; but soon."
They had not time to linger, and the horse did not care to stand, so
with a hurried good-bye they were away and moved on rapidly for a while.
"I don't think Davie likes me very well," said Miss Elizabeth.
"Oh, it's not you he doesn't like," said Katie eagerly.
"It is Jacob, I suppose?"
It was not Jacob that Katie meant, but she said nothing.
"Well, never mind; we are going to think and speak only of pleasant
things for the next three days, and that was a bad beginning."
Though the snow was deep it was light, and the horse, with the prospect
of home before him, was willing to go, and strong as well, so they flew
along, down the hill beneath the maples, past the graveyard and the
church, into the long street of the town; and then, though it was
growing late, Miss Elizabeth turned to the left over the bridge instead
of going up the hill toward home. They came into the road on the other
side of the bridge that brought most people to the town, and the snow
was already well beaten down, and they went on in perfect enjoyment of
the easiest of all movements.
It was neither sunlight nor moonlight, or rather it was both, for the
clouds had all cleared away, and a red glow lingered in the west, and
high above hung the moon, a silver crescent, and in the sky beyond a
bright star here and there; all the rest was white, with streaks of
black where the fences were and the wayside trees, and far in the
distance a long stretch of forest hid the line where the white of the
earth touched the blue of the sky.
In the light so faint, and yet so clear, that shone around them, all
things had an unfamiliar look--a look of mystery, and it seemed, even to
the sensible Katie, as though almost any strange adventure might happen
to them to-night.
"I could almost fancy that we were going away together into some strange
country, into the country of the `wraiths' maybe, that grannie whiles
tells the bairns about. Don't all things seem to have a strange look
to-night, Miss Elizabeth?"
Miss Elizabeth started. She had fallen into thought, and Katie could
see when she turned her face that her thoughts had not been happy.
"What were you saying, Katie? Going away together? Oh, how I wish we
were, away beyond the hills yonder, to leave all our troubles behind
us."
That was to be considered. Katie was not so ready to assent to her
friend's words as usual.
"But we should be leaving our comforts behind us too, all the people who
love us, and all those whom we love."
"Ah, yes, I know; and all our work as well. And it would be no good,
for we should carry our troubles with us. It was a foolish thing to
say, Katie, dear. It must be time to turn back when such foolish words
come to one's lips."
Besides they had come to a place where turning was easy, and it might be
some time before they could get another chance, so deep was the snow on
either side. So they turned round toward home, and Katie thought it
more wonderful still, for the red glow in the sky was before them now,
and the new moon, and more stars shone as the glow faded.
"But it would be fine to go away with you, Miss Elizabeth, to some far
country, to see strange sights--if we could be spared, I mean, and with
the thought of coming back again."
"Wouldn't it be fine!" said Miss Elizabeth, rousing herself. "Some day
we'll go--you and I together, Katie. We'll cross the sea, and wander
through the countries that we read about in books, and among the great
cities that have stood for hundreds and hundreds of years. Wouldn't you
like to see Scotland, Katie, and the heather hills that grannie tells us
about; and the great castles that they used to hold against all comers
in the old times, and the parks, and the deer, and the gardens full of
wonderful flowers, and the lakes and the mountains--only we can see
lakes and mountains at home."
"And the moors and glens where they worshipped in the dark days."
And so they went on in turn, telling what they would like to see--they
were going slowly now--till they came to the bridge again.
"I like to think about it, but it could never be," said Katie gravely.
"And why not? It might very easily be, I think."
"But it could never be for me, until--the saddest things had happened.
I could never leave my grandfather and my grandmother, and all the rest;
only the rest might live till I came back again; but grannie--and him--"
"Yes, Katie, and it is as true for me as for you. Our work is here, and
our happiness too; and, after all, we have fallen into sad thoughts
again. But we are nearly home now."
"There was no light in the minister's study to-night," said Katie, as
they went slowly up the hill. "Nor in the dining-room either. He must
be away from home."
Elizabeth had noticed the darkened window, but she did not say so.
Indeed she said nothing. She was thinking: "Perhaps he went in to see
my father, knowing I was away."
