A Daughter of the Land

"Mother, you shock me," said Kate. "They come because they LOVE

you. They try to tell you so with the little things they bring.

Most people would think they were neglected, if their children did

NOT come to see them when they were not so well."

"Not so well!" cried Mrs. Bates. "Folly! I am as well as I ever

was. They needn't come snooping around, trying to make me think

I'm not. If they'd a-done it all their lives, well and good; it's

no time for them to begin being cotton-mouthed now."

"Mother," said Kate gently, "haven't YOU changed, yourself, about

things like Christmas, for example? Maybe your children are

changing, too. Maybe they feel that they have missed something

they'd like to have from you, and give back to you, before it's

too late. Just maybe," said Kate.

Mrs. Bates sat bolt upright still, but her flashing eyes softened.

"I hadn't just thought of that," she said. "I think it's more

than likely. Well, if it's THAT way, I s'pose I've got to button

up my lip and stand it; but it's about more than I can go, when I

know that the first time I lose my grip I'll land smash up against

Adam Bates and my settlement with him."

"Mother," said Kate still more gently, "I thought we had it

settled at the time Father went that each of you would be

accountable to GOD, not to each other. I am a wanderer in

darkness myself, when it come to talking about God, but this I

know, He is SOMEWHERE and He is REDEEMING love. If Father has

been in the light of His love all these years, he must have

changed more, far more than you have. He'll understand now how

wrong he was to force ways on you he knew you didn't think right;

he'll have more to account to you for than you ever will to him;

and remember this only, neither of you is accountable, save to

your God."

Mrs. Bates arose and walked to the door, drawn to full height, her

head very erect. The world was at bloom-time. The evening air

was heavily sweet with lilacs, and the widely branching, old apple

trees of the dooryard with loaded with flowers. She stepped

outside. Kate followed. Her mother went down the steps and down

the walk to the gate. Kate kept beside her, in reach, yet not

touching her. At the gate she gripped the pickets to steady

herself as she stared long and unflinchingly at the red setting

sun dropping behind a white wall of bloom. Then she slowly

turned, life's greatest tragedy lining her face, her breath coming

in short gasps. She spread her hands at each side, as if to

balance herself, her passing soul in her eyes, and looked at Kate.