"Everything as it stan"s?"
"Everything as it stan"s "cept the beds an" bedding."
"Here"s some money on account," he said. "We"ll close t"morrer?"
"Close t"morrer," said David, a little sadness in his tone, as he took the money.
It was growing dusk as the man went away. The crickets sang with a loud, accusing, clamour. Slowly we turned and went into the dark house, David whistling under his breath. Elizabeth was resting in her chair. She was humming an old hymn as she rocked.
"Sold the farm, mother," said David.
She stopped singing but made no answer. In the dusk, as we sat down, I saw her face leaning upon her hand. Over the hills and out of the fields around us came many voices--the low chant in the stubble, the baying of a hound in the far timber, the cry of the tree toad--a tiny drift of odd things (like that one sees at sea) on the deep eternal silence of the heavens. There was no sound in the room save the low creaking of the rocker in which Elizabeth sat. After all the going, and corning, and doing, and saying of many years here was a little spell of silence and beyond lay the untried things of the future. For me it was a time of reckoning.
"Been hard at work here all these years, mother," said David. "Oughter be glad t" git away."
"Yes," said she sadly, "it"s been hard work. Years ago I thought I never could stan" it. But now I"ve got kind o" used t" it."
"Time ye got used t" pleasure "n comfort," he said. "Come kind o" hard, at fast, but ye mus" try t" stan" it. If we"re goin" t" hev sech flin in Heaven as Deacon Hospur tells on we oughter begin t" practice er we"ll be "shamed uv ourselves."
The worst was over. Elizabeth began to laugh.
At length a strain of song came out of the distance.
"Maxwelton"s braes are bonnie where early falls the dew."
"It"s Hope and Uncle Eb," said David while I went for the lantern.
"Wonder what"s kep" "em s" late."
When the lamps were lit the old house seemed suddenly to have got a sense of what had been done. The familiar creak of the stairway as I went to bed had an appeal and a protest. The rude chromo of the voluptuous lady, with red lips and the name of Spring, that had always hung in my chamber had a mournful, accusing look. The stain upon her cheek that had come one day from a little leak in the roof looked now like the path of a tear drop. And when the wind came up in the night and I heard the creaking of Lone Pine it spoke of the doom of that house and its own that was not far distant.
We rented a new home in town, that week, and were soon settled in it. Hope went away to resume her studies the same day I began work in college.
Chapter 26
Not much in my life at college is essential to this history--save the training. The students came mostly from other and remote parts of the north country--some even from other states. Coming largely from towns and cities they were shorn of those simple and rugged traits, that distinguished the men o" Faraway, and made them worthy of what poor fame this book may afford. In the main they were like other students the world over, I take it" and mostly, as they have shown, capable of wiling their own fame. It all seemed very high and mighty and grand to me especially the names of the courses. I had my baptism of Soph.o.m.oric scorn and many a heated argument over my t.i.tle to life, liberty and the pursuit of learning. It became necessary to establish it by force of arms, which I did decisively and with as little delay as possible. I took much interest in athletic sports and was soon a good ball player, a boxer of some skill, and the best wrestler in college. Things were going on comfortably when an upper cla.s.sman met me and suggested that on a corning holiday, the Freshmen ought to wear stove-pipe hats. Those hats were the seed of great trouble.
"Stove-pipe hats!" I said thoughtfully.
"They"re a good protection," he a.s.sured me.
It seemed a very reasonable, not to say a necessary precaution. A man has to be young and innocent sometime or what would become of the Devil.
I did not see that the stove-pipe hat was the red rag of insurrection and, when I did see it" I was up to my neck in the matter.
You see the Sophs are apt to be very nasty that day," he continued.
I acknowledged they were quite capable of it.
"And they don"t care where they hit," he went on.
I felt of my head that was still sore, from a forceful argument of the preceding day, and admitted there was good ground for the a.s.sertion.
