The Indentured Heart

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I wish she wouldn’t do it,” Molly said wistfully. “I think he’s too old.”

  Adam cast a quick glance at her, then said gently, “Why, he’s only twenty-six or so.” Then he laughed and threw his arm around her, giving her a rough hug. “I keep forgetting what a child you are, Molly! Guess folks as old as Mr. Brainerd and me seem old as the hills to you!”

  “You don’t seem old!” she said instantly, then flushed and looked away, adding, “He’s so thin, though, and looks sickly.”

  Adam nodded. “You’re right there, Molly. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards are real worried about that. Mr. Edwards told me that the man’s spent too much time exposed to all kinds of weather—and he wasn’t too strong anyway.” Shaking his head, he said a few moments later, “I don’t see how they can make it. Marriage is hard enough, and I can’t see him draggin’ Miss Jerusha into the wilds. That’d be hard enough on a strong man, but for a woman . . .!”

  They talked little on the rest of the journey, and it was midafternoon when they pulled up in front of the Edwards’ house. Several buggies were drawn up at the hitching rail, and Adam said, “Looks like Judge Dwight is here—and most everybody else!”

  They dismounted, and the younger children came in a rush to greet them. “Molly!” Susanna Edwards cried, pulling at the girl’s dress. “You come and play with us!” She was six, the youngest of the Edwardses’ girls, and a favorite of Molly.

  “I have to go help with the food, Susanna,” Molly said, giving her a pat on the head. “We’ll play later.”

  “Adam!” A huge young man stepped out of the house, coming down the steps to meet them with a smile on his broad face. He stood six feet four and weighed 250 pounds. He stood over them, dwarfing Adam, but there was a mildness in his hazel eyes. “Been waiting for you. You want to take a look at the spring on my buggy? The stubborn thing won’t stay together!”

  Adam smiled up at the genial giant, nodded and said, “Sure.” The two were acquaintances, though not close friends. Everyone in the area knew Timothy Dwight, the strongest man; and Adam Winslow was almost as well known for his genius for making things work. “You go on in, Molly,” he added.

  “You look real nice, Molly,” young Dwight smiled down at her. Then they turned and walked toward the buggies, and Molly went up the steps and into the house.

  She was met by Mrs. Edwards, who gave her a relieved look. “Oh, Molly—what a relief! We’re absolutely buried in here.” She gave Molly a quick squeeze and smiled. “I have to talk with Mrs. Dwight and the others. Would you help Jerusha and Esther with the food?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Edwards,” Molly smiled. She went quickly to the kitchen, which was a beehive of activity. Jerusha and Esther welcomed her with cries of relief. Molly felt as much at home in this kitchen as she did at Winslow House, and though the others were older, she had an efficiency about her that soon made itself felt. For two and a half hours she worked with the other girls, Mrs. Edwards popping in to check on the progress of the meal, and finally at four o’clock, Esther said with relief, “I think it’s all ready. I’ll go tell Mother to get everybody seated.”

  There were too many guests by far to seat them all, even in such a large dining room. The children and the younger people were herded into the parlor, while the Edwardses and their guests ate around the large dining room table. Molly, wearing a white apron over her dress, served the adults. Carrying in the large platter of sliced beef, she saw the Edwardses seated at the head of the table. To their left was the guest of honor, David Brainerd, and seated beside him was Jerusha. Across from them sat Judge Dwight, a large man with a florid face, and his wife, a thickset woman with silver hair. Their son Timothy sat beside his mother, and Adam beside him. Two other ministers and their wives from nearby parishes completed the table with one exception—Mary Edwards, the only child present, who sat beside Adam.

  Molly was surprised, but not greatly. Mary was the one child who seemed to be able to manipulate her parents. And after all, it was her birthday. She was looking even prettier than usual in a beautiful white dress with green ribbons at the shoulders, and her glossy brown hair gleamed in the candlelight. She caught Molly’s eye, gave her a saucy wink, then turned to pull at Adam’s arm, drawing him away from a conversation he was having with young Dwight.

