PURPLE AND ps eas FINE LINEN ,Z9 F167 Copy 1 _ PRIZE PLAY OF PURITAN TIMES IFn Cbree Bets BY AMITA B. FAIRGRIEVE AND HELENA F. MILLER Produced by The Lend a Hand Dramatic Club of Boston Copyright, 1913, by Ethel Hale Freeman and Samuel French. CAUTION.— Amateurs and Professionals are hereby warned that "PURPLE AND FINE LINEN," being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States, is subject to royalty, and any •ne presenting the play without the consent of Samuel French will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Application for the right to produce "PURPLE AND FINE LINEN "must be made to SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 WEST 38TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED New York SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 28-30 WEST 38th Street London SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street STRAND PURPLE AND FINE LINEN, CHARACTERS. John Belden. .Minister "in the way 'of tryall" to Hatfield David Sylvester .... Young soldier in love with Experience. Deacon Epaphrus Small A Puritan elder Elkanah Parsons Clerk of the Court Tom Dearborn. Magistrate. Simeon Meekins Acting as lawyer for the prosecution Five Northampton Suspectors. Constable Of Northampton Sexton. Goodwife Dearborn A widozv of Hatfield Betty Her daughter Goodwife Parsons Of Northampton Experience Her daughter Lucie A slave Suspectors and Townspeople. TMP96-CQ7302 g)C!.D 35330 Purple and Fine Linen ACT I. Scene: — John Belden's study in Goodwife Dear- born's house. Goodwife Dearborn and Good- wife Parsons sit at the table quilting. Goodwife Parsons. Verily, it must be a hard thing fcr thee, Mercy Dearborn. Now, my Ex- perience is a most sober and godly child and is ever a delight to her father and to me. But I can sympathize with those who are not so fortunate in their offspring. Goodwife Dearborn. Thinkest thou that thy Experience taketh after thee? G. P. (consciously) I have been told so. G. D. (carelessly) Mayhap 'tis true. Now my Elizabeth resembleth me not at all. Deacon Small hath often remarked it. m G. P. (meaningly) Oh ! the Deacon ! (she looks sideways at Goodwife Dearborn) (Singing is heard off u. r.) G. D. I wonder what Elizabeth is doing. Methinks she hath not yet dusted this room, (with a faint touch of pride) Elizabeth is indeed a hard wench to manage. An her dear father were alive— (sighs) 3 4 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. G. P. I am able to understand and sympathize. Now my Experience hath never caused me a mo- ment of anxiety, save when she was assailed by such diseases as children are subject unto. G. D. Ah, Silence, the least anxious periods of my life were those when Elizabeth was confined to the house by colds and like ailments. She was safe then, (enter Betty with scissors and a basket of flowers. She sings) Hast thou done thy spinning stint this morning? Betty. Not yet. It is so beautiful out of doors. {showing flowers) See Mother! That fresh rain has opened all their eyes ! G. D. Didst thou help Lucie with the dishes ? B. Nay, Mother. She always saith she doth not wish me about. These are for John, (holding up some poppies) His room is so dingy! G. D. Elizabeth, thou hast not dusted Mr. Belden's 'belongings. I can write my name on this book. B. Oh, poor neglected John ! I will get a duster this minute. G. D. Elizabeth, how many times must I tell thee that thou art not to speak of Mr. Belden by his given name? It is most discourteous and irreverent. B. I do forget, Mother. He doth not impress me as an object of awe. Dost know him, Goodwife Parsons? He is not very old. His eyes laugh, even when he draws down his mouth like this, (she draws down her mouth, puts her finger tips together and stands still, trying to look serious) Who would ever think this to be his private room — the only room in the house where he may never be alone ! G. D. Elizabeth, thou knowest that I sit here only of mornings because the sun is warm on this side of the house. Go and fetch a broom and duster and see that thou finish thy task before Mr. Belden returns. (Exit Betty r.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 5 G. P. Neighbor, I have on my mind something that I think it my duty to tell thee. They have it in Northampton that Mr. Belden will marry thy daughter. I need not conceal from thee that one reason why I wished to visit here to-day is to probe into the truth of the matter. G. D. (surprised) Mr. Belden marry Elizabeth! (trying not to look too pleased) She is but a child. G. P. I was assured of thy becoming surprise. Had it been that Mr. Belden's name were linked with that of my gentle Experience — although I am not one to boast of it — nor to blame thee, neighbor, I could assure — (enter John Belden r. ) Mr. Belden! (rising) Oh, Mr. Belden, are you not back earlier than usual? Belden. I had information that Deacon Small is to pay me a visit this morning. G. D. Goodwife Parsons of Northampton is spending the morning with me. G. P. I am pleased to make the acquaintance of one whose name is on the lips of all (courtesies) Do you not enjoy hunting wolves, Mr. Belden? Belden. Verily, I hardly know. Friday is the day on which one of my calling beginneth to think about what he is to say on the Sabbath. G. D. We will go at once, Mr. Belden. Your room is so warm and sunny that I enjoy sitting here of mornings. Belden. It is a pleasant room. You must not allow me to drive you away. G. D. Indeed, Mr. Belden, a minister's widow knoweth that one must not be disturbed when pre- paring his Sabbath text. Come, Silence Parsons, there are some curtains newly come from Boston which I should like to show unto you. Belden. I trust I shall see you again, Goodwife Parsons, ere you leave us. G. P. (r. c.) Thank you, Mr Belden, I am not returning until evening, (aside to G. D.) Of a 6 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. truth, I must contrive a meeting for Experience with him. {Exeunt the two ladies. John sits at the table and makes preparations for writing. Enter Betty. Shp begins to sweep, eyeing Belden slyly. When he pays no attention, she tries to make him look up, but fails. She comes up behind him and puts her hands over his eyes.) • Belden. Who can have captured me ? (feels of her hands) It must be Lucie. Betty, (indignantly) Stupid! Are these like Lucie's? (She thrusts her hands before him and he takes hold of them.) Belden. Betty, you are a witch ! Betty. Why? Because I have a broom? Belden. That is one reason. Betty, (pulling her hands away) You must not hinder me. Belden. Very well, (he goes back to his work. Betty dusts energetically, looking every little zvhile at Belden. Finally she conies up behind him and begins to dust him) What a child it is! Betty. Mother said to dust everything in the room and you are here. Belden. And therefore to be dusted? (he takes the duster from her) Why doth not some one invent a duster that will lav the dust and not raise it? Betty. That is just what father used to say. (she comes closer to him) John, I believe you re-* mind me of my father. Belden. Do I ? (Betty brings out a small stool and sits down near him.