Dulcibel | Page 3

a sweet creature Mistress Putnam is, and both so young for man and wife."
"Yes, Jo married early, but he is big enough and strong enough, don't you think so?"
"He is a worshiped man indeed. Have you met the stranger yet?"
"That Ellis Raymond? No, but I hear he is something of a popinjay in his attire, and swelled up with the conceit that he is better than any of us colonists."
"I do not think so," and the girl's cheek colored a deeper red. "He seems to be a very modest young man indeed. I liked him very much."
"Oh, well, I have not seen him yet. But they say his father was a son of Belial, and fought under the tyrant at Naseby."
"But that is all over and his widowed mother is one of us."
"Hang him, what does it matter!" Then, changing his tone, and looking at her a little suspiciously. "Did Leah Herrick say anything to you against me the other night at the husking?"
"I do not allow people to talk to me against my friends," replied she earnestly.
"She was talking to you a long time I saw."
"Yes."
"It must have been an interesting subject."
"It was rather an unpleasant one to me."
"Ah!"
"She wanted me to join the 'circle' which they have just started at the minister's house. She says that old Tituba has promised to show them how the Indians of Barbados conjure and powwow, and that it will be great sport for the winter nights."
"What did you say to it?"
"I told her I would have nothing to do with such things; that I had no liking for them, and that I thought it was wrong to tamper with such matters."
"That was all she said to you?" and the young man seemed to breathe more freely.
The girl was sharp-witted--what girl is not so in all affairs of the heart?--and it was now her turn. "Leah is very handsome," she said.
"Yes--everybody says so," he replied coolly, as if it were a fact of very little importance to him, and a matter which he had thought very little about.
Dulcibel, was not one to aim all around the remark; she came at once, simply and directly to the point.
"Did you ever pay her any attentions?"
"Oh, no, not to speak of. What made you think of such an absurd thing?"
"'Not to speak of'--what do you mean?"
"Oh, I kept company with her for awhile--before you came to Salem--when we were merely boy and girl."
"There never was any troth plighted between you?"
"How foolish you are, Dulcibel! What has started you off on this track?"
"Yourself. Answer me plainly. Was there ever any love compact between you?"
"Oh, pshaw! what nonsense all this is!"
"If you do not answer me, I shall ask her this very evening."
"Of course there was nothing between us--nothing of any account--only a boy and girl affair--calling her my little wife, and that kind of nonsense."
"I think that a great deal. Did that continue up to the time I came to the village?"
"How seriously you take it all! Remember, I have your promise, Dulcibel."
"A promise on a promise is no promise--every girl knows that. If you do not answer me fully and truly, Jethro, I shall ask Leah."
"Yes," said the young man desperately "there was a kind of childish troth up to that time, but it was, as I said, a mere boy and girl affair."
"Boy and girl! You were eighteen, Jethro; and she sixteen nearly as old as Joseph Putnam and his wife were when they married."
"I do not care. I will not be bound by it; and Leah knows it."
"You acted unfairly toward me, Jethro. Leah has the prior right. I recall my troth. I will not marry you without her consent."
"You will not!" said the young man passionately--for well he knew that Leah's consent would never be given.
"No, I will not!"
"Then take your troth back in welcome. In truth, I met you here this day to tell you that. I love Leah Herrick's little finger better than your whole body with your Jezebel's bodice, and your fine lady's airs. You had better go now and marry that conceited popinjay up at Jo Putnam's, if you can get him."
With that he pushed off down the hill, and up the road, that he might not be forced to accompany her back to the village.
Dulcibel was not prepared for such a burst of wrath, and such an uncovering of the heart. Which of us has not been struck with wonder, even far more than indignation, at such times? A sudden difference occurs, and the man or the woman in whom you have had faith, and whom you have believed noble and admirable, suddenly appears what he or she really is, a very common and vulgar nature. It makes us sick at heart that we could have been so