MISTRESS KEZIAH'S PRIDE. A Romance of the American Revolution.

Te Aroha News, Volume II, Issue 91, 28 February 1885, Page 5

MISTRESS KEZIAH'S PRIDE. A Romance of the American Revolution.

In the year 1840, when the country was in the heat and turmoil of a unique and ex citing canvass for the election of a President, a gentleman withdrew from business in New York city to his farm in a quiet nook in ' upper Westchester county. Possessed not only of the tastes of a litterateur and antiquary, but of the means of gratifying them, it was hia delight to spend his days in delving into the traditions with which that country so richly abounds. Here the boisterous energy of the politicians did not reach and the bustle of the world seemed never to have penetrated. Among other teles of older times that he gathered was one that so greatly interested him that he caused a permanent and visible remembrance of it to be set up. This was a plain marble shaft, placed in the villaga burying ground, at the head of two mounds that wind and rain and »no\v had almost levelled to the natural contour of the earth. On it was inscribed these words : Na nan— Kez'ah. Seoarated in life. Uniteu m death. The story which was thus commemorated was written out by the gentleman as follows : On one sweet-scented Sunday morning in June, in the year 1774 Pastor Matthews preached to the c mgregation assembled in the old brick church on Salem Hill a sermon than which none of his was more terrible. The patriarch knew his people well, and it was his way when there were tempests without to urge upon his children the graces and the comforts of religion, but if the sun shone and the air was wafted into the church, then fragrant with blossoming clover or the perfume of the flowers on the fruit trees, the awful truths of Calvin were in arguments of fif Dhlies and sixthlies, driven home with prodigious and dramatic force. On this day Pastor Matthews discoursed on the sinf ulness of pride, and to such effect that the farmbrs sat upright against the straight-backed pews, nor did one of them sleep, while the matrons hushed the children with bits of dried and aromai-ic herbs, and with stern frowns, and purging of the lips that suggested the word "Hush." It was observed that now . and then the eyes of the preacher would' reot for some moments on a pew just beneath the hijjhperched pulpit, and that it was then in his most powerful tones, echoed down from the massive sounding boar* l, that he would deliver awful warnings for those who lived in pride. So before the sermon was finished, the congregation, casting about to find that one to whom the sermon had special application, and being somewhat instructed by the glances from the pulpit, tixed upon the young man who sat within this pew as trie sinner. Yet the farmers could not feel that Nathan Foster was without provocation for hi» sin. They remembered his splendid meadow land, that his cattle where many and profitable, that none of them hud fields so promising of rich harvests in the weeks near at hand, and m*ny of them had leason to know that Nathan was ready to help a neighbour who was in distress. I* or could the matrons find it in their heart? greatly to accuse him of such sin. He was well favoured ; none c-f the farmers thereabout were so courteous and kind ; he did not patronise nor cause annoyance by condescending manners, and, without fltttery, he yet was used to pay those compliments to each that pleased hex most. Therefore, though the matrons knew Nathan to be a man of pride, yet they wore disposed to feel annoyed at the preacher for reminding them of it, more than di> pleasure with .Nathan for yielding to such snares of the Evil One. A* for the maids, Nathan had offended none of them, for he had been most cautious and impartial in such attentions as a handsome fellow of twenty five or six is bound to show to the maidens* of bis neighbourhood. So they too were indignant, more or less according to the nature of each of them, at the pastor, and they coquetted with their thoughts as they cast furtive glances at this young man, who sat so straight with uplifted eyes on the pulpit. No wonder was it that he found favour in their eyes. He had a forehead smooth and white as a child's. His cheeks, smooth shaven, were ruddy brown, and the contour of his face was as sharply defined as though cut by the keenest chisel. Hia jet black hair was gathered, after the manner of that day, into a queue So tall was he that his buff waistcoat was visible over the pew top, and ever} body knew that his sinewy legs were encased in black silk knee-breeches, with polished buttons at the knees, and that he wore black silk stockings and silver buckles on his shoes. Nathan, if he was conscious of the furtive glances that were sent his way, seemed not so to be. He was. in fact, like men of keen intellect, holding silent disputation with the minister. He had not the slightest suspicion that he was the chief sinner among them. His thought was that in