son.

"I believe I must say the same, mother," he replied gravely.
"I have perhaps some notion of _doing_, afterwards; but the
first thing is to be _myself_ what I can be. I am not, I feel, a
tithe of that now."

"I agree with you -- you are right, so far," answered the
mother, turning her face again to the fire; -- "but in the end,
what is it you would do, and would be?"

"Profession, do you mean, mamma?" said Rufus.

"No," she said; and he needed not to ask any more.

"I mean, what is all this for? -- what purpose lies behind all
this?"

"To distinguish myself!" said Rufus, -- "if I can, -- in some
way."

"I am afraid it is no better than that with me, mother," said
Winthrop; "though perhaps I should rather say my desire is to
_be distinguished_."

"What's the difference?" said his brother.

"I don't know. I think I feel a difference."

"I am not going to preach to you now," said Mrs. Landholm, and
yet the slight failing of her voice did it -- how lastingly! --
"I cannot, -- and I need not. Only one word. If you sow and
reap a crop that will perish in the using, what will you do
when it is gone? -- and remember it is said of the redeemed,
that their works _do follow_ them. Remember that. -- One word
more," she said after a pause. "Let me have it to say in that
day, -- 'Of all which thou gavest me have I lost none'! --"

Not preach to them? And what was her hidden face and bowed
head? -- a preaching the like of which they were never to hear
from mortal voices. But not a word, not a lisp, fell from one
of them. Winifred had run off; the rest hardly stirred; till
Mrs. Landholm rose up, and gravely kissing one and the other
prepared to leave the room.

"Where is Winifred?" said her brother suddenly missing her.

"I don't know. I am sure she is somewhere praying for you."

They said no more, even to each other, that night.

Nor much the next day. It was the time for doing, not
thinking. There was not indeed much to do, except to get off;
but that seemed a great deal. It was done at last. Mrs.
Landholm from the window of the kitchen watched them get into
the wagon and drive off; and then she sat down by the window
to cry.

Asahel had gone to ride as far as the mountain's foot with his
father and brothers; and Winifred knelt down beside her mother
to lean her head upon her; they could not get near enough just
then. It was only to help each other weep, for neither could
comfort the other nor be comfor