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Updated: June 14, 2025
Space in the Meikeljohn household was valuable, the invalid presented many practical difficulties, and, with the solemn concurrence of the elders of their church, Elim something short of seventeen but a grave mature-seeming boy and Hester were married.
"Life's an awful serious thing where I was born. The days are not long enough, life's too short, to get your work done. It's a stony pasture," he admitted. He described the Meikeljohn farm land, sloping steeply to swift rocky streams, the bare existence of the sheep, the bitter winters. He touched briefly on Hester and his marriage.
Elim Meikeljohn laid before him a small docket of foolscap folded lengthwise, each section separately indorsed in pale flowery ink, with a feminine name, a class number and date. They were the weekly themes of a polite Young Ladies' Academy in Richmond, sent regularly north for the impressive opinion of a member of Elim's college faculty.
But that was dispelled his father wrote that it had been necessary to bury Hester at once. The elder Meikeljohn proceeded relentlessly to an exact exposition of why this had been done. "A black swelling" was included in the details. He finished: "And if it would be inconvenient for you to leave your work at this time it is not necessary for you to come here.
Elim's face, expressing little of the tumult within, harsh and dark and dogged, was entirely appropriate to his somber greenish-black dress. Kaperton gestured toward the bottle, and they took a second drink, then a third. Kaperton's face flushed, he grew increasingly voluble, but Elim Meikeljohn was silent; the liquor made no apparent impression upon him.
Elim Meikeljohn raised the muzzle lying on the cloth, and the negro disappeared. Rosemary Roselle did not move; her level gaze saw, apparently, nothing of her surroundings; her hands were still clenched on the board. She was young, certainly not twenty, but her oval countenance was capable of a mature severity not to be ignored.
Elim Meikeljohn repeated his query and was answered by a negro who had joined them. "On ahead, capt'n," he volunteered; "fourth turn past the capitol and first crossing." The other regained his speech and began to curse the negro and Elim, but the latter moved swiftly on.
They were all irrepressibly gay, calling from roof to ground, each begging the photographer to focus on his own particular charm. Perhaps fifty cents Elim Meikeljohn would have liked a place in the picture; he would like to possess one, to keep it as a memento of the youthful life that flowed constantly about him, but the probable cost was prohibitive.
The towering black mass of smoke was growing more perceptible in the slowly lightening dawn. Elim Meikeljohn could now hear the low sullen uprush of flames, the faint crackling of timbers, and a hot aromatic odor met him in faint waves. His scabbard beat awkwardly about his heels, and he impatiently unhooked it and threw it into the gloom of the roadside.
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