Hills of the Shatemuc Part 155

"Don't you want to see anybody, ever? I do. I don't like to be in a desert so."

Elizabeth was silent, with a set of the lips that told of thoughts at work.

"Doesn't Winthrop Landholm come here?"

"No!"

"I'm not used to it," said Rose whimpering, -- "I can't live so. It makes me feel dreadfully."

"Whom do _you_ want to see, Rose?" said Elizabeth, with an expression that ought to have reminded her companion whom she was dealing with.

"I don't care who -- any one. It's dreadful to live so, and see nothing but the leaves shaking and the river rolling and this great empty place."

"Empty!" said Elizabeth, with again a quick glancing laugh.

"Well! -- you are yourself yet! But at any rate the leaves don't shake much to-day."

"They did last night," said Rose. "I was so frightened I didn't know what to do, and with no man in the house either, good for anything -- I didn't sleep a wink till after one o'clock."

"Was your sleep ever disturbed by anything of more importance than the wind?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Rose in tears. "I think you're very unkind! --"

"What would you like me to do, Rose?"

"Let's go away from here."

"Where?"

"I don't care -- to Mannahatta."

"What do you want to do in Mannahatta?"

"Why, nothing, -- what everybody does -- live like other people.

I shall die here."

"Is the memory of the best friend you ever had, so little worth, Rose, that you are in a hurry to banish it your company already?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Rose, with one of her old pouts and then bursting into fresh weeping. "I don't know why one should be miserable any more than one can help. I have been miserable enough, I am sure. Oh Lizzie! -- I think you're very unkind! --"

Elizabeth's face was a study; for the fire in her eyes shone through water, and every feature was alive. But her lips only moved to tremble.

"I won't stay here!" said Rose. "I'll go away and do something. I don't care what I do. I dare say there's enough left for me to live upon; and I can do without Emma. I can live somehow, if not quite as well as you do."

"Hush, Rose, and keep a little sense along with you," said Elizabeth.

"There _must_ be enough left for me somehow," Rose went on, sobbing. "n.o.body had any right to take my money. It was mine.

n.o.body else had a right to it. It is mine. I ought to have it."

"Rose! --"

Rose involuntarily looked up at the speaker who was standing before her, fire flas.h.i.+ng from eye and lip, like the relations of Queen Gulnare in the fairy story.

"Rose! -- do not dare speak to me in that way! -- ever again! -- whatever else you do. I will leave you to get back your senses."

With very prompt and decided action, Miss Haye sought her rowing gloves in her own room, put them on, and went down to the rocks where the Merry-go-round lay. She stopped not to look at anything; she loosened the boat and pushed out into the water. And quick and smartly the oars were pulled, till the skiff was half way over the river towards Mr. Underhill's house. Suddenly there they stopped. Elizabeth's eyes were bent on the water about two yards from the stern of the boat; while the paddles hung dripping, dripping more and more slowly, at the sides, and the little skiff floated gently up with the tide. But if Elizabeth's eyes were looking into nature, it was her own; her face grew more settled and grave and then sorrowful every minute; and at last the paddle-handles were thrown across the boat and her arms and her head rested upon them. And the little skiff floated gently up stream.

It had got some distance above Mr. Underhill's, when its mistress lifted her head and looked about, with wet eyelashes, to see where she was. Then the boat's head was turned, and some steady pulling brought her to the gravelly beach in front of Mr. Underhill's house. Its owner was luckily there to help her out.

"Well, I declare that's clever of you," said he, as he grasped the bow of the little vessel to draw it further up. "I didn't much expect you'd come when I asked you. Why you can row, real smart."

"I don't see how I am going to get out, Mr. Underhill."

"Step up on there, can't you -- I'll hold her, -- can you jump?"

"But Mr. Underhill, that's going to do no good to my boat. --"

"What aint? --"

"That gravel -- grating and grinding on it, as the tide makes."

"'Twon't do nothin' -- it'll just stay still so. Well, you go in and speak to mother, and I'll see to her. I didn't know you could row so smart, -- real handsome!"

"I learnt a good while ago," said Elizabeth. "I'll not be gone long, Mr. Underhill."

Up the neglected green slope she ran, wondering at herself the while. What new steps were these, which Miss Haye was not taking for her own pleasure. What a strange visit was this, which her heart shrank from more and more as she neared the house door.

The house was tenanted by sundry younger fry of the feminine gender, of various ages, who met Elizabeth with wonder equal to her own, and a sort of mixed politeness and curiosity to which her experience had no parallel. By the fireside sat the old grandam, very old, and blind, as Elizabeth now perceived she was. Miss Haye drew near with the most utter want of knowledge what to do or say to such a person, -- how to give the pleasure she had come to give. She hoped the mere fact of her coming and presence would do it, for to anything further she felt herself unequal. The old lady looked up curiously, hearing the noise of entering feet and a stranger's among them.

"Will you tell your grandmother who I am," Elizabeth asked, with a shy ignorance how to address her, and an exceeding reluctance to it.

"Grand'ma," said the eldest girl, "here is Miss Haye, -- the young lady from Shahweetah -- she's here."

The old woman turned her sightless eyes towards her visiter, got up and curtseyed.

"Don't do that," said Elizabeth, taking a seat near her. "Mr.

Underhill asked me some time ago to come and see his mother."

"I've heerd of ye," said the old woman. "'Siah was over to your place, makin' of a boat, or mendin', or somethin', he telled me. I'm glad to see ye. How did ye come across?"

"In a boat -- in the boat he mended for me."

"Have you got somebody to row ye over?"

"I rowed myself over."

"Why did ye? -- ain't ye afeard? I wouldn't ha' thought! 'Siah said she was a slim handsome girl, as one would see in the country."

"Well, I can row," said Elizabeth colouring; for she had an instant sense that several pairs of eyes _not_ blind were comparing the report with the reality.