Jane stopped short, looked at him for a moment or two, her face brightening, then, without saying anything, walked on again.
“What is it? What were you thinking about?” asked Paul.
“Nothing.”
In a little while they reached the top of the hill from which Paul, in the farmer’s wagon, had had his first glimpse of Frederickstown. Now he paused to take his last.
There it lay, a pretty town, in the shade of its old trees. There was the spire of the very church which old Johann Winkler had attended regularly in his snuff colored Sunday suit, his wife beside him, and his children marching decorously in front of him. There were the gables of the Bakery, and there the very window from which Paul had so often gazed out longingly toward the open road. There was the slate roof of his uncle’s warehouse where, no doubt the old man was calmly engaged in his day’s work, going over his books, talking and haggling with the farmers that sold him their goods;—a stern character, narrow, perhaps, and obstinate, but upright and self-respecting in all his dealings, a good father, a loyal citizen and an honest man; justly proud of his standing among his fellow townsmen. It was thus for the first time, that Paul understood the uncompromising old man, who had judged his ne’er-do-well, lawless father so harshly, and with whom he himself had been in constant friction since he had come there. To Peter Lambert, respect for family traditions, regard for the feelings and even the prejudices of his fellow citizens, and submission to domestic and civil laws, written and unwritten, were the first principles of living and he could not pardon anyone who took them lightly.
In the few short moments that he stood there looking back, Paul felt his heart swell with affection for all that he was leaving behind him; for Granny, his father’s mother, who cried over him, for Aunt Gertrude who had always loved him, for gentle, industrious Elise, for the twins, with their pranks and their coaxing little ways, and—yes, for Carl, who had shown himself a good fellow, with all his fussy habits, and irritating superciliousness.
“I’ll miss you the most, Paul,” said Janey, as if she guessed his thoughts.
He looked down at her.
“I know you will—and I’ll miss you the most.”
That was all they said until at length they reached the crossroads.