Susan Warner - Hills of the Shatemuc

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"All the newspapers -- every one you can find; -- yesterday's
and to-day's, or the day before."

Much wondering, Clam hunted the house and brought the fruits
of her search; and much more wondering, she saw her mistress
spend one hour in closely poring over the columns of page
after page; she who never took five minutes a day to read the
papers. At last a little bit was carefully cut from one of
those Clam had brought up, and Elizabeth again prepared
herself to go forth.

"If it had been Mr. Winthrop, now, who was doing that," said
Clam, "he'd have took off his hat most likely, and sat down to
it. How you do look, Miss 'Lizabeth!"

"Mr. Winthrop and I are two different people," said Elizabeth,
hurriedly putting on the one glove she had drawn off.

"Must grow a little more like before you'll be one and the
same," observed Clam.

Elizabeth let down her veil over her face and went out again.

With a quick nervous step she went, though the day was warm,
making no delay and suffering no interruption; till she
reached the University where Professor Herder made his daily
and nightly abode. The professor was attending one of his
classes. Elizabeth asked to be shewn to his room.

She felt as if she was on a queer errand, as she followed her
conductor up the wide stone stairs and along the broad
corridors, where the marks were evidently of only man's use
and habitation, and now and then a man's whistle or footstep
echoed from the distance through the halls. But she went on
swiftly, from one corridor to another, till the guide opened a
door and she stepped out from the public haunts of life to a
bit of quite seclusion.

It was a pleasant enough place that Mr. Herder called home. A
large, airy, light, high-ceiled apartment, where plainly even
to a stranger's eye, the naturalist had grouped and bestowed
around him all the things he best liked to live among.
Enormous glass cases, filled with the illustrations of
science, and not less of the philosopher's investigating
patience, lined all the room; except where dark-filled shelves
of books ran up between them from the floor to the ceiling. A
pleasant cloth-covered table, with books and philosophical
instruments, stood towards one side of the room, a little
table with a lamp at the other; and scattered about, all over,
were big stout comfortable well-worn leather arm-chairs, that
said study and learning sat easy there and often received
visits of pleasure in that room. Elizabeth felt herself as
little akin to pleasure as to learning or study, just then.
She put herself in one of the great leather chairs, with a
sense of being out of her element -- a little piece of busy,
bustling, practical life, within the very palings of science
and wisdom.

She sat and waited. But that pulse of busy life beat never the
cooler for all the cool aspect of the place and the grave
shade of wisdom that lingered there; nay, it throbbed faster
and more flutteringly. She got up to try the power of
distraction the glass cases might hold; but her eye roved
restlessly and carelessly over object and object of interest
that withheld its interest from her; and weariedly she went
back to her arm-chair and covered her face with her hands,
that her mind might be at least uninterruptedly busy in its
own way.

It must have been very busy, or the quick little step of the
German professor must have been very soft withal; for he had
come within a few feet of her before he knew who she was or
she knew that he was there.

"Miss Elisabet'!" he exclaimed with a most good-humoured face
of wonderment, -- "I never was so honoured before! How did you
get in my arm-chair?"

Elizabeth jumped up and shook hands with him, laughing in very
relief to see him come.

"How did I get here? -- I came up through the sun, Mr. Herder."

"I have asked you to come in better time," said the
naturalist, -- "that is, better for you -- dis is very good time
for me. I have nozing to do, and I will give you lesson in
whatever you want."

"No sir, -- I am come to give _you_ a lesson, Mr. Herder."

"_Me?_ Well, I will take it," said the naturalist, who began at
the same time to run about his room and open closet doors and
jingle glasses together, apparently on his own business, -- "I
like always to take lessons, -- it is not often that I have
such a teacher. I will learn the best I can -- after I have got
you some lemonade. I have two lemons here, -- somevere, -- ah! -- "

"I don't want it, Mr. Herder."

