Great strength of character -- great truth -- beneath the broad brow high intellectual capacity, and about the mouth a certain sweet self-possession; to the ordinary observer more cool than sweet, but his mother knew the sweetness.
"What are you thinking about, Winthrop ?" she said softly, bending down near enough to lay a loving hand on his brow.
He looked up quickly and smiled, one of those smiles which his mother saw oftener than anybody, but she not often, -- a smile very revealing in its character, -- and said, "Don't ask me, mamma." "Who should ask you, if not I ?" "There is no need to trouble you with it, mother." "You can't help that -- it will trouble me now, whether I know it or not; for I see it is something that troubles you." "You have too good eyes, mother," he said smiling again, but a different smile.
"My ears are just as good." "Mamma, I don't want to displease you," he said looking up.
"You can't do that -- you never did yet, Winthrop, my boy," she answered, bending down again and this time her lips to his forehead.

"Speak -- I am not afraid." He was silent a moment, and then mastering himself as it were with some difficulty, he said, "Mamma, I want to be somebody!" The colour flushed back and forth on his face, once and again, but beyond that, every feature kept its usual calm.
A shadow fell on his mother's face, and for several minutes she stood and he sat in perfect silence; he not stirring his eyes from the fire, she not moving hers from him.

When she spoke, the tone was changed, and though quiet he felt the trouble in it.
"What sort of a somebody, Winthrop ?" "Mamma," he said, "I can't live here! I want to know more and to be more than I can here.

I can, I am sure, if I only can find a way; and I am sure I can find a way.

It is in me, and it will come out.