To a God Unknown [antikvár]

Chapter i ¦i When the crops were under cover on the Wajme farm near '¦[ Pittsford in Vermont, when the winter wood was cut and the first light snow lay on the ground, Joseph Wayne went to the fc^ wing-back chair by the fireplace late one afternoon and stood before his father. These two men were alike. Each had a large |' nose and high, hard cheekbones; both faces seemed made of [ some material harder and more durable than flesh, a stony substance that did not easily change. Joseph's beard was black and silky, still thin enough so that the shadowy outline of his chin showed through. The old man's beard was long and white. He touched it here and there with exploring fingers, turned the ends neatly under out of harm's way. A moment passed before the old man realized that his son was beside him. He raised his eyes, old and knowing and placid eyes and very blue. Joseph's eyes were as blue, but they were fierce and curious with youth. Now that he had come before his father, Joseph hesitated to stand to his new heresy. 'There won't be enough in the land now, sir,' he said humbly. The old man gathered his shawl of shepherd's plaid about his thin straight shoulders. His voice was gentle, made for the ordering of simple justice. 'What do you wish to complain of, Joseph?' ' You've heard that Benjy has gone courting, sir? Benjy will be married when the spring comes; and in the fall there will be a child, and in the next svmimer another child. The land doesn't stretch, sir. There won't be enough.' The old man dropped his eyes slowly and watched his fingers i where they wrestled sluggishly on his lap. 'Benjamin hasn't told me yet. Benjamin has never been very dependable. Are you sure he has gone seriously courting?' ' The Ramseys have told it in Pittsford, sir. Jenny Ramsey has a new dress and she's prettier than usual. I saw her today. She wouldn't look at me.' 'Ah; maybe it's so, then. Benjamin should tell me.' 'And so you see, sir, there won't be enough in the land for all of us.' 7