Janice Meredith: A Story of the American RevolutionFord, Paul Leicester
History
Janice Meredith: A Story of the American Revolution
Ford, Paul Leicester
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"Oh, dadda, don't," cried Janice, anxiously. "Charles,
you would n't!"
Fownes turned to her, with the threat gone from his
face and attitude. "There's my devil's temper again, Miss
Janice," said he, in explanation and apology.
"Please go away," implored the girl, and the man went to
the door. As he turned to close it, Janice said, "'T was very
pretty, and--and--thank you, just the same."
The formalism of bygone generations was no doubt conducive
to respectful manners, but not to confidential relations,
and her parents knew so little of their daughter's nature as
never to dream that they had occasioned the first suggestion
of tenderness for the opposite sex the young girl's heart had
ever felt. And love's flame is superior to physical law in that,
the less ventilation it has, the more fiercely it burns.
XI
"'T IS AN ILL WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOOD"
The next ripple in the Greenwood life was due to
more material circumstances, being inaugurated by
the receipt of the Governor's writ, convening the
Assembly of New Jersey. A trivial movement of
a petty pawn on the chess-board of general politics, it nevertheless
was of distinct importance in several respects to the
Meredith family. Apparently the call meant only a few weeks'
attendance of the squire's at Burlington, in the performance
of legislative duties, and Janice's going with him to make a
return visit to the Drinkers at Trenton. These, however, were
the simplest aspects of the summons, and action by the citizens
of Middlesex County quickly injected a more serious
element into the programme.
The earliest evidence of this was the summoning by the
Committee of Observation and Correspondence of a gathering
to "instruct" the county representatives how they should vote
on the question as to indorsing or disapproving the measures
of the recent Congress. The notice of the meeting was read
aloud by the Rev. Mr. McClave before his morning sermon
one Sunday, and then he preached long and warmly from 2
Timothy, ii. 25,--"Instructing those that oppose themselves,"
--the purport of his argument being the duty of the
whole community to join hands in resisting the enemies of
the land. The preacher knew he was directly antagonising
the views of his wealthiest parishioner and the father of his
would-be wife, but that fact only served to make him speak
the more forcefully and fervently. However hard and stern
the old Presbyterian faith was, its upholders had the merit of
knowing what they believed, and of stating that belief without
flinch or waver.
As he sat and listened, not a little of the squire's old Madeira
found its way into his face, and no sooner were the family
seated in the sleigh than the wine seemed to find expression
in his tongue as well.
"'T is the last time I set foot in your church, Mrs. Meredith,"
he declared, loudly enough to make it evident that he
desired those filing out of the doors to hear. "Never before
have I--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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