“And yet who knows?” said she to herself. “One can never tell in which road true happiness lies; and it is not for me, who can see only a little way, to wish for anything that God has not given her. ‘A contented mind is a continual feast,’ says the Book. She has that. And ‘Blessed are the meek, and the merciful, and the pure in heart.’ What would I have? I’ll make no plans, and I’ll make no wishes. It is all in good hands, and there is nothing to fear for her, I am sure of that. As for her sister—. Well, I suppose there will ay be something in the lot of those we love to make us mindful that they need better help than ours. And it is too far on in the day for me to doubt that good guidance will come to her as to the rest.”
Still, after her husband’s words, Mrs Snow regarded Rose’s movements with an earnestness that she was not quite willing to acknowledge even to herself. It was rather unreasonable of him, she thought at first, to be otherwise than content with the young girl in her new sedateness. She was not quite so merry and idle as during her last visit; but that was not surprising, seeing she was older and wiser, and more sensible of the responsibilities that life brings to all. It was natural that it should be so, and well that it should be so. It was matter for thankfulness that the years were bringing her wisdom, and that, looking on life with serious eyes, she would not expect too much from it, nor be so bitterly disappointed at its inevitable failures. She was quieter and graver, but surely no fault was to be found with that, seeing there had been sickness and anxiety in the house.
She was cheerful and busy too, Mrs Snow saw, accomplishing wonderful things in the way of learning to do housework, and dairy work, under the direction of Hannah, and comporting herself generally in a way that was winning the good opinion of that experienced and rather exacting housekeeper. She took great interest in out-of-door affairs, going daily with the deacon to the high sheep pasture, or to the clearing beyond the swamp, or wherever else his oversight of farming matters led him, which ought to have contented Mr Snow, his wife thought, and which might have done so if he had been quite sure that her heart was in it all.
By and by Mrs Snow wearied a little for the mirthfulness and laughter that had sometimes needed to be gently checked during her former visit. More than once, too, she fancied she saw a wistful look in Graeme’s eyes as they followed her sister’s movements, and she had much ado to keep from troubling herself about them both.
They were sitting one day together in the south room which looked out over the garden and the orchard and the pond beyond. Rose was in the garden, walking listlessly up and down the long paths between the flower-beds, and Mrs Snow, as she watched her, wondered within herself whether this would be a good time to speak to Graeme about her sister. Before she had time to decide, however, they were startled by Hannah’s voice coming round the corner—
“Rose,” it said, “hadn’t you just as leives do your walking right straight ahead? ’Cause, if you had, you might take a pitcher and go over to Emily’s and borrow some yeast. I don’t calculate, as a general thing, to get out of yeast, or any thing else, but the cat’s been and keeled the jug right down, and spilled the last drop, and I want a little to set some more to rising.”
“Hannah,” said Rose, with a penitent face, “I am afraid it was my fault. I left the jug on the corner of the shelf, instead of putting it away as I ought. I am very sorry.”
“Well, I thought pretty likely it might be you, seeing it wasn’t me,” said Hannah, grimly. “That jug has held the yeast in this house since Grandma Snow’s time, and now it’s broke to forty pieces.”
“Oh, I am so sorry!” said Rose.
“Well, I guess it don’t matter a great sight. Nobody will worry about it, if I don’t, and it’s no use crying over spilt milk. But I guess you’d better tell Emily how it happened. I’d a little rather what borrowing there is between the two houses should be on t’other side. I wouldn’t have asked you, only I thought you’d rather go than not. That walking up and down is about as shiftless a business as ever you undertook. But don’t you go if you don’t want to.”