Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

As the two men were clearing out the stalls Jotham rested on his pitchfork to say: “Dan’l Byrne’s goin’ over to the Flats today noon, an’ he c’d take Mattie’s trunk along, and make it easier ridin’ when I take her over in the sleigh.”

Ethan looked at him blankly, and he continued: “Mis’ Frome said the new girl’d be at the Flats at five, and I was to take Mattie then, so’s ’t she could ketch the six o’clock train for Stamford.”

Ethan felt the blood drumming in his temples. He had to wait a moment before he could find voice to say: “Oh, it ain’t so sure about Mattie’s going⁠—”

“That so?” said Jotham indifferently; and they went on with their work.

When they returned to the kitchen the two women were already at breakfast. Zeena had an air of unusual alertness and activity. She drank two cups of coffee and fed the cat with the scraps left in the pie-dish; then she rose from her seat and, walking over to the window, snipped two or three yellow leaves from the geraniums. “Aunt Martha’s ain’t got a faded leaf on ’em; but they pine away when they ain’t cared for,” she said reflectively. Then she turned to Jotham and asked: “What time’d you say Dan’l Byrne’d be along?”

The hired man threw a hesitating glance at Ethan. “Round about noon,” he said.

Zeena turned to Mattie. “That trunk of yours is too heavy for the sleigh, and Dan’l Byrne’ll be round to take it over to the Flats,” she said.

“I’m much obliged to you, Zeena,” said Mattie.

“I’d like to go over things with you first,” Zeena continued in an unperturbed voice. “I know there’s a huckaback towel missing; and I can’t make out what you done with that match-safe ’t used to stand behind the stuffed owl in the parlour.”

She went out, followed by Mattie, and when the men were alone Jotham said to his employer: “I guess I better let Dan’l come round, then.”

Ethan finished his usual morning tasks about the house and barn; then he said to Jotham: “I’m going down to Starkfield. Tell them not to wait dinner.”

The passion of rebellion had broken out in him again. That which had seemed incredible in the sober light of day had really come to pass, and he was to assist as a helpless spectator at Mattie’s banishment. His manhood was humbled by the part he was compelled to play and by the thought of what Mattie must think of him. Confused impulses struggled in him as he strode along to the village. He had made up his mind to do something, but he did not know what it would be.

The early mist had vanished and the fields lay like a silver shield under the sun. It was one of the days when the glitter of winter shines through a pale haze of spring. Every yard of the road was alive with Mattie’s presence, and there was hardly a branch against the sky or a tangle of brambles on the bank in which some bright shred of memory was not caught. Once, in the stillness, the call of a bird in a mountain ash was so like her laughter that his heart tightened and then grew large; and all these things made him see that something must be done at once.

Suddenly it occurred to him that Andrew Hale, who was a kindhearted man, might be induced to reconsider his refusal and advance a small sum on the lumber if he were told that Zeena’s ill-health made it necessary to hire a servant. Hale, after all, knew enough of Ethan’s situation to make it possible for the latter to renew his appeal without too much loss of pride; and, moreover, how much did pride count in the ebullition of passions in his breast?

The more he considered his plan the more hopeful it seemed. If he could get Mrs. Hale’s ear he felt certain of success, and with fifty dollars in his pocket nothing could keep him from Mattie⁠ ⁠…

His first object was to reach Starkfield before Hale had started for his work; he knew the carpenter had a job down the Corbury road and was likely to leave his house early. Ethan’s long strides grew more rapid with the accelerated beat of his thoughts, and as he reached the foot of School House Hill he caught sight of Hale’s sleigh in the distance. He hurried forward to meet it, but as it drew nearer he saw that it was driven by the carpenter’s youngest boy and that the figure at his side, looking like a large upright cocoon in spectacles, was that of Mrs. Andrew Hale. Ethan signed to them to stop, and Mrs. Hale leaned forward, her pink wrinkles twinkling with benevolence.

“Mr. Hale? Why, yes, you’ll find him down home now. He ain’t going to his work this forenoon. He woke up with a touch o’ lumbago, and I just made him put on one of old Dr. Kidder’s plasters and set right up into the fire.”

Beaming maternally on Ethan, she bent over to add: “I on’y just heard from Mr. Hale ’bout Zeena’s going over to Bettsbridge to see that new doctor. I’m real sorry she’s feeling so bad again! I hope he thinks he can do something for her? I don’t know anybody round here’s had more sickness than Zeena. I always tell Mr. Hale I don’t know what she’d ’a’ done if she hadn’t ’a’ had you to look after her; and I used to say the same thing ’bout your mother. You’ve had an awful mean time, Ethan Frome.”

She gave him a last nod of sympathy while her son chirped to the horse; and Ethan, as she drove off, stood in the middle of the road and stared after the retreating sleigh.

It was a long time since anyone had spoken to him as kindly as Mrs. Hale. Most people were either indifferent to his troubles, or disposed to think it natural that a young fellow of his age