There were actually tears in the big farmer's eyes, and he got out those finishing words of his in fragmentary gulps. None of us had ever seen him so affected before. After the Squire had shaken hands again and started off, Abner stood at the open door, looking after him, then gazing in a contemplative general way upon all out-doors. The vivid sunlight reflected up from the melting snow made his face to shine as if from an inner radiance. He stood still and looked across the yards with their piles of wet straw smoking in the forenoon heat, and the black puddles eating into the snow as the thaw went on; over the further prospect, made weirdly unfamiliar by the disappearance of the big old farm-house; down the long broad sloping hill-side with its winding road, its checkered irregular patches of yellow stubble and stacked fodder, of deep umber ploughed land and warm gray woodland, all pushing aside their premature mantle of sparkling white, and the scattered homesteads and red barns beyond—and there was in his eyes the far-away look of one who saw still other things. He turned at last and came in, walking over to where Jeff and Esther stood hand in hand beside the bed on the floor. Old Jee Hagadorn was sitting up now, and had exchanged some words with the couple. “Well, Brother Hagadorn,” said the farmer, “I hope you're feelin' better.” “Yes, a good deal—B—Brother Beech, thank'ee,” replied the cooper, slowly and with hesitation. Abner laid a fatherly hand on Esther's shoulder and another on Jeff's. A smile began to steal over his big face, broadening the square which his mouth cut down into his beard, and deepening the pleasant wrinkles about his eyes. He called M'rye over to the group with beckoning nod of the head. “It's jest occurred to me, mother,” he said, with the mock gravity of tone we once had known so well and of late had heard so little—“I jest be'n thinkin' we might 'a' killed two birds with one stun while the Square was up here. He's justice o' the peace, you know—an' they say them kindo' marriages turn out better'n all the others.” “Go 'long with yeh!” said M'rye, vivaciously. But she too put a hand on Esther's other shoulder. The school-teacher nestled against M'rye's side. “I tell you what,” she said, softly, “if Jeff ever turns out to be half the man his father is, I'll just be prouder than my skin can hold.” THE END Norwood Press: J.S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith. Boston, Mass., U.S.A. * * * * * Transcriber's note: What appeared to be clear typographical errors were corrected; any other mistakes or inconsistencies were retained. Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Copperhead, by Harold Frederic