When I met my cla.s.smen, that afternoon, I was an advocate of the "stove-pipe" as a means of protection. There were a number of husky fellows, in my cla.s.s, who saw its resisting power and seconded my suggestion. We decided to leave it to the ladies of the cla.s.s and they greeted our plan with applause. So, that morning, we arrayed ourselves in high hats, heavy canes and fine linen, marching together up College Hill. We had hardly entered the gate before we saw the Sophs forming in a thick rank outside the door prepared, as we took it, to resist our entrance. They out-numbered us and were, in the main, heavier but we had a foot or more of good stiff material between each head and harm. Of just what befell us, when we got to the enemy, I have never felt sure.
Of the total inefficiency of the stove-pipe hat as an article of armour, I have never had the slightest doubt since then. There was a great flash and rattle of canes. Then the air was full of us. In the heat of it all prudence went to the winds. We hit out right and left, on both sides, smashing hats and bruising heads and hands. The canes went down in a jiffy and then we closed with each other hip and thigh. Collars were ripped off, coats were torn, shirts were gory from the blood of noses, and in this condition the most of us were rolling and tumbling on the ground. I had flung a man, heavily, and broke away and was tackling another when I heard a hush in the tumult and then the voice of the president. He stood on the high steps, his grey head bare, his right hand lifted. It must have looked like carnage from where he stood.
"Young gentlemen!" he called. "Cease, I command you. If we cannot get along without this thing we will shut up shop."
Well, that was the end of it and came near being the end of our careers in college. We looked at each other, torn and panting and b.l.o.o.d.y, and at the girls, who stood by, pale with alarm. Then we picked up the shapeless hats and went away for repairs. I had heard that the path of learning was long and beset with peril but I hoped, not without reason, the worst was over. As I went off the campus the top of my hat was hanging over my left ear, my collar and cravat were turned awry, my trousers gaped over one knee. I was talking with a fellow sufferer and patching the skin on my knuckles, when suddenly I met Uncle Eb.
"By the Lord Harry!" he said, looking me over from top to toe, "teacher up there mus" be purty ha"sh."
"It wa"n"t the teacher," I said.
"Must have fit then."
"Fit hard," I answered, laughing.
"Try t" walk on ye?"
"Tried t" walk on me. Took several steps too," I said stooping to brush my trousers.
"Hm! guess he found it ruther bad walkin" didn"t he?" my old friend enquired. "Leetle bit rough in spots?"
"Little bit rough, Uncle Eb--that"s certain."
"Better not go hum," he said, a great relief in his face. "Look "s if ye"d been chopped down an" sawed--an" split--an" throwed in a pile. I"ll go an" bring over some things fer ye."
I went with my friend, who had suffered less damage, and Uncle Eb brought me what I needed to look more respectable than I felt.
The president, great and good man that he was, forgave us, finally, after many interviews and such wholesome reproof as made us all ashamed of our folly.
In my second year, at college, Hope went away to continue her studies in New York She was to live in the family of John Fuller, a friend of David, who had left Faraway years before and made his fortune there in the big city. Her going filled my days with a lingering and pervasive sadness. I saw in it sometimes the shadow of a heavier loss than I dared to contemplate. She had come home once a week from Ogdensburg and I had always had a letter between times. She was ambitious and, I fancy, they let her go, so that there should be no danger of any turning aside from the plan of my life, or of hers; for they knew our hearts as well as we knew them and possibly better.
We had the parlour to ourselves the evening before she went away, and I read her a little love tale I had written especially for that occasion.
It gave us some chance to discuss the absorbing and forbidden topic of our lives.
"He"s too much afraid of her," she said, "he ought to put his arm about her waist in that love scene."
"Like that," I said, suiting the action to the word.
"About like that," she answered, laughing, "and then he ought to say something very, very, nice to her before he proposes--something about his having loved her for so long--you know."
"And how about her?" I asked, my arm still about her waist.
"If she really loves him," Hope answered, "she would put her arms about his neck and lay her head upon his shoulder, so; and then he might say what is in the story." She was smiling now as she looked up at me.
"And kiss her?"