Nobody

"It is my part," said Lois pleasantly. "Charity and Madge have eachtheir part. This is mine, and I like it better than theirs. But it isonly so, Mrs. Barclay, that we are able to get along. A gardener wouldeat up our garden. I take only my share. And there is a great deal ofpleasure in it. It is pleasant to provide for the family's wants, andto see the others enjoy what I bring in; – yes, and to enjoy it myself.And then, do you see how pleasant the work is! Don't you like it outhere this morning?"

Mrs. Barclay cast a glance around her again. There was a slight springhaze in the air, which seemed to catch and hold the sun's rays anddiffuse them in gentle beneficence. Through it the opening cherryblossoms gave their tender promise; the brown, bare apple trees weresoftened; an indescribable breath of hope and life was in the air, towhich the birds were doing all they could to give expression; there wasa delicate joy in Nature's face, as if at being released from the bandsof Winter and having her hands free again. The smell of the upturnedearth came fresh to Mrs. Barclay's nostrils, along with a salt savourfrom the not distant sea. Yes, it was pleasant, with a rare andwonderful pleasantness; and yet Mrs. Barclay's eyes came discontentedlyback to Lois.

"It would be possible to enjoy all this, Lois, if you were not doingsuch evil work."

"Evil work! O no, Mrs. Barclay. The work that the Lord gives anybody todo cannot be evil. It must be the very best thing he can do. And I donot believe I should enjoy the spring – and the summer – and theautumn – near so well, if I were not doing it."

"Must one be a gardener, to have such enjoyment?"

"I must," said Lois, laughing. "If I do not follow my work, my workfollows me; and then it comes like a taskmaster, and carries a whip."

"But, Lois! that sort of work will make your hands rough."

Lois lifted one of her hands in its thick glove, and looked at it.

"Well," she said, "what then? What are hands made for?"

"You know very well what I mean. You know a time may come when youwould like to have your hands white and delicate."

"The time is come now," said Lois, laughing. "I have not to wait forit. I like white hands, and delicate hands, as well as anybody. Minemust do their work, all the same. Something might be said for my feet, too, I suppose," she added, with another laugh.

At the moment she had finished outlining an other bed, and was nowtrampling a little hard border pathway round it, making the length ofher foot the breadth of the pathway, and setting foot to foot closetogether, so bit by bit stamping it round. Mrs. Barclay looked on, andwished some body else could have looked on, at the bright, fresh faceunder the little old hat, and the free action and spirit and accuracywith which everything that either feet or hands did was done. Somehowshe forgot the coarse dress, and only saw the delicate creature in it.

"Lois, I do not like it!" she began again. "Do you know, some peopleare very particular about these little things – fastidious about them.You may one day yet want to please one of those very men."

"Not unless he wants to please me first!" said Lois, with a glance fromher path-treading.

"Of course. I am supposing that."

"I don't know him!" said Lois. "And I don't see him in the distance!"

"That proves nothing."

"And it wouldn't make any difference if I did."

"You are mistaken in thinking that. You do not know yet what it is tobe in love, Lois."

"I don't know," said Lois. "Can't one be in love with one'sgrandmother?"

"But, Lois, this is going to take a great deal of your time."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you want all your time, to give to more important things. I can'tbear to have you drop them all to plant potatoes. Could not somebodyelse be found to do it?"

"We could not afford the somebody, Mrs. Barclay."

It was not doubtfully or regretfully that the girl spoke; the briskcontent of her answers drove Mrs. Barclay almost to despair.

"Lois, you owe something to yourself."

"What, Mrs. Barclay?"

"You owe it to yourself to be prepared for what I am sure is coming toyou. You are not made to live in Shampuashuh all your life. Somebodywill want you to quit it and go out into the wide world with him."

Lois was silent a few minutes, with her colour a little heightened, fresh as it had been already; then, having tramped all round her newbed, she came up to where Mrs. Barclay and her basket of seeds were.

"I don't believe it at all," she said. "I think I shall live and diehere."

"Do you feel satisfied with that prospect?"

Lois turned over the bags of seeds in her basket, a little hurriedly; then she stopped and looked up at her questioner.

