. Quabbin; the story of a small town with outlooks upon Puritan life . omething of heartachelingers behind joy, as shadows lurk behind light. Emily Foster, without a mother, and with a kind butunprosperoLis father, was for this day demurely, coylycontent, and willing to be altogether happy. Her escortgave his attention at first to his horse, and both wereabsorbed in the exhilarating course over the longwinding road. But propinquity has to be reckonedwith. Two kindly disposed young people, warmlyclad, packed closely in a well-cushioned sleigh, andprotected by a buffalo-robe, inevitably become c
. Quabbin; the story of a small town with outlooks upon Puritan life . omething of heartachelingers behind joy, as shadows lurk behind light. Emily Foster, without a mother, and with a kind butunprosperoLis father, was for this day demurely, coylycontent, and willing to be altogether happy. Her escortgave his attention at first to his horse, and both wereabsorbed in the exhilarating course over the longwinding road. But propinquity has to be reckonedwith. Two kindly disposed young people, warmlyclad, packed closely in a well-cushioned sleigh, andprotected by a buffalo-robe, inevitably become cosey;then, with the sense of contact, tender, trustful, talka-tive ; and then, perhaps, silent; for feeling may bebeyond speech. It is only among the gifted beingscreated by the novelist that the subjective comesinto play. George and Emily would not have attemptedto express their feelins except in simple , doubtless, did it occur to them to admire the greenpines with white background, the few russet leavesshivering upon the oaks, the stretch of snow-covered. PATIENT EMILY 55 -[ fields, or the softly rounded hilltops. Scenery with itsI phrases, its sentiment, and associations, had not beenimported. Nobody in Quabbin had heard of such aj thing. A flower was pooty, a tree might be hahn-some, but what was a landscape } For a while Georges talk turned upon the pastharvest, — the yield of corn and rye, and of potatoes,pumpkins, and apples. After a long pause he said, Ther aint nothin much livelier than a sleigh-ride ona fine day, when thers good compny an good teams. *An the bells ringin all together, said his partner,sound sunthin like Miss Grants planner. But its the compny Emly ; I go aout in a sleighbaout every day, but, when Im alone, I dont mindnothin baout the bells. But naow —and withoutfinishing the sentence he settled a little nearer, lookedat the girl over his shoulder, and said, Enjoyin yer-self, There was a faint affirmative that sounded like ablissfu
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