Fourty-Four Years, or, the Life of a Hunter. Meshach Browning
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would probably have made yon pay for all the damage done to the mule."
After supper, the girls, Jesse, and myself, went into an- other room, where we spent almost the whole evening in relating past occurrences; as well those which had hap- pened to myself in the far West, as it was then called, as what had happened during my absence in the two neigh- borhoods in which I had formerly resided. I carefully avoided all inquiry about the McMullens, and expected an allusion to Mary every minute.
At length Lina remarked, "Well, cousin, you have asked after all your associates, and have not mentioned your little bird. You need not think to slip off that way, for we all know what you mean."
"Well, Lina," said I, "I was waiting for Jesse to say something about her; for, don't you know, I left him in charge of that pretty little girl, telling him to take care of her, and if I ever could, I would do the same kindness for him."
Jesse replied that he had not seen her, but that lie had heard that she was improving in her looks every day.
"Well," said Lina, "if you say much more about her he will leave us, and start off to-night, in order to be there soon in the morning; for you can see how uneasy he is getting."
"Indeed, girls," said I, "it would be a cold-hearted boy who, at my age, would not love to see such a girl as she is."
Having run me as far on that score as they wished, the conversation was turned to other subjects, and time passed very pleasantly till a late hour, when it was proposed that we should go to bed. Jesse and I occupied the same room; and, after we lay down, we continued talking till nearly daylight. The first thing we heard in the morning was the old gentleman calling the boys to get up; "For," said
70 FORTY-FOUR YEARS OF
he, "boys, we have a great deal of hay down, and we must have it secured while it is in good order."
After breakfast was over, I staid to help with the hay till it was all safe in the mows. This was a fine frolic; girls, boys, and old people all being at it, each one trying to surpass the other in skill and activity, till all was done. The evening was our own, and we enjoyed it with the greatest glee, singing songs, of which I had learned per- haps half a dozen new ones while I was away.
The next day I left for the "Blooming Hose;" and as my cousins had informed me of the death of uncle John's little daughter, I thought I ought to visit his family before calling on any of my acquaintances, for I knew their al- fliction was very great. Accordingly, I spent a week or two with them. They were very anxious that I should live with them again; but this offer I declined, by telling them that I had promised to live with my mother, at least till I should marry a wife—if ever I did take one; for that was an uncertain business, as the one that I wanted I could not get; and I never would have any girl upon whom my affections were not fixed.
In the mean time, I visited many of my friends; but I did not go to Mr. McMullen's, as I had not been apprised of his being from home, and as I well knew my presence would be unwelcome to him. I wished to see Mary be- fore I attempted to pay another visit to the family.
Some days passed thus, till at length there was a fune- ral, to which I went with uncle and aunt, and there I met Mrs. McMullen and Mary. After the funeral service was over, uncle, aunt, Mrs. McMullen, and Mary, together with several others, walked about a mile in company over the same road. I took Mary's hand, and walked by her side until the others had all turned off at different roads; when she her mother, and myself were the only persons left. The old lady stopped a little while with my aunt, but
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Mary and I kept on till we drew near her home; when we seated ourselves on a fallen tree by the roadside, and spent what we both thought and acknowledged was far too short a time in which to say all we wished.
When the old lady came up to us, I told her that I would have been better pleased if she had made her stay with my aunt a little longer—Mary having informed me (hat her mother was truly ray friend, but that her father was much displeased at ray return. Mrs. McMullen smiled, and asked why so. I told her that Mary and I had suf- ficient to say to each other to occupy another hour.
"Well," said the old woman," you can both go back to the house instead of sitting in the road, and there spend an hour or two ; but be sure not to stay till sundown."
I pledged myself that I would see her daughter home before sunset.
We were both pleased—at any rate, I knew that I was, and I had good reason to believe that Mary was; for, as her mother walked away, I said to her, "What a blessed old lady she is, to let me have such a splendid chance to court her daughter, at the very moment when I expected her to take you off home with her ! "
"That seems to be the case with all the men, I believe; every one is for his own interest. But I can tell you that my mother has all confidence in you; and I don't believe she would have given any other young man living but yourself the same privilege with me; but if father knew I was here in your company, I don't know what he would do, or what I should say; for he is determined to keep up as far from each other as he can. Mother and he disagree about you; and she tells him that if he drives you away he will not better himself in this neighborhood. Is it not strange, Meshach. that he is afraid of what we never spoke to each other about, and, indeed, what we are both too young to think of doing?"
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"Well, Mary," said I, "if I went back to live with my mother, and was then to hear that some other young man had come to court you, and your cruel father (for he is cruel to me) compelled you to marry him, I should be mad enough to commit murder."
"You will never have occasion to do anything wrong on my account," said she; "for neither father, mother, nor any one else, shall ever persuade or force me to marry a man I do not love."
"Well, Mary, have you ever yet seen a young man whom you loved well enough to marry? "
"That is a hard question; but I will tell you that I love your company better than that of any other whom I have yet seen; but marrying I have never taken into consideration; and it will be time enough to think of that five or six years hence."
"But, Mary, if I should make my home with my mother, and stay there five or six years, you will be married before half that time passes."
"Well, that will not be my fault; for, if you go and leave me, you cannot expect me to come after you, or send for you to come to me. No, sir, if I did, you would de- spise me; and well you might, if I was to do anything so much out of place. If you are so fearful of my marrying, you had better stay and keep the advantage you have gained, and make as much more of it as you can. I have informed you that I love your company better than that of any other young man, and that is all I intend to tell you; and, if I had not foolishly divulged my secret to you, I would not do so now, for you seem to have lost your confidence in me. I have given you no reason for such a change of opinion. I promised you, when you left last winter, that if you came back in five or six years, you would find me as you left me; and have you not found me as good as my word? You know, also, that
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everything you ever told me, I believed as firmly as if I had seen it myself; and yet you seem doubtful of me. I have always had confidence in you, and all my family, except ray father, have a good word for you at all times; and you know that if my mother was not particularly friendly to you, we would not be here together. Really, the sun is getting low, and I must be going. Don't you know what you promised?"
She put on her bonnet, and I took her hand, and on we went. As we walked, I said: "Mary, you never told me you loved me, nor have I ever told you that I loved you, but we are both left to our own conjectures; yet, if you were to tell me you thought I loved you, I should say you had made a very shrewd and good guess; and that is all I will tell you."
This raised a laugh; and she said we were nearly even, and she supposed there would be no more said about loving each other, but that all would be left to conjecture. That being agreed