According, therefore, to the established custom of the early settlers, the stranger for whom Algernon proceeded to make inquiries, was entitled to all the rights of hospitality; and whether liked or disliked, could not consistently be smiled away, nor frowned away, as doubtless he would have been, had he lived in this civil, wonderworking age of lightning and steam; and though his appearance was any thing but agreeable to Mrs. Younker, who surveyed him through her spectacles (being a little near sighted) from the adjoining cabin, whither Algernon had repaired to learn her decision; and though it would prove inconvenient to herself to grant his request; yet, as she expressed it, "He war a stranger, as hadn't no home and didn't know whar to go to; and prehaps war hungry, poor man; and it wouldn't be right nor Christian-like to refuse him jest a night's lodging like;" and so the matter was settled, and Algernon was deputed to inform him that he could stay and would be welcome to such fare as their humble means afforded.
Some half an hour later, a loud hallooing announced the arrival of the two Younkers with the domestic cattle—consisting of the kine and some pet sheep which ran with them—from their labors in a distant field, where they had been engaged in harvesting corn. A few minutes after, the elder Younker entered the cabin, bearing upon his shoulder a rifle, from which depended a large, fat turkey that he had shot during his absence. With a slight but friendly nod to the stranger, he proceeded to deposit his game on the hearth—where it was presently examined and commented on at considerable length by the good dame—and then carefully placing his rifle on a couple of horn hooks depending from the ceiling for the purpose, he seated himself on a stool, his back to the wall, with the air of one who is very much fatigued, and does not wish to mingle in conversation of any kind.
The sun by this time was already below the horizon; twilight was fast deepening into night; and the matron, having finished her remarks on the turkey, and "Wondered ef sech birds wouldn't git to being scaser arter a while, when all on, 'em war shot?" proceeded to the cow-yard, to assist Isaac in milking; while Ella hurried hither and thither, with almost noiseless activity, to prepare the evening repast. A bright fire was soon kindled in the chimney, over which was suspended a kettle for boiling water; while in front, nearly perpendicular, was placed a large corn loaf, whose savory odor, as it began to cook, was far from being disagreeable to the olfactory organs of the lookers on. The table, of which we have previously given a description, was next drawn into the middle of the apartment and covered with a home-made cloth of linen; on which were placed a medley of dishes of various sizes and materials—some of wood, some of pewter, some of earthern, and one of stone—with knives and forks to correspond. Three of these dishes were occupied—one with clean, fresh butter, another with rich old cheese, and the third with a quantity of cold venison steak. In the course of another half hour, the cake was baked and on the table—Isaac and his mother had entered with the milk—the announcement was made by Ella that all was ready; and the whole party, taking seats around the humble board, proceeded to do justice to the fare before them.
A light, placed in the center of the table, threw its gleams upon the faces of each, and exhibited a singular variety of expressions. That of the stranger was downcast, sinister, and suspicious, combined with an evident desire of appearing exactly the reverse. Occasionally, when he thought no eye was on him, he would steal a glance at Ella; and some times gaze steadily—like one who is resolved upon a certain event, without being decided as to the exact manner of its accomplishment—until he found himself observed, when his glance would fall to his plate, or be directed to some other object, with the seeming embarrassment of one caught in some guilty act. This was noticed more than once by Algernon; who, perhaps, more than either of the others, felt from the first that strong dislike, that suspicious repugnance to the stranger, which can only be explained as one of the mysteries of nature, whereby we are sometimes warned of whom we should shun, as the instinct of an animal makes known to it its inveterate foe; and though he strove to think there was nothing of evil meant by a circumstance apparently so trifling—that the glance of the stranger was simply one of admiration or curiosity—yet the thought that it might be otherwise—that he might be planning something wicked to the fair being before him—haunted his mind like some hideous vision, made him for the time more distrustful, more watchful than ever, and was afterward reverted to with a painful sensation. The features of Algernon also exhibited an expression of remorse and hopeless melancholy; the reason whereof the reader, who has now been made acquainted with the secret, will readily understand. The face of Ella, too, was paler than usual—more sad and thoughtful—so much so, that it was remarked by Mrs. Younker, who immediately instituted the necessary inquiries concerning her health, and explained to her at some length the most approved method of curing a cold, in case that were the cause. In striking contrast to the sober looks of the others—for Younker himself was a man who seldom exhibited other than a sedate expression—was the general appearance and manner of Isaac. He seemed exceedingly exhilarated in spirits, yet kept his eyes down, and appeared at times very absent minded. Whatever his thoughts were, it was evident they were pleasing ones; for he would smile to himself, and occasionally display a comical nervousness, as though he had some very important secret to make known, yet was not ready to communicate it. This had been observed in him through the day; and was so different from his usual manner, and so much beyond any conjecture his mother could form of the cause, that at last her curiosity became so excited, that to restrain it longer was like holding down the safety-valve to an over-heated steam boiler; and, accordingly, taking advantage of another mysterious smile, which Isaac chanced to display while looking at a large piece of corn bread, already on its way to his capacious jaws, she exclaimed:
"Why, what on yarth is the matter with you, Isaac, that you keep a grinning, and grinning, and fidgetting about all to yourself so much like a plaguy nateral born fool for?"
So loudly, suddenly and unexpectedly was this question put—for all had been silent some minutes previous—that Isaac started, blushed, dropped the bread—already near enough to his teeth to have felt uncomfortable, had it been capable of feeling—endeavored to catch it—blundered—and finally upset his plate and contents into his lap, in a manner so truly ridiculous, that Ella and Mrs. Younker, unable to restrain their mirth, laughed heartily, while the stranger and Algernon smiled, and the stern features of the father relaxed into an expression of quiet humor seldom seen on his countenance.
"'Pon my word," continued Mrs. Younker, so soon as she could collect breath enough after laughing to go on; "I do raley believe as how the boy's ayther crazy, or in love, for sartin. What does ail ye, Isaac?—do tell!"
"Perhaps he was thinking of his dear Peggy," said Ella, archly; who was, by the way, very fond of teasing him whenever opportunity presented; and could not even now, despite her previous low spirits, forbear a little innocent raillery—her temperament being such, that wit and humor were ever ready on the slightest provocation to take the ascendancy, as old wine when stirred ever sends its sparkling beads upward. "I wonder, Isaac, if you looked as amiable and interesting in the eyes of dear Peggy, and made as graceful an appearance, when you popped the question?"
"Why, how in the name o' all Christen nater did you find out I'd done it?" asked Isaac, in reply; who having, meantime, regained his former position, and restored the plate, minus some of its contents, now sat a perfect picture of comical surprise, with his mouth slightly ajar, and his small eyes strained to their utmost and fastened seriously upon the querist as he awaited her answer.
"Murder will out, dear Isaac," replied Ella, with a ringing laugh; in which she was joined by most of the others; and particularly by the subject of the joke; who perceiving, too late for retreat, that he had been betrayed into an acknowledgment of his secret, deemed this his wisest course for defence.