And so he had, for when they went into the hall they heard his voice,
indeed several voices in the sitting-room. But they went first
up-stairs to take off their wraps in Miss Elizabeth's room, and came
down just in time to find the tea-table ready, and the company waiting
for them. There was coffee on the table too, for Mr Burnet was there,
and Sally knew his tastes.
"There! You feel better, don't you?" said Miss Betsey, who was the
first to notice their entrance. "You look better, anyway."
"Like two roses," said Mr Burnet.
Elizabeth laughed and thanked him, and then shook hands with Mr
Maxwell.
"I hope you have had a good time, daughter. I have," said the squire.
"Yes. I see you have had company."
"Yes, Betsey is always good company. Mr Maxwell came when he saw you
pass down the street. He didn't know Betsey was here, and he thought I
might be lonesome."
"It was very kind," said Elizabeth.
All the rest sat down, but Mr Maxwell continued standing. The squire
would not listen to him, when he said that doubtless his tea would be
waiting for him at home, but urged him almost petulantly to remain.
"Lizzie, why don't you ask the minister to stay?"
For Elizabeth was listening to something that Mr Burnet was saying to
Katie, but she turned round when her father spoke to her.
"We haven't Mr Burnet and Cousin Betsey here very often, Mr Maxwell.
You might stay to-night for their sakes."
So he stayed, and the squire had a good time still, and so had all the
rest, it seemed, for they were in no haste to leave the table till Sally
came to take the things away. When she came in again it was to say that
"Ben had been waiting for his Aunt Betsey for the biggest part of an
hour, and it was getting on for nine o'clock." Even then Miss Betsey
seemed in no hurry to go, but when she went, Mr Burnet went also, and
Elizabeth went out of the room with her cousin, and did not come back
for what seemed to Katie a long time. Her father was tired and she went
out with him afterward. Mr Maxwell talked with Katie a while, about
her mother and her grandparents, about Davie and his bees, and the work
that had occupied him all the winter, and then he sat for a long time
looking into the fire in silence. When Miss Elizabeth came in again he
rose to go away.
"It is not very late," said she.
"No--and it is very pleasant here," said the minister, and he sat down
again.
Miss Elizabeth took her work, and they were all silent for a while, and
in the silence a sudden sense of embarrassment and discomfort seized
Katie Fleming. She had a book in her hand, but she was not sure whether
she ought to read or not. She would have liked to go with it to the
side-table, where Miss Elizabeth had carried the lamp before she sat
down, or even out into the kitchen to see Sally for a while.
"Are you deep in your story already? Well, take your book to the lamp,
if you like, for a little while," said Miss Elizabeth, just as if she
had known her thoughts.
But Katie would not have liked her to know her thoughts. She was glad
to go to the lamp, but she did not care for her story. She was thinking
of something else, of a single word she had heard one day, which put
together significantly the names of the minister and her friend. She
had been indignant at first. "They were just friends," she had said to
herself. Afterward she could not help giving them a good many of her
thoughts, and she was not sure about it. As she sat with the book on
the table before her, shading her eyes with her hands, she felt a little
guilty and greatly interested, for the story before her was better than
any story in a book.
Perhaps she ought to go away, she thought again. It was not right to
listen, and she could not help listening. But indeed there was nothing
said which all the world might not hear. Mrs Varney had burned her
hand. Old Mrs Lawrence was sick, and Miss Elizabeth promised to go and
see her. Then Mr Maxwell told her about a meeting he had attended in
Fairfax, and about another that he meant to attend, and so on.
"It might be grannie and he," said Katie, with a little impatient
wonder. "Only grannie would say it all a great deal better, and not
just `yes' and `no,' and `I hope so indeed,' like Miss Elizabeth. What
has come to her, I wonder? Mrs Stacy's rheumatism, and the mothers'
meeting at North Gore. That is not how people talk, surely--when--
when--"
Suddenly looking up she met Miss Elizabeth's eye, and reddened, and hung
her head. Then she rose as Miss Elizabeth beckoned to her, and came to
the fireside again, still holding her book in her hand.
After that Miss Elizabeth took a letter which she had that day received
from her brother Clifton, and read bits of it aloud. It was a very
amusing letter, she seemed to think, and so did the minister, but Katie
did not understand all the allusions in it, and missed the point. And
besides, Clifton Holt was not a favourite with her. She was a little
scornful of a lad who seemed to care so little for the opportunities he
had, and who did so little good work with them. He was idle, she
thought, and conceited, and she could not but wonder at Miss Elizabeth's
delight in him, and listened with some impatience to the discussion of
him and his affairs that followed the reading of the letter.
