Mrs. Hight told her daughter at once that she had enjoyed a beautiful
call, and got a great many new things to think of. This was said so
frankly in my hearing that it gave a consciousness of high reward, and I
was indeed recompensed by the grateful look in Esther’s eyes. We did not
speak much together, but we understood each other. For the poor old
woman did not read, and could not sew or knit with her helpless hand,
and they were far from any neighbors, while her spirit was as eager in
age as in youth, and expected even more from a disappointing world. She
had lived to see the mortgage paid and money in the bank, and Esther’s
success acknowledged on every hand, and there were still a few pleasures
left in life. William had his mother, and Esther had hers, and they had
not seen each other for a year, though Mrs. Hight had spoken of a year’s
making no change in William even at his age. She must have been in the
far eighties herself, but of a noble courage and persistence in the
world she ruled from her stiff-backed rocking-chair.
William unloaded his gift of dried fish, each one chosen with perfect
care, and Esther stood by, watching him, and then she walked across the
field with us beside the wagon. I believed that I was the only one who
knew their happy secret, and she blushed a little as we said good-by.
“I hope you ain’t goin’ to feel too tired, mother’s so deaf; no, I hope
you won’t be tired,” she said kindly, speaking as if she well knew what
tiredness was. We could hear the neglected sheep bleating on the hill in
the next moment’s silence. Then she smiled at me, a smile of noble
patience, of uncomprehended sacrifice, which I can never forget. There
was all the remembrance of disappointed hopes, the hardships of winter,
the loneliness of single-handedness in her look, but I understood, and I
love to remember her worn face and her young blue eyes.
“Good-by, William,” she said gently, and William said good-by, and gave
her a quick glance, but he did not turn to look back, though I did, and
waved my hand as she was putting up the bars behind us. Nor did he speak
again until we had passed through the dark woods and were on our way
homeward by the main road. The grave yearly visit had been changed from
a hope into a happy memory.
“You can see the sea from the top of her pasture hill,” said William at
last.
“Can you?” I asked, with surprise.
“Yes, it’s very high land; the ledges up there show very plain in clear
weather from the top of our island, and there’s a high upstandin’ tree
that makes a landmark for the fishin’ grounds.” And William gave a happy
sigh.
When we had nearly reached the Landing, my companion looked over into
the back of the wagon and saw that the piece of sailcloth was safe, with
which he had covered the dried fish. “I wish we had got some trout,” he
said wistfully. “They always appease Almiry, and make her feel ’twas
worth while to go.”
I stole a glance at William Blackett. We had not seen a solitary
mosquito, but there was a dark stripe across his mild face, which might
have been an old scar won long ago in battle.
XXII.
THE QUEEN’S TWIN.