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 7 Betty. This is the way I was wont to sit with father. An I kept very still, he would suffer me to stay here — in this very spot — while he wrote his sermons. He called it being Elizabeth instead of Betty. Belden. I would have you stay here, Betty — Elizabeth, (he tries to concentrate upon his books, finds it difficult, at last gets the Bible and turns over the leaves. Finally he turns to her. He is c. She is l. c. ) Can you not suggest a text for the Sab- bath's sermon? Betty. Shall I? I remember quite a lot my father would use. Belden. And which one would you have chosen ? Betty, (thinking a minute) I know, " Why art thou cast down ? " You see, the congregation al- ways looks so unhappy. Belden. I fear I do not satisfy them. Betty. Oh, yes, but there is something — (she thinks an instant and then shakes her head) I fear I am not wise enough to help. Experience would teach you. Belden. Do you think I need experience? Betty. A little of Experience (pause) Parsons would do you good. I like you because you did not laugh at that. Father never laughed at me, save when I wished him to, of course. He was the kind of man I would wish to marry, but, you see, Mother captured him first. Belden. That was unfortunate. Betty. We had such good times together. But he used to put his hand on my head and scold me sometimes. Belden. Scold thee? (he puts out his hand) Betty. I was only telling what he did and not what you might do. Belden. Why should I wish to scold thee, child? 8 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Betty. Oh, I do not know ! It is a way people have. Belden. I am not going to have it that way, Betty — Elizabeth. Betty. I never minded when Father scolded me. He did show me where I was wrong. It's true I am a very sinful creature. I hate to do the things I must and long to do the things I must not. Belden. What are you longing to do just at present ? Betty. Oh, I am longing for a silk frock, red or yellow, and made with pretty, soft flounces. Now this thing looks as though there was just enough cloth to go around me, does it not, and not one jot or tittle more? Belden. Methinks it becometh thee very well, Betty. Betty. Does that mean it is wicked to wish for a better one? Belden. Nay, there is nothing wrong in liking pretty things, child. Betty. I would that the Deacon thought the same ! (Enter Goodwife Dearborn carrying distaff.) G. D. Betty, thou must not come in here to trouble Mr. Belden when he is busy preparing his text. Betty. I have helped him with his text. Belden. Goodwife Dearborn, I like to have the child here. Betty. Of course he liketh to have me here! I tell him all my sinfulnesses and then he uses me for an example in his sermons. (Enter Tom.) G. D. Elizabeth, Goodwife Parsons hath asked me to allow thee to & PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 9 Tom. (r. c.) Mother! G. D. Thomas, thou art not to interrupt older people. I was saying, Elizabeth, that there is to be a gathering of young people at the Parsons'. Betty. Oh, truly ! Now I must have a new frock ! Tom. Mother ! An Father were alive, would not he suffer me to go to the wolf -hunt with the other men ? G. D. Thomas ! How many times must I forbid thee to interrupt? A new frock, Elizabeth? Wherefore? Betty. Oh, Mother, I do so wish for a silk frock ! Something pretty so that I may feel fit- to eo to the Parsons'. G. D. Something in which to flaunt thyself in the public streets, thou meanest? Betty. But no, Mother. Experience doth wear bright clothes and she hath a tiffany hood and gold buckles on her shoes. G. D. It is allowable for people of great estate like the Parsons. But the law saith that it is intoler- able ior people of our condition so to bedeck them- selvtj. It is sinful extravagance and pride of the flesh. Thou wouldest be presented to the grand jur) child, for such behaviour. Betty. I would as lief be presented to the grand jur, an I had some pretty clothes in which to appear. Mr. Belden, make her suffer me to have a 'vtik frock. " Tom It is not wicked, is it? G. D. Children, let Mr. Belden be ! Thomas, be silent i (Tom sits down on the tabic.) Belden. Goodwife Dearborn, I do not consider it wicked for those who can afford them to wear pretty clothes. It is natural for the child to long for them. io PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Betty. Oh, John! G. D. Elizabeth, how dost thou dare to be so familiar with the minister? But even an it were, as Mr. Belden says, no sinful desire, we could by no means spend the money necessary to set thee out as thou wishest. Tom. An thou wouldest suffer me to go to the wolf-hunt, I would kill the wolf and get ten shillings to buy Betty a silk frock. (He bounces off the table, scattering books and papers upon the floor.) G. D. Thomas ! Betty. Never mind. It was so cluttered with books and papers. Belden. Also ladies' handiwork, (picks up an antimacasser) Betty. Oh, that is where I left the ugly thing. I had trusted it was lost for good. (Lucie appears at the door r.) Lucie. There's a man on horseback coming up through the pasture. G. D. (going toward the door) Now both of you shall stay here and put the table in order. Mind me! (exit r.) Betty. I do not wish to. Belden. Come, Betty, it will not take long. Thou shouldst obey thy mother in all things. Betty. AYould you like me to? She doth not wish me to come in when you are here. Belden. Do you like to come in here? Betty. You could not drive me away with a flaming sword. Belden. Betty ! Betty. This room is very dear to me. It makes me think of Father. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. n Belden. Oh ! (He arranges his papers. Tom sits on a pile of books and reads aloud.) Tom. " Disclaiming all Confidence of and any worthinesse in ourselves, we do promise and engage in the presence of the Lord, . . . . , that wee will Cleave one unto another in brotherly louve — " Mr. Belden, what made you want to be a minister? Belden. Why, Tom? Dost thou consider it too great a task or art thou thinking of the deprivations consequent upon it? Tom. I should think it would be almost as bad to have to 'write sermons as it is to listen to them. Belden. It is, Tom. But hast thou ever thought that, an a sermon can teach thee nothing else, it can teach thee patience? Betty. And it can teach thee a straight face, too. But your sermons are not as bad as most. Belden. I am thankful to meet with some approbation. Tom. We thought you would be like Deacon Epaphrus Small. (Enter Lucie r. ) Lucie. Youah mother said for you to finish puttin' this room to rights, 'cause Mr. Sylvester has come up from Hartford and wants to see Mr. Belden. (She goes about arranging the room.) Belden. Sylvester! Tom. Aw, haw, see Betty blush! (Exit u. r.) 12 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Betty. I am not blushing. David Sylvester is naught to me. On the contrary, he is much struck with Experience Parsons. Lucie, {volubly) I should think he was. Goody Parsons thinks she's broken off the match and little meek Experience pretends like she's forgotten all about him, but all the time she's writin' to him and makin' love to him right under her mother's nose. ^ Lucie takes the broom out.) Betty. Hush, Lucie ! {Enter r., Goodwife Parsons, Goodwife Dear- born, Tom, David Sylvester and Elkanah Parsons. ) David, {crossing to r. c.) Betty! Tom. {opening bundle) A gun! A snap-hance ! There is not a lad in Hatfield who owneth such a beauty. Thank you, David. David. How dost thou, Betty ? Tom. Now I can go to the wolf-hunt. Betty. What hast thou in the bundle for me, David ? David. I know not, Betty. Thy uncle and aunt Dearborn did it up. Betty, (pulling from the bundle a long scarf) See, Mother, see! G. D. Yes, child, it is very pretty but rather too bright, methinksr Elkanah. Dear Betty not art thou over-fond of gay stuffs? I would wear scarlet an it would draw thee in my direction. Betty. Nay, Elkanah, sombre colors best become thee, sombre and grim. Elkanah. Am I so dull to thee? Betty. I do not say that, neighbor. G. P. Yes, of course it is pretty, but I should PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 13 blush to see my daughter flaunting it. Besides (turning to Betty) Elizabeth, thou already hast one scarf ! Betty. I have a blue tippet, but 'tis not like this. They call it a fascinator, but I am sure it never fascinated anyone, (she puts on the scarf) See it float behind me ! It seemeth like wings ! Belden. Sylvester, you must be tired and dusty after your journey. I prithee go into my room and rest you. David. I thank you, Belden. (They go toward door L. ) Belden. Will you come, neighbor Parsons? Elkanah. I will remain here with neighbor Dearborn. (Enter Lucie with another bundle.) Betty. Another bundle ! Oh, I am glad David has come! (David and Belden exeunt l., be- ginning to open the bundle) Tom, art thou sure thy hands are clean? Tom. Of course they are. Am I*not fresh from the|pump, sister? (They open the bundle.) Betty, (taking up a necklace) How beautiful. (she pulls out a rouge stick) And what dost thou imagine this to be? 