the evening wolves
DESCRIPTION
Witch novelTRANSCRIPT
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The evening wolves, a novel.McCall, Marie, 1909-New York, J. Day Co. [1949]
http://hdl.handle.net/2027/uc1.$b56991
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THE EVENING WOLVES
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THEEVENINGWOLVES
A NOVEL BY
M^RIE McCMIX
THE JOHN DAY COMPANYNew York
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COPYRIGHT, 1949, BY THE JOHN DAY COMPANY
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, mustnot be reproduced in any form without permission.
This book is published by the John Day Company,62 West 4$th Street, New York 19, N. Y., and on thesame day in the Dominion of Canada by Longmans,
Green and Company, Toronto, Ontario.
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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eve
To wry motherand
my sister, Helene
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'. . . When we are in the evening of the worldthe evening wolves will be abroad. Evil willprowl in all its multitudinous forms. . . ."
Old Sermon
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THE EVENING WOLVES
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CHAPTER
IThe Reverend Jonathan Grigg, youngest minister of BostonTown, sat at his desk in his study writing his sermon for thecoming Sabbath. His face was tense, the brilliant brown eyesalmost black in fervent thought. A deep scar on the righttemple, resulting from an injury in childhood, extended a littleway through his thick auburn hair which curled from underthe edge of the black silk skullcap; it now throbbed visiblywith the intensity of his concentration. The rounded chin wasthe only sign of weakness in that proud face with its broadstrong nose and full sensitive lips.
But God sent no inspiration for the closing words of theSabbath sermon. He sent instead thoughts of Ann, the daughter of the Widow Walton of Salem Village. The Lord grantedhim here in his study a vision of Ann Walton as enchanting asthough she stood before him. He saw her tall body, gracefulin its carriage as a deer; her dreaming blue eyes under blacklevel brows; her face, delicate and radiant, framed by a massof dark golden hair.
But swiftly followed the gifts of Satan: vivid pictures ofvoluptuous details; lips parted and tempting as honey, lan-gorous lids drooping over blue eyes, giving them a wickedjewel-like brilliancy. Jonathan's gaze was dragged downwardalong the proud lines of a white neck to a softly curvedbosom.
A wave of emotion swept over him, dangerously sweet.The air became suddenly hot and oppressive; the room filledwith something perilous and evil. Before his startled imagina
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tion appeared the yet unknown but terrible beauty of awoman s body.
He sprang to his feet, his strong hands clenched in restraint."Deliver me from the snares of Satan! " he cried. "Lord, Lord,pity me! "
Overwhelmed with shame at the carnal vision, he sank tohis knees. "Keep me from the sin of uncleanhness," he prayed."O Lord, chasten this base nature. Let Thy grace raise mefrom the pit of lustful thoughts."
Long did he wrestle with Satan, seeing vividly the hell offire yawning for him. But at the last he was victorious. Satandeparted and above the battleground of the body of JonathanGrigg rose his confident soul.
This August morning of 1688 he was in his twenty-sixthyear, the son and grandson of clergymen. On the surface hislife flowed quietly in daily routine duties. But his spirit wasburdened with his personal struggles as well as his terribleresponsibility of holding his people true to God under theceaseless attacks of the enemy. The antagonist was the archenemy of mankind, the Prince of Darkness, the dread Lordof Hell. Jonathan Grigg hated him with a bitter hatred, andthe struggle between them would be lifelong.
But the power of the clergy to keep the people on thepath of righteousness was waning. The old order was changing; the harmony of the clergy's rule of Massachusetts Colonywas broken by the King of England's appointment of a royalgovernor and council to take the place of the former churchgovernment with its representative assemblies. No longercould God's chosen rulers guide the people under divine lawas set forth in the Bible. No, the godless were given absolutepower over the lives and liberties of the people.
No wonder many believed that the end of the world wascoming; that the end of the century would bring the end ofman. The minister brooded over the horror of the sinfulnessof men if these were indeed to be the last years of humanlife. Taking up his pen, he finished his sermon with a prophecyof great calamities befalling New England if the people didnot mend their godless ways. Asmodeus, that crippled demon,was already upon them.
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He leaned back in his chair, feeling a glowing satisfactionwith what he had just written. When Abigail Trask knocked,then entered with a bowl of samp porridge for him, no traceof the recent spiritual battle was visible. He sat there, erectand broad shouldered, a welcoming affectionate smile on hisserene face.
"It's no wonder that every maiden in Boston is in love withhim," thought Abigail. Shyly she allowed her eyes to strayover his handsome face as she moved the papers and the hourglass out of his way and set the porridge before him.
A stranger might think them brother and sister, the aristocratic young minister and his little bond servant. Abigail hadalmost the same shade of auburn hair, but the brown eyes thatin Jonathan Grigg were luminous, and could turn black withdepths of religious ecstasy or terror, were in her soft anddreamy.
When the ailing and penniless Widow Trask lay dying, shehad given ten-year-old Abigail to the Widow Deborah Griggto be her bond servant for seven years, then died well pleasedto know that her orphaned daughter would dwell safely inthe godly household of the future minister. Two years laterold Mistress Grigg had expired gloriously, and her son, thenordained, had buried her on Copps Hill. It was a year nowthat Jonathan had lived with only Abigail in the two-storiedwhite clapboard house his father had built. The old Negroslave Moses and his tall, soft-eyed West Indian wife Betsy,whom Mistress Grigg had bought for him as his second wife,lived with their two children in a one-room white woodencabin back of the house.
As Jonathan was finishing his porridge, the knocker soundedloudly on the outer door. He saw Moses, sturdy and quick inspite of his age, go to open it
, and a moment later youngWidow Oakes fluttered into the study. Her gray eyes wereshining with excitement in her narrow face, and her thin lipswere parted breathlessly. The minister perceived the swell ofher breasts beneath the disarranged kerchief over her blue-flowered calico gown.
"Oh, Mr. Grigg," she panted, "the French pirate ship wassighted off the coast again this morning!"
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As he stood up, she laid a hand impulsively on his arm. "It'sgone now. Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Grigg. Most likely itwas frightened off by the sight of Pirate Jones's corpse hanging in the harbor. But I didn't come to bring you gossip, sir.I'm here to get your judgment on my new bonnet. I wouldn'tdare wear it without your approval of it."
Giggling nervously, she drew from beneath her scarlet cloaka green ribboned bonnet and held it before his eyes.
"Is it seemly, do you think, to wear the red velvet bow? Itis such a little one," she pleaded.
"Let me see it on your head. I can tell naught looking at itthere in your hands."
The Widow Oakes threw back her gingham cap, lettingit hang by its ribbons, and placed the new bonnet carefullyover her dark curls. She lowered her eyes modestly, then gavea sudden upward glance, trying to charm him into acquiescence. But it was that look, filled with coquetry, that defeatedher.
"It's a godless thing; naught but devil's frippery. Take itoff."
