Chapter XX

_Ford_. They do say, if money go before, all ways do lie open. _Fal_. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

Somewhat to Winthrop's surprise, Clam came the next day to remind him of his promise; very much in earnest to wear a clean frock and have her dinner regular. She was duly bound, and entered into clean service accordingly. The indentures were made out to Miss Haye; but for the present Clam was put to learn her business under somebody that knew it; and for that end was finally sent to Mrs. Landholm. A week or two with Mrs. Nettley proved to the satisfaction of both parties that neither would much advantage the other. At Shahweetah, Clam, as Mrs. Landholm expressed it, "took a new start," and got on admirably. What much favoured this, was the fact that she speedily became very much attached to the whole family; with the single exception of Karen, between whom and herself there was an unallayed state of friction; a friction that probably served only to better Clam's relish of her dinner, while poor Karen declared "she didn't leave her no rest day nor night."

"She's not a bad child, Karen," said her mistress.

"Which part of her 's good?" said Karen. "'Taint her eyes, nor her fingers; and if the Bible didn't say there wa'n't no such a fountain, I should think her tongue was one o' them fountains that sent out at the same place both salt water and fresh."

"Her fingers are pretty good, Karen."

"There's a two-sided will in 'em, Mrs. Landholm."

There was no two-sided will in Clam's first friend, nor in the energies which were steadily bearing him on towards his aim. Steadily and surely, as he knew. But his life in those days had almost as little to tell of, as it had much to do. From early morning till -- almost till early morning again, or till a new day had begun to count the hours, -- every minute had its work; yet the record of the whole could be given in very few words, and those would not be interesting. How should the record be, when the reality was not, even to himself. It was all preparatory work; it must be done; but the interest of the matter lay beyond, at that point whither all these efforts tended. Meanwhile work and have patience, and work, -- was the epitome of his life.

There were some breaks, but not many. Now and then a swift and sweet run home, to live for a moment in the midst of all this preparing to live; to rest among the home hearts; to breathe a few breaths in absolute freedom; to exchange Mr. De Wort's dusty office for the bright little keeping-room of the farmhouse, and forget the business of the hard brick and stone city under the shadow or the sunshine that rested on Wut-a- qut-o. Then Winthrop threw off his broadcloth coat and was a farmer again. Then Mrs. Landholm's brow laid down its care, and shewed to her son only her happy face. Then poor Winifred was strong and well and joyous, in the spite of sickness and weakness and nervous ail. And then also, Clam sprang round with great energy, and was as Karen averred, "fifty times worse and better than ever."

But all faded and died away, save the sweet memory and refreshment; that staid yet a little while. Winthrop went back to his musty parchments and lonely attic; and the little family at home gathered itself together for a new season of duty-doing, and hope, and looking forward. The sunshine and the shadow slept upon Wut-a-qut-o, as it did a little while ago; but neither sunshine nor shadow was the same thing now, for Winthrop was away.

He had lost perhaps less than they; though the balance was struck pretty fair. But he was actively bending every energy to the accomplishment of a great object. The intensity of effort might swallow up some other things, and the consciousness of sure and growing success might make amends for them. Besides, he had been long fighting the battle of life away from home, and was accustomed to it; they never got accustomed to it. Every fresh coming home was the pledge of a fresh parting, the pleasure of the one not more sure than the pain of the other. If Winthrop had changed, in all these years and goings and comings, it might have been different; if they could have found that their lost treasure was less true or strong or fair, than when they first let it go. But he was so exactly the same Winthrop that they had been sorry for that first time, that they could only be sorry again with the same sorrow; -- the same, but for the lost novelty of that first time, and the added habit of patience, and the nearer hope of his and their reward.

So through the first winter and the first summer, and the second winter and the second summer, of his city apprenticeship, Winthrop wrought on; now with a cold room and little fire in his chimney, and now with the sun beating upon the roof, and the only hope of night's sea-breeze. But the farmer's boy had known cold and heat a great while ago, and he could bear both. He could partly forget both, sometimes in literary unbending with Mr. Herder and his friends; and at other times in a solitary walk on the Green overlooking the bay, to catch the sea-breeze more fresh and soon, and look up the river channel towards where the shadows lay upon Wut-a- qut-o. And sometimes in a visit at Mr. Haye's.

Of late, in the second summer, this last sort of pleasure- taking grew to be more frequent. Mr. Herder was less visited, and Mr. Haye more. Winthrop was always welcome, but there was no change in the manner of his being received. Unless perhaps a little more graciousness on Elizabeth's part, and a trifle less on Rose's, might be quoted.