'Tis with the baubles. Tom. Methinks 'tis a drawing pencil. See, it maketh red marks. Betty. But why should Aunt Mindwell send me a drawing pencil ? I cannot draw. Tom. Girls are of small account. Give it me. G. D. How unfortunate ! Betty. What is it, Mother? 14 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. G. D. Mindwell Dearborn's extravagance, child. Here she hath sent me yards of silk for curtains and only yesterday did my order come from Boston. We have too much already. Tom. {nudging his sister violently) Didst thou hear that? Too much already. Betty. Oh, Tom. G. P. (aside to Elkanah) Is not the Deacon to come here to-day, Elkanah? Elkanah. He thought it best to do so. G. P. Indeed it is time. Elkanah. (darkly) I hope he is in time! Methinks she careth already ! Lucie. What shall I do with the silk, Goody Dearborn ? G. D. Put it in the cedar chest. It may be of use when Betty sets up house-keeping. (G. P. smiles at Elkanah. Exit G. D. r. ) Betty. Lucie, do not put it away. I wish to look upon it. Lucie, (uncertainly) What you goin' to do with it? Betty. Mayhap I would take steps to set up housekeeping, (throws the silk over her shoulders-) Doth it not match me? Elkanah. Yes, verily. Betty. Suffer me to take care of it, Lucie. After my Mother sees the pretty frock I will make of it, she will suffer me to wear it. She said an we were rich enough. G. D. (off stage) Lucie! Lucie, (going out r., and shaking her head) Don't you get into no mischief. Elkanah. Thou dost desire to be rich, Betty? Betty. Who doth not? Elkanah. Why dost ever turn from me? My PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 15 groceries are fast adding to my purse. I might one day make thee rich, Betty. Betty. I care not for thy groceries ; I have told thee. Elkanah, Wilt thou never listen to me? Betty. Thou art too solemn, neighbor. Thy thoughts are too worthy to be wasted upon me! Come, Tom, help me to fold it. (Betty and Tom stand at ends of the silk and wind themselves up in it.) (Enter John l. They wind him in, too.) Elkanah. (at door r.) As I thought! As I thought! (exit) Belden. What have we here? Both. We have you! Betty. Release the prisoner ! (They unwind the silk.) Belden. What is it Betty, tell me. Betty. I am to have a new frock. Mother's chief objection was that we had not the where- withal. Lo, Aunt Mindwell and David have pro- vided. Shortly I will press you into service to help us cut out the gown. Belden. I am unacquainted with the art of mak- ing ladies' gowns. Tom. 'Tis most simple. Betty lies on the cloth and we cut around her. (They all laugh.) Belden. I feel like an aider and abettor of mis- chief. Betty. And it is worse to connive than to devise. There ! Now say I do not give heed to thy sermons. 16 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Belden. I had forgot. Deacon Small cometh here this morning. In truth he should have been here long ago. I wonder what hath delayed him. Tom. {laughing heartily) Oh, ho! I know, Betty, I know ! Mr. Belden, my fish line caught in the deacon's wig. His hat did fall off and he did say a most (slozuly) ungodly word and his wig went sailing away over the wood. That is why he is not here ! Betty, (trying to be severe) Thomas Dearborn, thou shouldst be ashamed so to maltreat a deacon of the church. Art thou not sorry? Tom. Yea, I am sorry that it went sailing away. It would have made such a fine kite. Betty. But, Tom, it was an unfair advantage to take of an enemy. Belden. The deacon is not thine enemy, Betty. Tom. Yes he is. We know. Betty. He wisheth to marry my mother. Would you wish him to marry your mother? Belden. What hast thou against him? Betty. He sits so straight up and down and doth not even cross his feet. And he talketh through his nose and smileth never. He is as disagreeable to me as — the prick of conscience. Tom. He walks like this, (imitates the deacon) He gets all through using one leg before he begins using the other. Belden. All men have faults. You should be willing to condone the deacon's. (Tom goes over to the window.) Betty. We are willing to condone them, but we do not want them in the family. Tom. (looking out of the window) He is coming now ! He will catch me ! (Exit John r. ) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 17 Betty. Let us stay! It's such fun to watch him ! Tom. (running to door l. ) Quick! Betty, {running to the window) Here, Tom! (Betty covers Tom with the cloth under which he crouches r. Betty runs to l. and hides behind the settle) (Enter Belden r. with Deacon.) Belden. This is indeed kind of you, Deacon. A beautiful day, is it not? Deacon. Eh? I was not thinking of the weather. I have more weighty matters on my mind. (He goes over to the settle and sits facing the bundle. ) Belden. (perceiving what has happened in his absence) Will you not take another seat? Deacon. Eh? Wherefore? (Goes to chair l. c.) Belden. Mayhap the settle would be more com- fortable. Deacon. I am no stickler for the comforts of the flesh. (Returns to settle and sits.) Belden. (sitting betzueen the deacon and the bundle) Did you say you had something of im- portance to communicate to me? Deacon. Ay, several matters. The first con- cerns the children of our late revered pastor. There is need of more control over them. Their escapades occasion much censure throughout the village. It is your place, as the only man in this household i8 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. (Tom gives an indignant bounce. Belden looks- terrified) to discipline them. They need a strong hand, Mr. Belden, a strong hand. (Betty, behind the settle, doubles up with laughter.) Belden. I beg your pardon, sir, but would you not like to discuss this subject elsewhere? Deacon. Where else should we discuss it? Belden. There is the south parlor. Deacon. The women are at work there. Albeit I ordinarily have no disinclination to gaze upon Goodwife Dearborn, I prefer that she be not present when I am obliged to speak of her inability to manage her offspring. (The deacon gets up and walks about. Belden tries to get between him and the bundle and settle. When the deacon finally sits dozvn again, Belden sinks down on the settle. Betty drums lightly with her finger-tips on the back of the settle. Belden fidgets nervously.) Belden. (with an inspiration) Would you not enjoy seeing the garden, Deacon Small? There are many flowers and vegetables well advanced there. We may walk about and talk comfortably. Deacon, (reprovingly) I have no desire to walk about, Mr. Belden. (pounding the floor with his stick) The wind hath changed and my rheumatism troubleth me. Besides, unknown dangers lurk in the tree-tops, (the bundle vibrates. Pointing to bundle) What is that? Belden. (with assumed carelessness) Methinks 'tis something belonging to Goodwife Dearborn. (Betty claps her hands.