It was a comfortable one, and the horses if not very
handsome nor bright-curried were well fed and had
good heart to their work. A two mile drive was
before them, and with no troublesome tongues or eyes
to claim her attention Fleda enjoyed it fully.
In the soft clear winter twilight when heaven and
earth mingle so gently, and the stars look forth brighter
and cheerfuller than ever at another time, they slid
along over the fine roads, too swiftly, towards home;
and Fleda’s thoughts as easily and swiftly slipped
away from Mr. Douglass and maple sugar and Philetus
and an unfilled wood-yard and an empty flour-barrel,
and revelled in the pure ether. A dark rising
ground covered with wood sometimes rose between her
and the western horizon; and then a long stretch of
snow, only less pure, would leave free view of its
unearthly white light, dimmed by no exhalation, a
gentle, mute, but not the less eloquent, witness to
Earth of what Heaven must be.
But the sleigh stopped at the gate, and Fleda’s
musings came home.
“Good night!” said Earl, in reply to their
thanks and adieus;—“’tain’t
anything to thank a body for—let me know
when you’re a goin’ into the sugar making
and I’ll come and help you.”
“How sweet a pleasant message may make an unmusical
tongue,” said Fleda, as she and Hugh made their
way up to the house.
“We had a stupid enough afternoon,” said
Hugh.
“But the ride home was worth it all!”
Chapter XXVI.
’Tis merry, ’tis merry, in good
green wood,
So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
On the beech’s pride, and the oak’s
brown side,
Lord Richard’s axe is ringing.
Lady of the Lake.
Philetus came, and was inducted into office and the
little room immediately; and Fleda felt herself eased
of a burden. Barby reported him stout and willing,
and he proved it by what seemed a perverted inclination
for bearing the most enormous logs of wood he could
find into the kitchen.
“He will hurt himself!” said Fleda.
“I’ll protect him!—against
anything but buckwheat batter,” said Barby with
a grave shake of her head. “Lazy folks takes
the most pains, I tell him. But it would be good
to have some more ground, Fleda, for Philetus says
he don’t care for no dinner when he has griddles
to breakfast, and there ain’t anything much
cheaper than that.”
“Aunt Lucy, have you any change in the house?”
said Fleda that same day.
“There isn’t but three and sixpence,”
said Mrs. Rossitur with a pained conscious look.
“What is wanting, dear?”
“Only candles—Barby has suddenly
found we are out, and she won’t have any more
made before to-morrow. Never mind!”
“There is only that,” repeated Mrs. Rossitur.
“Hugh has a little money due to him from last
summer, but he hasn’t been able to get it yet.
You may take that, dear.”
“No,” said Fleda,—“we
mustn’t. We might want it more.”
