wiser and stronger than
I, then set this example. I have done many things to please thee. And,
husband, thou canst call the little one Prim. I am sure that is plain
enough, but to me she will be Rose, the blended sweetness of three
lives."

He broke away from her. She had softened many points in his character,
he knew, and just now she was a temptress to him. He must assert his own
supremacy and deliver himself from these dangerous charms. Just now it
looked sinful to him that she had come over to the Friends' persuasion
for love of him.

She had been a sweet, thoughtful wife, he could not deny that. But he
had been weak to yield to so much happiness. And when the brethren heard
of this outrage put upon their usages there would be hard times for her.
Suddenly his whole soul protested against having her haled before the
meeting. Oh, what had her spirit of willfulness led her into!

She went back to her baby, kissed it and caressed it, prepared it for
the night, and sang it to sleep. Philemon Henry wrote long in his little
office at home, where he kept sundry business matters he did not want
his clerks gossiping about. There were only two discreet friends that he
had taken into his confidence and his ventures. Just now there was a
slight, uneasy feeling that if he were brought to the strictest
account--and yet there was nothing really unlawful in his gains. There
were many curious questions in the world, there were diverse people,
many religions. And the Friends had sought out liberty of conscience.
Was it liberty to compel another?

Bessy and her child were sleeping sweetly when he glanced at them, and
his heart did soften. But he would never call her by that name. He would
give her another.

Bessy was up betimes and made some delicacy with her own hands for her
husband's breakfast. She came around and kissed him on the forehead as
was her morning custom, and though she was a little more grave than
usual, she was serene and charming. But he must show her how displeased
he was.

The christening had been very quiet. Madam Wetherill had been godmother,
and the godfather was a distant relative who resided in New York. Good
Parson Duche had been asked to keep the matter private. And so, if the
meeting came to know, Philemon Henry must be the accuser. It was his
duty, of course, but he put it off month after month. The babe grew
sweet and winsome, and there were many things beside family cares to
distract men's minds: