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Show Page 185 Jane sucked in her breath. We spoke no more, but I fear we both lay weeping silently into our pillows the rest of the night. And a long, dark night it was indeed. ******************** March 21, 1622 Tomorrow I will sit in my maple tree for the last time. It is not seemly that a maid about to become a wife should yet climb trees, and since tomorrow is my wedding dayf I will go out very early ere any others are about to see. I can scarce believe it yet. Tomorrow--March 22, 1622. My seventeenth birthday. My wedding day. Come next January, it will be Jane Fiske's wedding day also, for John has asked her to marry him when he has his freedom, and she has agreed. I try not to think on i t , telling myself it is a good man I am to wed, a good man. Richard will try his best, as he has done in the weeks past, to make me happy. Perhaps one day he will, for I am fond of him, though I love him not. I think of Mother, Father, Aunt Mary, little Sarah, and tell myself the only thing I can promise to those I love is death. So perhaps it is best if I do not love Richard. |
