When Tom, at length, rose and moved off, Martha could not tell his thought, although she peered anxiously into his face to see if possible what lay there, but it was unmoved, and he did not meet her look of inquiry with any return, but passed out of the gate, swinging it after him, and walking off toward the quarter of the town where his father was at work. He looked very grave when the two came in together at dinner-time, and hurried off toward the school-room before his sister was ready. She watched him a little anxiously all the afternoon, but the grave, intent face did not once relax its gravity, and the lines of soberness remained even after the pleasant afternoon session came to a close. Martha waited for her brother some minutes, with the hope that she might have one of their customary talks on their way home, but he did not come away, so she went on alone.
It was not until an hour later, while she was busily weeding the little garden, that Tom came up and stopped at her side.
“Martha, I’m going,” he said, abruptly.
“Tom! why, Tom—going! when and what for,” she said, starting and turning round toward him.
“Going to-morrow, Martha, and for Jesus,” he replied, quietly.
Martha turned back again suddenly without remark, and industriously weeded the springing grass from around the young plants.
Tom waited several minutes, and then spoke again:
“Are you not glad of this, Martha?”
She dropped the shovel with which she had been working, turned toward him, and lifting her hands to her head in a nervous way, replied, with quivering lips:
“That I am glad, you know, but oh I shall lose my brother!”