"Oh, but Mr. Grigg ... the little bow . . .""Take it off!" he shouted, and raising his hand, swept the
thing to the floor.The Widow Oakes stared at him in amazement, then burst
into tears and hid her face in her hands. "I'm a shamefulwoman," she wept. "My heart is wicked and full of sin. Awidow is a poor rudderless vessel, sir, and has much need ofa godly man to guide her. Had I such a one I would not fallso often into sin. Indeed I would not."
He put his arm around her shoulder comfortingly and ledher to the chair before his writing table. When she saw himgo to the door and close it her heart beat tumultuously.
"You aren't more sinful than others, Theophilia Oakes,"he said in his deep gentle voice. "Perhaps I was too harsh.We should be more lenient toward you when grief for yourlate husband has laid your heart open."
"My tears are not for him," she murmured."What ails you then?"Her narrow gray eyes searched his face; noted the strong
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hand smoothing the white bands at his throat nervously. Under his tender clouded gaze she leaned forward eagerly.
"I know not how to say it. Oh, forgive my boldness, Mr.Grigg, but ... it is not my dear husband, God rest his soul,nor myself. It is you I am troubled about."
"About me? Me?" he asked in amazement."You have been much alone since the death of your pious
mother. There has been no one to care for you for yourneeds."
"Abigail . . .""She is only a servant!" Her voice rose shrill, eager, lost
to propriety. "Only the other day Mrs. Hubbard told methat her husband, who has been like a second father to you,was grieved over your single state. The deacon's words werethe words of Scripture: 'Be ye fruitful and multiply.' Yes,Mr. Grigg, and on the common I heard Mrs. Lewis tell theWidow Phillips that a young active man like yourself shouldhave a helpmate. She said you should take a wife into thehouse to care for you now that your mother is happily withGod."
"Need they talk about me on the common?" he askedfrowning. "Must my manner of life be on the lips of gossipsand frivolous women?"
"Yes, Mr. Grigg . . . until you silence them all by weddingsome maid or widow of Boston."
"Of Boston?""There are many here who hold you dear. Many who
would make you a worthy consort." Her voice sank, frightened at last by the bold speech into which it had strayed.She said low, humbly, "You have but to ask, Mr. Grigg."
His young face was stern as Judgment Day. "In my owngood time I will ask not before. Let the people of BostonTown concern themselves with their own problems, whichare many. Mine are with God."
"God does not desire that you live alone!" cried TheophiliaOakes desperately.
"Do you dare tell me what God desires for me!" shoutedJonathan. "Do you have secret communion with Him,
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Widow Oakes, that He honors you with visions and warningsconcerning me?"
"Oh, no!" Terrified at the heresy, she clasped her hand overher mouth.
"Then do not speak God's Name as though He were yourneighbor and as though you had heard Him gossiping aboutme on the common." His eyes were bright and hard, staringat her, seeing no longer a fascinating woman but a usurperto the Divine confidence. "Do not try to bring your smallknowledge to bear upon the future of one of God's elect.What is revealed to me as a reward for my prayers and wrestlings will not be made clear to the eyes of vanity to becomethe subject for idle tongues. When the time comes the waywill be pointed out to me. Go home, Widow Oakes, and remember that my destiny is not in the hands of you of BostonTown."
Quickly, without daring to look at him, she picked up herbonnet and fled without another word.
Many times during the following days Jonathan Griggsaw signs and symbols, all pointing the way to Salem Villageand to marriage with Ann Walton. He made portentous remarks to Abigail: "God does not desire that man live alone,"and, "Would you be surprised if I soon brought a mistress tothe house?"
"No, Mr. Grigg," replied Abigail, blushing as though sheherself were to be chosen.
After that she set herself the difficult task of discoveringthe name of the maiden who had won the heart of Boston'shandsome young minister. But her observations gained hernothing, for he showed only his usual courteous tendernesstoward all women. It was obvious that the Widow Oakes wassetting her cap for him, but so indeed were many others.
Then Abigail suddenly realized that there was one housewhich the minister visited more frequently than any other.Why had it not occurred to her before that it was not alonerespect for his deacon, John Hubbard, that brought him there?Nor even that Dorcas, the beautiful fourteen-year-old daughter of the deacon, helped him so often in making copies of his
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corrected sermons. Might not Mr. Grigg feel that Dorcas wasmore to him than just a clerkly helper? Could she indeed bethe minister's choice?
As Jonathan rose one morning from his breakfast and Abigail put into his hands his hat and his visiting Bible, she lookedat him inquisitively as she remarked slyly, "Dorcas Hubbardis a godly maiden, Mr. Grigg."
"Yes, she is," replied Jonathan, smiling and patting hershoulder. "And there's many another in Boston Town, praisebe to God."
CHAPTER
11
Seventeen miles distant from Boston Stone the village ofSalem stirred with its morning labor. Men and womea begantheir tasks with a prayer to God for the day's guidance.
The Widow Walton directed her small household with agraciousness that concealed her good sense and firmness ofwill. All here were trained to speak their thoughts honestlyand without fear: her twelve-year-old son Joseph, her daughter Ann, and the two Negro slaves Betty and Henry.
It was almost a year now since she had first given the youngBoston minister, Jonathan Grigg, permission to court herdaughter. For three years now, since her fifteenth birthday,Ann Walton had rejected the many suitors who had proposedfor her. But this time her mother saw the easily read signs ofacceptance in her looks and actions.
Dame Walton was relieved at this evidence of Ann's settling, for she had been anxious over her late zeal for theconversion of the Indian. The Widow Walton had alwaysbeen sympathetic to the exotic savages, feeling curiosity about
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them rather than the hatred and fear felt by her neighbors.But King Philip's war had left deep and lasting antagonismbetween the white man and the red man, and although thepower of the Algonquins was now broken it still was not safeto be as fearless and friendly toward them as her daughterwas.
Ann had found in her mother's library John Eliot's translations of the Psalms and the Bible into the Indian tongue, andwith this as a guide she was trying to study their language.Although she found it difficult because of the guttural aspirations and the extraordinary length of the words, she persevered and had now mastered a few of the Psalms. However,this study was kept a secret within her home, for there waslittle sympathy among the majority of the people for theIndians or for their "Apostle," John Eliot.
As Ann set out from her home early this afternoon herthoughts were not on possible savage converts. They werefilled with an image that had daily become more dear to her.She took the longest way into the village so that she mightloiter, dreaming of him. Recalling with love and longing hisintense brooding face, his caressing brown eyes, she movedlightly down the path between the fragrant pines and thegraceful maple and birch trees. The sun shone through theleafy branches, pierced through the muslin cap and glinted inher golden hair. The mosaic brooch given her by her sea-captain father, which now pinned her kerchief at the neck,flashed its Oriental splendor against her purple gown. On herarm swung a covered basket filled with a smoked ham, bread,and cheese for old Goodwife Whitman, one of the poor ofSalem Village.
Ann turned off the path and began to climb a high moss-covered rock. When she reached the top she set down herbasket, and here, as was her custom whenever she came thisway, she delivered a sermon to an imaginary audience of villagers and Indians.