"I cannot learn nozing till you have had it," said Mr. Herder
bringing his lemons and glasses to the table; -- "that sun is
beating my head what was beating yours, and it cannot think of
nozing till I have had something to cool him off. --"

Elizabeth sat still, and looked, and thought, with her heart
beating.

"I did not know what was in my room when I see you in my chair
wiz your head down -- you must be study more hard than me, Miss
Elisabet' -- I never put my head down, for nozing."

"Nor your heart either, I wonder?" thought Elizabeth.

"I _was_ studying, Mr. Herder, -- pretty hard."

"Is that what you are going to give me to study?" said the
naturalist.

"Not exactly -- it was something about it. I want you to do
something for me, Mr. Herder, -- if I may ask you, -- and if you
will be so very kind as to take some trouble for me."

"I do not like trouble," said the naturalist shaking his head
good-humouredly over a squeeze of his lemon; -- "dere is no use
in having trouble -- I get out of it so soon as I can -- but I
will get in it wiz pleasure for you, Miss Elisabet' -- what you
tell me -- if you will tell me if that is too much sucker."

"To take trouble, and to be _in_ trouble, are not quite the same
thing, Mr. Herder," said Elizabeth, having at the moment a
vivid realization of the difference.

"I thought trouble was trouble," said the naturalist,
finishing the preparing his own glass of lemonade. "If you
will lesson me to find trouble is no trouble -- Miss Elisabet'
-- I will thank you much for that."

Elizabeth heartily wished anybody could teach her that
particular lesson. She sipped her lemonade, slowly and
abstractedly, busy yet with the study which Mr. Herder had
broken off; while he talked benignly and kindly, to ears that
did not hear. But the last of Elizabeth's glass was swallowed
hastily and the glass set down.

"Mr. Herder, I have come to ask you to do something for me."

"I am honoured, Miss Elisabet'," said the philosopher bowing.

"Will you not speak of it to anybody?"

"Not speak of it!" said the naturalist. "Then it is a secret?"

The quick energetic little bend of Elizabeth's head said
before her lips spoke the word, "Yes!"

"It is more honour yet," he said. "What am I to do, Miss
Elisabet'?"

"Nothing, if it will be any real trouble to you, Mr. Herder.
Promise me that first."

"Promise? -- what shall I promise?" said Mr. Herder.

"Promise me that if what I am going to ask would be any real
trouble to you or to your business, you will tell me so."

"I do not love to be troubled," said the naturalist. "It shall
not be no trouble to me."

"But promise me that you will tell me, Mr. Herder."

"Suppose you was to tell me first. I cannot tell nozing till I
know."

"You will not speak of it to anybody, Mr. Herder?"

"I will not speak of nozing, Miss Elisabet'."

"Mr. Herder, there is a piece of land which I want to buy; and
I have come to ask you, if you can, and if you will, to buy it
for me."

"Miss Elisabet'," said the naturalist looking a little
surprised at his fair questioner, -- "I will tell you the truth
-- I have no money."

"I have, Mr. Herder. But I cannot go into the market and buy
for myself."

"Cer-tain-ly, you cannot do that," said Mr. Herder. "But what
is it you wish to buy?"

"It is a farm, --" said Elizabeth, feeling glad that her back
was to the light; -- "it is a piece of land in the country -- up
on the Shatemuc river. I think you have been there, Mr.
Herder, -- it is the place where the Landholms' father lives.
Wut-a-qut-o, they call it -- or Shahweetah; -- Wut-a-qut-o is
the mountain opposite."

"Landholm!" cried the naturalist. "Is it Winthrop's place?"

Elizabeth bowed her head and answered, "His father's."

"Winthrop's place! Is _that_ what you want, Miss Elisabet'?"

Elizabeth bowed her head again, this time without answering.

"Suppose they might not want to sell it?" said the naturalist.

"They do not -- but they can't help themselves. It must be sold
-- they can't pay money that is owing upon it."

