Read Online Delivering the Truth by Edith Maxwell - Free Book Online

shawl more tightly about me as I mused about what my life would be like if I married outside my faith. Amesbury Friends tended to be more tolerant of individuality than other Meetings, probably influenced by John Whittier’s expansive view of life. I didn’t foresee a problem, should a union with David come to pass, from the elders in the Meeting. I imagined David’s mother could present a much larger obstacle.
    I sniffed smoke and peered past David to the left toward town.
    â€œI fear another fire,” I said. “They must catch the arsonist who burned down Carriage Hill.”
    â€œI’m certain your Detective Donovan and the others are working on it even tonight.” He put both arms around me and drew me into his embrace.
    It was a comfort, but it didn’t change the fact that an arsonist walked our streets and could strike again.

eight
    As I prepared the porridge the next morning, my mind wandered thinking about the fire, about Minnie, about Lillian, and about the tea with David’s mother, of course. I wasn’t paying close attention as I struck a match to light the stove, and a spark flew onto my hand. I flicked it onto the stove but my hand stung from the burn.
    After the family had eaten, Matthew protesting bitterly about having to eat samp instead of the oat porridge he preferred, Faith and I left the house an hour early for Meeting but we headed in the opposite direction. She tucked her arm through mine as we walked toward Carriage Hill. I wanted to see the ruins of the fire again. Perhaps if I stood in the same place as before, I might remember more about the figure I had seen and I could report it to Kevin Donovan.
    â€œFaith, does thee know Stephen Hamilton?”
    She nodded, rolling her eyes. “He’s a bit crazy.”
    â€œIt might do him good to have employment. Why doesn’t his father hire him at the mill?”
    â€œI don’t know. Stephen did work for some time,” Faith said, “on Zeb’s shift at Parry’s. Thomas Parry let him go, though. Hamilton spent every lunch period reading that Bible and exhorting the rest to mend their ways. Zeb was glad to see him gone.”
    We arrived at the gates to the Parry manufactory. The wrought iron still stood, but the property was now a wasteland of dark shapes. A tortured metal rod stuck up out of a pile of charred timber and the skeleton of a bent wheel lay in a heap of burned parts.
    â€œI hope Isaiah didn’t suffer.” Faith’s voice quavered.
    â€œWe must trust he didn’t.” I squeezed her hand and thought of a way to distract her. “I heard good news yesterday, did I tell thee? Robert Clarke has decided to rebuild his carriage factory immediately, and William Parry told me he will, as well.” I stroked her arm as I glanced to the right, to where I had seen the figure. But in the cool daylight and with the building no longer standing, it didn’t even appear to be the same location.
    â€œOh, good!” She clapped her hands. “So my Zeb can continue his work, along with so many other men in town.”
    â€œIt’s indeed good news.” We headed back down the hill toward the Meetinghouse.
    A carriage carrying a family clattered by us. The women and girls sported lovely Easter bonnets in springlike colors. The Society of Friends recognized the sacredness of Easter but didn’t celebrate with a change in clothing or any special ritual.
    â€œI wish I could have a pretty bonnet trimmed in pink and purple,” Faith said. She drew Annie’s green ribbon from her pocket. “But I’ll have to settle for this.”
    We arrived at Meeting on time and made our way into the worship room. I spied Kofi sitting in worship across the light-filled room, a former slave John Whittier and other Friends had harbored beneath this very floor some thirty years earlier as part of the Underground Railroad. After Emancipation, John sponsored him as a