  The meal lasted a long time, for it was far more of a social event than Molly was accustomed to. At Winslow House they sat down and ate steadily, then got up and went to the parlor to talk. That night the meal went on for an hour and a half, with over six courses, then coffee or tea with cakes as the talk rolled on and on. Molly was in and out of the room constantly, or else standing beside the wall ready to carry a plate away or fill a glass, so she heard it all.

  She was most interested in David Brainerd, and she noticed that he ate practically nothing, merely picking at his food. Jerusha would lean close and urge him to eat, and he would give her a smile, but did not eat enough for a child. He was a slight young man, with a thin face and very fine hands. Molly noticed as she bent over him to pour tea that his fingers were bony, and there were two red spots on his cheeks—not a healthy red, but feverish and sickly.

  He did take part in the conversation after sitting silently for the first thirty minutes. He had a high voice, not strong at all, as most ministers, but as he spoke of his love for the Indians and made little of his own hardships, Molly warmed toward him.

  Judge Dwight said when Brainerd had finished, “Ah, Reverend, would that a little of your good spirit were abroad in our Colonies!” He shook his heavy head sadly, then continued. “There’s a coldness among us spiritually that makes the physical cold of the wilderness seem as nothing!”

  “The Revival has lost its fire,” one of the older ministers said sadly. He looked at his host and said, “Brother Edwards, you must be heartsick over the lukewarm condition in our churches, are you not?”

  Edwards nodded sadly, and there was a fatigue in his face that had not been there, Molly noticed, when she had first come to Northampton. “Yes, it is tragic to see a revival fade—and I must admit that we are in decline.”

  “I remember back in the early thirties,” Judge Dwight stated. “My, it was nothing to see a whole congregation falling to its face before God, convicted of sin and ready to repent. Now we seem to be frozen.”

  “Well, there are exceptions, of course,” Edwards returned, “and we must not give up hope, Judge. The Spirit of God will move when His people respond.”

  Timothy Dwight picked up a large tankard that looked like a toy in his huge hand, emptied it, then remarked, “Well, it seems to me there are more church members busy fighting their pastor than fighting the devil.”

  “Timothy!” his mother admonished instantly with a warning look.

  “Oh, it’s no secret that many of my church members are unhappy with their pastor, Mrs. Dwight,” Edwards said with a faint smile.

  “The sermons you preach against the Half-way Covenant have made you no friends,” Adam said. The Half-way Covenant was a compromise agreement that allowed the children of church members to become a part of the church without a conversion experience of their own. Edwards had taken a strong stand against it, insisting that every individual must have a conversion experience.

  “When Jesus said, ‘Ye must be born again,’” Edwards smiled at Adam, “that eliminated any other options.”

  Judge Dwight looked uncomfortable, shifted in his seat, then said bluntly, “Rev. Edwards, you know that I stand with you on this issue, but many of our churches do not. And your controversy with Charles Chauncy has hurt you.”

  “Charles Chauncy is a good man, but not at all sound,” Edwards stated without anger. “He believes that some of the unfortunate cases of emotional excesses of the Revival prove that the entire move was not of God. I must demonstrate that despite these errors, the awakening was a move of God. If he wins people to his way of thinking, Judge, we will never see God move in a mighty way among His people.”

  Molly listened carefully
, for she was aware of the opposition Edwards was facing. It had gotten so bad, Jerusha had told her, that many church members refused to speak to the pastor or to any of his family. Her heart ached, for she loved the Edwards family dearly, and she had seen the strain grow as the situation worsened.

  Finally the talk dwindled, and just as Molly waited for them to get up and go to the parlor so she could clear the dishes away, Rev. Edwards got to his feet. His tall frame seemed even taller in the flickering light of the lamps. There was an expectant expression on his face as he spoke, “We must not forget the dual purpose of our coming together, friends. We have said little about our guest, but Mrs. Edwards and I would like to express our joy in the coming marriage of our daughter Jerusha to Mr. David Brainerd.”

  There was a time of congratulations and toasts, during which Jerusha blushed and Mr. Brainerd nodded his thanks with a smile.

