The road was rough over the hills; the wind that struck Holmes's
face bitingly keen: perhaps the life coming for him would be as
cold a struggle, having not only poverty to conquer, but himself.
But he is a strong man,--no stronger puts his foot down with
cool, resolute tread; and to-night there is a thrill on his lips
that never rested there before,--a kiss, dewy and warm.
Something, some new belief, too, stirs in his heart, like a
subtile atom of pure fire, that he hugs closely,--his for all
time. No poverty or death shall ever drive it away. Perhaps he
entertains an angel unaware.
After that night Lois never left her little shanty. The days
that followed were like one long Christmas; for her poor
neighbors, black and white, had some plot among themselves, and
worked zealously to make them seem so to her. It was easy to
make these last days happy for the simple little soul who had
always gathered up every fragment of pleasure in her featureless
life, and made much of it, and rejoiced over it. She grew
bewildered, sometimes, lying on her wooden settle by the fire;
people lead always been friendly, taken care of her, but now they
were eager in their kindness, as though the time were short. She
did not understand the reason, at first; she did not want to die:
yet if it hurt her, when it grew clear at last, no one knew it;
it was not her way to speak of pain. Only, as she grew weaker,
day by day, she began to set her house in order, as one might
say, in a quaint, almost comical fashion, giving away everything
she owned, down to her treasures of colored bottles and
needle-books, mending her father's clothes, and laying them out
in her drawers; lastly, she had Barney brought in from the
country, and every day would creep to the window to see him fed
and chirrup to him, whereat the poor old beast would look up with
his dim eye, and try to neigh a feeble answer.
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