And dreaded as thou art.
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fire-side enjoyments, homestead happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours
Of long, uninterrupted evening, know.—Cowper.
Catherine returned to Hardbargain on Christmas Eve. It was a clear, cold, crisp afternoon, and the level sun threw a glistening, yellow lustre, like powdered gold dust, over the crusted surface of the snow-clad earth. And as Kate’s little, rough-coated pony stepped freely out over the ground, life and hope and joy tided back to her heart, giving bloom to her cheeks, light to her eyes, and elasticity to all her motions. She was very glad indeed to find herself on her way to the farm, and about to exchange the feverish, exciting atmosphere of White Cliffs, and the disturbing proximity of Georgia, for the long, calm days, and long, calm evenings with Mrs. Clifton, at the farm-house. She reached her destination at dusk. Mrs. Clifton met the girl with a smile of pleasure, and welcomed her with a kiss of affection. Then she conducted her into the parlor, where she made her sit down by the fire, while she removed her bonnet and shawl. Next she summoned Henny, and gave orders that tea should be served immediately, and a fire kindled in Miss Catherine’s room, as the young lady was fatigued, and would wish to retire early. There was in the manner of the lady upon this evening, and from this evening, a maternal tenderness and solicitude, very soothing and delightful to Catherine. This was so apparent to the domestics, that they began to deport themselves towards the maiden with the deference due to the daughter of the house.
And how calmly and cheerfully the winter days passed. There was the early rising, and the early breakfast, in the warm, bright, back parlor, where the morning sun shone in. There was the leisurely talk over the meal, about the occupations, which were also the amusements of the day. After breakfast, came the ride around the farm, in the course of which every field and barn and granary was inspected, and every negro quarter visited. And during these rides, Mrs. Clifton gave Catherine much information relating to agricultural matters.
“For, my dear,” she said, “some day you may be a planter’s wife, and have all these things to look after, while your husband is in the public service, absent with his regiment, or at the legislature.” To which Catherine ventured no reply. And then came dinner, and the short afternoon nap, and tea, and the long, serene evening by the fireside, employed in needle-work, enlivened by rational, cheerful conversation, and occasionally varied by music or reading, and finally ended by family prayer and bed.
Mrs. Clifton and Catherine never, never wearied of each other. They had many occupations for hands and heads—they were both strong, original thinkers, and above all, were both deeply interested in the same being—the absentee.