“You must get her to play with you, Asahel, as much as you can,” Mrs. Landholm said in a whisper.

“Why mamma? aint she well?”

“I don’t know —­ I’m afraid she wont keep so.”

“She’s too good to be well,” said Karen.

Which was something like true.  Not in the vulgar prejudice, as Karen understood it.  It was not Winifred’s goodness which threatened her well-being; but the very delicate spirits which answered too promptly and strongly every touch; too strong in their acting for a bodily frame in like manner delicate.

CHAPTER XIII.

Mess. —­ He hath indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect me to tell you how. Leon. —­ He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it.  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Mr. Landholm came back in excellent spirits from Shagarack.  The boys were well entered, Will Junior and Winthrop Sophomore, and with very good credit to themselves.  This had been their hope and intention, with the view of escaping the cost of one and two years of a college life.  President Tuttle had received them very kindly, and everything was promising; the boys in good heart, and their father a proud man.

“Aint it queer, now,” he said that evening of his return, as he sat warming his hands before the blaze, “aint it queer that those two fellows should go in like that —­ one Junior and t’other Sophomore, and when they’ve had no chance at all beforehand, you may say.  Will has been a little better, to be sure; but how on earth Winthrop ever prepared himself I can’t imagine.  Why the fellow read off Greek there, and I didn’t know he had ever seen a word of it.”

“He used to learn up in his room o’ nights, father,” said Asahel.

“He used to carry his books to the field and study while the oxen were resting,” said Winifred.

“He did! —­ Well, he’ll get along.  I aint afeard of him.  He won’t be the last man in the College, I guess.”

“I guess not, father,” said Asahel.

And now the months sped along with slow step, bringing toil-work for every day.  It was cheerfully taken, and patiently wrought through; both at Shagarack and in the little valley at home; but those were doing for themselves, and these were truly doing love’s work, for them.  All was for them.  The crops were grown and the sheep sheared, that Rufus and Winthrop might, not eat and be clothed, —­ that was a trifle, —­ but have the full good of a College education.  The burden and the joy of the toilers was the same.  There were delightful speculations round the fireside about the professions the young men would choose; what profound lawyers, what brilliant ministers, should come forth from the learned groves of Shagarack; perhaps, the father hinted, —­ statesmen.  There were letters from both the boys, to be read and re-read, and loved and prided in, as once those of Rufus.  And clothes