had peremptorily forbid her son marrying 'the girl,'
but after a year's delay, and considerable private conversation with his
father, William _had_ married her, and a small house which stood on the
premises had been put in order for him. What was worse, William soon
joined the same church with his wife, and then the happiness of the
young couple seemed complete. Mrs. Meeker undertook, as she said, to
'make the best of a bad bargain,' so the two families were on terms of
friendly intercourse, but they continued to remain separated.
Dr. Frank, as he was called, had taken his medical degree, and, by the
indulgence of his father, whose heart yearned sympathetically toward
his firstborn, opportunity was afforded him to spend a year in Paris.
Mrs. Meeker groaned over this unnecessary expense. When she saw that on
this occasion she was not to have her own way, she insisted that the
money her husband was wasting on Frank should be charged against his
'portion.' She never for a moment forgot Hiram's interest. She had
schemed for years so to arrange affairs that the homestead proper would
fall to him, notwithstanding George was to be the farmer. Mrs. Meeker
calculated on surviving her husband for a long, indefinite period. She
was several years younger, and, as she was accustomed to remark, came of
a long-lived race. 'Mr. Meeker was failing fast' (she had said so for
the last fifteen years)--'at his age he could not be expected to hold
out long. He ought to make his will, and do justice to Hiram, poor boy.
All the rest had received more than their share. _He_ was treated like
an outcast.'
This was the burden of Mrs. Meeker's thoughts, the latter portion of
which found expression in strong and forcible language. For she
calculated, by the aid of her 'thirds' as widow, to so arrange it as to
give her favorite the most valuable part of the real estate.
There was a fixedness and a tenacity about this woman's regard for her
youngest child that was, in a certain sense, very touching. It could not
be termed parental affection--that is blind and indiscriminating; it was
rather a sympathetic feeling toward a younger second self, with which,
doubtless, was mingled the maternal interest. Whatever touched Hiram
affected her; she understood his plans without his explaining them; she
foresaw his career; she was anxious, hopeful, trembling, rejoicing, as
she thought of what he must pass through before he emerged rich and
powerful.
Hira
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