Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Farm life -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
"What do you mean by Mrs. Landholm's getting her face straight
when he came? -- was'nt it always so?"
"'Twa'n't always _so_," said Clam, -- "for when he come, half
the wrinkles went away, and the grey hairs all turned black
again."
There came such a pang to Elizabeth's heart, such a gush to
her eyes, that she hid her face on her knees and heard nothing
of what her handmaid said for a long time after. If Clam
talked, she had the talk all to herself; and when Elizabeth at
last raised her head, her handmaiden was standing on the other
side of the fireplace looking at her, and probably making up
her mind that she wanted 'fixing' very much. There was no
further discussion of the subject, however; for Miss Haye
immediately called for her bonnet and veil, wrapped herself in
a light scarf and went out. The door had hardly closed upon
her when the bell rang again, and she came running up-stairs
to her room.
"Clam, get me the newspaper."
"What news, Miss 'Lizabeth?"
"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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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