_ CHAPTER XV
Time, with his noiseless step, glided on, till but a few weeks remained before the school would break up for the midsummer vacation. Happy as I was at Uncle Nathan's, I looked eagerly forward to the holidays, for I was then to pay a visit of several weeks to my home at Elmwood, having been absent nearly a year, and, as this time drew nigh, every day seemed like a week till I could set out on the journey. Added to the joy of again meeting my mother and sister, I would also meet Charley Gray, who was also to spend his vacation at home. We had kept up a regular correspondence during the past year. I could always judge of Charley's mood by the tone of his letters. Sometimes he would write a long and interesting letter, in such a glowing, playful style, that I would read it over half-a-dozen times at the least, and perhaps his very next letter would be just the reverse, short, cold and desponding. Any one who knew Charley as I did could easily tell the state of mind he was in when he wrote, but so well did I know the unhappy moods to which he was subject, that a desponding letter now and then gave me no surprise. In fact, had the style of his letters been uniformly gay and lively, I should have been more surprised, so well did I understand his variable temper. But we both looked forward to our anticipated meeting with all the eagerness and impatience of youthful expectation. For, as I said near the opening of my story, I loved Charley as a brother, and so agreeable and pleasant was his disposition when he was pleased, you quite forgot for the time being the unhappy tempers to which he was subject.
There is ever a feeling of sadness connected with the closing of school. Owing to the excellence of the institution, there were pupils attending Fulton Academy from many distant places. But with the coming of the holidays this youthful band, who had daily assembled at the pleasant old Academy would be scattered far and wide. Probably never all to meet again on earth. Many of the youths who had studied a sufficient time to obtain a business education were the coming autumn to go forth to make their own way in the world. The only intimate friend I had made among these was a youth whose home was two hundred miles distant from Fulton; his name was Robert Dalton, and he had studied at Fulton Academy for the past three years, and, having obtained an education which fitted him for the business he intended to follow, he expected to return to Fulton no more. His father was a merchant in one of the cities of the Upper Province, and in the fall Robert was to enter the store, in order to obtain a practical knowledge of business, as his tastes also led him to mercantile pursuits. When I entered the school, a stranger to all, Robert Dalton was the first youth who bestowed kind attentions upon me, and we soon became firm friends; together we studied and mutually assisted each other, and always shared in the same sports and recreations. I could not help sometimes thinking it was well that Charley Gray was attending another institution, for I felt certain (were he there) that the friendship existing between myself and Robert would irritate his fiery and jealous nature beyond measure. Poor Charley, it was a pity that he possessed that unhappy temper; for there was much suffering in store for himself and others arising from this source. Much had he yet to endure before that jealous, exclusive spirit would be brought under subjection. During the summer evenings a ramble to "Beechwood" had been a favourite recreation with Robert and I, and thither we took our way the last evening we expected to spend together at Fulton. We lingered long there that evening, and, seated upon a mossy rock beneath the shade of those old trees, we talked of our coming separation, as well us of our individual plans for the future, till the gathering darkness hastened our departure. The next morning we parted, each to meet the friends who were looking for us with the anxious eyes of love.
I knew not how much I had learned to love my kind relatives till the time drew nigh when I was to bid them adieu for a season. The day before I was to start for home, Aunt Lucinda made a most unexpected announcement, which was no less than she had made up her mind to accompany me to Elmwood. She had never before visited my mother since her marriage, and she thought she might not again have so good an opportunity of visiting the sister whom she had not seen for so many years. My aunt and I were by this time the best of friends, and I was pleased when she declared her intention to accompany me to my home. It did not matter to me that my aunt was odd and old-fashioned in her dress, and still more odd and eccentric in her manner and conversation, to me she was the kind aunt who had cared for my wants, and treated me as kindly as a mother could have done, and to one of my nature this was sufficient to claim my affection and respect. This journey was quite an event in the usually quiet and stay-at-home life of my aunt, but she allowed that having made up her mind she had but one life to live, she might as well enjoy herself sometimes as other folks. Grandma Adams fairly wept when I bade her good-bye, saying: "who will read to me while you are gone, Walter? and it may be when you come back you will find the old arm-chair empty. No one is certain of a day of life but remember the saying 'the young may die, but the old
must die.' I hope to see you again, but should I not, strive to become a good and useful man, and remember my counsels." Uncle Nathan shook me warmly by the hand, and hoped to see me return soon, telling me also, with a comical look, to take good care of Aunt Lucinda on the journey, as she was
young and inexperienced, and not accustomed to travelling. "Nathan Adams," replied my aunt, "if you must talk, do try sometimes and talk with a little sense."
I was fearful of missing the train, so long was my aunt in giving directions to the Widow Green, who had come to keep house during her absence. Grandma allowed that though the widow might not understand all the ways of the house, with
her help they could get along tolerably well for a few weeks. "Never fear, mother," said Uncle Nathan. "There'll be no one to scold while Lucinda's away, and we'll get along famously. Only I suppose we will be called to a startling account when the rightful mistress of the house returns." We soon took our places in the carriage which awaited us, and, taking his place on the front seat, Uncle Nathan started the impatient horse into a swift trot toward Fulton, where we were to meet the train which was to bear us to Elmwood. _