"To be sure he is her brother, and she must make the best of him," said
Katie.
By and by Mr Maxwell rose to go away, and Miss Elizabeth bade him
good-night in the sitting-room, and did not go with him to the hall, as
was her way usually with visitors who were going away. Then she said
she had to see Sally about something, and was so long away that Katie
had time to get fairly into her story, and so she read on after she came
in again, and it was a good while before she noticed that her friend was
gazing with a strange, fixed look into the embers, and that her roses
had paled sadly since Mr Burnet had praised them when they first came
in. But she smiled brightly enough when she turned and met Katie's
wistful look.
"Well! How do you like it, Katie? But we must do something besides
reading to-morrow, dear, or grannie will not be pleased."
And then she went on to tell of some pretty fancy-work that they were to
learn together, and was so full of it, and of all they were to do the
next three days, that Katie forgot her grave looks for that night. As
the days went on, and she saw how feeble Mr Holt had become, she did
not wonder at her sadness, and it did not come into Katie's mind that
there could be any other cause for her sadness and her grave looks than
her father's illness gave.
"Except, perhaps, her brother may not be doing so well as he ought. And
that is enough of itself to make her sad," said Katie. "For what should
I do if it were our Davie?"
Katie had a pleasant visit in many ways. The leisure was delightful to
her. They had a drive every day. Sometimes Mr Holt went with them,
and then they had the large sleigh and a pair of horses, and sometimes
Katie laughed, and made Miss Elizabeth laugh too, pretending that she
was a rich lady riding in her own sleigh, and taking her friends for a
drive. But she liked it best when Miss Elizabeth drove her own horse
Lion, and they went alone together. It seemed to Katie that the talks
they had at such times, in the keen, clear winter air, were different
from the talks they sometimes fell into sitting by the fireside, when
all the rest had gone to bed and they had the home to themselves. Under
the bright sunshine they seemed to get away from Gershom and its news
and its troubles and vexations, into a wider and brighter world, and
some of the things that Miss Elizabeth said to her then, Katie told
herself she would never forget while she lived.
There were visitors now and then, and at such times, if they were
strangers to her, Katie took her book into a corner, or into Sally's
bright kitchen, and read it there; but if the visitors were her friends
as well, she stayed and enjoyed their visits also. Just one thing
happened that it was not pleasant to think about afterward. Indeed it
had been very unpleasant at the time, and Katie had some trouble in
deciding whether or not she should say anything about it to grannie and
her mother when she went home.
This was a visit made one day to Elizabeth by Mrs Jacob Holt. Katie
did not go away this time, because she was afraid it might not please
her friend, but she did not join in the conversation. She sat beyond
the flower-stand in the bay-window, reading and knitting; but she was
not so interested in her book as not to hear something of what was said.
Mrs Jacob told some village news, and then spoke about Clifton, and
about a new dress that was to be finished for her to-day, and much more
of the same kind.
It was not Mrs Jacob's fault that the conversation took the turn it
did. It was the squire, who questioned her about Jacob, and about
various matters connected with their business; and then he said
something about Silas Bean, who had got hurt in his employment, and the
difficulty was to make him understand what Silas Bean should be doing at
the Varney place with two yoke of oxen, and what Jacob had to do with
it. Elizabeth reminded him that Jacob had bought the Varney place, and
that Mark Varney had gone away, and tried to end the discussion of the
matter. But Mrs Jacob went still on to remind him of the Gershom
Manufacturing Company, that would no doubt be formed by and by, and how
Jacob hated to have time lost, and was taking advantage of the snow to
have stones and timber drawn that would be needed in the building of the
new dam; and that was the way that Silas Bean came to be there with his
oxen.
"And the company will take the timber off his hands, I suppose," said
she. "Only it's likely Jacob will be pretty much the company himself--
at least he will have most to say in it. He most generally does."
"But it seems to me that Jacob should not have undertaken so much
without consulting me," said the squire, with some excitement. "It
seems to me he's going ahead pretty fast, isn't he?"