Winthrop’s eyes were there, his brother’s were on the distance.  When did such two ever sit together on the beam of one plough, before or since!  Perhaps the eldest might have seen nineteen summers, but his face had nothing of the boy, beyond the fresh colour and fine hue of youth.  The features were exceedingly noble, and even classically defined; the eye as beautiful now in its grave thoughtfulness as it had been a few hours before in its fire.  The mouth was never at rest; it was twitching or curving at the corners now with the working of some hidden cogitations.  The frame of the younger brother was less developed; it promised to be more athletic than that of the elder, with perhaps somewhat less grace of outline; and the face was not so regularly handsome.  A very cool and clear grey eye aided the impression of strength; and the mouth, less beautifully moulded than that of Rufus, was also infinitely less demonstrative.  Rufus’s mouth, in silence, was for ever saying something.  Winthrop’s for the most part kept its fine outlines unbroken, though when they did give way it was to singular effect.  The contrast between the faces was striking, even now when both were in repose.

The elder was the first to break silence, speaking slowly and without moving his eye from its bent.

“Governor, —­ what do you suppose lies behind those mountains?”

“What?” —­ said Winthrop quickly.

The other smiled.

“Your slow understanding can make a quick leap now and then.”

“I can generally understand you,” said his brother quietly.

Rufus added no more for a little, and Winthrop let him alone.

“We’ve got the farm in pretty good order now,” he remarked presently in a considerate tone, folding his arms and looking about him.

“Papa has,” observed Winthrop.  “Yes —­ if those stumps were out once.  We ought to have good crops this year, of most things.”

“I am sure I have spent four or five years of my life in hard work upon it,” said the other.

“Your life ain’t much the worse of it,” said Winthrop, laughingly.

Rufus did not answer the laugh.  He looked off to the hills again, and his lips seemed to close in upon his thoughts.

“Papa has spent more than that,” said the younger brother gravely.  “How hard he has worked —­ to make this farm!”

“Well, he has made it.”

“Yes, but he has paid a dozen years of his life for it.  And mamma! —­”

“It was a pretty tough subject to begin with,” said the elder, looking about him again.  “But it’s a nice farm now; —­ it’s the handsomest farm in the county; —­ it ought to pay considerable now, after this.”

“It hasn’t brought us in much so far,” observed Winthrop, “except just to keep along; —­ and a pretty tight fit at that.”

“The house ought to be up here,” said Rufus, considering the little distant brown speck; —­ “it would be worth twice as much.”