ite aware that long after Miss Grew became
Mrs. Alvord, she wrote a most charming little book about Ann Terry
Greene, in which she defends the woman against any suspicion that she
plotted and planned to snare the heart of Wendell Phillips, on the road
to Greenfield. The defense was done in love, but was unnecessary. Ann
Terry Greene needs no vindication. As for her snaring the heart of
Wendell Phillips, I rest solidly on this: She did.

Whether Miss Greene coolly planned that trip to Greenfield, I can not
say, but I hope so.

And, anyway, it was destiny--it had to be.

This man and this woman were made for each other--they were "elected"
before the foundations of Earth were laid.

The first few hours out, they were very gay. Later, they fell into
serious conversation. The subject was Abolition. Miss Greene knew the
theme in all of its ramifications and parts--its history, its
difficulties, its dangers, its ultimate hopes. Phillips soon saw that
all of his tame objections had been made before and answered. Gradually
the horror of human bondage swept over him, and against this came the
magnificence of freedom and of giving freedom. By evening, it came to
him that all of the immortal names in history were those of men who had
fought liberty's battle. That evening, as they sat around the crackling
fire at the Fitchburg Tavern, they did not talk--a point had been
reached where words were superfluous--the silence sufficed. At daybreak
the next morning the journey was continued. There was conversation, but
voices were keyed lower. When the stage mounted a steep hill they got
out and walked. Melancholy had taken the place of mirth. Both felt that
a great and mysterious change had come over their spirits--their thought
was fused. Miss Greene had suffered social obloquy on account of her
attitude on the question of slavery--to share this obloquy seemed now
the one thing desirable to Phillips. It is a great joy to share disgrace
with the right person. The woman had intellect, education,
self-reliance--and passion. There was an understanding between them. And
yet no word of tenderness had been spoken. An avowal formulated in words
is a cheap thing, and a spoken proposal goes with a cheap passion. The
love that makes the silence eloquent and fills the heart with a melody
too sacred to voice is the true token. O God! we thank thee for the
thoughts and feelings that are beyond speech!

* * * * *