"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. 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.