Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1859-12-29
0NOrtester 4ailp Spg.
THE DIARY OF MARGARET READE;
AFTERWARDS MRS. LAKE OF NEW LONDON, IN
HIS MAJ'TY'S COLONY OF CONNECTICUT.
EDITED BY MARTHA RUSSELL.
lcontinued.l


The Westcotts did not come next day, as
Philip had foretold, and, all day long, like the
goddess Egyptian King, my heart hardened
towards him because of it, for it seemed as if
his very words had power to thwart me, and it
needed but little to persuade me to set off OIL
the journey alone. Binder than the Jewish
prophet, could not see the Angel God had
placed in my way, and so he left me to my
own destruction.
But, on the morrow, they came, and, with
some brief excuses for my Husbands absence,
and few orders to Mrs. Sloane, l departed
with them The road was the same had
ourneyed over with Philip and did never
dream that the sight of it could bring to me
such sharp sorrow. 1 did never before know
how the direst misery may be sharpened by
The memory of past happiness. Every one of
my girlish dreams, of the young wife's strange
new hopes, came back to me with double
beauty; all along the way they blinked out
upon me with mournful eyes, like Angels
watching the condemned criminal to his death,
until l could scarce smother down my groans.
My companions did not that the merry tokens
of the coming Festival, once SO common in eve
ry hamlet and hut, wherever they had heard
the blessed Name of our Lord, were in meas
ure lacking OH the way, aud did utter many a
thoughtless fling at the Puritans as the cause,
which, strange as it may seem, did stir my heart
to silent bitterness against them, for my Hus-
bands sake. would not that any should
hate him but myself-no one else had the
right. But had the way been strewed with
Holly, it would have been all the same to me-
indeed, do think found kind of fitness in
the circumstance and was rather glad than
otherwise, when the dark walls of Ryal-side
were to be seen far over the long white road,
that the sun was sinking and the night would
be upon us before we entered the village; for
had no wish to meet the curious, if kindly
gaze of the faces knew so we'll AT the en-
trance of the village, the Wescotts, pleading
the lateness of the hour, took the road to
Cottiswoode, sending their man to attend me
to my uncle's house and putting my horse to
his speed paused not until l turned into the
lane, which | chose as the shortest way. 1t
was still early, but save for the lights from
the windows, the place might have been a
desert, SO still it was. But / was SO changed
myself that the strangeness did not trou-
Bile me then. AS l sprung from my
horse a groom came running from the
stables whom l knew a once, for Joe
Green, the stable boy, who, instead of
taking the rens l flung him. stood staring
and saying-"Eh Lord save us Be it Mis-
tress Peggy?" l ran round to the Hall door,
which stood wide open, guarded only by old
Neptune, whose growl, changed to low whine
of joy when l spoke his name. walked to
the great family Room. There was no one
there, though Aunt's basket of stitching, with
this Huswife of crimson Plush which made
her for parting gifts were on the table, as if
she had just risen from her work and fol-
lowed her, as | thought, to unce's room. AS
raised my hand to the latch, the door was
flung open, and old Cicely, with her apron
pressed over her eyes, came out, sobbing as if
her heart were broken. l drew back until
she passed and then slipt softly into the room.
Dear God what a sight was there Was
that purple, spotted, swollen thing upon the
white pillows there, over which Uncle and
Aunt hung with such faces of Terror and
Despair, human Head and OH sweet Heav.
en-, was it Guys! The long bright hair was
like HIS and sprang toward it, when Aunt
moved aside, and l looked right into the sor-
rowful plying eyes of mine own Husband,
who stood in the group at the bedside. All my
strength did leave me then; and without
word, sunk on the floor and, for many days,
knew no one, nor anything but the mad vi
sions of a fevered brain.
AT length woke; and seeing no one about
me, | tried to rise, but there was not even
baby's strength in my arms and | was forced
to lie still and close my eyes, for the light
caused them to smart as if it had been fire.
Bye and bye voice, which l knew to be old
Cicelys, began to Groom, almost in whisper,
bit of an old Christmas Carol, like this:
"Sweet Jesus, go down TO yonder town,
AS far as the Holy Well
And take away these sinful Souls,
And dip them deep in He'll"
Nay, nay, nay" sweet Jesus said;
may, nay, that may not be,
For there are too many sinful souls,
Crying out for the help of me-"
Over and over, she crooned the last lines,
and lay like helpless, foolish child, trying
to spell out their meaning twas such weary
work, and yet, l could not give it up, even
after the old Danes voice ceased, for it did
mind me of something's could not tell what
but finally it came-the sound of voice
I had sometimes heard by my bedside,
praying with low, broken sobs, for mercy,
for me and himself; Of white face bent
over me, looking with such infinite tender
ness on my pain, and pressing long kiss on
my helpless fevered lips. 1t could be no dis
tempered fancy, / knew, for l did remember
me, now, of the sweet feeling of rest that it
brought to my tired eyelids, and the blessed
slumber that followed 1t was Philip, my
Husband; and the tears came fass at the
thought. This brought the old Dame to my
bed side but, full of joy as she was, at seeing
me once more, ",nyseLf'' as she said, could get
nothing out of her, save the confession that
nv Husband had truly tended me in my illness;
to all other queries, she only shook her head
with her finger on her lips. She was wise,
could not have borne more then; and so,
clinging to the knowledge Of his presence here,
nv thoughts went creeping back step by step,
as a little child learneth to walk, so slowly and
feebly, that it was many days before l got
back to the night of my coming, and that ter
rible sight on The pillow of Aunt's bed. 1t was
Gods mercy, l know, that had the ordering of
this, for when the memory did come, it wenl
well nigh to kill me, and forced them to take
off the ban of silence, and tell me the
truth. 1t was uncle who told me, sitting
by my side, SO old and worn, and
broken down with grief, while Aunt
hid her face and her sobs in the COW
ering of my bed. Guy, the Hope of
all our hearts, the Pride of our country side,
was dead, his handsome, loving face, so
changed by the hideous disease, that they
were glad to bury it out of their sight. The
Small Pox had been brought to Felstead by
some struggling troopers and Guy had come
home. unwittngly, to die. Little Moll thank
God, was with her aunt Knynctt, clear of
danger; and, knowing this, my thoughts
turned to my Husband. The vision of the
kind face and voice at my bedside, had never
been repeated since that night when the fever
left me. Well knew tine reason. But l
would know how he came there and where he
was then.
He had come, they said, because the poor
lad had moaned and longed after Philip so
much that they sent him messenger, telling
him his great peril and leaving 1t to his own