Read Online The Captive Bride by Gilbert Morris - Free Book Online Page B

and studying, and one small room no more than eight feet square for sleeping. It had been used by one of the deacons, Matthew Prince, as a storage shed for his blacksmithing equipment, but he had agreed to rent it to the newlyweds very cheaply.
    It had been a delightful game for the pair, cleaning out the rooms, finding a few pieces of furniture and fitting them into every possible location. They set up housekeeping with a wedding gift from Edward Winslow, a small bag of gold sovereigns. “If it hadn’t been for your uncle Edward, we’d be roosting on a tree!” Lydia had laughed once as they tried to put a sideboard along a wall that was only two inches longer than the massive piece of oak furniture.
    He had dropped the end he was struggling with, picked her up in his arms and covered her face with kisses, crying out, “I’d rather have a woman like you roosting in a tree than any other in a castle!”
    â€œMatthew!” she had cried, but there was a look of intense satisfaction in her dark eyes as she pretended to pout. She had always been a romantic girl—far too much so for her aunt’s tastes. Perhaps it was the French blood. In any case, she had somehow been able to maintain a balance between an inner life alive with imagination and the rigid creed and austere practices of the Pilgrim way. She had learned while very young to act out little dramas she made up only when alone, but even when she ceased to pantomime such things, she kept up a lively imagination.
    Those little dramas had been buried deep inside, but she had learned almost at once that the man she had married was at least as romantic as she, although he denied it vehemently.
    To outsiders, Matthew and Lydia seemed a rather conventional young married couple. She tended her tiny house, sewed, cooked, and sat demurely by her tall, handsome husband through the four-hour sermons, and he went faithfully to work with the dusty books of Asa Goodman, looking as solemn as a deacon.
    But when they were alone in their snug cottage, their behavior would have been a scandal to the neighbors, not to mention the deacons and pastors! They both had playful minds, and their verbal give-and-take, puns and jokes that would have been meaningless to anyone else, was a source of constant delight to both of them.
    Even now as he walked to the door and stepped inside, his heart beat a little faster at the thought of her. She met him at once, throwing her arms around him and pulling his head down for a kiss. They stood there for a long moment, savoring each other. Then he stepped back and pulled the letter from his pocket. “Uncle Edward is back. He brought a letter from Father.”
    She read it quickly, then looked up with apprehension. “It sounds very serious.”
    â€œI think it is. Father isn’t given to idle words.”
    She bit her lower lip, then said quietly, “You feel very bad, don’t you?”
    â€œI ... wish we could have gone home.” Then seeing her face grow tense, he took her in his arms and added, “Now, don’t you fret, Princess. It just couldn’t be.”
    â€œDo you think we should go now?”
    He released her and sat down on the single bench in the room. “Uncle Edward and Pastor Gifford say we should go. Not just because of Mother’s illness, but they think there’s going to be hard times for all of us.”
    She nodded and sat down next to him. Taking his hand in hers, she spoke softly. “And what do you say, dear?”
    He shook his head stubbornly, an expression she hadlearned to recognize. “I say we stay here. Where in America is there a man like Pastor Gifford or John Bunyan to sit under?”
    â€œAll right, we stay!” she cried out; then she jumped up and ran to the fireplace. “Oh, I’ve burned the potatoes!”
    He laughed and rose to go to her side. “Forget the potatoes! Here I’m trying to make the most important