"Money!" -- said the naturalist; -- "that is de trouble of all
that is in the world. I wish there was no such thing as money!
It makes all the mischief."

"Or the want of it," said Elizabeth.

"No!" said the naturalist, -- "it is not that! I have want
money all my life, Miss Elisabet', and I have never got into
no trouble at all."

"Except when you fought the duels, Mr. Herder."

"_Dat_ was not no trouble!" said the philosopher. "There was
nozing about money there; and it was not no trouble, -- neizer
before, neizer after."

"I have had money all my life; and it never made me any
trouble."

"Ah, you have not come to the time," said Mr. Herder. "Wait,
you will find it. Now you are in trouble because you want to
buy this ground, and you could not do it wizout money."

"I can't do it with, unless you will help me, Mr. Herder -- you
or somebody."

"I could get somebody," said Mr. Herder; -- "I know somebody
what I could get."

"I don't know anybody who would be as good as you, sir."

"I do," said the naturalist. "Where is Mr. Haye? -- is he
sick?"

"No sir, -- I don't wish him to know anything about it, Mr.
Herder. -- He is the person making the sale."

"Your father? -- do you mean that Mr. Haye is the man what is
selling the ground of Mr. Landholm?"

"Yes sir. And I wish to buy it."

"Then Miss Elisabet', what for do you not ask my friend
Winthrop to buy it for you? He knows all business. He will do
it."

"I cannot -- I have not the liberty -- He is not enough a friend
of mine, for me to ask him such a favour."

"But Miss Elisabet', what will you do wiz all that large
ground and water?"

"Buy it, -- first, sir; and then I will see. I want it."

"I see you do," said the naturalist. "Well, then I shall get
it for you -- if I can -- I hope your money will not get _me_ in
trouble."

"If you are at all afraid of that, Mr. Herder, I will find
some other way --"

"I never was afraid of nozing in my life, Miss Elisabet' --
only I do not know neizer how to get money, neizer how to
spend it -- in this way. What will Mr. Haye say to me when I go
to buy all this great land of him? He will say --"

"You're not to buy it of him, Mr. Herder."

"No?" said the naturalist. "Of who, then? I thought you said
he was going to sell it."

"Yes, he is -- but he has somebody else to do it for him. Here,
Mr. Herder, -- here is the advertisement; -- see -- don't read
the first part, -- all _that_ has nothing to do with it, -- here
is the place. 'At the Merchant's Exchange, in the city of
Mannahatta, on the first day of September, 1821, at 12 o'clock
noon of that day' -- and then comes the description of the
place. It is to be sold at public auction."

"Auc-sion? --" said the naturalist.

"It's to be sold in public, to whoever offers to give most for
it."

"O, I know that," said Mr. Herder.

"And dear Mr. Herder, all I ask of you is to be there, at 12
o'clock the first of September, and buy it for me; and let
nobody know. Can you do it?"

"I can do so much," said the naturalist. "I think I can. But
suppose somebody will give more than you."

"Do not suppose that, sir. I will give more than anybody."

"Are you sure you will?" said the naturalist. "Maybe you do
not know."

"I do know, sir, and am sure."

"Well," said the naturalist, shaking his head, -- "I do not
know much about buying grounds -- I do know a leetle of some
things -- but I do not know what sort of a lesson is this, Miss
Elisabet'. But I will see if I can do it. Who is going to live
up there wiz you?"

"Don't you suppose I can live alone, Mr. Herder."

"No, not there," said the naturalist. "You want some one to
take care of you -- de engineer, Miss Elisabet'," said he
smiling.

Elizabeth made no answer; she had risen up to go; and he
guided her through the halls and down the staircases, till she
was in the open street again. Then, after a farewell squeeze
of his hand and nod of her little head, she pulled her veil
down and went homeward, more slowly than she had come.