So the sea-breezes blew through the dog-days; and September ushered in and ushered out its storms; and October came, clear and fair, with strength and health for body and mind. With October came Rufus, having just made an end of his work in the North country. He came but for a few days' stay in passing from one scene of labours to another. For those few days he abode with his brother, sharing his room and bed.

"Well, Winthrop, I've stuck to my choice," he remarked, the second evening of his being there. The tone indicated the opening of a great budget of thoughts. Winthrop was bending over a parchment-coloured volume, and Rufus pacing up and down the longest stretch of the little room.

"I am glad of it," said Winthrop, without looking up.

"I am not sure that I am."

"What's the matter?"

"I don't see that I gain much by it, and I certainly lose."

"What do you expect to gain?"

"Nothing but money, -- and I don't get that."

"It's safe, isn't it?"

"Yes, and so are winter's snows, in their treasury; -- and I could as soon get it by asking for it."

"Let us hope it will come with the snows," said Winthrop, his head still bent down over his book.

"You may talk; -- it is easy waiting for you."

"Query, how that would give me a right to talk," said Winthrop turning over a leaf; -- "supposing it to be a fact; of which I have some doubts."

"What have you been doing all to-day?"

"The usual routine -- which after all is but preparing to do."

"What has been the routine to-day?"

"You saw my breakfast and saw me get it. -- Then I went out. -- Then I read, according to custom."

"What?"

"Classics."

"Do you!"

"For awhile. The rest of the morning between engrossing deeds and the Record Office. First half of the afternoon, or rather a larger proportion, ditto; the rest to meet my friends Messrs. Jones and Satterthwaite."

"Satterthwaite! -- what does _he_ want?"

"To read Greek with me."

"Greek! What has put that into his head? Bob. Satterthwaite!" -- and Rufus threw back his head and laughed in a great state of amusement. "What has put _that_ into his head? -- eh, Winthrop?"

"I don't inquire. It puts money in my pocket."

"Not much," said Rufus.

"No, not much."

"What's the reason, do you think? What moves _him_ to woo the Muses? -- I'm afraid it's because he thinks it is a preliminary wooing he must go through before he can be successful in another quarter."

And again Rufus laughed, in high delight.

"I have no business with that," said Winthrop.

"What are you doing now?"

"Studying law."

"Stop."

"What for?"

"To talk to me."

"It seems to me I have been doing that for some time," said Winthrop, without looking off his book.

"But I haven't begun. Winthrop, -- I have a great mind to give up this engineering business."

"To do what instead?"

"Why -- you know I shall have some money coming to me -- quite a little sum; -- Mr. Haye has very kindly offered to put me in the way of laying it out to good advantage, and eventually of getting into another line of occupation which would at the same time be more lucrative, less laborious, and would keep me in the regions of civilization. -- And perhaps -- Winthrop -- something might follow thereupon, --"

"What?" said his brother looking up.

"Something --"

"More definite in your purpose than in your speech."

"Not my purpose, exactly," said Rufus, -- "but in possibility."

"There is no peg in possibility for a wise man to hang his cap on."

"Perhaps I am not a wise man," said Rufus, with a very queer face, as if his mind were giving an askance look at the subject.

"That's a supposititious case I shall leave you to deal with."

"Why it's the very sort of case it's your business to deal with," said Rufus. "If the world was full of wise men you'd stand a pretty fair chance of starving, Governor. But seriously, -- do you think it is unbecoming a wise man to take any lawful means of keeping out of the way of that same devil of starvation?"

"Do you mean to say that you are in any danger of it?" said Winthrop looking up again.

"Why no, -- not exactly; taking the words literally. But one may starve and yet have enough to eat."

"If one refuses one's food."

"If one don't! I tell you, I have been starving for these two years past. It is not living, to make to-day only feed to- morrow. Besides -- I don't see any harm in purchasing, if one can, an exemption from the universal doom of eating one's bread in the sweat of one's brow."

"I think it depends entirely on what one pays for the purchase," said Winthrop.

"Suppose one pays nothing."

"One executes a most unaccountable business transaction."

Rufus stopped and looked at him, and then took up his walk, and half laughing went on.

"Suppose we leave talking in the dark, and understand one another. Do you know what I am driving at?"

"Have you set off?" said Winthrop, with again a glance which seemed to add to Rufus's amusement.

"No," he said, -- "I am just waiting for you to give me leave."

"The reins are not in my hands."

"Yes they are. Seriously, Winthrop, do you know what we are talking about? -- What do you think of my making suit to one of these ladies?"

"I do not think about it."

