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Also his family was large. He and Betty Winthrop had six children, and she was expecting another in August; moreover, her widowed sister, Mrs. Lake, lived with them, and there were five servants to be housed.

Mrs. Winthrop, an accustomed hostess, usually took chance-comers in her stride, but it was on a question of hospitality that she decided to invade her husband’s private sanctum this Saturday morning in June. She had been a large, handsome, fair-haired girl, with the assured manner of one who was well born and well dowered. At thirty-three she was unchanged. She had no whims, no melancholies, and no humour. She made John an excellent wife, and had punctually produced all the children he had so desired with Martha. Jack was fond of her, and his manifold projects and frequent travels prevented an occasional hint of boredom from growing to uncomfortable proportions.

He had built himself this study, which was semi-detached from the main house, with its constant bustle of shrieking children and barking dogs. The room - a combination office, library, and surgery - reflected his interests, the interests on which of late he found it so hard to concentrate.

“Come in, my dear,” said Jack, looking up from the table in answer to his wife’s knock. “And good morning, sister Peggy,” he greeted Mrs. Lake, a small, fluffy-headed woman who followed her sister about, rather like a spaniel after a large setter. Both ladies were elegantly dressed in striped dimities,

“I regret to disturb you, John,” Betty said, seating herself in the armchair across from her husband, “but there are several matters to take up, First, the servants, Kaboonder has got into the rum again, and I think he should be thoroughly flogged.”

Jack inclined his head. “Very well.” He knew that he was too lax with his big black slave, who was an engaging rascal, reputed to have been a king in Angola before he had been captured and sold at Boston by a West Indian trader.

“Also,” said Betty, “Do you think it wise to trust Robino as you do? I don’t pretend to understand this new turmoil between the Narragansetts, and the Pequots, and that Mohican sachem - Uncas - and I don’t wish to interfere, husband, but I doubt if Robino always delivers your messages aright.”

Jack frowned, for he had some doubts himself. Robino was a Pequot; he lived, with the scattered remnants of the tribe, only a few miles from here. Robino spoke English and was an excellent runner. Jack constantly used him to carry letters to Hartford, or Providence, or even Boston.

“What makes you suddenly distrust my Indian?” asked Jack anxiously, knowing that Betty always had sound reasons.

“Something my sister heard,” she said, nodding towards Mrs. Lake.

Peggy Lake fluttered and blushed at the sudden notice. “ ‘Twas while I was in the dairy, helping Nannie skim the cream,” she said. “Robino was boasting to Kaboonder directly outside the window; he said he knew how to get wampum out of Ninnigret with one hand while he took it from Uncas with the other. He said the white men were such fools.”

Jack sighed and shook his head. “I see. I think these are vain boasts ‘designed only to amaze poor Kaboonder, but the Pequots are certainly subtle, and I’ll endeavour to investigate this.” He glanced at letters he had recently received from Roger Williams, and from Captain Mason at Hartford. They both treated uneasily of Indian affairs. Williams, the peace-maker, as usual favoured his Narragansetts, but was aware of Pequot and Mohican unrest which must be soothed. Captain Mason was keeping an eye on Uncas, the great Mohican chief, who professed undying devotion for the English, but also seemed to be toying with a Mohawk alliance, one moreover that Governor Stuyvesant was rumoured to be promoting for his own wicked anti-English ends. But there were always rumours. Jack had seen too many of them flare up and die to be upset.

He saw that Betty had not finished and smiled at her. “What else, my dear?”

Her level, blue-grey Saxon eyes met his squarely. “John - how long are the Hallets to remain here?”

Aha! Jack thought. He had been expecting this for some time. “Why, I don’t know,” he said. “It’s a most awkward situation as you know. They’ve no other place to go. You find the house too crowded?”

“Somewhat,” she said. “But ‘tis not that. I’ve been patient, I believe, and not inhospitable since the day last month when the six of them appeared at our doorstep. I’ve held my peace. I know my duty towards you and your relations. I am aware that through circumstances as well as kinship, you once took a particular interest in Elizabeth.” Betty said this seriously, without a trace of sarcasm.

Jack could not help a chuckle, nor asking, “Surely you’re not jealous, my dear?”