  “Now, it only remains that we owe our youngest guest a happy birthday,” Edwards said with a smile. “Mary, on your thirteenth birthday, we wish you many returns!”

  Again applause and laughter ran around the room, and Mary rose to her feet, poised and beautiful, to open the gifts that were placed before her. The children all crowded in from the parlor as Mary began opening the presents, making a witty comment about each.

  She’s so beautiful! Molly thought, hanging back in the shadows. Mary had always been the brightest of the children, the natural leader. She had been cordially kind to Molly most of the time, although there had been moments when she ran roughshod over the English girl. The most obvious of these times had involved Adam, for Mary felt she had first claim on him, and Adam had not always been careful to keep his promises to Molly when Mary had other plans.

  Finally, after all the packages had been opened and Mary had thanked everyone, Adam rose and suddenly said, “Here’s one more, Mary—a small one made by a very clumsy blacksmith.”

  Molly recognized the leather pouch; it was the one he had had in the shop! Mary took it, pulled the drawstring, and let something fall out into her open palm.

  Every eye was on it, and Molly saw the girl’s eyes open wide as she held something that glittered brightly in the candlelight.

  “Adam!” Mary whispered. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

  She held it up to her throat, and they saw that it was a beautifully designed silver brooch with a red stone in the center. It was in the shape of a star, and the silver was worked so delicately that it seemed to be spun of silver thread.

  “I got the stone from a peddler,” Adam explained, as he stood there enjoying the look on Mary’s face. “He claimed it was a blood ruby.”

  Mary turned and threw her arms around his neck. She was a tiny girl, much smaller than Molly, and looked as delicate as the brooch. Adam laughed and caught her to himself, hugging her joyously.

  Molly suddenly whirled and left the room, her eyes smarting with tears. She pushed her way through the crowd, ran to the back door, and almost fell down the steps as she sought the darkness of the outdoors.

  She walked blindly along the path that went to the pond, biting her lip to keep from sobbing. How long she walked she never remembered, but when she came back, Jerusha met her.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Molly,” she said, then took the younger girl in her arms. She said nothing, but held her quietly as the child sobbed, giving way to the tears that could not be held back any longer.

  Finally Molly drew back, ashamed, and wiped her face with a handkerchief. “I—I’m sorry, Jerusha. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Jerusha smiled strangely; then she said, “You’re growing up, Molly,” adding quietly, “Mary is sweet, but she’s careless of others’ feelings. And Adam is not tactful.”

  “I don’t care what he does!” Molly snapped quickly. “I’m just a bound girl to him—just a servant!”

  She whirled and raced away from Jerusha, who stood there for a long time staring into the darkness. Then she sighed and went into the house.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TRIP TO BOSTON

  “Adam, will you be going to Boston this week?”

  “Why, yes, I will, Brother Edwards. My father sent word for me to come, so I figured to go right away.” Adam noted the strain etched on the pastor’s face, and asked tentatively, “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m there?”

  “Actually, it’s a little more than that I’m asking—perhaps it will be more than you’d care to do.”

  Adam’s tanned face lit up and he said strongly, “No, I owe you more than I can repay, Brother Edwards. You and your family have been so good to Molly that I’m beholden.”

  “Why, that’s been no burden, Adam. As a matter of fact, it was Molly who told Jerusha you were going.” He hesitated, and there was a stoop to his shoulders as if he bore a burden. Adam knew of the opposition Edwards had been having in his church, and he thought at first that the request had something to do with that; however, it was something quite different.

  “David Brainerd is quite ill, Adam,” he said heavily. “I’ve been concerned about him for some time, so I asked Dr. Mather to stop in and see him earlier this week.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He—could not give him any encouragement.” Adam stared at Edwards, knowing that this was more serious than any of them had thought.

  Edwards suddenly gave Adam a peculiar look. “I can see that bothers you, Adam.”

  “Why—of course, sir!”

