the dwelling place of ligh-第97章

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his　devotees；　to　encounter　persecution　from　those　who　themselves　had　fled
from　it。　　The　Lord's　Brethren；　he　averred；　were　worse　than　the　Lord's
BishopsBlackstone's　phrase。　　Janet；　of　course；　had　never　heard　of
Blackstone；　some　of　whose　experiences　Insall　had　evidently　used。　　And　the
Puritans　dealt　with　Grelott　even　as　they　would　have　served　the　author　of
〃Paradise　Lost〃　himself；　especially　if　he　had　voiced　among　them　the
opinions　set　forth　in　his　pamphlet　on　divorce。　　A　portrait　of　a　stern
divine　with　his　infallible　Book　gave　Janet　a　vivid　conception　of　the
character　of　her　ancestors；　and　early　Boston；　with　yellow　candlelight
gleaming　from　the　lantern…like　windows　of　the　wooden；　Elizabethan　houses；
was　unforgettably　etched。　　There　was　an　inquisition　in　a　freezing　barn　of
a　church；　and　Basil　Grelott　banished　to　perish　amid　the　forest。　　in　his
renewed　quest　for　freedom。。。。　　After　reading　the　manuscript；　Janet　sat
typewriting　into　the　night；　taking　it　home　with　her　and　placing　it
besides　her　bed；　lest　it　be　lost　to　posterity。　　By　five　the　next　evening
she　had　finished　the　copy。

A　gentle　rain　had　fallen　during　the　day；　but　had　ceased　as　she　made　her
way　toward　Insall's　house。　　The　place　was　familiar　now：　she　had　been
there　to　supper　with　Mrs。　Maturin；　a　supper　cooked　and　served　by　Martha
Vesey；　an　elderly；　efficient　and　appallingly　neat　widow；　whom　Insall　had
discovered　somewhere　in　his　travels　and　installed　as　his　housekeeper。
Janet　paused　with　her　hand　on　the　gate　latch　to　gaze　around　her；　at　the
picket　fence　on　which　he　had　been　working　when　she　had　walked　hither　the
year　before。　　It　was　primly　painted　now；　its　posts　crowned　with　the
carved　pineapples；　behind　the　fence　old…fashioned　flowers　were　in　bloom；
lupins　and　false　indigo；　and　the　retaining　wall　of　blue…grey　slaty　stone；
which　he　had　laid　that　spring；　was　finished。　　A　wind　stirred　the　maple；
releasing　a　shower　of　heavy　drops；　and　she　opened　the　gate　and　went　up
the　path　and　knocked　at　the　door。　　There　was　no　responseeven　Martha
must　be　absent；　in　the　village！　　Janet　was　disappointed；　she　had　looked
forward　to　seeing　him；　to　telling　him　how　great　had　been　her　pleasure　in
the　story　he　had　written；　at　the　same　time　doubting　her　courage　to　do　so。
She　had　never　been　able　to　speak　to　him　about　his　work　and　what　did　her
opinion　matter　to　him？　　As　she　turned　away　the　stillness　was　broken　by　a
humming　sound　gradually　rising　to　a　crescendo；　so　she　ventured　slowly
around　the　house　and　into　the　orchard　of　gnarled　apple　trees　on　the　slope
until　she　came　insight　of　a　little　white　building　beside　the　brook。　　The
weathervane　perched　on　the　gable；　and　veering　in　the　wet　breeze；　seemed
like　a　live　fish　swimming　in　its　own　element；　and　through　the　open　window
she　saw　Insall　bending　over　a　lathe；　from　which　the　chips　were　flying。
She　hesitated。　　Then　he　looked　up；　and　seeing　her；　reached　above　his　head
to　pull　the　lever　that　shut　off　the　power。

〃Come　in；〃　he　called　out；　and　met　her　at　the　doorway。　　He　was　dressed　in
a　white　duck　shirt；　open　at　the　neck；　and　a　pair　of　faded　corduroy
trousers。　　〃I　wasn't　looking　for　this　honour；〃　he　told　her；　with　a
gesture　of　self…deprecation；　〃or　I'd　have　put　on　a　dinner　coat。〃

And；　despite　her　eagerness　and　excitement；　she　laughed。

〃I　didn't　dare　to　leave　this　in　the　house；〃　she　explained。　　　Mrs。　Vesey
wasn't　home。　　And　I　thought　you　might　be　here。〃

〃You　haven't　made　the　copy　already！〃

〃Oh；　I　loved　doing　it！〃　she　replied；　and　paused；　flushing。　　She　might
have　known　that　it　would　be　simply　impossible　to　talk　to　him　about　it！
So　she　laid　it　down　on　the　workbench；　and；　overcome　by　a　sudden　shyness；
retreated　toward　the　door。

〃You're　not　going！〃　he　exclaimed。

〃I　mustand　you're　busy。〃

〃Not　at　all；〃　he　declared；　〃not　at　all；　I　was　just　killing　time　until
supper。　　Sit　down！〃　　And　he　waved　her　to　a　magisterial…looking　chair　of
Jacobean　design；　with　turned　legs；　sandpapered　and　immaculate；　that　stood
in　the　middle　of　the　shop。

〃Oh；　not　in　that！〃　Janet　protested。　　〃And　besides；　I'd　spoil　itI'm　sure
my　skirt　is　wet。〃

