When the little ones were gone to bed, then indeed it flagged; Winthrop and his mother sat awhile silently musing, and then the former bade her good night.
It was long before Mrs.Landholm thought of going to bed, or thought of anything around her; the fire was dead and her candle burnt out, when at length she roused herself.

The cold wind made itself felt through many a crevice in the wooden frame house; and feeling too much of its work upon her, she went into the kitchen to see if there were not some warmth still lingering about the covered-up fire.

To her surprise, the fire was not covered up; a glow came from it yet; and Winthrop sat there on the hearth, with his head leaning against the jamb and his eyes intently studying the coals.

He started, and jumped up.
"Winthrop! -- what are you here for, my dear ?" "I came out to warm myself." "Haven't you been to bed ?" "No ma'am." "Where have you been ?" "Only in my room, mother." "Doing what, my son ?" "Thinking -- " he said a little unwillingly.
"Sit down and warm yourself," said his mother placing his chair again; -- "Why, your hands are warm now ?" "Yes ma'am -- I have been here a good while." He sat down, where she had put his chair in front of the fireplace; and she stood warming herself before it, and looking at him.

His face was in its usual calmness, and she thought as she looked it was an excellent face.