From this height, where she could see the entire village, shedecreed the abolition of the pillory, the whipping post, andthe gallows. Holding out her sturdy arms appealingly, shebegged the imagined figures before her to rid their hearts of
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hate and fear. Why should not the Indians mingle in loveand friendship with the white men? Why must men alwayswar with one another? Since God made all human beings,Indians could not be creatures of the Devil as most of hercountrymen believed. If men were treated as brothers, theywould become brothers. If they were treated as enemies theywould become enemies. Standing there, she pleaded for thetriumph of good over evil. Believe in good and good willcome. As you believe, so it shall be. . . .
Suddenly a young Indian appeared noiselessly on the summit beside her. He raised his hand in peaceful greeting, and inanswer Ann raised her hand also, Indian-fashion, calm andunafraid.
The Indian boy conveyed to her by signs and short gutturalEnglish words his wonder of foreign magic, and she in turntold him of God and Gospel, reciting for him the hundredand seventeenth Psalm of David which she had memorizedfrom John Eliot's translation:
Waeenomok Maniz zvameumtchtimoneunk
Waeenomokkenaau wamemiffinninnuog nvonk. . . .
Won by this white maiden who struggled so valiantly tospeak his tongue, the boy promised to receive the sacredwaters of baptism if she could prove by some magic deed thepower of her God.
She said, pointing, "Look! I will climb that bough of thetree down there and jump from it and God will protect me.Will you believe in Him then?"
He stared at the high branch and shook his head doubtfully."Big jump," he declared. "You break neck maybe."
"My God can overturn mountains and cut rivers betweenthe rocks," said Ann proudly. "Watch and see how He protects the least of His creatures who trusts in Him."
She descended the rock and ran to the tree. But she hadnever climbed a tree before and the way was rough. Herhands sought anxious holds and sometimes a foot slippedskinning the ankle. But at last she reached the thick branch
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and edged her way out on it. When she looked down herheart gave a frightened leap. It seemed even a greater jumpfrom this height. But seeing the boy watching gravely frombelow, she prayed earnestly for confidence and let herselfdrop from the branch.
Her feet stung at the impact of the ground and she fell forward. But as the Indian boy sprang to her side she rose.
"See! I'm not hurt at all," she said, giving a shaky littlelaugh.
He nodded, and his black eyes shone with the light of hisconversion.
She pointed to the minister's house below and said, "Godown to Mr. Robinson's and be baptized." And then sheremembered the admonition of Jesus to those He had madewhole, and added, "See that no one knows what I have donefor you."
He left her and went down into the village. He receivedbaptism from the Reverend Daniel Robinson, but unlike thegossipers of Scripture, spread abroad no fame of her who hadwrought the miracle. Ann Walton remained unacclaimed,without praise, but was content. She loved most the commandment: "When thou doest thine alms, do not sound atrumpet before thee."
Mr. Gorham, the tithingman, watching her coming swiftlydown the path, saw and disapproved of her radiant expression.Was there no law of New England against the flaunting ofsuch radiance? Was it not as ornamental and sinfully attractiveas inordinate finery?
"Here, here! Where are you running to, Ann Walton? " hecried, clutching her dress and bringing her to a breathless stop."Have you no modesty, girl?"
"I'm on my way to Goody Whitman with this basket offood," explained Ann.
"Well, she won't starve before you get there. Go in a moreorderly manner," he instructed.
Ann delivered the food to old Goodwife Whitman andcomforted her with the words of Scripture:
" 'Blessed are theywhich do hunger and thirst after righteousness for they shall
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be filled. Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' "
On her return through the square she passed the pillory,the stocks and the whipping post, and saw that they wereheavily laden. Bleeding stripes scarred the back of the mantied to the whipping post punishment for some crime againstthe laws of Salem. She turned shuddering from the sight, thensaw with astonishment that the man in the stocks was Mr.Robin Cutter, proprietor of Robin's Nest Ordinary. On hisround gray head stood a tall bottle of rum, precariously boundwith rough cords tied under his chin. In each stubby hand heclutched a sealed bottle of whisky.
He looked so woebegone that Ann could not resist stoppingbeside him. She wagged her finger at him in mock reproval."Are you trying to sell liquor up there on your head to thebirds of the air?"
Robin Cutter gave a cautious grin as he looked up at thislovely girl who tried so fearlessly to cheer him. "Go yourway, Ann, or you will be getting fined for speaking kindlyto me. And don't set me laughing. It's most disrespectful in thisstand of infamy."
"You are more afraid of shaking that fine bottle of rum offyour head than of being disrespectful. What sin has set youthere as a juggler?"
"Alas, my dear . . . But stand in front of me there so I won'thave to turn my head to see you. And make certain no selectman comes in sight."
"I'm watching out for that," declared Ann."Well, last night Mr. Howard begged for a demijohn of
whisky after the tithingman had forbidden it. But when Mr.Gorham left the tavern I gave it to the lad. I warned him totake it home with him, but he opened it up and took a swig,and"
"And Mr. Gorham was watching from the back window! "cried Ann, who knew the ways of tithingmen.
"He was," said Robin Cutter, his merry little eyes twinklingat her. "And he told the magistrate I let a man have moreliquor than was good for him. It was my fourth offense andno fine was enough so here I am! And there's Mr. Howard
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down the way with his arms and his legs sticking out of thedrunkard's barrel."
She turned to look, but suddenly Mr. Cutter jerked his headsideways, having caught a glimpse of a minister's white bands.Down toppled the botde of rum, which was caught and savedby the hands of Mr. Jonathan Grigg.
"Mr. Grigg!" cried Ann in confusion and delight. "Howis it you're in Salem Village so soon again? "
"Too soon again, Mistress Ann?""Oh, no." She felt her face burning with blushes. "It was
kind of you to catch Mr. Cutter's bottle for it would surelyhave broken if you hadn't."
"No kindness at all," contradicted Jonathan. "My armsmoved forward without the command of my will. It was theDevil likely who moved them to save this wretched man'sliquor." He raised the bottle to cast it on the ground and outwit Satan, but Ann put out her hand to restrain him.
"Things do not happen one way that God ordains another,"she said.
Mr. Cutter watched the minister place the bottle on theground beside the stocks but offered no word of gratitude,fearing to be rebuked for concern of his worldly goods whenhis thoughts should be on repentance.
"Come, Mistress Ann," said Jonathan, and when they werea little distance away, he looked down at her. "You must nottalk lightly to those suffering punishment, Ann. It lessens theirfeeling of guilt."
She was too overjoyed by this first intimate use of her nameto think of an explanation of her conduct. But he also forgotthat he expected one.
They walked on together, and although separated by adecorous space between them each felt the other's presenceas thrillingly as though they were touching. When theyreached her house Jonathan passed it without stopping. Theyclimbed up through a small birch wood and came out on thehilltop. He went to the edge and looked down at the villageand streams and dense forests beyond. She stood behind andlooked only at him.