"I have nothing to do with all that," she said. "I do not want to thinkof it. I have enough in hand to think of. And I am satisfied, Mrs.Barclay, with whatever God gives me." She turned to her basket of seedsagain, searching for a particular paper.

"I never heard any one say that before," remarked the other lady.

"As long as I can say it, don't you see that is enough?" said Loislightly. "I enjoy all this work, besides; and so will you by and bywhen you get the lettuce and radishes, and some of my Tom Thumb peas.And I am not going to stop my studies either."

She went back to the new bed now, where she presently was very busyputting more seeds in. Mrs. Barclay watched her a while. Then, seeing asmall smile break on the lips of the gardener, she asked Lois what shewas thinking of? Lois looked up.

"I was thinking of that geode you showed us last night."

"That geode!"

"Yes, it is so lovely. I have thought of it a great many times. I amwanting very much to learn about stones now. I thought always till now that stones were only stones. The whole world is changed to mesince you have come, Mrs. Barclay."

Yes, thought that lady to herself, and what will be the end of it?

"To tell the truth," Lois went on, "the garden work comes harder to methis spring than ever it did before; but that shows it is good for me.I have been having too much pleasure all winter."

"Can one have too much pleasure?" said Mrs. Barclay discontentedly.

"If it makes one unready for duty," said Lois.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE LAGOON OF VENICE

Towards evening, one day late in the summer, the sun was shining, asits manner is, on that marvellous combination of domes, arches, mosaicsand carvings which goes by the name of St. Mark's at Venice. The softItalian sky, glowing and rich, gave a very benediction of colour; allaround was the still peace of the lagoon city; only in the great squarethere was a gentle stir and flutter and rustle and movement; forthousands of doves were flying about, and coming down to be fed, and acrowd of varied human nature, but chiefly not belonging to the place, were watching and distributing food to the feathered multitude. Peoplewere engaged with the doves, or with each other; few had a look tospare for the great church; nobody even glanced at the columns bearingSt. Theodore and the Lion.

That is, speaking generally. For under one of the arcades, leaningagainst one of the great pillars of the same, a man stood whose look byturns went to everything. He had been standing there motionless forhalf an hour; and it passed to him like a minute. Sometimes he studiedthat combination aforesaid, where feeling and fancy and faith have madesuch glorious work together; and to which, as I hinted, the Venetianevening was lending such indescribable magnificence. His eye dwelt ondetails of loveliness, of which it was constantly discovering newrevelations; or rested on the whole colour-glorified pile withmeditative remembrance of what it had seen and done, and whence it hadcome. Then with sudden transition he would give his attention to themotley crowd before him, and the soft-winged doves fluttering up anddown and filling the air. And, tiring of these, his look would go offagain to the bronze lion on his place of honour in the Piazzetta, histhought probably wandering back to the time when he was set there. Theman himself was noticed by nobody. He stood in the shade of the pillarand did not stir. He was a gentleman evidently; one sees that by slightcharacteristics, which are nevertheless quite unmistakeable and not tobe counterfeited. His dress of course was the quiet, unobtrusive, andyet perfectly correct thing, which dress ought to be. His attitude wasthat of a man who knew both how to move and how to be still, and didboth easily; and further, the look of him betrayed the habit of travel.This man had seen so much that he was not moved by any young curiosity; knew so much, that he could weigh and compare what he knew. His figurewas very good; his face agreeable and intelligent, with good observantgrey eyes; the whole appearance striking. But nobody noted him.

And he had noted nobody; the crowd before him was to him simply acrowd, which excited no interest except as a whole. Until, suddenly, hecaught sight of a head and shoulders in the moving throng, whichstarted him out of his carelessness. They were but a few yards fromhim, seen and lost again in the swaying mass of human beings; butthough half seen he was sure he could not mistake. He spoke out alittle loud the word "Tom!"

He was not heard, and the person spoken to moved out of sight again.The speaker, however, now left his place and plunged among the people.Presently he had another glimpse of the head and shoulders, and was yetmore sure of his man; lost sight of him anew, but, following in thedirection taken by the chase, gradually won his way nearer, and atlength overtook the man, who was then standing between the pillars ofthe Lion and St. Theodore, and looking out towards the water.

"Tom!" said his pursuer, clapping him on the shoulder.