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 19 Deacon, (solemnly) An I were not a sober man, Mr. Belden, I would have thought that bundle moved. Tis a strange way to leave it. I had thought Good wife Dearborn a better housekeeper. (Belden tries to think of something to say in defence of Goodwife Dearborn, but cannot.) Belden. And the other matters of importance, sir: Deacon, (waxing eloquent as he recalls his wrongs) Such laxity as you have shown, Mr. Belden, is most reprehensible. The deviltry of those children passes belief. Belden. (trying to appease him) Nay, sir, they are but innocently happy. It is natural for the young to be high spirited. Deacon. Innocently happy, forsooth! (gets up and waves his stick) Only this morning did Thomas hook my new peruke from off my pate and wantonly allow it to be blown away. Innocently happy ! Do you realize that the peruke was bran- new? I paid for it fifteen good shillings' worth of wheat and it was mine but for a day. (Betty chuckles.) Belden. I will speak seriously to Tom about it. (Bundle begins to move toward the door.) Deacon. And now about the girl. Do you pur- pose to marry her? Belden. (utterly bewildered) I beg your pardon, Deacon Small. ' Deacon, slowly and clearly) Do you purpose to marry Elizabeth Dearborn? (Expressions of great surprise on Belden's face and also on Betty's.) 20 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Belden. (uncertainly) Is there not some topic, Deacon Small, something more important — of more general interest? Deacon. Naught can be of more general interest, Mr. Belden, than the minister's choice of a wife. We will come to other topics in good time. Are you intending to marry the wench? Belden. (surprised and puzzled) Why I — (pauses) Really, Deacon Small, really, you know — She is but a child. Deacon. She hath passed seventeen. My mother was married at sixteen. An she be not careful, Elizabeth Dearborn will be an old maid. Belden. (trying to put the deacon off) She doth not care for me, belike. Deacon. Tis a maid's duty to marry the man that offers. I doubt not, John Belden, that she would be glad enough to get you. (Betty shakes her fist at the deacon) Since you have been dispensing your gifts among us, the maids of the church have vied together for your favor, yet you have paid court to none of them. You are best acquainted with Elizabeth, perhaps because she liveth beneath the same roof. I have been asked to come to you as a delegate, seeking knowledge of your intentions. (The bundle disappears out of the door.) Belden. I had not thought of marrying anyone. Deacon. " It is not good that man should be alone." Belden. But since you have suggested it Deacon. Suggested it ! I am but warning you against it. I am commissioned to inform you that the deacons and elders of this church will not permit you to take her to wife. The matter has been dis- cussed with much candor and directness at every fireside in the village. On the day when you and PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 21 Elizabeth Dearborn are called in meeting, the church will consider that you no longer desire to be settled here. Belden. I could not marry Elizabeth and hope to be called to this ministry? Deacon. It hath been decided by unanimous con- sent that you cannot. Belden. But wherefore? What is there wrong in the child? Deacon. She hath laid herself open to censure in a score of ways. She rompeth and playeth pranks with her brother as though she were a boy. She climbeth trees and swimmeth. She is not meek and gentle as a maid should be. (Betty makes a face.) Belden. Verily, I cannot quietly hear you denounce her thus. If she giveth the appearance of light-mindedness, 'tis only the appearance. It is as easy for her to laugh as it is to breathe. Nothing can subdue her spirits for long. Deacon, (dryly) I have remarked that, Mr. Belden. Her father hath not been in his grave a twelve-month and she never referreth to him, whereas his name is ever on her dear mother's lips. Belden. Ay, but her mother already purposeth to marry again. Betty remembereth her father with reverence and cherisheth his memory with affection. Yet that proves not that she doth not miss him sorely. What you condemn as lightness is no more her true character than the ripples which the wind lifts on the surface of the Connecticut are the cur- rent of the river. Deacon. I perceive that it was high time for me to speak to you upon this subject, Mr. Belden. Belden. Doth it not occur to you, Deacon Small, that I would have a better chance to regulate 22 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Elizabeth's conduct, had I the authority of a hus- band over her? (Betty looks blank.) Deacon. She is in no way fit for the manifold duties of a minister's wife. You have heard the decree of the deacons, Mr. Belden. (he rises to go) If you disobey, your ministry here is at an end. (goes u. c. ) There is one thing more, Mr. Belden. It hath been suggested by the deacons and elders that it would be as well if your sermons could be made a little more fiery, (at door r.) A little more fire and brimstone, Mr. Belden, a little more fire and brimstone. (Belden crosses to door r.) Belden. (meaningly) I would see you safely out, sir. (exeunt r.) (Betty comes out from behind the settle and stretches herself.) Betty. Methinks the man was mad ! I marry a minister! (ni'unicing the deacon) " I doubt not, John Belden, that she would be glad enough to get you." Glad, forsooth! Are there no others? Hath not the Reverend John Cotton himself said that the only cheap things in New England are milk and ministers? (She stands still for a moment. As she starts for the door, she comes face to face with John. Both arc ill at case.) Belden. Betty! Betty, (dramatically, but with a [race of nervous- ness) I prithee let me pass. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 23 (She laughs, but there is no mirth in her laughter.) Belden. {uncertainly) Betty! {They look at each other.) Betty. Hath not the deacon spoken? Belden. Ay, the deacon, but — What hath come over thee? {he puts his hands on her shoulders) Have you grown up in a day? {he looks at her intently, half to himself) " Why art thou cast down? " Betty. Let me go! Belden. Nay. Can I let go what I have not? Betty. Let me go ! Please! Phate Belden. Say it not. {looks at her) Is it the truth, or is it (Looks deep into her eyes.) Betty, {triumphantly and gladly) It is not true! a (She wrenches herself free. Enter Sylvester l. ) David. What is this, a game of hide and seek? Betty, {feverishly) Nay, David, 'tis a game of forfeits and the forfeit is too great. (Belden looks pleadingly at her, but as she is obdurate, he goes out r. Trying to be her old self) How is Experience, David? Didst thou see her to-day? David. Yea, that I did. Her mother was from home and it seemed a rare opportunity to converse with her but {sighing) the event proved differently. Betty, (laughing rather hysterically) How was that? David, {gloomily) Betty, she doth not love me. I have hardly seen her for some months, and the first thing she exclaimed at sight of me was " Oh, 24 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. David, David, farewell. My mother will not hear of thee." Betty. That would but be because she would conceal her real feelings. Dost not know that a maid may not wear her heart on her sleeve? David, (in surprise) This from thee, Betty, whose heart is as light as- Betty. As my head, meanest thou? David, (looking conscious) Nay, not that. But that thou, ever with a smile on thy lips, a dimple in thy cheek and a quip on thy tongue's end, shouldst hint of hidden griefs, thou who art as open as the day. (He laughs, genuinely amused.) Betty, {pretending to laugh zvith him) 'Tis indeed monstrous amusing! Why, I am as easy to read as a book, a book written in — Sanskrit. David, (still thirsting for sympathy) An thou wert in love with me, would thy mother's will make aught of difference? Betty. An I loved a man, naught would make any difference. I would say to him, " David " or " James " or " John " — 'tis most likely his name would be John, for 'tis such a common name. I would say to him, " John, I have grown up in a day. I have been a child, but now I am a woman. I take my birthright : the right to love, to suffer and to sacrifice." David, (sententiously) Ay, to leve is indeed to sacrifice, (dejectedly) She would not suffer me to kiss her. Betty, (pretending disbelief) Nay, 'tis not pos- sible ! What woman would give up the man she loved. It could not be, could it, David? (laughs) Perchance it were a good thing she did not suffer thee to kiss her. An someone had seen you. you would have been haled before the magistrates. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 25 Goodwife Parsons was narrating only this morning how her manservant and maidservant were seen kissing each other. They sat on the kitchen chest. It was a matter of twenty shillings to the man, ten to the maid. David. Twenty shillings were a small price to pay for a kiss. Betty. There are kisses — and kisses. And some are. never given. David. True, some are taken. Betty. Go back to Experience, David. Methmks you must have misunderstood her. I would see you happy. David, (heartily) And I thee. But I need not wish you happiness, Betty. Betty. Nay, thou needst not wish me happiness. David. Betty, thou hast said that I am dull and thou' art right. Yet I perceive thou art greatly troubled. If I did not know thy lightness of heart, I would say thou hast been crying. Betty. I ? Never ! (Laughs.) David. Why shouldst thou not, dear Betty? Methinks it is right and becoming in a woman to cry. And it maketh us to stand the straighten (Sound of horn outside.) Betty. May not then a man- David. Men do not show their hurts. (Enter Tom r.) Tom. Mother says to come to dinner. We are going to have a pigling, David. David. Tis well. I have a great yearning for food. Hast thou, Thomas? 26 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Tom. I will be glad to taste the pigling. David. Coming, Betty? Betty. I will come presently. Tom. (dragging David out) And we are to have stewed squash and turnip and Lunenburg pudding ! (exeunt r. ) (Betty looks around the room as if saying good- bye to it.) Betty. I will not stand in the way of his success. (she goes over to the table where Belden's papers are and touches them gently) " Why art thou cast down? " Oh, he doth love me ; I saw it in his eyes. If he thought he saw love in my eyes, I'll show him he was wrong. (she stands very straight) " Men do not show their hurts," David hath said. Oh, God, help me to be a man ! CURTAIN. ACT II. Scene I: — Outside Goodwife Dearborn's house. A watchman is seen passing at rear during the scene. Enter David and Experience from the house. David, (uneasily) Experience, what is this talk concerning Betty which I heard as I came through Northampton ? Experience. It is rumored that she will be called before the magistrates for breaking of the Sumptuary Laws. 'Tis said that her clothes do not befit her station. David. Poor little Betty! PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 27 Experience. Oh, it will not trouble Betty. Re- proof runneth off her like water off a duck. David. Mayhap the rumor is a falsetone. Experience. Mayhap it is. (pouting) Thou takest a great interest in Betty. I trow thou art more than half in love with her. David. I can ill spare any more love than what I give thee, Experience, (he puts his arm around her) But I would see everyone as happy as we are. Experience. Were Betty unhappy, she would betray it. She hath never learned the art of hiding any thought which cometh into her head, (zvith becoming modesty) Why, she hath often said to me, " I am not deep like thee, Experience." 'David. There is no one like thee. (Betty appears in the door r. zvith basket.) Betty. Do I come amiss? (Experience and David start apart) An Goodwife Parsons could only see you now ! Experience. She would say of thee, David, as she hath often said before, that thou art a rag on every bush. Betty. I'll say this for thee, David, thou art at least a well-appearing rag. (David bows.) David. We would tell thee a secret, Betty. (They go over to her.) Betty. Experience's parents have not con- sented ? David. No such good news, and therefore we will wait no longer. To-night we purpose to run away. Betty, (aghast) Run away! 28 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. David. And be married in the next parish. I must be at home on Wednesday, and I intend to see Experience safely to Hartford. Betty. But Experience, art sure it is best to deceive thy parents so? Experience. That thou sl.ouldst preach of filial duty ! When thou didst steal goods from thy mother wherewith to make thyself a frock. Betty. Nay, Experience, I would never have worn the frock, unless she had suffered me. An it were not right, 'twas naught so irretrievable as this. I could have rent the dress into shreds, an Mother had bade me, but thou canst never rid thyself of David once thou art married to him. David. I trust she will not rend me into shreds. Experience, (whimpering) I do not wish to rid myself of David. David. What can have come over thee, Betty? Hast thou lost thy taste for adventure? I vow thou art as bad as the deacon. Experience. I know that my parents will con- sent when they see that my heart is set on David. Betty. Hast thou no fear of the law? Dost not remember how Arthur Dudley was prosecuted by Thomas Denison for " disorderly and unrighteously endeavouring to gain the affections of his daugh- ter? " It cost poor Arthur £5. (She goes up into the garden.) David. £5 ! Experience is worth her weight in Pine Tree Shillings. When the village hath gone to church, I will stand here by the tree. Mayhap it were better that I make no noise. Experience. I will be waiting, David, (exit) (Enter Belden from house. He comes down the steps and starts u. c Betty motions to Ex- perience who carries the basket to him.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 29 Experience. Mr. Belden! Belden. Didst wish me, Miss Experience? Experience, (giving him the basket) Betty sends this for you to take to the sick lady you are to call upon. Belden. Ah, for old Abigail, who is most wretched. Miss Betty sent it? That was good of her. I thank her gratefully, (exit c.) Experience, {returning d. c. Betty comes d. l. c. ) He was delighted! Betty. Was he truly? Why should I not send a basket to the sick. Thou knowest, Experience, that I did it only because my father used to do so. It is my duty. Experience. Hast thou ever done it before? Betty. The more reason why I should remem- ber my duty when I come to be aware of it. (she sits down on the steps) Experience, how doth it seem to be betrothed? Experience. It seemeth perilous enough when my parents are opposed to it. Betty. But is it not a joy just to know that David loveth thee? Experience. Yea, verily. It hath all the charms of the forbidden. Betty. 'Tis a strange world, Experience. An a man care for thee, thy parents will have none of him : an thy parents wish thee to wed a man, he will have none of thee. Experience. My parents suffered me to come hither in order to captivate Mr. Belden and it is naught to either of us an we never meet again. (in a superior tone) Thou dost not know what it meaneth to be in love. (Betty laughs, then sings) Elkanah doth not like Mr. Belden. Betty. Oh ? Experience. He saith he thinketh over-highly of himself. Betty. Elkanah hath some chronic ailment! 