"I did not come to find you."
Still he did not speak and seemed disinclined to do so, or to admit
anything about himself. I was sorry that I had stopped to accost him,
but now that I had done so I went on quite as a matter of course to give
him tidings of the old Squire and of grandmother Ruth. "They are both
living and well; they speak of you at times," I said. "Your
disappearance grieved them. I don't think they ever blamed you."
His face worked strangely; his hands, grasping the hoe handle, shook;
but still he said nothing.
"Have you ever had word from your folks at the old farm?" I asked him at
length. "Have you had any news of them at all?"
He shook his head. I then informed him that his son Jotham had died four
years before; that Tom had gone abroad as an engineer; that Catherine
was living at home, managing the old place and doing it well; that she
had paid off the mortgage and was prospering.
He listened in silence; but his face worked painfully at times.
As I was speaking an elderly woman came to the door of the house and
stood looking toward us.
"That is my wife," he said, noticing that I saw her. "She is a good
woman.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199