Part 16 (1/2)
”I have not been reading any book,” said Matilda.
”Then lie down and quit talking. How do you expect I am going to sleep?”
”Let us go and see what we can do at the Dows, Maria, to-morrow, won't you?”
But Maria either did not or would not hear; so the matter pa.s.sed for that night. But the next day Matilda brought it up again. Maria found excuses to put her off. Matilda, however, was not to be put off permanently; she never forgot; and day after day the subject came up for discussion, until Maria at last consented.
”I am going because you tease me so, Tilly,” she said, as they set forth from the gate. ”Just for that and nothing else. I don't like it a bit.”
”But you promised.”
”I didn't.”
”To bring in new scholars?”
”I did not promise I would bring the Dow children; and I don't believe they'll come.”
The walk before the children was not long, and yet it almost took them out of the village. They pa.s.sed the corner this time without turning, keeping the road, which was indeed part of the great high road which took Shadywalk in its way, as it took many another village. The houses in this direction soon began to scatter further apart from each other.
They were houses of more pretension, too, with grounds and gardens and fruit trees about them; and built in styles that were notable, if not according to any particular rule. Soon the ground began to descend sharply towards the bed of a brook, which brawled along with impetuous waters towards a mill somewhere out of sight. It was a full, fine stream, mimicking the rapids and eddies of larger streams, with all their life and fury given to its smaller current. The waters looked black and wintry in contrast with the white snow of the sh.o.r.es. A foot-bridge spanned the brook, alongside of another bridge for carriages; and just beyond, the black walls of a ruin showed where another fine mill had once stood. That mill had been burnt. It was an old story; the girls did not so much as think about it now. Matilda's glance had gone the other way, where the stream rushed along from under the bridge and hurried down a winding glen, bordered by a road that seemed well traversed. A house could be seen down the glen, just where the road turned in company with the brook and was lost to view.
”I wonder who lives down there?” said Matilda.
”I don't know. Yes, I do, too; but I have forgotten.”
”I wonder if they come to church.”
”I don't know _that;_ and I shall not go to ask them. Why, Matilda, you never cared before whether people went to church.”
”Don't you care now?” was Matilda's rejoinder.
”No! I don't care. I don't know those people. They may go to fifty churches, for aught I can tell.”
”But, Maria,”--said her little sister.
”What?”
”I do not understand you.”
”Very likely. _That_ isn't strange.”
”But, Maria,--you promised the other night--O Maria, what things you promised!”
”What then?” said Maria. ”What do you mean? What did I promise?”
”You promised you would be a servant of Christ,” Matilda said, anxiously.
”Well, what if I did?” said Maria. ”Of course I did; what then. Am I to find out whether everybody in Shadywalk goes to church, because I promised that? It is not my business.”
”Whose business is it?”
”It is Mr. Richmond's business and Mr. Everett's business; and Mr.