Ellen listened curiously. It seemed to her that he was speaking as though to convince himself.
"Why do you blame those things on education? Think how different Father was from Brother Reith and Brother Miller!"
Ellen lifted heavy eyes and looked at Matthew.
"I'm unbelieving, too, then. I think it's selfish to think so much about saving your soul as though that were all!"
Matthew might have answered, "or about educating your mind," but he was not quick like Ellen. He had determined to be patient and he answered gently, "It _is_ all."
"I brought your satchel," he went on, "but I hoped I could take it back."
Ellen shook her head. She thought again of Mr. Goldstein and with difficulty restrained her tears.
"Because I studied a little when there were no customers. The man didn't like it."
"Ellen," said he in a low tone, "come home."
"I won't cut the trees, Ellen. I was mad to think of it. I don't know what got into me. I've sent word to Umbesheiden."
"And Millie shall never speak to you that way again."
She seemed to be struggling in a rising sea. Matthew was fond of her; she guessed by some obscure instinct that he had altered and developed, that he was fonder of her than of Millie. She was tired, the journey before her seemed interminable and beyond her strength. But she shook her head.
"No," she said, "I'm not going to give up."
When Matthew reached Ephrata he went to the livery stable and got his horse and drove slowly to the farm. Tired and depressed, he longed to sit quietly and hold his son in his arms.
But his kitchen seemed to be filled with Esther, rocking at the end of a busy day while Millie prepared supper. She held little Matthew and sang to him a coarse English song. In the change from one civilization to another she, like many other young persons, had seized upon that which was least worthy. Matthew was about to reprove her when he recollected that little Matthew was still too young to be harmed. Before he could be hurt, Millie would have to arrange some other way of running her house.
After supper he walked to the Kloster where his eye fell upon a scene grown familiar to him during long evenings. The light from the brass lamp shone upon Grandfather's white beard and upon the golden hair of Amos bent above "The Mystic Dove." Sometimes Grandfather cast an approving look upon Amos and sometimes Amos cast a stealthy glance at Grandfather.