town danced before his eyes. He had seen them on the streets chatting
merrily, on the ice flying swiftly like so many gay birds. He had
listened to Primrose playing on her spinet and singing pretty old love
songs that she did not understand aught of but the rare melody. And he
enjoyed Madam Wetherill's house--he had borrowed a few books from the
old case, and, plain as he was, he had been charmed by some volumes of
verse.

Surely this Master Quarles must have been a man of deep feeling and
godliness. And there was one Ben Jonson, and a Master Suckling, though
he was not quite sure about his dainty conceits. Queer old books in
stained leather covers and print hard to read. Volumes of one John
Milton who, he learned, had stood out bravely for liberty.

Madam Wetherill had come upon him one morning browsing deeply in the
case of books. "Take anything that pleaseth thee," she said kindly.
"They are old things in the Wardour family that came to my father, and
he knew many of the scholars of his day. They had not such a fear of
learning then. And he knew this Mr. Pope and Addison and many another.
And even our master Franklin, with all his many businesses, found time
to write verses for his wife, it seems, and with James Logan, has been
much in earnest that the town should have some sort of library."

He had carried home a thin, old book and kept it closely in his
waistcoat pocket that no one should surprise it, and read it by odd
spells. And a volume of John Milton's tracts stirred him mightily.

All these things he would have to give up if he was Rachel Morgan's
husband. He felt that he had grown out of the narrow bounds and could
never get back into them.

James Henry went into the house. His wife sat alone, knitting.

"I have spoken to Andrew," he said, "and he will take time to consider.
But he did not say aught against Rachel, and he certainly hath no other
fancy. I am thankful my brother's daughter is a mere child, since he
shows such fondness for her, and thou wert wise, wife, in not having her
here. She would have been an unmanageable firebrand, since we could not
control her wholly. And I have good hopes for Rachel. We will not delay
when the matter is settled, but have them man and wife speedily.
Marriage is a cure for many wayward notions."

Rachel had come downstairs in her list boots, that she was fond of
wearing indoors, and could make herself. The door was ajar and she had
heard all her uncle said. He