CHAPTER VI.
MONDE TO EDITH.
Danville, Jan. 20, 1852.
He went yesterday morning early; and since that time I go from one chair to another, or from one window to another, sighing, and with untold quantities of lead in my heart. I am disposed not to write, not to talk, or do any thing, but turn my eyes Boston-ward, and think of him.
But I shall not be so stupid! I shall put a little stiff barrier—my own flinty will, of course—between me and him, so that he shall be there at Boston, and I here, following diligently my duty. I shall lay this letter by, and finish my story for Mr. S——. Then I shall ask uncle to ride with me over to see Bessy’s feeble sister, Mrs. Thornton, who has a whole roomfull of little children to see to; and to whom an hour’s service, now and then, at making or mending, is a blessed godsend. Then I will take my sewing in, and sit a few hours with Paulina, whose neuralgia still afflicts her. I will stay and take supper with her; and if she is cross, as she is often of late, it shall not hurt me, since I will be good-natured.
In the long evening I will be here; I will snap corn, pass round apples; sit now at aunt’s feet, help her in her sewing-plans, and then at uncle’s, talking with him of Kossuth, Clay, Cass, and Webster.
When they go, if I am in wakeful mood, I will write here until I am in a drowsy one, and then go to my rest, humbly commending myself to God as his servant, his follower; not the servant, not the follower of any mortal idol whatever. Thus shall my soul be kept loyal unto itself and unto Him—and not the less loyal unto the good one who has chosen me.
Ten o’clock, evening.
Uncle set us and our great basket, full of good things, down at the door of the Thorntons, and himself rode on to Hardwick, where he had business that must keep him until after dinner, as he believed. The pale mother was “glad and thankful to see us,” but a little flurried to have us find her children in such disorderly array; and her house, too—it is a bit of a house to hold ten people, and made of logs. But we took the children to us, gave them apples and doughnuts, and soon had Mrs. Thornton’s great work-basket between us. We finished off three little garments that were on the way, and put on ten patches here and there; Alice, aunt’s bright-eyed namesake, counted them. We cut off the long hair of the girl’s, and made the short hair of the boys shorter; and then, when they had all been washed and combed, saw that there is nowhere a prettier, brighter family of children. Aunt, meantime, was like a bee, dipping into this and into that; dragging roll after roll of pieces from her basket, whenever a patch was needed; and helping Mrs. Thornton warm up the pudding and the pies we had brought, and fry the sausages and broil the steak.