Suddenly he turned and faced her. "Ann, it was only a12
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pretext that brought me to Mr. Robinson's this day. I had nourgent matter to discuss with him."
This confession thrilled her with joyous expectancy. Hisnext words were as the fulfillment of some old prophecy:"It was only that I might see you."
She was filled with such happiness that she felt wholly atease with him. "And that was a slight thing to make you takea long journey, wasn't it
, Mr. Grigg?" she asked playfully.He moved nearer. "It was one of the gravest matters of my
life." His tall strong body bent toward her, but when hestarted to speak again all the eloquence of his preaching diedin his throat. "Ann, I love you," he said, his voice unsteady."Do you love me as I love you? Don't answer to hurt me."
"How could I help loving you, Jonathan," she whisperedHe seized her hands and drew them up to impetuous kisses.
"You are so lovely, Ann. I have never seen anyone so beautiful. I think of you night and day . . . long for you "
Drawing her close, he kissed her cheek tenderly. Thensuddenly, like a flame through him, he felt the caress of herhands on his bent head. He started back.
"What are you doing, Ann Walton? What spell do you puton me with your weaving hands?
""A binding 'spell," she murmured joyously."All my will goes from me when you touch me.""Oh, Jonathan, since that first day I saw you at Mr. Robin
son's house I have loved you more than anything else onearth."
He caught her and pressed her close to him. His mouthclosed over hers in a deep long kiss. Then in overwhelmingdesire he nestled his hot cheek into her shoulder, his lipsstraying over the soft bare throat, his trembling hands thrusting aside the kerchief folded so neatly. His murmured wordsof love and tenderness had become harsh with passion. "No,
I must not ... I must not use you so," he was saying. "It is
the Temptersweet and evil. Have you aught to do with him. . . the Beguiling One . . . ?"
In astonishment she pushed back his flushed face and freedherself from his embrace. Turning away, she went to the hill'sedge. She forgot the dark words and remembered only the joy
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of his kisses. As she looked before her she saw neither the village nor the woodlands, only the image of her beloved. It wasnot the straight tall body nor the brown eyes nor auburn hairthat immersed her in love; it was only a magical presencecalled by the loved name of Jonathan Grigg.
He came repentantly to her side. "Forgive me, Ann," hebegged. "Pay no heed to what I said. I am forever attackedby doubts and suspicions. I need you, my dearest. I feel youwill bring me peace and joy I have never known. When Ithink of you, even though you are far away, I feel myselfstrengthened, and the world becomes a better place becauseyou are in it."
"My world is more wonderful to me, too, Jonathan, sinceyou are in it. Isn't it strange how love changes everything?The village is the same as always the houses and people andtrees and brooks; and yet they all look different to me sinceyou've come here more beautiful."
"I can hardly wait to have you with me always," he said.He took her hand and drew her down beside him on a
grassy mound. He slipped off her cap so that he might see theplay of sunlight in her golden hair. "Ann, since my parentsdied I have often felt my lonesomeness as a burden until Imet you."
She reached out a small blunt hand and squeezed his arm."Were you so alone after your mother's death?"
"There was no one I had but God.""But you have spoken so often of your deacon, Mr. Hub
bard. Isn't he a man you love and esteem?""Yes, he is, dear. His strength is like a rock against which
evil batters in vain. His household has been like a second hometo me. And his young daughter Dorcas even learned heralphabet so that she might help me by copying my sermonswhen I prepare them for the printer."
"I read and write too," Ann said quickly. "I can copy yoursermons for you."
"Yes, you can, dearest." He looked at her in tender adoration. "It's like a splendid dreamyou being there beside me inmy study, sharing my daily life."
Their happiness complete, needing no further words, they*4
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sat silently a little while longer. Then they rose and startedback to Ann's house. Just before they arrived there Jonathantook her once more in his arms.
"After speaking to your mother I'll return to Boston tomorrow to have your home prepared to receive you. Then I'll beback for you." He took her face between his hands and kissedit. "I hope you'll be happy in Boston, Ann."
"I'll be happy in Boston," she answered, "or anywhere inthe world where you are."
CHAPTER
111
John Hubbard, deacon and roadmaster, sat reading the Wordof the Lord to his family. Over the whirr of the spinningwheel, the click of the knitting needles, and the dull thud ofthe pestle in the mortar, his voice rolled heavily:" 'All things are full of labor; man cannot utter it. . . .' "
His voice droned monotonously on. The tread of the spinning wheel stopped. All the sounds in the fireroom died. Wasthere anything that could continue its motion under theweight of the weariness of those words?" 'Is there anything whereof it may be said, see this is new?It hath been already of old time which was before us.' "
He stopped, and sat with lowered head. Believing him finished with the reading, his daughter Dorcas rose from herspinning wheel and went to the door. She leaned against thedoorframe and her large black eyes were sleepy and sullen asshe gazed out on the cow path leading away from the house.Mistress Hubbard glanced covertly at her with eyes narrowedby wrinkles of sorrow and labor. Then she went to her, her
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short stocky body moving lightly and quickly over the sandwith which the floor was sprinkled for cleanliness.
"Dorcas," she asked softly. "What ails you?" "I'm weary."Mistress Hubbard's kind round face puckered with anxiety.
"Are you ill?""No, Mother.""What is it? Tell your mother what is troubling you."Dorcas turned from her impatiently. "It is naught." She
stepped across the threshold. "Dorcas!" It was the deacon speaking.She turned swiftly. "Yes, Father?""Where are you going?""Just down the lane a bit.""Sit down.""But Father, my fingers are all cramped with spinning.""Sit down."Mercy Hubbard looked into the dark frowning face of her
husband, then hastily looked away, feeling guilty of someimpiety. Was not the face of the dread and just God akin tothe face of Mr. Hubbard? Was not man made in His image?Who would dare to look into His terrible and holy countenance?
"A little stroll would do her no harm, Mr. Hubbard," shesaid timidly.
It .was as if no voice had spoken; his eyes never lifted fromDorcas. "Sit down."
She turned back and seated herself again at the spinningwheel. Her ten-year-old brother, Benjamin, raised his largedark eyes from his knitting and chuckled at the sight of herfull pouting lower lip. Trying to peer mischievously underher lowered eyes, he saw his father's massive head turningtoward him, and quickly straightened out the red suspendershe was knitting, pretending to measure one with the other.
Mr. Hubbard continued the Bible reading. He did not pausewhen his thirteen-year-old son Increase labored into the roomunder a load of firewood.
"Put them there, Cressy," whispered his mother, noddingtoward a space between the settle and the wall.
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"Aren't they fine big ones, Mother? Half the woodshed'sfilled already." Then he raised his voice: "Oh, Father, Mr.Grigg"
"Silence!" thundered the deacon."Don't you see your father reading?" reproved his mother."Sit down," commanded Mr. Hubbard."But Mr. Grigg told me to tell you . . ." The words were
stifled in his throat under his father's fierce stare."Do you need an application of the rod to silence you?"Increase shook his head, fear drying his tongue."Whatever makes the boy talk so much? " murmured Mrs.
Hubbard, trying to loosen her husband's anger from her son,hoping to make it fall upon herself.
"Sit here beside me," said Mr. Hubbard, and Increaseobediently drew up a stool alongside his father's armchair.He bowed his head; his straight black hair fell over his forehead, shadowing his heavy sun-dark face.
Mercy Hubbard moved about meekly under the disconsolate words that fell from her husband's lips. If they were tobe heeded, would she have courage to continue her tasks?Pound the Indian corn for foodstuff? Knead the dough intogreat round loaves for the bake kettle? Lift the iron pot fromthe lug pole and fill it with water for cooking food for herfamily?" 'I have seen all the works that are done under the sun andbehold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.' "
Yes, life was hard and full of vanity and vexation. And yetthere were compensations. Though six small children layburied in the graveyard on Copps Hill, there were three nowgrown past perilous childhood. God was good to have sparedher Dorcas and Increase and Benjamin. She took a basket froma hook on the wall and waited timidly for a pause in the reading.
"Mr. Hubbard?"He raised his eyes."I'd like Cressy to fetch me vegetables from the garden.""Do not take this boy away from the Word of God. He
needs it badly. Let Dorcas get what you want."Dorcas took the garden basket and listened to her mother's
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instructions. But her thoughts were on the talk she had heardof a dancing master who was to set up in Boston. The rumorhad started with a Dutch dame from New Amsterdam whohad visited Boston the week past. But would the worshipfulmagistrates permit a dancing master in the town? Wouldthe Reverend Jonathan Grigg sanction it? She thought tenderly of the minister, and a smile brought an elusive dimpleinto her rounded cheek as she went out into the garden. Mistress Hubbard sighed plaintively at the secrecy of that smileon the dark beautiful face of her daughter." 'That which is crooked cannot be made straight,' " readMr. Hubbard, and Increase nodded sleepily under the monotonous chant of his father's voice. Working in the fields orchopping wood, he would have felt no tiredness. But sittinghere quietly with folded hands, unprotected by vigorous motion of the body, sleep stole over him and he swayed forward.
A heavy blow toppled him to the floor."Unhappy boy! Do you fall asleep when the Holy Bible
is read to you?"Increase rose quickly to his feet, brushing the sand from
his knees. "I heard all you read, even through my sinful sleep,Father."
"Then repeat it."The well-remembered words came in the father's deep
monotonous voice from the mimicking throat of his son.While Increase spoke, Abigail Trask entered, and stood
waiting until he had finished."The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak," said the
deacon grudgingly. "Keep your mind with God, IncreaseHubbard, and it will triumph in the end over the pitiful sinful body."
"Yes, Father." He tried to keep his eyes on the deacon'sface but could not help them straying toward Abigail.
"God give you good day," she greeted them."God keep you, Abigail Trask.""Mr. Grigg sent me to discover if you were at home, sir.
He has an important matter to discuss with you.""I'll be here."As she turned to go, Increase questioned her with his eyes,
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not daring to speak openly to her. She glanced at himroguishly over her shoulder, smiling and nodding a promise.
Increase reseated himself. While his father read on hetwisted his feet restlessly around the stumpy legs of the stooland his eyes followed impatiently his mother's movementsabout the fireplace.
When the Reverend Jonathan Grigg entered, Mr. Hubbardclosed his Bible. "Go down to Mr. Gedney's Latin Schoolnow and get some knowledge into your head," he instructedIncrease.
With an eagerness that was not for Mr. Gedney's LatinSchool, Increase darted out of the house and a moment laterwas scampering off with Abigail across the fields.
Mistress Hubbard sent Benjamin up to the spring for waterand then brought out a jug of rum and a bottle of brandy, thechoice of drink always welcoming a minister's visit.
Deacon Hubbard looked up at Jonathan from under shaggybrows. " 'Man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward.'What anxiety hurries you here with such a solemn face, Mr.Grigg?"
At his words, the scar on Jonathan's temple twitched nervously. "I wish that had been a more cheerful greeting, John.Your words are no good omen for a happy event I've cometo tell you about."
"A happy event?" muttered Mr. Hubbard contemptuously."What is this happy event?" .
"I have chosen a wife," said Jonathan.The deacon looked at him steadily for a moment. Then he
nodded approval. "That is a good thing, Jonathan."Mistress Hubbard set two pewter cups on the table board
and poured the rum that Jonathan selected. "God's blessingon your marriage, Mr. Grigg," she said.
"Whom have you chosen?" asked the deacon."Mistress Ann Walton," replied Jonathan, delighted at his
approbation."Ann Walton? I don't know her.""She's of Salem Village the daughter of Captain Theodore
Walton, who died at sea several years ago. She lives withher widowed mother and young brother."
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"Were there not good enough maids in Boston that you hadto seek so far abroad?"
"I felt that the Lord pointed the way to this maiden.""What manner of maid is she?" asked Mrs. Hubbard curi
ously.Jonathan thought of the wonderful beauty of Ann's person.
But he knew that this would be no recommendation to thedeacon, so spoke only of her piety and good housewifelyqualities.
"I thought by the appearance of things that it would beupon the Widow Oakes your choice of wife would fall," remarked Mr. Hubbard, and the gaze of his secret stern eyesdrew the blood to Jonathan's cheeks.
"I have only sought to give the widow comfort and guidance since the death of her husband," he answered. "I neverhad her in mind for a wife."
"Well, maybe you're right." The deacon lowered his voiceagainst his wife's hearing. "They say that he who marries awidow makes himself cuckold. Dr. Bibber told me that thefirst male who fecundates a female makes a lasting impressionon her, and that all offspring from any other man resemblethe first husband."
"Dr. Bibber told me the same. It isn't a thought a man canbear with dignity," said Jonathan.
"Still it doesn't seem to stand in the way of remarriage ofwidows. From what I've seen, men are hotter after them thanafter the maidens."
"Many men do not know any better."Mr. Hubbard nodded. Then suddenly he looked at the
young minister with suspicion. "It seems to me this decisionof yours to wed Mistress Ann is very sudden. Is there somespecial reason for your haste?"
"I wouldn't call it hasty," said Jonathan. "It's almost a yearnow since I have had the acquaintance of Ann Walton."
"You've been very secretive about it then," commentedthe deacon. But the innocence of Jonathan's voice had dispelled his suspicions. "You are God's chosen vessel, sir. Besure to put yourself in no careless hands."
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sturdy hands, and he smiled. "I consider myself fortunate inmarrying Mistress Ann," he answered.
"Then take her to wife and return to Boston as quickly asyou can. These are troubled times. We have need of youhere now that feeling is running high against Sir EdmundAndros."
"Yes, there's no telling what measures the Governor willtake with Ipswich and Topsfield refusing to pay their taxes."