a'l that gloomy church there was no one who dwelt more in pride and was less conscious of it than the preacher himself. There came to Nathan's ear a cry- as of cattle in distress, and he turned toward the window that he might look beyond. But his glance did not stray so far. He en-c-mntered that which stayed further wandering of his eyes — the dark and handsome eyes of Mistress Keziah Husted. This maid 3at with her father in one of the square boxes which the architects of that day placed at the extremity of churches, and from which a profile view or* the preacher wa3 obtained. It was a seat that afforded choice opportunity of glancing about the church, and so it happened that for a longer time than she had been aware Mistress Keziah had suffered her eyes to rest on Nathan's features. That she had dreamily permitted a maid's blush-making thoughts to be stimulated by her observation wa q beyond doubt, for the suddenness with which Nathan turned that way and the plump, pquare meeting of the eye to eye that followed were all too quickly done for the exercise of any of the arts of concealment of which Mistress Keziah was as fully possessed as any of her mates. The colour ran up her neck to her cheeks like the flash of red tint on a cloud at sunset. She dropped her eyes in the confused manner that no art can simulate, and made greater betrayal of her awakened consciousness by gently reproving her little sister, who Bat beside her, and who showed some indignation at the unmerited censure. But all this was for an instant only. In a moment the maid demurely lifted her eyes fixed them on the clergyman, and slowly Bwayed her fan of white turkey's feathers Little more of that sermon heard Nathan Foster. Th mgh from his yout-h up he had often seen Keziah's eyes, and had admired them too, and though he had kissed herat the huskings and danced with her at the hou-e railings, and had ridden in the great box sleigh with her on moonlight and crisp winter nights, yet now he seemed to see her for the first time.

Revelation came to Nathan with such suddenness that be seemed almost stunned. " dieter," paid Nathan a week later as they sat on his* porch looking at the sun ! that was setting far away over the Hudson. " I am going to take a wife." Sister Nancy dropped her Bible into her lap, forgot to mark the texts of the day's sermons, and fastened her wondering eyes on her br >ther. "It will not make any difference with you, Nancy," he said. •' You will live with us just the same as now. She will be glad to have you." "Nathan, don't trifle about serious matters." "Indeen, I speak truth. I shall bring a wife here, peradventure, when the harvest is over " " Who -who is she, Nathan ?" " Mistress Keziuh Husted." " I surely did not know that your attentions to her had been made, Nathan." " Nor have they." " But -why, this is strange, Nathan." "You don'r, object ?" *' I ! Ah Nathan, not I. You must wed some day. But it is so sudden, and yoa have seemed always to have thought more of the farm and harvests than of gentler matters." " Yet, sister, I have given this matter much consideratiou. It has been in my mind all the week, and now I am determined." "All the week only? Surely you have not seen Keziah this week." " No, not till this morning, since the last Lord's day." " You did not speak to her this morning." " No, for I had not opportunity." " How, then, Nathan, can you speak of bringing her here you bride? You have not even wooed her." "There is no need of that. 1 will woo her after I have her promise." "Nathan,'' continued the sister, after some moments of silenre, "if I nvstakenot, your pride misleads you. Dost think that a maid like Keziah can be had for the asking? No, no. You little know a country rnaid'e spirit." •' What, sister, do you think when I offer her my hand she would decline to take it ?" "If she did not, at such short notice, a sorry wife she'd make you." "N*ncy," he said, "not a maid in all i this country would refuse me if I asked." "If you won her, none would ; but such a maid as is lit to be your wife, Nathan, must be won before she can be had, You cannot get a worthy spouse as you would get your cattle, by a bargain." " Yet I do know that Mistress Keziah thinks well o me." " Then give her the happiness of a wooing." Nathan said no more, but when the sun went down he arranged himself in manner befitting his purpose, and set out with a heart strong with confidence. Not long was hi* good horse in making the distance to the home of the fuir Keziah, for, though j Nathan's farm was in the Isew York colony, j and that of Keziah 's father over the boundary line in Connecticut, yet their fields adjoined, and their houses were not more than a mile apart. I Keziah, from her upper window, saw the well favoured young man fasten his hor^e to the great stone hitching post, and, though it was dusk, she perceived thaf Nathan's dress was that which he donned only on important occasions. What wonder, then,' that she surmised his meaning, and, to