Chapter 27
Uncle Eb and David were away buying cattle, half the week, but ElizabethBrower was always at home to look after my comfort. She was up betimesin the morning and singing at her work long before I was out of bed.When the breakfast was near ready she came to my door with a call sofall of cheerfulness and good-nature it was the best thing in the day.And often, at night, I have known her to come into my room when I waslying awake with some hard problem, to see that I was properly coveredor that my window was not open too far. As we sat alone together, ofan evening, I have seen her listen for hours while I was committing theOdes of Horace with a curiosity that finally gave way to resignation.Sometimes she would look over my shoulder at the printed page and try todiscern some meaning in it. When Uncle Eb was with us he would often sita long time his head turned attentively as the lines came rattling offmy tongue.
'Cur'us talk!' he said, one evening, as I paused a moment, while hecrossed the room for a drink of water. 'Don' seem t' make no kind O'sense. I can make out a word here 'n there but fer good, sound, commonsense I call it a purty thin crop.'
Hope wrote me every week for a time. A church choir had offered her aplace soon after she went to the big city. She came home intending tosurprise us all, the first summer but unfortunately, I had gone away inthe woods with a party of surveyors and missed her. We were a month inthe wilderness and came out a little west of Albany where I took a boatfor New York to see Hope. I came down the North River between the greatsmoky cities, on either side of it, one damp and chilly morning. Thenoise, the crowds, the immensity of the town appalled me. At JohnFuller's I found that Hope had gone home and while they tried to detainme longer I came back on the night boat of the same day. Hope and Ipassed each other in that journey and I did not see her until the summerpreceding my third and last year in college--the faculty having allowedme to take two years in one. Her letters had come less frequently andwhen she came I saw a grand young lady of fine manners, her beautyshaping to an ampler mould, her form straightening to the dignity ofwomanhood.
At the depot our hands were cold and trembling with excitement--neitherof us, I fancy, knowing quite how far to go in our greeting. Ourcorrespondence had been true to the promise made her mother--there hadnot been a word of love in it--only now and then a suggestion of ourtender feeling. We hesitated only for the briefest moment. Then I put myarm about her neck and kissed her.
'I am so glad to see you,' she said.
Well, she was charming and beautiful, but different, and probablynot more different than was I. She was no longer the laughing,simple-mannered child of Faraway, whose heart was as one's hand beforehim in the daylight. She had now a bit of the woman's reserve--herprudence, her skill in hiding the things of the heart. I loved her morethan ever, but somehow I felt it hopeless--that she had grown out of mylife. She was much in request among the people of Hillsborough, and wewent about a good deal and had many callers. But we had little time toourselves. She seemed to avoid that, and had much to say of the grandyoung men who came to call on her in the great city. Anyhow it all hurtme to the soul and even robbed me of my sleep. A better lover thanI would have made an end of dallying and got at the truth, come whatmight. But I was of the Puritans, and not of the Cavaliers, and my waywas that which God had marked for me, albeit I must own no man had evera keener eye for a lovely woman or more heart to please her. A mightypride had come to me and I had rather have thrown my heart to vulturesthan see it an unwelcome offering. And I was quite out of courage withHope; she, I dare say, was as much out of patience with me.
She returned in the late summer and I went back to my work at college ina hopeless fashion that gave way under the whip of a strong will.
I made myself as contented as possible. I knew all the pretty girlsand went about with some of them to the entertainments of the collegeseason. At last came the long looked for day of my graduation--the endof my student life.
The streets of the town were thronged, every student having the collegecolours in his coat lapel. The little company of graduates trembled withfright as the people crowded in to the church, whispering and faringthemselves, in eager anticipation. As the former looked from the twoside pews where they sat, many familiar faces greeted them--the facesof fathers and mothers aglow with the inner light of pride and pleasure;the faces of many they loved come to claim a share in the glory of thatday. I found my own, I remember, but none of them gave me such help asthat of Uncle Eb. However I might fare, none would feel the pride ordisgrace of it more keenly than he. I shall never forget how he turnedhis head to catch every word when I ascended the platform. As I warmedto my argument I could see him nudging the arm of David, who sat besidehim, as if to say, 'There's the boy that came over the hills with me ina pack basket.' When I stopped a moment, groping for the next word, heleaned forward, embracing his knee, firmly, as if intending to draw offa boot. It was all the assistance he could give me. When the exerciseswere over I found Uncle Eb by the front door of the church, waiting forme.
'Willie, ye done noble!' said he.
'Did my very best, Uncle Eb,' I replied.
'Liked it grand--I did, sartin.' 'Glad you liked it, Uncle Eb.'
'Showed great larnin'. Eho was the man 'at give out the pictur's?'
He meant the president who had conferred the degrees. I spoke the name.
'Deceivin' lookin' man, ain't he? Seen him often, but never took nopertick'lar notice of him before.'
'How deceiving?' I enquired.
'Talked so kind of plain,' he replied. 'I could understan' him as easyas though he'd been swappin' hosses. But when you got up, Bill'. Why,you jes' riz right up in the air an' there couldn't no dum fool tellwhat you was talkin' 'bout.'
Whereat I concluded that Uncle Eb's humour was as deep as it was kindly,but I have never been quite sure whether the remark was a compliment ora bit of satire.