Mind Amongst the Spindles. A Miscellany, Wholly Composed by the Factory Girls
General
Mind Amongst the Spindles. A Miscellany, Wholly Composed by the Factory Girls
American literature -- Massachusetts -- Lowell; American literature -- Women authors; Working class women -- Literary collections
But Susan was young; she had health, strength, and spirits to bear her
up, and upon her devolved the care of the family, and the plan for its
future support. Her resolution was soon formed; and without saying a
word to any individual, she went to Deacon Rand, who was her father's
principal creditor.
It was a beautiful afternoon in the month of May, when Susan left the
house in which her life had hitherto been spent, determined to know,
before she returned to it, whether she might ever again look upon it as
her home. It was nearly a mile to the deacon's house, and not a single
house upon the way. The two lines of turf in the road, upon which the
bright green grass was springing, showed that it was but seldom
travelled; and the birds warbled in the trees, as though they feared no
disturbance. The fragrance of the lowly flowers, the budding shrubs, and
the blooming fruit-trees, filled the air; and she stood for a moment to
listen to the streamlet which she crossed upon a rude bridge of stones.
She remembered how she had loved to look at it in summer, as it murmured
along among the low willows and alder bushes; and how she had watched it
in the early spring, when its swollen waters forced their way through
the drifts of snow which had frozen over it, and wrought for itself an
arched roof, from which the little icicles depended in diamond points
and rows of beaded pearls. She looked also at the meadow, where the
grass was already so long and green; and she sighed to think that she
must leave all that was so dear to her, and go where a ramble among
fields, meadows, and orchards, would be henceforth a pleasure denied to
her.
CHAPTER II.
When she arrived at the spacious farm-house, which was the residence of
the deacon, she was rejoiced to find him at home and alone. He laid
aside his newspaper as she entered, and, kindly taking her hand,
inquired after her own health and that of her friends. "And now,
deacon," said she, when she had answered all his questions, "I wish to
know whether you intend to turn us all out of doors, as you have a
perfect right to do--or suffer us still to remain, with a slight hope
that we may sometime pay you the debt for which our farm is mortgaged."
"You have asked me a very plain question," was the deacon's reply, "and
one which I can easily answer. You see that I have here a house, large
enough and good enough for the president himself, and plenty of every
thing in it and around it; and how in the name of common sense and
charity, and religion, could I turn a widow and fatherless children out
of their house and home! Folks have called me mean, and stingy, and
close-fisted; and though in my dealings with a rich man I take good care
that he shall not overreach me, yet I never stood for a cent with a poor
man in my life. But you spake about some time paying me; pray, how do
you hope to do it?"
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