Summerfield / or, Life on a Farm

by Day Kellogg Lee

GEORGE LUDLOW AND ALMON FRISBIE.

George Ludlow was introduced in a former chapter; Mrs. Fabens and her daughter discussed his character and life. They spoke of him as poor, and dependent on his own hands for a living for the family; as despised by certain young people in Summerfield who happened to stand above need; and yet as manly and capable; a lover of nature and books. I need say nothing of his person, except that he was homely to a stranger and handsome to a friend. I need say little more of his past history than this; he had labored for Fabens for a few weeks, and now a mutual regard quite ripened to affection, was rising between him and Fanny.

George well knew her worth and happy fortune; he remembered that he was poor in what the world called riches; yet, possessing a manly self-respect, he considered himself as made in no way inferior on account of his poverty; and observing that she reciprocated freely any regard he gave her, he had the boldness at last to declare his affection, and intimate the happiness it would pour into his heart and life, some day to possess her as his wife; and it was not in her will, nor in that of her parents, to return one word of discouragement; although it was an opinion of theirs, to which he freely responded, that the final decision should be deliberately weighed, and the union set over to a time at which they would be better prepared for a happy bridal and a happy life.

But the impressions left by Fairbanks on the mind of Fabens, after the conversation in the harvest field, tended only to strengthen the Squire in the opinion that his wife had misjudged the gentlemanly merchant; and to elevate Fairbanks the more in his confidence and esteem. And returning to the house that evening, Fanny remarked to her mother, that she must have judged, too hastily: "for much as I have tasked my powers of discernment," said she, "I cannot detect the first design or word, which would lead me to suspect that Mr. Fairbanks is deceptive. True, he rather addresses himself to one's self-esteem, and is open, and ardent for a comparative stranger; but it must be a manly way of his, which he forgets to hold in reserve; and I believe he is a gentleman. I am sure, too, mother, that I have not allowed myself to feel flattered by his words; nor could I ever regard him as nearer than a friend. A true friend to us I believe he is. A face expressing so much open goodness; a bearing so instinctively affable, could not belong to a bad man."

Fairbanks was too clear-sighted not to read and know the hearts with which he was making acquaintance; and his well-considered plans suffered nothing for want of diligence on his part, in being brought to a fulfilment. Nor did he stand or act alone.

Almon Frisbie was his clerk and confidant, and talked of a friendship that began long before they left the Hudson; and he was prompt at any moment to receive his counsels in sacred trust, and go on all his errands. He was ardent and unreserved in expressing his love for Fairbanks; and Fairbanks was free and fond in the good things he said of Frisbie; and the people of Summerfield were very happy with such valued acquisitions to their society; and enjoyed the pleasantest hours whenever they numbered the merchant and clerk among their guests.

Promptly at the time agreed on, Frisbie came with the money to pay for the delivered wheat-crop; paid the entire sum in Spanish milled dollars; and spent an agreeable evening, discussing character, hearing Fabens's history from before the time of his settlement there; and giving incidents of his own life, and his adventures and experiences, with Fairbanks.

It was a pleasant hour. This was the second winter they were enjoying their new house, and the change and contrast could not be forgotten. The new house stood on a gentle eminence, a quarter of a mile from the road, and within a distant view of the lake, which was beautiful in summer. There was a fine selection of all the forest trees that once flourished on the farm, in front of the house, which had been transplanted there twelve years before, in preparation of shade and beauty for the dooryard; and though their verdant honors had been shed in autumn, they reminded the hearts within of their guardian presence, by the whisperings of love they blent with the winter blast.

The house was a high story and a half, and stood thirty-five by thirty on the ground. It had a north room and south room, with bedrooms attached; it had four chambers, two large and two small, above; and a kitchen, a tea-room, and wood-house in the rear. It was painted white without, with a coal-black border on the tops of the chimneys, and had blinds of Paris green. It had white walls and oak-grained doors and casings in the south room, and white walls, doors and casings in the north room. The north room was Fanny's, and the spare bed was spread with a blue and white carpet-coverlet, spun with her own hand, and woven in Auburn prison; and it was hung with snow-white curtains, which she spun and wove. She had a stove in the north room, and a fire-board behind, covered with trees, watered with a silver lake, and stocked with a herd of deer, three of which were drinking from the lake.

In the south room was another bed; and that was hung with checkered curtains; and there was an ample fireplace; and that was the family room. There sat the company when Frisbie made his call.