le point of
rest, the little brown spot among the trees on the promontory,
where home and mother and little baby sister, and the end of
the day, and the heart's life, had their sole abiding-place. A
poor little shrine, to hold so much!

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.