Chapter Eight.
Taking Counsel.
It was one of those soft, bright days of early March that might beguile a new-comer to the country into a temporary belief that spring had come at last, and Elizabeth, tying her “cloud” over her head, followed her father out into the yard. To take a walk just for the sake of the walk was not likely to suit old Mr Holt, or to do him much good. But he and Elizabeth went about here and there, in the yard and up and down the well-swept walk from the gate to the door, where the snow lay still on either side as high as the squire’s shoulder, and Elizabeth talked to him about the great wood-pile, and praised the industry and energy of Nathan Pell, the hired man, and of his team, Dick and Doll, that were making it longer every day. She spoke of the great drifts that must be cleared away before the thaw came, of the bough which last night’s wind had brought down from the elm in the corner, of the broken bit of fence beyond the gate, of anything to lead his thoughts away from the theme which for the last hour had occupied and excited him.
She succeeded so well, that he went away by himself, to get a hammer and nails to mend the broken paling, and Elizabeth, leaning over the little white gate while she waited for him to return, had an unexpected pleasure—a little chat with Mrs Jacob. It was not the chat which gave her the pleasure, it was her own thought that amused her, and the knowledge of her sister-in-law’s thoughts as well.
She knew that though Mrs Jacob declined to come in now at her invitation, she had come up the street with the full design of doing so, and she knew that she was saying to herself that Mr Maxwell could not be in the house, though Jacob had seen him going that way, or Lizzie would never be standing so long at the gate, looking down the street.
“I am waiting for father,” said Elizabeth; “he has gone in for the hammer to drive some nails in the fence. I suppose Nathan must have driven against it last night in the dark.” She was hoping that Mr Maxwell was enjoying “The Puritan” so well that he would not be tempted to look out of the window so as to be seen.
“Here is father; he will be glad to see you; it is a long time since you were here. Won’t you change your mind and come in?”
“Well, no, not to-day. I am going in to see Miss Ball a minute about my bonnet, and I ought to hurry home.”