Hills of the Shatemuc Part 152

The supper was in Mrs. Landholm's old kitchen; they two alone at the table. Perhaps Elizabeth thought of the old time, perhaps her thoughts had enough to do with the present; she was silent, grave and stern, not wanting in any kind care nevertheless. Rose took tears and bread and b.u.t.ter by turns; and then sat with her face in her handkerchief all the evening. It seemed a very, very long evening to her hostess, whose face bespoke her more tired, weary, and grave, with every succeeding half hour. Why was this companion, whose company of all others she least loved, to be yet her sole and only companion, of all the world? Elizabeth by turns fretted and by turns scolded herself for being ungrateful, since she confessed that even Rose was better for her than to be utterly alone. Yet Rose was a blessing that greatly irritated her composure and peace of mind. So the evening literally wore away. But when at last Rose was kissing her hostess for good night, between sobs she stammered, "I am very glad to be here Lizzie, -- it seems like being at home again."

Elizabeth gave her no answer besides the answering kiss; but her eyes filled full at that, and as soon as she reached her own room the tears came in long and swift flow, but sweeter and gentler and softer than they had flowed lately. And very thankful that she had done right, very soothed and refreshed that her right doing had promised to work good, she laid herself down to sleep.

But her eyes had hardly closed when the click of her door- latch made them open again. Rose's pretty night-cap was presenting itself.

"Lizzie! -- aren't you afraid without a man in the house?"

"There _is_ a man in the house."

"Is there?"

"Yes. Anderese -- Karen's brother."

"But he is old."

"He's a man."

"But aren't you ever afraid?"

"It's no use to be afraid," said Elizabeth. "I am accustomed to it. I don't often think of it."

"I heard such queer noises," said Rose whispering. "I didn't think of anything before, either. May I come in here?"

"It's of no use, Rose," said Elizabeth. "You would be just as much afraid to-morrow night. There is nothing in the world to be afraid of."

Rose slowly took her night-cap away and Elizabeth's head went down on her pillow. But her closing eyes opened again at the click of the latch of the other door.

"Miss 'Lizabeth! --"

"Well, Clam? --"

"Karen's all alive, and says she ain't goin' to live no longer."

"What! --"

"Karen."

"What's the matter?"

"Maybe she's goin', as she says she is; but I think maybe she ain't."

"Where is she?" said Elizabeth jumping up.

"In here," said Clam. "She won't die out of the kitchen."

Elizabeth threw on her dressing-gown and hurried out; thinking by the way that she had got into a thorn forest of difficulties, and wis.h.i.+ng the daylight would look through.

Karen was sitting before the fire, wrapped up in shawls, in the rocking-chair.

"What's the matter, Karen?"

Karen's reply was to break forth into a tremulous sc.r.a.p of her old song, --

"'I'm going, -- I'm going, -- I'm going, --'"

"Stop," said Elizabeth. "Don't sing. Tell me what's the matter."

"It's nothin' else, Miss Lizzie," said the old woman. "I'm goin' -- I think I be."

"Why do you think so? How do you feel?"

"I don't feel no ways, somehow; -- it's a kinder givin' away. I think I'm just goin', ma'am."

"But what _ails_ you, Karen?"

"It's time," said Karen, jerking herself backwards and forwards in her rocking-chair. "I'm seventy years and more old. I hain't got no more work to do. I'm goin'; and I'm ready, praise the Lord! They're most all gone; -- and the rest is comin' after; -- it's time old Karen was there."

"But that's no sign you mayn't live longer," said Elizabeth.

"Seventy years is nothing. How do you feel sick?"

"It's all over, Miss Lizzie," said the old woman. "Its givin'

away. I'm goin' -- I know I be. The time's come."

"I will send Anderese for a doctor -- where is there one?"

Karen s.h.i.+vered and put her head in her hands, before she spoke.

"There ain't none -- I don't want none -- there was Doctor Kipp to Mountain Spring, but he ain't no' count; and he's gone away."

"Clam, do speak to Anderese and ask him about it, and tell him to go directly, if there is any one he can go for. -- What can I do for you, Karen?"

"I guess nothin', Miss Lizzie. -- If the Governor was here, he'd pray for me; but it ain't no matter -- I've been prayin'

all my life -- It's no matter if I can't pray good just right now. The Lord knows all."

Elizabeth stood silent and still.

"Shall I -- would you like to have me read for you?" she asked somewhat timidly.

"No," said Karen -- "not now -- I couldn't hear. Read for yourself, Miss Lizzie. I wish the Governor was here."

What a throbbing wish to the same effect was in Elizabeth's heart! She stood, silent, sorrowful, dismayed, watching Karen, wondering at herself in her changed circ.u.mstances and life and occupation; and wondering if she were only going down into the valley of humiliation, or if she had got to the bottom. And, almost thinking Karen to be envied if she were, as she said, 'going.'

"What's the matter?" said Rose and her night-cap at the other door.

"Karen don't feel very well. Don't come here, Rose."

"What are you there for?"