30 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Experience. He hath a chronic attachment for this place. Here he is. (Enter Elkanah c.) Elkanah. Betty, I have something to say to thee. (Experience withdraws.) Betty. I must get supper for Tom. Elkanah. Nay, thou must listen. Betty. Tom loseth his temper when I am late. Elkanah. Betty, I am in sore trouble. Betty. I am sorry, Elkanah. (turns azvay) Elkanali. Dost wish to bring sorrow to thy mother, Betty? Knowest thou that there are those in Northampton who disapprove of thee? Betty. I know. What will they do? Elkanah. I cannot bear to tell thee, Betty. Betty. Dost think it will frighten me? Elkanah. Thou knowst the sumptuary laws. Betty. Elkanah, thou knowst in thy heart I am not really sinful. Wilt thou give assurance to the authorities? Why dost thou hesitate? Should not a friend uphold another who is wronged? Answer me neighbor! Elkanah. I can, as thou sayest, give assurance to the authorities. My position could answer for thee — the position of thy husband. Betty. What ? Elkanah. They would not question thee more. Betty. Thou art trifling. No, I see thou art most horribly earnest. Thou art saying this to Elkanah. To save thy family the disgrace of thy arrest. Betty. Ah, how high and noble of thee, Elkanah ! Will not thy word, thy oath, save me the disgrace? Wherefore needst to be my husband? Tell me that ! PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 31 Elkanah. Tis true I am most willing to take thee. Betty. Willing! Elkanah, it is a plot of thine own devising. Thou wouldst make a bargain with me. Elkanah. Betty! Betty. Thou wouldst fright me into taking thee. Elkanah. No, I know thou art afraid of noth- ing. Betty. Then why? Elkanah. But I had thought thou didst hold family honor above thine own pleasure. True, most maids would marry whom they please ; my own sister will do so. But I thought thee finer than that, finer even than Experience. I trusted thou wouldst not let thy mother and thy little brother and thy good father's memory all to be darkened by the charges against thee. Betty. Elkanah, thou art the brother of my friend, but yet I will say what is in my heart. I believe thou canst tell the truth to the authorities in Norhampton and prevent the summons that thou warnest me of. There is evil in thy heart, evil — Elkanah. Thou dost mistake. If thou wilt only trust me Betty. Yes, to fly away with thee as Experience will with David? Elkanah. Why not? In truth, I had the pro- posal on my lips. Betty. Neighbor Parsons, I will not talk with thee more, only to say this : thou mayest have me summoned to the court and unfairly accused. It is better to bring innocent grief to my mother and name, even to lose the opportunity of wedlock, than to give my vows to a man I do not even trust. Good even. (Exit r.) 32 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Elkanah. Good even to thee, Betty, (pause) I shall have need of more evidence. (Enter Tom d. l.) Tom. I have something to show you, Elkanah. (draws out rouge-stick) It is Betty's new drawing pencil. Elkanah. That is not a drawing pencil; 'tis a rouge-stick. Tom. A what? Elkanah. It is rouge, wherewith fine ladies redden their cheeks when they wish to look pretty. Tom. That is what the savages do. Doth it come off? Elkanah. In course it doth. Hast thou not yet tried it? Thou art afraid to use it belike? Thou dost not dare paint Betty, Tom? Tom. I do not? Thou art mistaken, Elk. I will do it now. Elkanah. That doth not come amiss. (Shouts heard from house. Church bells begin to ring. Enter Deacon c.) Deacon, (waving stick) There, there! Even on Sabbath nights this corner is not free from ungodly sounds. Elkanah. Ah, Deacon! All this even have I been sorely smitten by the like cause. Neighbor Dearborn's lot is a grievously sorry one. Had we not thy bulwark of a conscience among us, this entire village would be lost to Satan. ^ Deacon. I have indeed tried to reason with the Goodwife's offspring and I hope good results may come of it. Elkanah. At least, deacon, there is no doubt concerning thy great influence at the meeting to- night. A word from thee and the minister will be PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 33 forbidden — (pause and gestures) I have grave news from Northampton. Might I have a word with thee, deacon? Deacon. To be sure, friend Parsons, to be sure. (Enter Tom r.) Tom. I want no more supper, Betty. Come and swing. (Betty appears at the door) Methinks thy color is very good. Betty. I hope it will come off, truly Tom. (goes to szving) Pump, Petty. Do it to the music from the primer. Betty. Yea, Tom. (sings) " Zaccheus, he Did climb a tree Our Lord to see." Now let us sing from the beginning. Both. " In Adam's fall We sinned all." Deacon, (pounding the ground with his stick) Ah-hem ! Ah-hem ! Betty, (rising) Good even, Deacon Small. Would you like to swing? Deacon. Do not be pert, Elizabeth. Where is Mr. Belden? Betty. He went away- directly after supper to make a pastoral visit. Deacon. And where is thy mother? Betty. Within. (Enter Goodwife Dearborn from the house.) G. D. Good even, Deacon Small. Is it time to start for the meeting? (Deacon crosses.) 34 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Betty. A meeting to-night, Mother? G. D. Yea, an extra meeting to decide about Mr. Belden's call. Dost know whither he went? Betty. He hath gone to visit old Moses' wife, who is sore oppressed with the king's evil. When he returneth, I will tell him to hasten to the meet- ing. G. D. That is just what thou art not to do. Thou must keep him at home, for the townsfolk wish to consult together, uninfluenced by his presence. Betty, (eagerly) Will they retain him, Mother? G. D. Do not be curious, child. Deacon. I am glad to hear you reprove her, Goodwife Dearborn. G. D. (meekly) Verily, Deacon Small, I am oft times tried beyond my strength. Deacon. You have need of a strong man's hand to guide you and an arm to lean upon. G. D. I know that full well, Deacon Small. At times I long to have my dear husband at my side once again, (sighs) Betty. That would be somewhat inconvenient for the deacon, would it not? G. D. Do not lay it up against her, I beg of you, Deacon Small. She doth not think what she saith. Deacon. Elizabeth, it grieveth my eyes to see thee clad thus, and but now thou didst offend mine ears with ungodly music. (Enter people going to church.) Betty. Do you not like my frock, Deacon small ? I wore it last week during my stay in Northampton. Deacon. I can see in it the hand of Satan tempting you, Mercy Dearborn. How vain are the pursuits of men! (enter many villagers who stand and murmur as the Deacon speaks) Gratification of the senses, riches, honor, learning, engage their PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 35 thoughts and occupy their minds, instead of prepara- tion for the rapacious death which cometh to all when least we anticipate it. I have lived sixty years last Tuesday and I reflected on arising that I have seen enough of the sinfulness of the world and of men and women to prevent my desiring to live another sixty. Betty, (solemnly) 'Tis most unlikely that you will. (The villagers are shocked. Goodwife Dearborn and Deacon look shocked. Exeunt r.) Tom. (mimicing Deacon) Do not be pert, Elizabeth. (Constable enters u. r. and crosses.) Betty. Come, Tom, 'tis nearing thy bed-time. (goes up r. to door) Come. (Exit Tom following slowly. The church bell still rings. Enter David d. l.) David, (calling softly) Betty! Betty, (from upper window) Yea, David, we are coming. Wait till the watchman hath passed. (pause) Experience. Betty, look ! Who is that coming down the road ? Go and see, David. David, (looks) Methinks 'tis Mr. Belden. Betty. Quick then. Now you must go. (She disappears from the window They enter below, r.) Experience. Good-bye, dear Betty. David. Wouldst rot have me ask Mr. Belden to carry thee off ?.s well? 36 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Betty. Sh! David. Thou must come to Hartford, Betty. (exeunt) (Enter