But　he　insisted；　thrusting　it　under　her。　　〃You've　come　along　just　in
time；　I　wanted　a　woman　to　test　itmen　are　no　judges　of　chairs。　　There's
a　vacuum　behind　the　small　of　your　back；　isn't　there？　　Augusta　will　have
to　put　a　cushion　in　it。〃

〃Did　you　make　it　for　Mrs。　Maturin？　　She　will　be　Pleased！〃　exclaimed
Janet；　as　she　sat　down。　　〃I　don't　think　it's　uncomfortable。〃

〃I　copied　it　from　an　old　one　in　the　Boston　Art　Museum。　　Augusta　saw　it
there；　and　said　she　wouldn't　be　happy　until　she　had　one　like　it。　　But
don't　tell　her。〃

〃Not　for　anything！〃　　Janet　got　to　her　feet　again。　　〃I　really　must　be
going。〃

〃Going　where？〃

〃I　told　Mrs。　Maturin　I'd　read　that　new　book　to　her。　　I　couldn't　go
yesterdayI　didn't　want　to　go；〃　she　added；　fearing　he　might　think　his
work　had　kept　her。

〃Well；　I'll　walk　over　with　you。　　She　asked　me　to　make　a　little　design　for
a　fountain；　you　know；　and　I'll　have　to　get　some　measurements。〃

As　they　emerged　from　the　shop　and　climbed　the　slope　Janet　tried　to　fight
off　the　sadness　that　began　to　invade　her。　　Soon　she　would　have　to　be
leaving　all　this！　　Her　glance　lingered　wistfully　on　the　old　farmhouse
with　its　great　centre　chimney　from　which　the　smoke　was　curling；　with　its
diamond…paned　casements　Insall　had　put　into　the　tiny　frames。

〃What　queer　windows！〃　she　said。　　〃But　they　seem　to　go　with　the　house；
beautifully。〃

〃You　think　so？〃　　His　tone　surprised　her；　it　had　a　touch　more　of
earnestness　than　she　had　ever　before　detected。　　〃They　belong　to　that　type
of　house　the　old　settlers　brought　the　leaded　glass　with　them。　　Some
people　think　they're　cold；　but　I've　arranged　to　make　them　fairly　tight。
You　see；　I've　tried　to　restore　it　as　it　must　have　been　when　it　was
built。〃

〃And　these？〃　she　asked；　pointing　to　the　millstones　of　different　diameters
that　made　the　steps　leading　down　to　the　garden。

〃Oh；　that's　an　old　custom；　but　they　are　nice；〃　he　agreed。　　〃I'll　just　put
this　precious　manuscript　inside　and　get　my　foot　rule；〃　he　added；　opening
the　door；　and　she　stood　awaiting　him　on　the　threshold；　confronted　by　the
steep　little　staircase　that　disappeared　into　the　wall　half　way　up。　　At
her　left　was　the　room　where　he　worked；　and　which　once　had　been　the
farmhouse　kitchen。　　She　took　a　few　steps　into　it；　and　while　he　was
searching　in　the　table　drawer　she　halted　before　the　great　chimney　over
which；　against　the　panel；　an　old　bell…mouthed　musket　hung。　　Insall　came
over　beside　her。

〃Those　were　trees！〃　he　said。　　〃That　panel's　over　four　feet　across；　I
measured　it　once。　　I　dare　say　the　pine　it　was　cut　from　grew　right　where
we　are　standing；　before　the　land　was　cleared　to　build　the　house。〃

〃But　the　gun？〃　she　questioned。　　〃You　didn't　have　it　the　night　we　came　to
supper。〃

〃No；　I　ran　across　it　at　a　sale　in　Boston。　　The　old　settler　must　have
owned　one　like　that。　　I　like　to　think　of　him；　away　off　here　in　the
wilderness　in　those　early　days。〃

She　thought　of　how　Insall　had　made　those　early　days　live　for　her；　in　his
story　of　Basil　Grelott。　　But　to　save　her　soul；　wen　with　such　an　opening；
she　could　not　speak　of　it。

〃He　had　to　work　pretty　hard；　of　course；〃　Insall　continued；　〃but　I　dare
say　he　had　a　fairly　happy　life；　no　movies；　no　Sunday　supplements；　no
automobiles　or　gypsy　moths。　　His　only　excitement　was　to　trudge　ten　miles
to　Dorset　and　listen　to　a　three　hour　sermon　on　everlasting　fire　and
brimstone　by　a　man　who　was　supposed　to　know。　　No　wonder　he　slept　soundly
and　lived　to　be　over　ninety！〃

Insall　was　standing　with　his　head　thrown　back；　his　eyes　stilt　seemingly
fixed　on　the　musket　that　had　suggested　his　remarka　pose　eloquent；　she
thought；　of　the　mental　and　physical　balance　of　the　man。　　She　wondered
what　belief　gave　him　the　free　mastery　of　soul　and　body　he　possessed。
Some　firm　conviction；　she　was　sure；　must　energise　him　yet　she　respected
him　the　more　for　concealing　it。

〃It's　hard　to　understand　such　a　terrible　religion！〃　she　cried。　　〃I　don't
see　how　those　old　settlers　could　believe　in　it；　when　there　are　such
beautiful　things　in　the　world；　if　we　only　open　our　eyes　and　look　for
them。　　Oh　Mr。　Insall；　I　wish　I　could　tell　you