"You do not conceive it would be any disfavour to either of them to induce her to accept me, I suppose. -- What do you say?"

"You are indifferent towards which of them the suit should incline?" said Winthrop.

"Why, that's as it may be -- I haven't thought enough about it to know. They're a pretty fair pair to choose from --"

"Supposing that you have the choice," said Winthrop.

"Do you know anything to the contrary? --Has anybody else a fairer entrance than myself?"

"I am not on sufficiently near terms with the family to be able to inform you."

"Do _you_ think of entering _your_ plough, Governor?"

"Not in your field."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am not in your way."

"Shall I be in yours?"

"No," said his brother coolly.

"In whose way then?"

"I am afraid in your own, Will."

"How do you mean?" asked the other a little fiercely.

"If you are so intent upon marrying money-bags, you may chance to get a wife that will not suit you."

"You must explain yourself!" said Rufus haughtily. "In what respect would either of these two not suit me?"

"Of two so different, it may safely be affirmed that if one would the other would not."

"Two so different!" said Rufus. "What's the matter with either of them?"

"There is this the matter with both --that you do not know them."

"I _do_ know them!"

"From the rest of the world; but not from each other."

"Why not from each other?"

"Not enough for your liking or your judgment to tell which would suit you."

"Why would not either suit?" said Rufus.

"I think -- if you ask me -- that one would not make you happy, in the long run; and the other, with your present views and aims, you could not make happy."

"Which is which?" said Rufus, laughing and drawing up a chair opposite his brother.

"Either of them is which," said Winthrop. "Such being the case, I don't know that it is material to inquire."

"It is very material! for I cannot be satisfied without the answer. I am in earnest in the whole matter, Winthrop."

"So am I, very much in earnest."

"Which of them should I not make happy?" -- Rufus went on. -- "Rose? -- She is easily made happy."

"So easily, that you would be much more than enough for it."

"Then it is the other one whose happiness you are afraid for?"

"I don't think it is in much danger from you."

"Why? --what then?" said Rufus quickly.

"I doubt whether any one could succeed with her whose first object was something else."

Rufus drew his fingers through his hair, in silence, for about a minute and a half; with a face of thoughtful and somewhat disagreeable consideration.

"And with the other one you think he could?"

"What?"

"Succeed? -- one whose first object, as you say, was something else?"

"With the other I think anybody could."

"I don't know but I like that," said Rufus; -- "it is amiable. She has more simplicity. She is a lovely creature!"

"If you ask your eye."

"If I ask yours!" --

"Every man must see with his own eyes," said Winthrop.

"Don't yours see her lovely?"

"They might, if they had not an inward counsellor that taught them better."

"She is very sweet-tempered and sweet-mannered," said Rufus.

"Very."

"Don't you think so?"

"Certainly -- when it suits her."

"When it suits her!"

"Yes. She is naturally rude, and politically polite."

"And how's the other one? isn't she naturally rude too?"

"Not politically anything."

"And you think she wouldn't have me?"

"I am sure she would not, if she knew your motive."

"My motive! -- but my motive might change," said Rufus, pushing back his chair and beginning to walk the floor again. "It isn't necessary that my regards should be confined to her gracious adjunctive recommendations. --"

He walked for some time without reply, and again the leaves of Winthrop's book said softly now and then that Winthrop's head was busy with them.

"Governor, you are very unsatisfactory!" said his brother at length, standing now in front of him.

Winthrop looked up and smiled and said, "What would you have?"

"Your approbation!" -- was the strong and somewhat bitter thought in Rufus's mind. He paused before he spoke.

"But Governor, really I am tired of this life -- it isn't what I am fit for; -- and why not escape from it, if I can, by some agreeable road that will do nobody any harm?"

"With all my heart," said Winthrop. "I'll help you."

"Well? --"

"Well --"

"You think this is not such a one?"

"The first step in it being a stumble."

"To whom would it bring harm, Governor?"

"The head must lower when the foot stumbles," said Winthrop. "That is one harm."

"But you are begging the question!" said Rufus a little impatiently.

"And you have granted it."

"I haven't!" said Rufus. "I don't see it. I don't see the stumbling or the lowering. I should not feel myself lowered by marrying a fine woman, and I hope she would not feel her own self-respect injured by marrying me."

"You will not stand so high upon her money-bags as upon your own feet."

"Why not have the advantage of both?"

"You cannot. People always sit down upon money-bags. The only exception is in the case of money-bags they have filled themselves."

Rufus looked at Winthrop's book for three minutes in silence.

"Well, why not then take at once the ease, for which the alternative is a long striving?"