She considered a moment and shook her head. “Not at all. I simply don’t understand her, nor is she the type of woman I can like. Really, John, the extraordinary things she’s done! She favoured that dreadful Hutchinson female. She set Watertown by the ears, and was forced to leave. She bought land, then abjured her nationality and turned it over to the Dutch. I pass by the scandal one could not help hearing which coupled her name with that Irish captain’s. But then the captain gets murdered, and her husband goes mad.”

“Some of these tragic facts my sister Bess could hardly prevent,” said Jack.

“Possibly,” said Betty, without conviction. “But you must admit her responsibility for her recent conduct. After all, John, a
divorce
on whatever grounds! I never met a divorced woman before in my life!”

“Indeed we haven’t,” put in Mrs. Lake, her eyes widening with dismay as she considered her sister’s résumé. “Papa - Mr. Reade that was - would have been scandalized, and our present father, Mr. Peter, his wife is quite mad, but nobody would ever
dream
of divorcing the poor thing.”

“And that’s not all -” went on Betty, ignoring her sister’s interruption. “I don’t understand why she is now penniless, unless it is from the folly of marrying Mr. Hallet, who is
not
a gentleman, it seems, however he may sound like one.”

Jack bit his lips. Betty in her calm incisive voice had indeed piled up many awkward facts about Elizabeth, It was a mercy that there was one of which she was ignorant.

“Don’t you like Hallet?” he said quickly. “I do, in spite of -” he checked himself from saying “Bess’s indecent passion for him” and substituted - -”his humble birth.” Yes, oddly enough he liked Will Hallet though he had been prepared to detest him.

“He’s well enough,” said Betty. “And I’m sorry for the children, but I do not think that their peculiar rearing fits them as constant companions for ours.”

“As usual,” said Jack after a slight pause, “you speak very sensibly, wife, and I agree with you. I shall give the Hallets a grant in town, build them a house at once, and you shall be relieved of their company.”

“Thank you,” said Betty rising. “Though I still don’t understand why they’ve no place to go but here, and I believe you haven’t even heard from her in years?”

“No,” said Jack and attempted an explanation which was truthful as far as it went. “The Dutch have some singular laws, wife. I wouldn’t expect you to understand them. You know that Governor Stuyvesant has been acting in a gravely inflammatory way; he claims all our Connecticut land for Holland, and indeed he claims everything as far as Cape Cod. I believe that to some degree Bess is being used as a pawn, her personal dilemma is a reflection of the international one.”

“It may be so,” said Betty with a vague smile, thinking of all the baking which must be done today before the Sabbath began at sundown.

It was one of her virtues that she never hammered on a point once it was made. She gave her husband a courteous bow and departed with Mrs. Lake.

Jack was left to indulge in some more uncomfortable reflections.

The Hallets were a problem, how serious a one neither Betty nor anybody at Pequot knew - so far,

The reception of his own glove, accompanied by Elizabeth’s desperate little note, had been acutely embarrassing. At forty-two one did not expect to redeem an impulsive romantic promise made in youth, nor did he at all understand the urgency. After questioning the laconic Toby Feake, the Hallet predicament became clearer. It was not until Jack had reluctantly sent Toby back to fetch the beleagured family, and had a private talk with Elizabeth, that he discovered the full extent of her plight.

The interview had taken place in this room on the night of the arrival. Elizabeth had concealed nothing from him. She had told the whole story of her love for Hallet, of Robert’s irrational acts, of Thomas Lyon’s vindictiveness, of the Dutch governors’ behaviour - both of them; of the banishment, and of Stamford and New Haven Colony’s relentless persecution.

Jack at first found it incredible that a Winthrop should be seething in such an unsavoury stew and thrust there apparently solely by reason of a reckless, passionate love, but as he listened his initial shock of distaste gradually faded.

Bess was still, at thirty-eight, a beautiful woman, her dark curly hair showed no grey, her lips were red, her checks rose and white. He discovered that her long voluptuous eyes still had disturbing power to move him, especially when they shone with unshed tears. When she had finished, he spoke, however, somewhat dryly.

“This is a most distressing story, Bess. I confess I’m appalled, though also sympathetic. But there is, I perceive, one stark circumstance which makes resolution of your problem quite impossible. You are not legally married to William Hallet.”