give slight hint of encouragement, bedecked herself with such simple finery as the maids of that day posse-sed? "Tis fine weather, Nathan," she said, as she entered the best room, where Nathan sat, chatting v\irh her father and her sister. "Aye; so fine that I bethought myself that 'twas long since I paid you a friendly vi*it." "Indeed it is. But you are very busy now." I "And have need to be," paid Farmer Hu-ted. " The crop 3 will be fine this year, and, Nathan, you will harvest more hay and corn than ever." " A fair amount, neighbou % I trow. The weather favours you too, mistress ;" and Nathan made this first step with an admiring glance, and his eyes fell upon the fair neck of the girl, and hei pink blood, and her low, broad fore heart, the whiteness of it, and her other graces, so that he wondered that he had not heeded them long before, while he said to himself, "To-night she will pledge her troth to me." Now, the maid's intuition was keen enough not to mislead her, and though she «as demure, and sometimes coy, yet her innocent cunning, stimulated by Nathan's blunt admiratio\i, led her to display to the full her charms of speech and manner. She showed, him some of the family treasures, but when be drew too near ahe skilfully placed a tantalising distance between them. When, too, Nathan, in lower tones tnan was his custom, began to speak to her, hoping that she would take advantage of her father's sleepy nodding to return such token of confidence in kind, the artful maid took some innocent occasion to awaken her father. Sincerely did Nathan wi-<h that the farmer might beteike himself to his bed, but the ! hints that he made of such wish fell on uni heeding ea rs. At length, in despair, Nathan seized the family B; ble, and, opening to the register wherein were recorded the births, marriages, and deaths, he placed his finger on the blank lines on the marriage page, and said, " My name and yours will soon be written here." Then when he looked at her he saw she smiled, but so unu-ed wa? he to a young woman's way that he knew not whether it was the smile of assent or of simple amuse ment. " It shall be," he said again. " Perhaps," she answered ; " who knows? Are you such a prophet as to predict this ? " she added archly. So he went away that night without greater satisfaction, and while Keziah knew she had a lover, the yoang farmer wa* conscions that he had not yet a promise. The days passed until the leaves turned red and. brown, and the apples were gathered and the corn hunked, and the fat beeves and swine selected for slaughter In all this time Nathan had indeed wooed the mistress of his heart, and many a time had he urged h«er to accept his hand. Ye f , though he doubted not that he should possess her. he had opportunity to learn by experience that a maid worth possessing deserves the pains and patience of winning. In the late fall Nathan Foster was suddenly called upon to make a journey to the Sout'a. Es.tates of some value that had | been the property of kin of his mother were ! devised to him. His mother, who was born in England, was found and married in Virgin ia by his father, and taken thence to the VV estchepter home On the evening before his departure Nathan said to the girl, "Keziah, I did hope before this to have wedded you, but you would not perceive my meaning and give me opportunity. I may be absent sonre weeks, but when I return then I shall claim you, for I know you have given me your heart." She gave him her hand and suffered him to press it, but she said, " When you come back, Nathan, then I will give you answer."

She thought to test his constancy by absence. Months passed before Nathan returned. The law's delay detained him. While he was avvay came the roll of musketry at Lexington that waß heard around the world. No more sturdy patriot lived than Farmer Rusted. He was on fire, and, though in that vicinity there were many of his old friends who were loyal to King George, the farmer carried his zeal «o far as to cease to speak, except with contempt, to those who did not espouse the cause of the colonies. Of his means and his time he gave liberally, and later on served himself in the field. One day hesaid to his daughter: • Keziah, my child, you tire a comely woman and will soon, it may be, be sought in marriage. Promise your father that you will never wed a Tory, It would break my heart were you to be separated from your family by a marriage with one not a patriot, ani there are man> r wellfavoured younp men hereabouts of such disposition " Keziah said promptly : " I promise you, father, that I will wed no Tory." The maid had given that promise without cost, for she said demurely to herself ; "Am I not to wed some day Nathan Foster, and is he not a patriot?" When Nathan returned there was the awful presage of war, and he determined speedily to claim Keziah, that he might give her protection, and because he knew not what the coming war might develop for himself. " Let us be wedded in two weeks from this day," he said to her on the evening of his return, and she placed her hand in his and smiled upon him. "Nathan," she said, a few moments later, " I did give a promise to my father that was not hard to make. He is a warm patriot, as I am too, and he asked me not to wed a Tory. How easy it camo for me to give the promise when I surmised a litt c that you would claim mo. Why, what is the matter, Nathan ?" She saw that his face had grown set and hard as she was speaking. " You promised your father that you would not wed a loyal subject of the King ?" 