John.) Belden. Why, Betty! (her expression shows that she has heard, but she does not turn or answer) Betty. Betty, (rising and speaking very formally) Good even, Mr. Belden. Belden. It was kind of thee to send the basket to poor Abigail. She was in dire need of food. How didst thou know ? Betty. It is the duty, surely, of a minister's daughter to care for the sick. Belden. A minister's — daughter? Betty, what hath comeiover thee of late? I never, see thee alone. Have I done aught to offend thee ? Betty. Nay, Mr. Belden. Belden. Once 'twas " John." Betty. I have said many foolish things in my youth. Belden. In thy youth! What hath taken thy youth away? Dost thou remember the day the deacon came? Betty, (pretending to misunderstand) The deacon ! What day doth he not come ! He is ever under foot. Belden. The day I looked into your eyes and saw — Betty, did I mistake? Did I mistake? Betty, (slowty and as if weighing her zvords) An you saw aught in my eyes save your own reflection, I tell you you did mistake. Belden. (bitterly) I am sorry. (Starts up the step.) Betty. Mr. Belden. when a srirl loveth a man PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 37 and he loveth her, could it ever be right for her to disobey her parents and wed him — to elope? Belden. It seemeth to me that when two people love one another, an it be not morally wrong, they should suffer naught to come between them. An the woman I loved loved me— — Betty, (quickly) Yes. Belden. I would defy the world for her sake. Betty. (incredulously but with admiration) You — a minister ! Belden. Mayhap I am not truly a minister. Betty. But you have ever told me that I should obey my mother in all things. Belden. Yea. (a look of comprehension passes over his face) Betty, thou dost not mean — Sylvester! I passed him as I came here. He was so deep in thought that he did not see me. You — (he goes over and takes her by the shoulders) Is it Sylvester ? Betty, (frightened and misunderstanding) Yes, 'tis David. (Belden stares at her.) Belden. So that was why! Betty. I do not understand. (Voices are heard outside. Betty runs into the house. Bustle and noise. Enter villagers with Goodwife Dearborn and Deacon, c. ) Deacon. Peace, Peace ! This is ungodly language. G. D. Of what avail is it to say " Peace, peace " when one is at her wits' end as I am ? Oh, I would that my husband were here ! Belden. What is it, Goodwife Dearborn? G. D. I have but just learned how they forbade 38 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. you to think of Elizabeth as your wife and it doth cut me to the heart. Oh, the insult of it ! Belden. {dejectedly) Elizabeth careth naught for me. G. D. {kindly) Tis not against you that I am inflamed, Mr. Belden. Verily, it is for you as well as for my child. You should have heard the discus- sion to-night. It was decided to call you to the ministry here, with no praise of your labor what- ever, but only a warning as to your conduct con- cerning Elizabeth. Yet they were not niggardly in their commendation of you. It was said that the lads' love for you is the strongest factor in ruling their behaviour ; that your untiring care Deacon, {interrupting) Mercy Dearborn, do you not know that it was decided to say naught of this to Mr. Belden's face? Even a Christian minister is affected by flattery. G. D. An you had censure to bestow, you would not stint it. {She goes up the steps.) Deacon. It is true, as Goodwife Dearborn saith, that you are called to the ministry among us, on the condition which you understand. Do you agree to that condition? Belden. {miserably) I do. Deacon. I rejoice at your decision, Mr. Belden. We should have been sorry to lose you. And now, as the wind bloweth chill, I must wend my way homeward. Good-night. Belden. Good-night, Deacon Small. {He goes up stage with deacon.) Deacon, {going to gate c.) But who is that com- ing on the lame horse? Methinks 'tis someone I should know. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 39 Belden. I know him not. Deacon. My faith, 'tis the Northampton con- stable. (Enter from u. r., Constable coming c.) Constable. Is this the dwelling of the Widow Dearborn? Belden. It is. Constable. I have a summons for her daughter Elizabeth. (All gasp " Elizabeth " and " Betty.") Betty. I am she. Constable. Thou atr bidden to appear before the magistrates of Northampton in the meeting house on Tuesday next for breaking of the Sumptuary Laws. G. D. Who art thou? Constable. I am the constable of Northampton. G. D. I will not suffer my daughter to be sum- moned to court, (she begins to cry. Betty com- forts her) Oh, Tom, would that thou wert large enow to protect thy sister. Tom. (in the door, waking up sufficientlyytopgrasp the situation) Will they put Betty in the pillory? (1 Vails long and loud.) Belden. No, Tom, they will not hurt her. (Exit Constable.) G. D. It shameth me, Mr. Belden, that you should have been a witness to such a painful scene. As for you, Epaphrus Small, an my daughter is not good enow for a minister, then is her mother not good enow for a deacon. 4 o PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. (She goes up the steps.) Deacon, (trying not to show his real disappoint- ment) A pretty muddle we have here, John Belden, a pretty muddle ! (Exit c. dejectedly.) Belden. I comprehend it not at all. It seemeth like an evil spite. Betty, I need not tell thee that when Tuesday cometh I will be there to speak for thine honor and to save thee. Betty. What wilt thou do? An thou shouldst save me, who would be there to save thee ? Belden. Verily, that concerneth me not. Betty. But it concerneth me. Belden. Child, "he that loseth his life shall save " Betty. But what of him that loseth his parish? Oh, thou knowest how I am looked upon here. They would no longer have thee for their minister. Belden. Then it pleaseth God to call me else- where. There awaiteth great work on the frontier. Betty. No, oh, no, John. Thou must not go. I — why come to the meeting? Have I not David? David will protect me. Belden. Even thy — even he cannot speak per- chance with the authority of thy minister. Betty. Ah Belden. The colony doth wrong thee, child. It is my duty to point out the error of their evil opinion. Betty. Do not come, I beg thee. I Belden. Oh, my dear, thinkest thou it were hard to lose a parish, when compared with losing thee? CURTAIN. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 41 ACT II. Scene II : — Northampton Meeting House. The sexton enters, carrying keys, and opens the shutters. He ushers in Deacon Small who looks apprehensively behind him. Enter the Magistrate and Elkanah Palsons. Magistrate. Ah, Epaphrus Small, {they shake hands) Thou art come to the trial? Deacon, {mourn f idly) Yea, Jonathan. Magistrate. What aileth thee? Deacon. Verily, she would not speak to me once during the entire journey. Magistrate, {puzzled) Of whom speakest thou, Epaphrus ? Deacon. Of whom but Goodwife Dearborn of Hatfield? Magistrate. And why would she not speak to thee? Deacon. She saith that I am to blame because Elizabeth is summoned to court for breaking of the Sumptuary Laws. Magistrate. Was then Elizabeth Dearborn betrothed to the minister? Deacon. Nay, I did but warn him against it. Magistrate. Methinks thou didst hardly take the surest means of keeping them apart. Deacon, {doggedly) I did but do my duty. {Enter first part of mob.) Magistrate, {kindly) That I know, Epaphrus. {smiling) It is a matter of regret that thine in- clinations and thy duty should become involved with the same family. 