Part 96 (1/2)
”What then? I haven't seen you there since I've been in town.”
”How often are you there yourself?”
”O! -- every evening almost. What keeps you?”
”Duty --” said Winthrop.
”But what sort of duty! What on earth can hinder your coming there as you used to do, to spend a rational hour now and then?”
”My dear sir, it is enough for any man to know his own duty; it is not always possible for him to know that of another man.”
”And therefore I ask you!” said Rufus.
”What?”
”Why! -- what's your reason for keeping away.”
”In brief -- my engagements.”
”You've nothing to do with briefs yet,” said Rufus; ”have the goodness to enlarge a little. You've not been more busy lately than you were a while ago.”
”Yes I have.”
”Yes, I suppose you have,” -- said Rufus meditatively. ”But not so much more as to make that a reason?”
”If my reasons were not only 'as plenty' but as precious, as blackberries,” said his brother, ”you could not shew more eagerness for them.”
”I am afraid the blackberries would be the more savoury,” said Rufus laughing a little. ”But you didn't use to make such a hermit of yourself, Winthrop.”
”I don't intend to be a hermit always. But as I told you, duty and inclination have combined to make me one lately.”
Winnie could not make much of this conversation. The words might seem to mean something, but Winthrop's manner had been so perfectly cool and at ease that she was at a loss to know whether they meant anything.
Winthrop's first cause was not a very dignified one -- it was something about a man's horse. Winnie did not think much of it; except that it was his first cause, and it was gained; but that she was sure beforehand it would be. However, more dignified pieces of business did follow, and came fast; and at every new one Winnie's eyes sparkled and glistened, and her nervous troubles for the moment laid themselves down beneath joy, and pride in her brother, and thankfulness for his success. Before many months had pa.s.sed away, something offered that in better measure answered her wishes for his opportunity.
Their attic room had one evening a very unwonted visiter in the shape of Mr. Herder. Beside Mr. Inchbald and his sister, Rufus was the sole one that ever made a third in the little company. Winthrop's friends, for many reasons, had not the entrance there. But this evening, near the beginning of the new year, there came a knock at the door, and Mr. Herder's round face walked in rounder than ever.
”Good evening! -- How is all wiz you, Wint'rop? -- and you? -- I would not let no one come up wiz me -- I knew I should find you.”
”How did you know that, Mr. Herder?”
”O! -- I have not looked so long for strange things on the earth -- and _in_ the earth -- that I cannot find a friend -- de most strange thing of all.”
”Is that your conclusion, Mr. Herder? I didn't know you had quite so desperate an opinion of mankind.”
”It is not despairate,” said the naturalist; -- ”I do not despair of n.o.body. Dere is much good among de world -- dere might be more -- a good deal. I hope all will be good one day -- it will be -- then we shall have no more trouble. How is it wiz you, Wint'rop?”
”Nothing to complain of, Mr. Herder.”
”Does he never have nozing to complain of?” said the naturalist turning to Winnie.