“But we
are
married I” she cried. “The best they’ll let us. We tried, I told you how we tried. We feel married. You see my ring!”

“Unfortunately, little coz,” he said, “the law is not sentimental, and takes no account of good intentions.”

“Then
you
marry us, Jack darling I” she cried, seizing his hand and holding it against her cheek. “It’s just a few empty words. You can do it. ‘Tis this hope I’ve been living on. Jack - you see, I’m with child by Will. You’ll not deny me this?”

His heart gave an uncomfortable thump, a long-vanquished desire sprang up at the touch of her hand and cheek. But he saw that this was no longer true for her; that kinship, confidence, and the desperate need for help were all that she still felt of the old bond, which had been at last replaced by a stronger love. He looked away from her imploring eyes and sighed heavily. “I
must
deny you, Bess. Alas, I have no choice. I’ve not been sworn in as magistrate for Connecticut Colony, since we’ve just come under its rule here. And even if I were, my poor girl, I couldn’t marry you. You’re not divorced by English law, only by Dutch.”

She dropped his hand and turning from him stared down at the table. “Then what can we do?” she whispered. “Where can we go now - and
we
have nothing to live on.”

“You can stay here,” he said slowly. “The question of your marriage need never be raised, it’ll be assumed. In the meantime I’ll

A gleam of hope had come into her face, but at his last words she stiffened. “To your father? Then we’re lost. He’ll send after me himself. Have me flogged and branded, banish Will from New England too as he has so many. He has no heart.”

Jack’s eyes hardened, he spoke with sharpness. “You misjudge my father as usual. You see but one side of him!”

“Ha!” she said bitterly, “You think he has a heart? How then could he take another wife, six months after my Aunt Margaret died, and after all the protestations that he made of loving her? ‘Tis sickening.”

“Bess, you forget yourself!”

His annoyance was the greater because he had been as startled as anyone by his father’s precipitate remarriage with a wealthy Boston widow called Martha Coytmore.

“He’s sixty,” said Elizabeth angrily. “And I think might have contained himself at least the customary year out of respect for my dead aunt, but no - it seems the new wife is already breeding. What he calls lechery in others no doubt wears some sweeter name when he applies it to himself.”

Jack’s chair scraped on the floorboards. “You are outrageous! How dare you speak so of my father!”

They confronted each other across the table, both cleft chins squared, the eyes unlike in shape but alike in glittering indignation.

The anger ebbed first from his, for he knew that she was thinking of her sister as well as of Margaret, and he dimly understood how painful it would be for a woman to see how quickly consolable most widowers were.

“We’ll not quarrel, Bess,” he said, sitting down again. “In fact, how foolish of you to quarrel with me now. But you’ve never had discretion even for your own good. Nor can you scheme and play the hypocrite to gain your ends. So you’ve the virtues of your rashness, and we’ll let this matter drop.”

“Aye,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry, Jack. But please, please don’t write your father about our concerns. He’d be pitiless.”

He had not argued with her, nor been quite sure himself what his father would do if all the circumstances were presented to him. But he had written at once, and told the truth, adding some recommendations of his own which he knew would carry weight. The reply had not yet come.

The Hallets were as glad to leave the Winthrop home as Betty Winthrop was relieved at their departure. For Will especially there had been weeks of humiliation, in the repetition of circumstances he had once endured at Sherborne Castle. He had sworn never to live again on someone’s bounty, nor eat the bread of patronage, yet now by reason of the trap of love, he found himself forced to do so, and he suffered.

Elizabeth, seeing this, was frightened, and tried in all ways to save his pride; she clung to him, she enlarged upon the liking Jack felt for him, she poured her own love out to him, yet was ever watchful not to cloy or surfeit him, and she knew that Will’s deep feeling for her had not changed.

But still there was a difference. He grew silent, the humour that she loved flashed seldom, he did not read his books, or talk at all about the future.

Once established in their own cabin on Meeting-House Hill life was a trifle easier. Will gradually took an interest in the six acres Jack had granted him. He started planting anew as best he could, but it was necessary to borrow tools from the Winthrops, also household equipment, and to accept the neighbours’ help which they gladly gave, for they liked Will at once and made him part of the community. But the fact remained that the Hallets were as poor as the humblest cotter in Pequot, and that they were beholden to others for almost everything they did have.