He kept the promise made to the mill-owners, and the hearts of the
little operatives knew him as their friend. When the work he was doing
for them commenced, Aunt Hildy had said:
"That's it; put not your light under a bushel but where men can see it,
Louis, for I tell you the candles you carry to folks' hearts are run in
the mould of the Lord's love, and every gleam on 'em is worth seein'."
Aunt Hildy's step we knew was growing less firm, and now and then she
rode to the village. Matthias got on bravely, and gloried in the deposit
of some "buryin' money," as he called it, with Louis, who took it to the
bank and brought him a bank-book.
"Who'd a thought on't, Mas'r Louis, me, an old nigger slave, up heah in
de Norf layin' up money."
Ben had a saw-mill now of his own, and was an honest and thrifty young
man. Many new houses had been built in our midst, and with them came of
course new people and their needs.
We had, up to this time, heard often from our Southern Mary, and her
letters grew stronger, telling us how noble a womanhood had crowned her
life, and the latter part of 1851 she wrote us of a true marriage with
one who loved her dearly. Her gifts to Mrs. Goodwin had been munificent,
and well appreciated by this good woman. We hoped some time to see her
in the North. She had never lost sight of Mr. Benton, and he still lived
with his wife and boys. This delighted the heart of Mary, and I grew to
think of him as one who perhaps had been refined through the fire of
suffering, which I secretly hoped had done its work so well that he
would not need, as Matthias thought Mas'r Sumner would, "dat eternal
fire.
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