"Why should they pay taxes levied without their having asay in the matter?" demanded Mr. Hubbard. "We shall notrest easy till we are given back our representative assemblies."
"They are no more than our right as Englishmen," agreedJonathan. "We are used to discussion and debate and not therule of a royal governor. I hate arbitrary power as I hate theDevil."
"What are the evils that have provoked God against NewEngland that such a man is let loose on her," said the deaconsomberly. "Times were bad enough when King Charles triedto extend suffrage to men without church membership. Ifwe wouldn't endure that under Charles, we'll not be broughtto heel by King James's man."
"The freedom of worship he's brought for his Church ofEngland members is what galls me most," said Jonathan. "Thetown's becoming infested with them since he set up his churchhere."
Their faces were hard and angry at the tyranny of theStuart kings and the royal governor. But suddenly Jonathan'sthoughts swerved to Ann and his expression softened.
"Well," he said, rising. "We can only hope that our prayersand efforts will restore the colony to its rightful rulers."
"If we could uproot the wickedness of our own sinful people, maybe our prayers would be answered. Return soon tothe care of your flock, for there are many who stray whenthe eye of the shepherd is withdrawn. That hardened sinner,Goody Bridget Gower, is up to her old trickery again, working and traveling about on the Sabbath. And I don't like whatI hear of her employment of the wild herbs of the forest. It'sa suspicious traffic and one easily controlled and abetted bythe Devil. It would bear some watching."
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"I'll look into it upon my return," said Jonathan. "Godkeep Goody Gower and all of you until I come back."
"God speed you on your journey," said Mrs. Hubbard.Jonathan went out and turned northward to his house. As
he strode up Middle Lane the deacon's greeting suddenlyrecurred to him. "Man is born unto trouble as the sparks flyupward." And what else had he said? "What anxiety hurriesyou here?" Why had such words been spoken? Why shouldthe word "anxiety" be said in connection with Ann Walton?
In spite of all the good omens that had shown the approvalof Providence on his marriage, Jonathan felt troubled by thisominous augury.
CHAPTER
IVThat hardened sinner, Goody Bridget Gower, did not benefitfrom the minister's prayer that God keep her. The boards ofthe pillory pressed down on her thin wrists and held her gaygray head firmly wedged between them. She stood on the highplatform, a warning to transgressors.
The Widow Oakes, coming to borrow Mistress Hubbard'sspice mill while her own was being repaired, brought thenews to the house of the deacon.
"Do you know who stands on the pillory this early morn-ing?"
Mr. Hubbard needed to shape no question other than thestern inquiry of his eyes.
She threw the name to him. "Goody Gower!""The pillory is too mild for such a wretch. She needs the
brand to tame her. 'The Lord is slow to anger and great in22
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power and will not acquit the wicked.' What was her offensethis time?"
"Slander! God keep me from flouting folks the way shedoes, Mr. Hubbard. Do you remember when she called ElderCrocker a black-coated rascal because he took away the mincepies he caught her making on the Sabbath?"
"Whom did she slander?""Nathaniel Dillard. She said the tobacco he sold her was
bad.""If she did not have the evil habit of smoking she wouldn't
know if his tobacco was bad or not.""Poor Mr. Dillard was so upset he wept.""What cause had Mr. Dillard to weep if he was innocent?
It might show that there was some truth in the accusation.""Yes, indeed it might at that," said Theophilia. "There is
no one without sin. But I knew Gower would be in the pillorytoday," she giggled. "Last night I dreamed something bad waspursuing me down the road. Then suddenly it popped into atree over my head and threw its blue cap at me.
'
From where she was sitting sewing Dorcas cried gleefully,"Goody Gower's blue cap!" But at a look from her father,she bent her head in confusion over her sewing.
Theophilia Oakes gave a smile of amusement. "It's well forDorcas she has such a godly man for father, Mr. Hubbard,else I fear her high spirits might bring her to harm some day."
"Continue with your tale, Widow Oakes. I need no advicefrom young females for the welfare of my family."
Blushing at the rebuke, she hastily resumed. "Well, I saidto Gower when I saw her, T knew you'd be up there today.I saw you in my dream last night.' But she only mumbled inthat outlandish language of hers and I couldn't make out aword she was saying."
"It should be forbidden her to speak a heathen tongue,"said Mr. Hubbard. "Who knows but that she might be inleague with the devil-worshiping savages of the land andplotting with them to get the country back for their master."
"It isn't the Indian tongue she speaks," interposed Mrs.Hubbard gently. "It's the Irish that she learned in her owncountry when she was a child."
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"She should be forbidden to speak it," repeated her husband."I'm going down that way to a meeting of the elders and I'llwarn her myself."
He picked up his hat from the peg beside the door andwent out, the Widow Oakes following him. Mistress Hubbardhurriedly took down her own hat and tied it over her cap.
"I'll just run down to the bakeshop and order some extrabreads," she said. But it wasn't to the bakeshop she washurrying, only to give poor sinful Gower at least a kindlylook.
Dorcas watched until her mother's lengthening shadow disappeared from the pathway. Then she too followed swiftlyafter, eager to hear her father's exciting denunciation.
Some minutes after she was gone Benjamin came in fromthe fields to get a drink of milk. When he saw no one about,he drew from his blouse a crudely carved wooden image andexamined it intently. The deep-cut eyes, the full lips andpointed chin, all satisfied him. But observing a protuberanceof the cheek that marred the expression, he took a sharparrowhead from his breeches' pocket and began carefullysmoothing down the wood.
After some time, he held out his work at arm's length andchuckled with delight at the familiar sullenness radiating fromcheek and mouth. He ran to the pine chest in the corner of theroom where scraps of cloth were kept for quilting, and selecting a bit of Dorcas' gray homespun, took it out and fitted itto the doll. Then he tied a slip of white cloth as a cap over theblack stain he had used for hair.
"Hark you, doll," he confided to it,
trembling with joy,"you're as like Dorcas as she's like herself. And I made you!"He set her up on the table and strode back and forth in pridebefore her, feeling more love for this poppet than for hishuman sister.
Suddenly he heard footsteps on the path, and snatching upthe doll, hid it again in his blouse. But it was only Dorcas.
She took from her pocket some pieces of candied fruits andgave one to her brother. "I saw young Dr. Bibber down theway and he gave them to me," she said.
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"Oh, Dorcas, why don't you marry him? Then we couldhave all the candy we wanted."
"I'm not going to marry young Dr. Bibber for candy oranything else," she retorted.
"Look what I made," he said, bringing forth the doll forher approval.
"Oh, that one doesn't look like me at all. I'm far handsomerthan that, my boy."
"It's lovely anyway, isn't it? Even if it isn't as handsome asyou are?"
"Oh, all right then. But run and fetch me Mr. Grigg'simage. It's far more agreeable to me."
Too happy over her appreciation of one piece of work toresent her scorn of the other, he climbed the ladder into theattic where he hid from the eyes of disapproving adults thedolls fashioned so secretly and joyously.