  The minister bit his lower lip—something Adam knew he did only when he was struggling with a knotty problem. He looked directly at Adam again and said, “It bothers you, my boy, because you are not ready to meet God.”

  That blunt announcement caught Adam off guard. He reddened deeply, unable to answer. Edwards was the kindest man he knew, and unlike many of the hell-fire-and-damnation preachers that abounded in the country, he seldom spoke so plainly. Perhaps it troubled him as well as Adam, for he went on quickly. “I’m sorry to be so direct, Adam, but I think you must know by this time how Mrs. Edwards and I feel about you. We couldn’t think more of you if you were our own son—but I feel that I’ve done you an injustice by not speaking on the matter long ago.”

  Adam’s flush deepened, and he stared at his feet. Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet those of Edwards’, saying, “You think I’m not a Christian, sir?”

  Edwards said simply, “Ye must be born again.” He put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and added, “I would be very glad if you could tell me that you are indeed a new creature in Christ. Can you say that, my boy?”

  Adam struggled with his thoughts, but finally whispered, “No, sir, I can’t say that.”

  “I was afraid not—but that could change! You have heard the Gospel for quite some time. Do you believe the Word of God? Well, I feel certain that you do.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Then you know what God requires—repentance, faith toward God in His Son the Lord Jesus. All that remains is for you to obey the scripture. The trouble in my church is tied to this. I say that men must have a personal experience with God—they must be born again, as the Scriptures clearly state. Would you like to call upon the Lord, Adam?”

  With all his heart, Adam longed to say yes but there was something blocking this impulse. He stood there, torn between the desire to do exactly what Edwards asked—and the fear that rose up in him like a black cloud.

  Finally he said sadly, “I—I can’t do that, sir.”

  Edwards did not press the point. He said only, “I have faith that you will find Christ as your Lord very soon, Adam. I’ll pray for that!”

  “Mr. Brainerd—he’s going to die, then?”

  “We all must do that, Adam,” Edwards said with a shake of his head, “but David is in critical danger. He insists on going to Boston to wind up his affairs. He feels he must put his missionary work in good hands, so that if he does pass away, the work will go on. Jerusha wants to go with him, and Mrs. Edwards and I have agr
eed. But it’s out of the question for a young woman to make a trip like that alone with a man. It’s asking a great deal, but would you be willing to take them? He says he can get the business done in two or three days.”

  “I’ll be glad to.” Adam shook his head sadly. “Wish I could do more.” A streak of fatalism flashed in his dark blue eyes, and he stared off into the distance, thinking about Brainerd. “Not much anyone can do when something like this hits, is there, Pastor?”

  “No, there isn’t—but you’ll give us some comfort if you watch out for David and Jerusha, Adam.” He put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, and there was a warmth in his eyes as he said before he turned to leave, “Take Molly with you. She’ll be a help to Jerusha.”

  Two days later Adam drove slowly along the road to Boston with Molly on the front seat beside him while Brainerd and Jerusha sat in the back. When he had told Molly that she was going to Boston with him, her face had glowed with pleasure, but he had felt it best to tell her the truth, that Brainerd was dying. She had stared at him; then tears had risen to her eyes. “Poor Jerusha! She loves him so much!” she had said quietly.

  They had stopped overnight twice, and Adam was glad that Molly had come. She was cheerful and a great help to Jerusha. Brainerd was frail in body and had a bad cough, but he smiled often and his calm acceptance of the dark shadow that had risen to touch his life made a deep impression on Adam.

  The last day of their journey, Brainerd had looked out at the wildflowers that crowded the fields outside of Boston and said with a smile at Jerusha, “God appears excellent, doesn’t He?” Adam had actually turned around and the serenity on the sick man’s face was genuine. “His ways are full of peace.”

  Adam felt a touch on his arm, and glancing down he saw Molly looking up at him. A smile trembled on her lips, and her gray eyes were moist—the first sign of grief she had allowed to escape on the three-day trip. Dropping his hand to her shoulder, he gave it a squeeze and whispered so quietly that the two in back could not hear, “Miss Jerusha’s got herself quite a man, Molly!”