"If you can. But the long striving is not the whole of the alternative; with that you lose the fruits of the striving -- all that makes ease worth having."

"But I should not relinquish them," said Rufus. "I shall not sit down upon my money-bags."

"They are not _your_ money-bags."

"They will be -- if I prove successful."

"And how will you prove successful?"

"Why!" -- said Rufus, -- "what a question! --"

"I wish you would answer it nevertheless -- not to me, but to yourself."

Whether Rufus did or not, the answer never came out. He paced the floor again; several times made ready to speak, and then checked himself.

"So you are entirely against me, --" he said at length.

"I am not against you, Will; -- I am _for_ you."

"You don't approve of my plan."

"No --I do not."

"I wish you would say why."

"I hardly need," said Winthrop with a smile. "You have said it all to yourself."

"Notwithstanding which assumption, I should like to hear you say it."

"For the greater ease of attack and defence?"

"If you please. For anything."

"What do you want me to do, Will?" said Winthrop looking up.

"To tell me why I should not marry Miss Haye or Miss Cadwallader."

"You not knowing, yourself."

"Yes -- I don't," said Rufus.

Winthrop turned over a few leaves of his book and then spoke.

"You are stronger, not to lean on somebody else's strength. You are more independent, not to lean at all. You are honester, not to gain anything under false pretences. And you are better to be yourself, Will Landholm, than the husband of any heiress the sun shines upon, at such terms."

"What terms?"

"False pretences."

"What false pretences?"

"Asking the hand, when you only want the key that is in it. Professing to give yourself, when in truth your purpose is to give nothing that is not bought and paid for."

Rufus looked very grave and somewhat disturbed.

"That's a very hard characterizing of the matter, Governor," said he. "I don't think I deserve it."

"I hope you don't," said his brother.

Rufus began again to measure the little apartment with his long steps.

"But this kind of thing is done every day, Winthrop."

"By whom?" said Winthrop.

"Why! -- by very good men; -- by everybody."

"Not by everybody."

"By what sort of people is it not done?"

"By you and me," said Winthrop smiling.

"You think then that a poor man should never marry a rich woman?"

"Never, -- unless he can forget that she is rich and he poor."

Rufus walked for some time in silence.

"Well," he said, in a tone between dry and injured, -- "I am going off to the West again, luckily; and I shall have no opportunity for the present to disturb you by making false pretences, of any sort."

"Is opportunity all that you lack?" said Winthrop looking up, and with so simple an expression that Rufus quitted his walk and his look together.

"Why did you never make trial for yourself, Winthrop?" he said. "You have a remarkably fine chance; and fine opening too, I should think. You are evidently very well received down yonder."

"I have a theory of my own too, on the subject," said Winthrop, -- "somewhat different from yours, but still enough to work by."

"What's that?"

"I have no mind to marry any woman who is unwilling to be obliged to me."

Rufus looked at his brother and at the fireplace awhile in gravity.

"You are proud," he said at length.

"I must have come to it by living so high in the world," said Winthrop.

"So high?" -- said Rufus.

"As near the sun as I can get. I thought it was very near, some time in August last."

Winthrop laid by his book; and the two young men stood several minutes, quite silent, on opposite sides of the hearth, with folded hands and meditative countenances; but the face of the one looked like the muddy waters of the Shatemuc tossed and tumbled under a fierce wind; the other's was calm and steady as Wut-a-qut-o's brow.

"So you won't have any woman that you don't _oblige_ to marry you!" Rufus burst out. "Ha, ha, ha! -- ho, ho, ho! --"

Winthrop's mouth gave the slightest good-humoured token of understanding him, -- it could not be called a smile. Rufus had his laugh out, and cooled down into deeper gravity than before.

"Well!" -- said he, -- "I'll go off to my fate, at the limitless wild of the West. It seems a rough sort of fate."

"Make your fate for yourself," said Winthrop.

"_You_ will," said his brother. "And it will be what you will, and that's a fair one. And you will oblige anybody you have a mind to. And marry an heiress."

"Don't look much like it -- things at present," said Winthrop. "I don't see the way very clear."

"As for me, I don't know what ever I shall come to," Rufus added.

"Come to bed at present," said Winthrop. "That is one step."

"One step towards what?"

"Sleep in the first place; and after that, anything."

"What a strange creature you are, Governor! and how doubtlessly and dauntlessly you pursue your way," Rufus said sighing.

"Sighs never filled anybody's sails yet," said Winthrop. "They are the very airs of a calm."

"Calm!" said Rufus.

"A dead calm," said his brother laughing.

"I wish I had _your_ calm," said Rufus. And with that the evening ended.