11 In truth I did. Why not, Nathaa ?" " AnH you have promised to wed me in a fortnight ?" I " Yes. Nathan." " Which promiso will you keep?" "Why, what is it yo i mean, Nathan ?" " Do you not know that I am and ever shall be as loyal to the King as any of his subjects?" "Nathan! Nathan!" "My mother was born in England. By her 1 was taught to revere the King. I cannot be a traitor to him, and would not if I could." The girl's face was now as white as the arm that she placed on Nathan's sleeve. "Ah, my bride," lie said gently, "what have you to do with these things ? 1 am your only king and you shall be my queen " She did not speak. "You believe in Scripture," he said, " and you know that t lerem is written that a wife shall cleave unto her husband." '•Ah, Mathan, you are not now my husband." " You will break your word to me ?" "No, we cannot bide the future; our test is now. If I go, Keziah I shall not come to you again until you bid me." The gul trembled and then, looking with the determination of pride upon him, said, "That, Nathan, I shall never do," He said no more, but went. In a few days he received a commission in the King's army. Eight years later Captain Nathan Foster returned to his farm, where his lister had Jwelt during his ab-ence He had given it to her as he went to the war, both to *>aye it trom confiscation and to provide her with a homo. " You will not deed it- back to mo," ho said to hi- sifter when he returned "We will live here together, and the farm shall ' shall be ours in common." The sister wondered if he would bring home a bride, as years before he had said ho should, but he made no mention of such a purpose. Exposure in the field had bronzed his face, and his figure was erect and his walk martial. " A splendid man he is," though the sifter. "He will marry soon." But she said nothing. On the Sunday after his return Captain Nathan resumed his place in the old pew at the brick meeting hv>use. The aged pastor had passed away, and some of the farmers had grown grey, while vacant places told of others killed in battle. The matrons, too, were stouter, and tho«e whom he had known as children were strapping lads and handsome maids. They greeted the Captain as he entered the porch so generously that he was touched and glad that he had determined to remain and spend his days among them. The old friends thought him changed for the better, and they were proud of their townsman, though he had fought against them in the King's army. As Capt. Foster took his seat in his pew he glanced about, and encountered the eyes of Mistress Keziak. She sat in her old place. He nodded with such slight indication of recognition a1?a 1 ? is permissible in church, and she returned his courtesy after his manner. Not again during the service did he lcok that way. " You terrify me, Nathan. Do not be so fierce. Yet I will say, Nathan, let us for the time leave matters as they were." " That would be cowardly. You have promised me " " Yes, but under misapprehension." "Of my affection?" '• No, no. You are too cruel. I did not dream that you were not a patriot." "Keziah, would you let ray duty come between our love ?" "Nathan, would you have my duty undone by my affection ? Nathan, renounce the King." " I will not." "Then I must withhold my promise to you." She said it bravely, though ©very word cut her like a knife "You leve me ?" he asked. " So much I would gladly die for you." " If bo much you will wed me." " Not so long as you are an enemy to our country and my people," " I was a fool to believe in the constancy of a maid. What is the affection that can be snaoped at the whim of a father ? I bid you farewell, mistress. If it be consolation for you, rest assured that you have my heart " He turned to go. "Stop, Nathan. Let us wait patiently ' until the outcome of the war is deterJ mined." 1 After the benedict ion, ashe stood, after the 1 custom of the place, on the church steps chat- } ting with the farmers, Keziah passed by. He extended his hand, and as he did so Ke> ? ziah could not fail to note that his experiences whatever they wnrr, h id taught him grace I and elegance of manner. ' •' It scarcely seems eight years «ince I- . was here," he said, and she was quick to think that he did no*-, say it- was so lonar since sbe saw h^r. "He haB forgotten," she thought, but she said : 1 " The time must have flown more quickly *, for you than for us. You have led a life of such great excitement."