In a few minutes he was back again with the poppet shewanted. Dorcas took it in her hands and gazed on the facethat was never in her sight long enough to satisfy her. Shepressed her fingertips against the wooden eyes, the woodenlips, feeling them alive and real through the power of herdesire.
"It's really a magical likeness, Benjamin."She held it close to her breast and swayed in langorous
rhythm back and forth. Then suddenly she began whirlingaround the room, humming a ballad she had heard the streetfolks singing. When Increase entered, stooping with theweight of two leathern buckets loaded to the top with earsof corn, she ran to him and seized his arm.
"Come and play," she cried. "No one's home." She shookhis arm until the corn spilled over and he was forced to putdown the buckets. Taking his hands, she pulled him into awild dance with her.
"Dorcas, stop!" he laughed, throwing back his head tofling the hair out of his eyes. "I've work to do."
"Who cares! Oh, if the dancing master would only come! ""Stephen Brooks told me he wasn't coming. He heard that
the elders wouldn't let him."
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She stopped dancing abruptly, an angry pout on her lips."And I so wanted to learn real dance steps!
"Do you know what else Stephen told me?""What?""He took some of his mother's emulsion of dried rattle
snake that old Dr. Bibber had given her for an ailment, and hemixed it with Goody Gower's tobacco"
"Oh!" laughed Dorcas, her disappointment over the dancing master forgotten. "And Goody Gower complained thatMr. Dillard's tobacco was bad and was sent to the pillory forslander!"
The three children screamed with laughter. "Why don'tyou marry young Dr. Bibber, Dorcas?" cried Benjamin gleefully. "Then we could have all sorts of funny things to playpranks with!"
"Who cares for thator for him either! He'd better marryMary Morgan who's more willing than I."
In the midst of their merriment they were startled by running feet. They sprang apart just before Abigail appeared inthe doorway.
"Oh! It's only you," cried Dorcas."Come and dance with me, Nibby," urged Increase, grasp
ing her about the waist."Wait, leave me be, Cressy. I haven't time now. I must
bring these breads of Betsy's to the almshouse. But I simplyhad to stop here first to tell you the most wondrous news."
"About you, Nibby?" asked Increase."No not me."Something in the way Abigail looked at her made Dorcas
spring forward. "What is it, Nibby? "
"It s something that will break a good many hearts inBoston. But one person it will make the happiest girl in theworld. . . ." She paused, enjoying the excitement she wascausing.
"What is it? What is it?""Mr. Grigg's been very secret about it. But now he's just
told us . . ." She looked at Dorcas slyly. "He's going to bring
a wife to the house.""Who?" cried Dorcas. "Has he asked for her yet?"
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"He hasn't told us."Joy widened Dorcas' dark eyes, curved her full lips into a
rapturous smile. She ran out of the house and up to the barnto be alone with her tumultuous emotions. "Oh, Mr. GriggJonathan," she murmured. "If it is I you have chosen I shallask God for naught else for the rest of my days!"
CHAPTER
VJonathan mounted his black mare and set out for Salem Village. He rode through the Indian summer day, deep intothe bright forest, his horse prancing, sensing the long briskjourney.
In the saddle bag, secretly packed that morning by the minister's deft hands, lay his mother's stern white wedding gown.He had seen in the Widow Walton's hands her own bridalarray: India muslin over petticoats of silk, ribbons and knotsand embroidered flowerlets, destined for her only livingdaughter. He had seen and approved, and back in Boston, during his lonely hours in his study, he had imagined Ann in thatsplendor. But the Prince of Darkness was ever alert to twistand divert the holiest joy into his own dark and evil patterns.Under his malicious influence, Jonathan saw the delicate clothchange from a chaste covering into a diaphanous allurementthat aroused evil carnal ecstacies. Now he carried with himfor his marriage a more fitting garb for a minister's bride.
He rode swiftly, feeling exuberant joy in the vigor of hisyoung body, in the freshness of the day, and in the beauty ofthe woodland. Majestic oaks and elms, graceful maple andbeech and birch trees, rustled their lacy leaves in a shimmering glory of color. Orange and red, crimson and golden yel
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low, they flashed in the sunlight. The dark green needles ofthe firs mingled their fragrance with the wood flowers. Theair was filled with flying birds, their songs delicate and joyous.
Suddenly his horse quivered, ears erect, then flattened. Athudding of the earth, a bounding animal shape passing swiftlyamong breaking branches, and then an arrow scraped past thesaddle bow.
Jonathan raised his musket and fired, freed his feet from thestirrups, and flung the reins headlong. He darted behind atree, his hands already tilting the powder horn for reloading.
"No," protested a voice thickly. "Me shoot bear not whiteman."
Jonathan looked out and saw the Indian standing erect andmotionless. He studied the immobile face. "Why do you notraise your hand in peaceful greeting?"
The Indian made a gesture. Jonathan scrutinized the bleeding hand, making certain that it was pierced by his bullet,that it was not a cunning self -wounding, made to trick himfrom his defense. Then he set his musket against a tree, but insuch a position that he could easily seize it if necessary. Hedrew a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wound ittightly above the Indian's wrist, stopping the flow of blood.
"Good," commented the Indian, his eyes friendly upon thekind stranger.
When Jonathan completed the dressing of the wound, helooked about in vain for his horse, to continue his journey.
"Horse run home," said the Indian. "Take horse," he said,pointing to his own.
Jonathan was too eager to reach Ann to refuse the generousoffer. "Thank you," he said. "When I reach Salem Villageshall I leave it there for you, or will you come to Boston forit?"
"Turn loose," replied the Indian. "Come me." He wentand picked up his arrow from the ground and without a parting salutation disappeared in the forest.
As Jonathan rode onward he thought of the lost weddinggown in the saddle bag. What was the meaning of that loss?At once came the answer. "God took it from me to show thatAnn's purity is above any immodesty of apparel." His eyes
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shone and his heart rejoiced at this sign of the virtue of hisbeloved.
As he entered Salem a quarter of an hour before sundownhe heard the three blasts of the cowherd's horn gathering thecattle together to return to their owners.
He went first to the house of the Reverend Daniel Robinson, setting the Indian's horse free at the gateway to return toits master. After greeting the little peaked Mrs. Robinson andher slim, brown-haired husband, and blessing their sixteenchildren, he drew Mr. Robinson aside to talk of his plans forthe wedding.
"I shall have Judge Fordyce perform the ceremony," hesaid. "He's such a close friend of Dame Walton's that for hersake I'll endure that bush of vanity he has on his head."
Mr. Robinson laughed, well aware of Jonathan's antipathyto the wearing of wigs. "I'm sure that you'll please bothDame Walton and her daughter by having him," he said.
He led the younger minister to the room he always occupied on his visits to Salem. But Jonathan was more in need ofthe sight of Ann's face than he was of rest or meditation orprayer. Scarcely taking time to arrange his clothes and combhis hair, he hastened out of the house. He passed Robin's NestOrdinary, and glancing up at the signboard, smiled. Beneaththe painted figure of a bird, a tree, a ship, and a foaming canof ale, was the legend:
This is the bird that never flewThis is the tree which never grewThis is the ship which never sailsThis is the can which never fails.
