Hills questioning the heavens for light —­
Ravines too deep to scan! 
As if the wild earth mimicked there
The wilder heart of man;
Only it shall be greener far
And gladder, than hearts ever are. 
E. B. BROWNING.

It was the first of June; a fair lovely summer morning, June-like.

“I suppose Mr. Haye will come with them,” said Mr. Landholm, as he pushed back his chair from the breakfast-table; —­ “have you anywhere you can put him?”

“There’s the little bedroom, he can have,” said Mrs. Landholm.  “Asahel can go in the boys’ room.”

“Very good.  Winthrop, you had better take the boat down in good time this afternoon so as to be sure and be there —­ I can’t be spared a moment from the bend meadow.  The grass there is just ready to be laid.  It’s a very heavy swath.  I guess there’s all of three tons to the acre.”

“Take the boat down where?” said Asahel.

“To Cowslip’s mill,” said his brother.  “What time will the stage be along, sir?”

“Not much before six, I expect.  You’ll have the tide with you to go down.”

“It’s well to look at the fair side of a subject,” said Winthrop, as his father left the room.

“May I go with you, Governor?” said Asahel.

“No sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I shall have the tide hard against me coming back.”

“But I am not much, and your arms are strong,” urged Asahel.

“Very true.  Well —­ we’ll see.  Mother, do you want any fish to-day?”

A sort of comical taking of the whole subject somehow was expressed under these words, and set the whole family a-laughing, All but Rufus; he was impenetrable.  He sat finishing his breakfast without a word, but with a certain significant air of the lip and eyebrow, and dilating nostril, which said something was wrong.

It was the fairest of summer afternoons; the sky June’s deep and full-coloured blue, the sun gay as a child, the hills in their young summer dress, just put on; and the water, —­ well, it was running down very fast, but it was running quietly, and lying under the sky and the sunshine it sparkled back their spirit of life and joy.  The air was exceeding clear, and the green outlines of the hills rose sharp against the blue sky.

Winthrop stood a minute on one of the rocks at the water’s edge to look, and then stepped from that to the one where his boat was moored, and began to undo the chain.

“Are you going down after those people?” said the voice of Rufus behind him.  It sounded in considerable disgust.

“What do you advise?” said Winthrop without looking up.

“I would see them at the bottom of the river first!”

“Bad advice,” said Winthrop.  “It would be a great deal harder to go after them there.”

“Do you know what effect your going now will have?”

“Upon them?”

“No, upon you.”