By the by-road,
through the woods, it was not more than half a mile from Friend
Mitchenor's cottage to the meeting-house, and Asenath, leaving her
father to be taken by Moses in his carriage, set out on foot. It
was a sparkling, breezy day, and the forest was full of life.
Squirrels chased each other along the branches of the oaks, and the
air was filled with fragrant odors of hickory-leaves, sweet fern,
and spice-wood. Picking up a flower here and there, Asenath walked
onward, rejoicing alike in shade and sunshine, grateful for all the
consoling beauty which the earth offers to a lonely heart. That
serene content which she had learned to call happiness had filled
her being until the dark canopy was lifted and the waters took back
their transparency under a cloudless sky.
Passing around to the "women's side" of the meeting-house, she
mingled with her friends, who were exchanging information
concerning the expected visitors. Micajah Morrill had not arrived,
they said, but Ruth Baxter had spent the last night at Friend
Way's, and would certainly be there.
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