He continued on the familiar way to the Widow Walton'shouse. He saw the lantern gleaming from the gatepost, andfrom the small high-set windows on the first floor he heardlaughter.
He knocked, and the door swung open to the beaming welcoming black face of Betty. She showed him into the roomwhere the family were gathered, and his eyes went at once toAnn who was standing by the bookshelves with an open book
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in her hand. She turned to him, and his heart beat quicker ashe observed her delighted expression when she saw it was he.
"God's blessing on this house."Ann swept him a lavish curtsy, fluttering the flames of the
tall candles in their iron stands. He felt his heart quiver andflame again into radiance as they did. Joseph, Ann's youngbrother, stood up and bowed stiffly. Dame Walton rose fromher embroidery loom to greet him.
"I have something to speak privately with you about, DameWalton," he said.
She turned to her daughter. "Go to your room, Ann, untilI send for you."
Ann hurried distractedly toward the wrong door, turnedback blushing and smiling. The Widow Walton laughedgaily, and Jonathan was aware of Ann's confusion only as aseries of lovely movements.
But her brother, his mouth trembling with annoyance,went to her and led her firmly from the room.
At the head of the stairs, Joseph opened the chamber doorfor her, took a candle from the door box and lit it from thelamp held by an iron clamp to the wall.
But one candle was not enough for Ann this night. Shemust light the two candles on the lowboy and the candle onJoseph's little table and the candle on her own table.
Joseph, surprised and offended at her unusual and childishexcitement, turned to the window so that he would not see heragitation. He stood motionless as she came to him and coveredhis small stern face with kisses.
"He is making arrangements for the wedding," she saidjoyously.
Joseph did not answer, and vaguely conscious that herbrother was not sharing her happiness, she sank into the rocking chair by her bedside, and rocking gaily back and forth,imagined the new life before her.
"I hope I'll make him a good wife," she said softly.Her brother faced her. "You should hope that he'll make
you a good husband.""I don't have to hope that," she protested. "He's so won
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derful it's hard to believe he has chosen me. I must overcomeall my faults"
"You haven't any faults," interrupted Joseph."Oh, yes I have, dear," laughed Ann. "I'm terribly lax in some
things. Mother's always scolding me, you know, for dreamingover my work. And I haven't learned to sew as beautifully asI should, and I never can spell correctly . . ."
"What difference is it if you can't spell? There's hardly anywoman who can even read or write."
"And then I have such a weakness for sinners," sighed Ann."I always feel so sorry for them. I know Mr. Grigg doesn'tapprove of that at all. He's concerned only about the ailmentsof the soul. He scorns the sufferings of the body."
"When he burned his finger with the candle grease hehopped around and was mightily concerned about the suffering of his own body," said her brother.
Ann burst into laughter. "Oh, Joseph, what of that? If abird have water dropped on its wing, will not the quiveringfeathers shake it off? It is only the flesh that shrinks from painand a man can make much or little of it as he wills. I know ofno one in the world so little concerned for our poor physicalills and so deeply concerned for our spiritual ills as Mr. Jonathan Grigg."
Dreaming of her love, she forgot her brother completely.He retired to the window, where he shook his thick brownhair over his eyes to hide the tears.
When Dame Walton called from below, Ann flew downthe stairs, eager to see Jonathan. But when she entered theroom one glance showed her that he was gone.
"Oh, Mother, where is he? Why did he go?""The Reverend Jonathan Grigg has asked permission to
prepare the wedding six days hence""But why did he go? I hardly spoke with him. Didn't he
want to see me before he went?""Why, Ann Walton! He's traveled a long distance this day.
Don't you think he needed rest more than the sight of yourface or the sound of your voice?"
Ann felt a wave of misery come over her. If it had beenshe who traveled half a day, or even many days, she would
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have wanted to look at Jonathan and hear his voice more thanshe would have wanted anything else in the world.
At the sight of her face Dame Walton laughed and confessed. "He did want to stay, dear, but I wanted you with ustonight just Joseph and you and I. You'll see him yourwhole life long, and after this we don't know when we shallever see each other again."
"I'm sorry, Mother," said Ann, ashamed now of her selfishabsorption in herself and Jonathan. Besides, the knowledgethat he had wanted to stay had taken away some of the disappointment of his going.
"Run and fetch Joseph, then, and we'll have a little celebrationjust we three. I've sent Betty and Henry off to bed."
As her mother went to fetch cakes and wine from the cupboard, Ann ran to the foot of the stairs and called Joseph.Receiving no answer, she started up.
When he heard her coming, Joseph quickly blew out thecandles so that she could not see his tears. "I'm coming," hecalled.
"Hurry, Joseph. Mother's giving us a frolic!"He came slowly downstairs and Ann ran back into the
room. As she began taking down pewter from the shelves,Dame Walton cried gaily, "Only the silver platters, Ann.Only our best and finest tonight. Silver and white linen andcake and wine for the daughter of Captain Theodore Walton,God rest his valiant soul."
When Joseph entered, his mother at once noticed the signsof grief on his face. She continued to chatter brightly, givinghim time to compose himself.
"Did Mr. Grigg say what time tomorrow he would call?"asked Ann.
"Indeed he did; toward evening," her mother teased her."You know he has much to attend to, with calling on JudgeFordyce, telling Mr. Cutter that we will not have the wedding at his place but here in our own home, and . . ." But shecould pretend no longer at the sight of Ann's mournful face."He'll be here with the morning glories," she said.
"May I wear my blue silk gown that's come from England?"
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"You may wear whatever your heart desires." And then, tobring Joseph into the conversation, she turned to him. "Wewanted just the three of us to be together tonight becauseAnn's wedding is set for next Thursday."
For the first time Ann noticed her brother's tear-smudgedcheeks. "Oh, Joseph, what is the matter?" she cried, takinghim in her arms. "You mustn't be sad, dear. How can I comfort you when I'm so happy? And you aren't allowed to besad when I cannot comfort you, sir."
At this sympathy he burst into tears, but tried to smile, too."I'm happy for you, Ann. Don't heed my silly tears." Heclutched her close as she kissed his wet face.
"Come now. Sit down," ordered their mother.They seated themselves at the table and Dame Walton
poured three silver goblets of wine. "A toast," she said. "ToAnn Walton, the sweetest, loveliest, and most lovable bridea man ever won."
Ann smiled as her mother and brother drank the toast.Again Dame Walton filled the goblets.
"And to Mr. Jonathan Grigg, the truest and fondest manever to win such a bride."
This time Joseph drank down the wine quickly and determinedly as he did all medicines that were bitter to his taste.
CHAPTER
VIThe Widow Walton dressed her daughter for the wedding.She would not allow Betty or any of the neighboring matrons to assist her. Ann stood stiffly unde