" Happily that is over. I grew very tired of it, and am glad to be again in ray old home." " Then you will remain here ?" "Yes. Why not?" " We have heard that you might remain below, in New York." "No I have no such intention. Where is your sister Martha ? I did not see her to-day." " Martha lives below with her husband." " What ! Martha wedded ? khought of her only as a child." " Eight years is long enough to make a child a woman, nir. Then he thought. " She has forgotten," and yet when she told him of others of whom he asked, who were married, he did not bwar in mind that she almost alone of all of them was still un wedded. It seemed to him that she was more beautiful that when she had given him her promise, and the years lnd seemingly passed over her without heeding her at nil. " She will 'give me some hint," he thought as he walked home, " if so be she still cares for me," while the young woman meditated in the quiet of her chamber, "Ho is still proud, but he is so handsome, and will he remember ?" But the days passed swiftly by, one like the other, and three years had gone when Farmer Husted died. "What will you do?" Capt. Foster asked Keziah after the funeral. During these years they had met as friends and neighbours meet, and so kindly circumspect was each to the other that such became their confirmed habit. In the disguise of kind friendship and neighbourly offices the love that was burning within them was concealed So he had, as her next neighbour, askod her what she would do now that her fathor was dead. Even then he found himself hoping that she would cay one word, express one desire, whereby he might find opportunity to say what had been in his heart to say all these years. But she answered him with another question. "Do you not think the farm too large for me ?" " vv ill you live here?" "Yes. I shall employ my neighbour Moses and his wife. They will live with me and take care of the farm They are good people." " Yes. I know them. I will gladly buy such of your land as you do not need," and he spoko of certain meadows that adjoined his. mentioning a price and deeds of sale and the like. ''Ah, but if she had said one vrord, or looked with one such glance as she used to bestow upon me, I would have risked another moitilication, and told tier how I yearned for her," was Nathan's despairing thought as he went away. And the woman — when he had gone she wept for her lost lover. Nine years went. by. Nathan's hair wa? whitening a little, but his form was erect and his stop vigorous. It had come to be that KezUh consulted him on such business us her little farm required of her, and she intrusted to him the investment and care of some money she had inherited. Then, too, in the long winter time she would, for the sake of company, spend a week or more with Nathan and his sister at their farm. Si-tec Nancy had never asked a question. For many years t-he had fondly hoped that Nathan would bring Keziah home, but a? the month" parsed and he did not do so, she at last Unew that it would never bo Yet Nancy Foster ,caw that the happiest moments of those two were when they were near each other, and she at last surmised that, having pa-sed the ardour of youth, th«*y had by force of habit drifted into such relationship as brought thorn pleasure, and that both were unconscious that it was so. Time flies so gently over uneventful lives as to leave nothing for memory to gra«p whereby his passing may be brought to mind So it happened that year after year passed away, yet Capfc. Foster heeded not that Kezian was growing feeble by reason of the forty years that had fled since he had her troth ; not did she bear in mind that ton white-haired man, who now was often racked wiih the pains ot the aged, was no longer the handsome youth to whom she once gave her hand ? As he still had her heart, he was unchanging and unchangeable to her as she to him. One day there came the inevitable. Sister Nancy came to her brother in the night time and awakened him. " Let us hasten," she said. " Moses hag come to say that Keziah is dying." They went out into the cold night, this a^ed brother and sister, and not a word did either speak till they reached KeziahV home. The old housekeeper told them that Koziab had been ill for a day or two, butnotsoferiously as to give alarm till that evening, when, after a severe spasm of pain, she began to sink. " She knows me," said Moses's wife, " but she will not live the night out." Then they entered the chamber ; the room where Keziah had slept trom childhood ; the same ftom whose windows she had seen young Nathan Foster, riding up so handsome, forty years before, on that Sunday evening. The stir of their entrance aroused her from her lethargy, and, though too weak to move, she lifted her eyes until they met Nathan's. For him her look obliterated time and place, and he saw her then as he had seen her on that Sunday morning when the preacher discoursed on pride. She could not speak, but she seemed content to lie there, with her eyes'fixed on his. The sudden tiansn'gu ration which sometimes procedes dissolution brought to her face the look of youth, though it caused Nancy and the housewife to exchange a glance, as though to say, "It is the end." But he seemed not to have observed it. He stood rigidly, his face set as in a 'trance,', for he was not there in spirit, but back with her twoscore and more years. Her eyelids drooped, yet he did not stir, but stood there gazing at her, but when she at last opened her eyes and smiled, then he spoke. " My betrothed," he said. She heard him, for she smiled again, and her lips moved as though to speak. Sister Nancy bent over her to hear the whisper, and when she lifted her face she said gently : "I could not hear. I was too late." He stood like a statue and his face was like that of one. •'Come brother," said the sister. " Come, Keziah is gone." He turned upon her fiercely. All the passion of youth had leaped to his face. " Nathan, she is dead. See !" said the sister. " Leave us. She was always my be•trothed." The sister had never seen her brother thus ; but she was not greatly amazed, for she read now the life history of these two. " Leave them," she whispered to the woman. He is unnerved. "Ho will be better after a while." They waited long . in the outer room. They had heard one sob, as of the outbreak of long pent pas«ionj and then, as was befitting, tho chamber was silent as a grave. At lenyth they opened the door. They found him kneeling at the bedside, his head resting on her hand. Thoy touched him, but he answered not, He too had passed away.