". . . (and) for our brother, the wind, and for air and cloud, calm and
all weather . . .
". . . (and) for our mother, the earth, which does sustain us and keep
us . . .
"Praised be the Lord for all those who pardon one another . . . and who
endure weakness and tribulation; blessed are they who peaceably shall
endure . . ."
Slowly, to the tonkle of herds in pasture, the crowing of cocks, and
the thin, clear clang of the smithy, the full sun sank in the west.
For a time all was quiet, as night, the shadow of the earth, crept
between man and God.
After supper Thomas Frye, in his father's wagon, went to call on Anna
Barly.
From her porch where she sat hidden by vines which gave forth an odor
sweeter than honey, the night was visible, pale and full of shadows.
To the boy beside her, timid and ardent, the silence of her parents
seemed, like the night, to be full of opinions.
"Well . . . shall we go for a ride?"
Anna called in to her mother, "I'm going for a ride with Tom."
"Don't be late," said her mother.
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