“Now you are dreaming, Ben. I used to know that look, in Deerfield. But now when your mind’s under sail I suppose it goes into places you’ve seen with your true eyes. And when you’d hear the sea you needn’t bury an ear in the pillow and cover the other with the flat of your paw—well, Charity, what a fool he used to look that way! And how often was I tempted to shove the paw aside and blow in his ear—give him a real storm—you know? Never did, and can’t now because he’s grown big enough to give me a hiding, or he thinks he has.”
“It’s true I was thinking a little of the seaways, but how a devil’s name did you know it?”
“He’s much too wise a fox, Ben—it’s those little pointed ears.”
“Charity, I meant to ask before now: Faith—is she—content?”
“I believe so. Mr. Hoskison is a worthy man, and has been most kind to us.”
“What of that girl who—I mean—her name was Clarissa, was it not?”
“My mother was obliged—that is, she.…”
“Without Charity’s knowledge, Ben, Clarissa was sold to New York because there was no place for her at Dorchester.”
“Oh, as for my knowledge—what difference—damn it—oh, forgive me! I meant—”
“Darling wench, in the presence of two scholars of the humanities you needn’t alway be deferring to your Mama’s judgment, and if you do, I will overlook your attainment of the years of decorum and paddle you. Clarissa should have been manumitted—you know it, would have done it had it been in your power, I know it, Ben knows it, and I dare say now and then your Mama knows it—this being a mad world, and it seems we live in it. Now I do prophesy: in a few years my little brother will be a man of affairs, and I myself intend to become filthy rich. As soon as we may, sweetheart, Ben or I will go to New York and Clarissa shall be bought free, so stop crying—Ben don’t like it.…”
“Better so in my arm, Charity? Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“And I must be going, seeing I promised Mr. Welland I’d be back in Roxbury by the end of the afternoon. Medicines to be compounded, a visit he’s to make this evening and wishes me to go with him, and more of the study that endeth never.”
“We can’t keep you?”
“No, dear.”
“If you must go, Ru, maybe I—”
“Oh no! Do you stay here in the sun. I pray you both, be happy, and love me sometimes. I must get on with my work.”
The Edgar Pangborn Megapack Page 105
