ps
to which Rufus looked forward so confidently, were yet far
away. He owed a bill at the tailor's; and had besides one or
two other little accounts unsettled, which it had been
impossible to avoid, and was now impossible to leave.
Therefore he must not leave Shagarack. The first thing to do
was to clear these hindrances from his way. So he entered his
name as law-reader at the little office of Mr. Shamminy, to
save time, and took a tutorship in the College to earn money.
He had the tutorship of the Junior Greek class, which his
father loved to tell he carried further than ever a class had
been carried before; but that was not all; he had a number of
other recitations to attend which left him, with the necessary
studies, scant time for reading law. That little was made the
most of and the year was gained.
All the year was needed to free himself from these cobweb
bindings that held him fast at Shagarack. Another Commencement
over, his debts paid, he went home; to make a little pause on
that landing-place of life's journey before taking his last
start from it.
CHAPTER XV.
I turn to go: my feet are set
To leave the pleasant fields and farms:
They mix in one another's arms
To one pure image of regret.
TENNYSON.
That little space of time was an exceeding sweet one. Governor
was at home again, -- and Governor was going away again. If
anything had been needed to enhance his preciousness, those
two little facts would have done it. Such an idea entered
nobody's head. He was the very same Winthrop, they all said,
that had left them four years ago; only taller, and stronger,
and handsomer.
"He's a beautiful strong man!" said Karen, stopping in the act
of rolling her cakes, to peer at him out of the kitchen
window. "Aint he a handsome feller, Mis' Landholm?"
"Handsome is that handsome does, Karen."
"Don't he do handsome?" said Karen, flouring her roller. "His
mother knows he does, I wish I knowed my shortcake'd be arter
the same pattern."
Winthrop pulled off his coat and went into the fields as
heartily as if he had done nothing but farming all his days;
and harvests that autumn came cheerily in. The corn seemed
yellower and the apples redder than they had been for a long
time. Asahel, now a fine boy of fifteen, was good aid in
whatever was going on, without or within doors. Rufus wrote
cheerfully from the North, where he still was; and there was
hardly a drawback to the enjoyment of the little famil
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