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.
Hiram visited home but seldom. Even when at Burnsville, he came over
scarcely once in three months.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258