"_Do_ I want somebody to take care of me?" she thought. "I
believe I do! An engineer? -- I do not think the engine _is_
under very good guidance -- it _is_ too strong for me -- How could
he know that? Oh what earthly thing would I give, for a hand
wise and strong enough to lead me, and good enough that I
could submit myself to!"

The wish was so deep drawn that her breast heaved with it, and
starting tears made her draw her veil thicker before them. She
bit her lip, and once more quickened her steps towards home.

CHAPTER III.

Then think I of deep shadows on the grass, --
Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze,
Where, as the breezes pass,
The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, --
Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass,
Or whiten in the wind, -- of waters blue
That from the distance sparkle through
Some woodland gap, -- and of a sky above,
Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move.
LOWELL.

Finding that the old farm must pass out of his hands, Mr.
Landholm made up his mind not to spend another summer of
labour and of life upon it; but at once with his son Asahel to
move off to the West. He stayed but to reap the standing crops
of winter grain, dispose of stock, and gather up all the loose
ends of business; and left the hills of the Shatemuc, to seek
better fortunes on a Western level.

They passed through Mannahatta on their way, that they might
have a short sight of Winthrop and Winifred and say good-bye
to them. It was not so joyful a visit that anybody wished it
to be a long one.

"It's pretty hard," said the farmer, "to start life anew again
at my time of day; -- but these arms are not worn out yet; I
guess they'll do something -- more or less -- on a new field."

"Asahel's got strong arms, father," said Winifred, who was
fain to put in a word of comfort when she could.

"Ay, and a strong heart too," said his father. "He's a fine
fellow. He'll do, I guess, in the long run, -- at the West or
somewhere; and at the West _if_ anywhere, they say. I'm not
concerned much about him."

"There's no need, I think," said Winthrop.

"Where's Will? -- and what's he doing?"

"Will has just set off for Charleston -- on some agency
business."

"Charleston in South Carolina?"

"Yes."

"Then he is not engineering now?"

"No."

"How long does he expect to be gone?"

"Some months -- more or less; -- I don't know."

"Is it a good business for him?"

"He has chosen it, -- not I."

"I would sooner trust your choice," said the father. "There's
one thing Rufus wants; and that is, judgment."

"He'll do yet," said Winthrop. "And I shall not leave you long
at the West, father. You will come when I send for you?"

"No, my boy," said the farmer looking gratified; -- "I'll live
by my own hands as long as I have hands to live by; and as I
said, mine haven't given out yet! No -- if the Lord prospers
us, we'll have a visit from you and Winnie out there, I expect
-- by and by, when we get things in order; -- you and Winnie,
and anybody else you've a mind to bring along!"

It was spoken heartily, but with a tear in the eye; and nobody
answered; unless it were answer, the long breath which Winnie
drew at the very idea of such a visit.

Winthrop heard it; but through the long weeks of summer he
could give her nothing more of country refreshment than the
old walks on the Green and an occasional ride or walk on the
opposite shore of one or the other of the rivers that bordered
the city. Business held him fast, with a grip that he must not
loosen; though he saw and knew that his little sister's face
grew daily more thin and pale, and that her slight frame was
slighter and slighter. His arm had less and less to do, even
though her need called for more. He felt as if she was
slipping away from him. August came.

"Winnie," said he one evening, when he came home and found her
lying on her couch as usual, -- "how would you like to go up
and pay Karen a visit?"

"Karen?" -- said Winnie, -- "where?"

"At home. -- At Wut-a-qut-o."

"Wut-a-qut-o!" said Winnie; -- "is Karen there? I thought
Shahweetah was sold."

"It isn't sold yet -- it won't be till September -- and Karen is
there yet, keeping house with her brother Anderese."

"Anderese! -- is old Anderese there?" said Winnie. "O I should
like to go, Governor!" she said raising herself on her elbow.
"Can we?"

"Yes, if you like. Hildebrand Cowslip is down here with his
father's sloop -- how would you like to go up in her?"

