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Updated: May 5, 2025
She remembered vividly the little way-station in Middlesex, where he had bought the ferns, that day in last October; she thought of him as the train ran slowly alongside the platform at East Keaton. She wondered if he would not sometimes come up for a Sunday; to spend it with his uncle and his Aunt Euphrasia.
He recognised the man, and called to him. "What are you doing there, Brother Keaton? Where's my father?" The man had shrunk back under the wagon-cover, having seemingly been frightened by the soldiers. "I've taken your father's place, Brother Rae." "Did he cross with Brother Wright?" "Yes he " The man hesitated. Then came an interruption from the shore.
Not ten sentences did aunt and nephew exchange, all the way from East Keaton down to Cambridge. When Mrs. Argenter grew tired as the day wore on, and a sofa was vacated, Rodney helped Sylvie to move the shawls and the foot-warmer, and the rug, and improvise cushions, and make her mother comfortable; then, as Mrs. Argenter fell asleep, they sat near her and chatted on.
"No, I'd already gone acrost. Keaton here saw it." Keaton took up the tale. "I was there when the old gentleman drove down singing, 'Lo, the Gentile chain is broken. He was awful chipper. Then one of 'em called him old Father Time, and he answered back.
Miss Euphrasia smiled; "sweet," especially in the silvery tone in which Mrs. Argenter uttered it, was the last monosyllabic epithet she would have selected as applying to grave, earnest, downright Desire. At East Keaton, the train stopped for five minutes. Sylvie had begged Mr.
All her pretty pictures, and little brackets, and her mother's stands and vases in the gray parlor, were hung with the lovely, wreathing, fairy stems of star-leaved, blossomy fern; and the sweet, dry scent was a perpetual subtle message. That day in the train from East Keaton was a day to pervade the winter, as this woodland breath pervaded the old city house.
When they were all on with their meagre belongings, he called again to the man in the wagon. "Brother Keaton, my father went across, did he?" Several of the men on shore answered him. "Yes" "Old white-whiskered death's-head went over the river" "Over here" "A sassy old codger he was" "He got his needings, too" "Got his needings " They cast off the line and the oars began to dip.
They had looked at one another queerly when they answered his questions. He went forward to the wagon again. "Brother Keaton, you're sure my father is all right?" "I am sure he's all right, Brother Rae." Content with this, at last, he watched the farther flat shore of the Mississippi, with its low fringe of green along the edge, where they were to land and be at last out of the mob's reach.
And so will you cowards of Illinois, he says, 'have to pay the penalty for sheddin' the blood of Joseph Smith, the best blood that has flowed since the Lord's Christ, he says. 'The wrath of God, he says, 'will abide upon you. The old gentleman was a powerful denouncer when he was in the spirit of it " "Come, come, Keaton, hurry, for God's sake get on!"
He watched them dumbly, from a maze of incredulity, feeling that some wretched pretense was being acted before him. The Bishop and Keaton came up. They brought with them the makeshift coffin. They had cut a log, split it, and stripped off its bark in two half-cylinders. They led him to the other side of the wagon, out of sight.
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