"In the sloop? -- O how good!" said Winnie bringing her thin
hands together. "Can we? But dear Governor, you can't be
away?"

"Yes -- just as well as not. There isn't much doing in August --
everybody takes a resting time; and so you and I will,
Winnie," said he, bending down to kiss her.

Winnie looked up at him gratefully and lovingly with her
wistful large eyes, the more expressive from the setting of
illness and weakness in the face.

"I'd like you to have a rest, dear Governor."

He stood stroking back the ringlets from the thin blue-veined
temple.

"Wouldn't it do you good to see Wut-a-qut-o again?"

"O I am sure it would! -- And you too, wouldn't it?"

"I am good enough already," said Winthrop looking down at her.

"Too good," said Winnie looking up at him. "I guess you want
pulling down!"

She had learned to read his face so well, that it was with a
pang she saw the look with which he turned off to his work. A
stranger could not have seen in it possibly anything but his
common grave look; to Winnie there was the slight shadow of
something which seemed to say the "pulling down" had not to be
waited for. So slight that she could hardly tell it was there,
yet so shadowy she was sure it had come from something. It was
not in the look merely -- it was in the air, -- it was, she did
not know what, but she felt it and it made her miserable. She
could not see it after the first minute; his face and
shoulders, as he sat reading his papers, had their usual calm
stability; Winnie lay looking at him, outwardly calm too, but
mentally tossing and turning.

She could not bear it. She crawled off her couch and came and
sat down at his feet, throwing her arms around his knee and
looking up at him.

"Dear Governor! -- I wish you had whatever would do you good!"

"The skill of decyphering would do me a little good just now,"
said her brother. She could detect nothing peculiar in look or
word, though Winnie's eyes did their best.

"But somehow I don't feel as if you had," she went on to say.

"Where is your faith?" -- he said quietly, as he made a note in
the margin of the paper he was reading. Winnie could make
nothing of him.

"Governor, when shall we go?"

"Hildebrand moves his sloop off to-morrow afternoon."

"And shall we go to-morrow?"

"If you don't object."

Winnie left the floor, clapping her hands together, and went
back to her couch to think over at large the various
preparations which she must make. Which pleasant business held
her all the evening.

They were not large preparations, however; longer to think of
than to do; especially as Winthrop took upon himself the most
of what was done. One or two nick-nackeries of preparation, in
the shape of a new basket, a new book, and a new shawl, seemed
delightful to Winnie; though she did not immediately see what
she might want of the latter in August.

"We shall find it cooler when we get under the shadow of Wut-
a-qut-o, Winnie," said her brother; and Winnie was only too
glad of a pretext to take the pretty warm wrapper of grey and
blue worsted along.

She did not want it when they set out, the next afternoon. It
was very warm in the streets, very warm on the quays; and even
when the sloop pushed her way slowly out and left the quays at
her back, there was little air stirring and the August sun
beat down steadily on river and shore.

"This don't look much like gettin' up to Cowslip's Mill _this_
night," said the skipper. "Ain't it powerful!"

"The wind is coming off from the South," said Winthrop.

"Yes, I felt some little puffs on my cheek," said Winnie.

"Glad to hear it," said the sloop master, a tall, bony, ill-
set-together specimen of a shore and water man; -- "there ain't
enough now to send an egg-shell along, and I'd like to shew
you a good run, Mr. Landholm, since you're goin' along with
me. She looks smart, don't she?"

"If she'll only work as well," said Winthrop. "Hild', you
haven't got much cargo aboard."

"Only as much as'll keep her steady," answered the skipper.
"'Seems to me nobody ain't a wantin' nothin' up our ways. I
guess you're the heaviest article on board, Winthrop; -- she
never carried a lawyer before."

"Are lawyers heavy articles?" said Winnie laughing.

"'Cordin' to what I've heern, I should say they be; ain't
they, squire? -- considerable, -- especially when they get on
folks's hands. I hope you're a better sort, Winthrop, -- or
ain't there much choice in 'em?"

"You shall try me when you get into trouble," said Winthrop.

"Is this Mr. Cowslip's old sloop?" said Winnie.

"She don't look old, does she?" inquired Mr. Hildebrand.

"But I mean, is it the same he used to have? -- No, she looks
very handsome indeed."

"She's the old one though," said the skipper, "the same old
Julia Ann. What's the use o' askin' ladies' ages? -- she's just
as good as when she was young; and better dressed. I've had
the cabin fixed up for you, Mr. Landholm, -- I guess it'll be
pretty comfortable in there."

"It's a great deal pleasanter here," said Winnie. "There comes
the wind! -- that was a puff! --"

"Well we're ready for it," said the skipper.

And stronger puffs came after, and soon a steady fair
southerly breeze set up the river and sent the Julia Ann on
before it. Straight up the river their course lay, without
veering a point for miles. The sun was lowering towards the
horizon and the heat was lessening momently, even without the
south breeze which bade it be forgotten; and the blue waters
of the river, so sluggish a little while ago, were briskly
curling and rippling, and heading like themselves for Wut-a-
qut-o.

Winnie sat still and silent in the shadow of the huge sail.
Winthrop was standing close beside her, talking with the
skipper; but he knew that his little sister had hold of his
hand and had laid her unbonneted head against his arm; and
when the skipper left him he stooped down to her.

"What do you think of it, Winnie?"

"O Winthrop! -- how delicious! -- Aren't you glad it is such
beautiful world?"

"What are you thinking of in particular?"

"O everything. It isn't down here like Wut-a-qut-o, but
everything is so delicious -- the water and the shore and the
sunshine and the wind! --"

"Poor Winnie," said her brother stroking her hair, -- "you
haven't seen it in a good while."

She looked up at him, a glance which touchingly told him that
where he was she wanted nothing; and then turned her eyes
again towards the river.

"I was thinking, Governor, that maybe I shall never go up here
again."

"Well Winnie? --"

"I am very glad I can go this time. I am so much obliged to
you for bringing me."

"Obliged to me, Winnie!"

He had placed himself behind his little sister, with one hand
holding her lightly by each shoulder; and calm as his tone
was, perhaps there came a sudden thought of words that he knew
very well --

"There fairer flowers than Eden's bloom,
"Nor sin nor sorrow know;
"Blest seats! through rude and stormy seas
"I onward press to you." --

For he was silent, though his face wore no more than its
ordinary gravity.

"Governor," said Winnie half turning her head round to him, "I
wish these people were not all round here within hearing, so
that we could sing. -- I feel just like it."

"By and by, Winnie, I dare say we can."

"How soon do you think we shall get to Wut-a-qut-o."

"Before morning, if the wind holds."

The wind held fair and rather strengthened than lost, as the
evening went on. Under fine headway the Julia Ann swept up the
river, past promontory and bay, nearing and nearing her goal.
Do her best, however, the Julia Ann could not bring them that
night to any better sleeping advantages than her own little
cabin afforded; and for those Winthrop and Winnie were in no
hurry to leave the deck. After the skipper's hospitality had
been doubtfully enjoyed at supper, and after they had
refreshed themselves with seeing the sun set and watching the
many-coloured clouds he left behind him, the moon rose in the
other quarter and threw her 'silver light' across the deck,
just as duskiness was beginning to steal on. The duskiness
went on and shrouded the hills and the distant reaches of the
river in soft gloom; but on board the Julia Ann, on her white
sails and deck floor where the brother and sister were
sitting, and on a broad pathway of water between them and the
moon, her silver light threw itself with brightening and
broadening power. By and by Mr. Hildebrand's two or three
helpers disposed of themselves below deck, and nobody was left
but Mr. Hildebrand himself at the helm.