42 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Deacon, (shaking his head mournfully) I would the girl had been some other woman's daughter. (earnestly) How gladly would I believe Elizabeth to be quiet, thoughtful and obedient like her dear mother, but my conscience forbids. I know her to be frivolous Magistrate. Thou 'hadst best save thine evi- dence for the court. Deacon. Your pardon, Jonathan. But verily, I have done my best to spare the Goodwife this dis- grace. Elkanah. He hath reasoned with Elizabeth on all occasions. He hath rebuked her, pointed out to her the error of her ways and tried to convince her that she is on the road to perdition, but 'twas all in vain. Magistrate. Didst ever hear the story of the contest between the sun and the wind, Epaphrus? Deacon. Nay, I mind it not. 'Tis not in the Bible. Magistrate. Nay, he who wrote it was a pagan, but methinks his writings are not without merit. (he goes toward the door) It is high time that I prepared me for the trial, (exit l. ) (The Constable goes to the door r. and leaning out, rings the bell.) Constable. Hear ye! Hear ye! All persons having anything to do before this honorable court, draw near, give your attention. God save the king! (The deacon goes r. and sits down. Enter Good- wife Dearborn, Betty, Tom and Lucie. Lucie sits near the back. Betty zcears a long gray cloak. She bozvs to the deacon but Good- wife Dearborn and Tom pointedly ignore him. He wilts visibly. When they are seated, enter Goodwife Parsons. She sits in front of the PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 43 Dearborns and turns around to speak to them.) G. P. Let us mourn together, Mercy Dearborn. Verily I do feel now how keen must be thy suffer- ing. I understand since my Experience ran away what it is to have an ungrateful child. G. D. Silence Parsons, do not so speak to me. Elizabeth's wrongdoing was without intention. {pause) And yet be my friend, Silence. We have sore need of friends now. {she begins to cry. Then her curiosity gets the better of her) What dost thou hear from Experience? G. P. She and David were wedded the night they ran away and they were in Hartford when she did write to me. {cries) She saith she is very happy. G. D. Thou must not feel so badly. David is a good lad. G. P. Ay, but not good enough for my Ex- perience. I had destined her for the minister. {weeps again) G. D. Belike a higher power had destined her for David. {The door opens and a sentinel steps in. He stands by the door. The suspectors file in and sit down. The lazvyer enters and sits down.) G. P. I do not see Mr. Belden. G. D. He was suddenly called away to a sick woman, but he hath promised to come. Constable, (rapping) Court! {Enter Magistrate l. All rise. The Magistrate nods to the Constable.) Constable. Be seated! {all sit) Magistrate. Elkanah Parsons, be pleased to act 44 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. as clerk. Elizabeth Dearborn, come forward and listen to the charges now to be preferred against thee. (The Constable comes and brings Betty forward. He stands guard over her.) Clerk. Thou art here indicted by the name of Elizabeth Dearborn on the charge that, not having the fear of God before thine eyes and not holding a due respect toward the laws of this colony, thou hast worn, both here and in thy home in Hatfield, silk scarfs, lace above two shillings a yard, a neck- lace and a silk garment made with short sleeves. Likewise, thou hast been seen with thy face painted. Thou hast behaved with frivolity and with a light- ness unbefitting a maiden. Magistrate. Elizabeth Dearborn, art thou guilty or not guilty? (she does not answer) Guilty or not guilty? Betty. Let the court decide ! (Her cloak falls from her and there is a gasp of amazement from the assembly. She zvcars her silk dress, her scarf and her necklace.) Clerk. Hear ye ! Hear ye ! Hear ye ! If anyone can inform the Magistrate of any misdemeanors committed or done by the accused, let him come forth and he shall be heard, for the accused stands now at the bar upon her deliverance. (No one stirs.) Magistrate. Doth no one appear to give evi- dence against the accused? (he leans forward and whispers to the clerk) Goodwife Parsons. (Goodwife Parsons comes forward.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 45 Meekins. How long have you known the defen- dant? G. P. All her life. Meekins. What was her character? (she does not answer) Woman, you must answer truly. G. P. It is with reluctance that I speak. She did behave in a hoydenish manner. She did disregard her mother's admonitions. (Goodwife Dearborn bounces angrily.) Meekins. Have you observed her otherwise than in her own home? G. P. Yea, at mine. Meekins. How did she conduct herself there? G. P. She did romp and play boisterously. Meekins. How was she dressed? G. P. She wore silk and gay colors in defiance of my protests. Meekins. How did she, in her mother's poor condition, obtain such things? G. P. She hath an aunt in Hartford who is most lavish with gifts to her. Meekins. Were all the things she wore gifts to her? G. P. No, one silk dress she made from some silk belonging to her mother. Meekins. Did her mother give her the material ? G. P. No, she obtained it by stealth. Meekins. Did you ever see her when her face was painted? G. P. No. Meekins. That will do. Magistrate. Deacon Epaphrus Small. (Goodwife Parsons returns to her seat. The Deacon takes the stand. Goodwife Dearborn glares at him.) 46 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Meekins. What do you know of the character of Elizabeth Dearborn? Deacon. She hath alway been most disrespectful to me and to all others in authority. Meekins. Have you seen her gaily attired? Deacon. I have. Meekins. Have you seen her when her face was painted ? Deacon. Yes, last week. Tom. (jumping up) I did it! I did it! Magistrate. Thomas Dearborn, come forward. (Tom comes forward and stands beside the deacon) What is thine evidence? Tom. 'Twas I who painted Betty's face. I did it with the rouge-stick my aunt sent from Hartford. Betty was not even willing to have me do it. Magistrate. That will do, Thomas, (he returns to his seat) Meekins. Was she wont to observe the Sabbath day? Deacon. Not two weeks ago did I see her one Saturday evening playing at catch among the trees with her brother, singing, laughing and otherwise breaking the Sabbath. Meekins. How did she behave on other days? Deacon. She did set the primer to music, most frivolous music, which she did sing. Meekins. That will do. (the Deacon goes back to his seat. The door opens and Belden enters. He is flushed from exercise and is spattered with mud. He does not look like a minister. Betty sees him first and trembles) Elizabeth Dearborn, according to law I ask thee whether thou art de- sirous of pleading thine own cause. An thou findest thyself unfit to plead thine own cause in the court, thou mayst have " liberty to imploy any man against whom the Court doth not except " to help thee, provided thou givest him " noe fee or reward for his paines." PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 47 Betty, {her eyes on Belden) I wish for no defense. Meekins. Then I wish to begin my speech by reading those words with which we should all be familiar, but which, I grieve to say, many among us do not follow, the words of the blessed apostle Paul : " I will therefore, that women adorn them- selves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety ; not with broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array." War is disastrous enow, but peace is disastrous in that it undermines the mcrals of the people, giving them time to turn their thoughts to worldly and unlawful things. It is evident that Elizabeth Dearborn's way of life has not been by any means such as a maiden's should be and as is described by the apostle Paul. It has been shown that she is unruly, frivolous and fond of extravagance. In one case she did not stop at theft to obtain her desire. Such a person should be made an example. {During this speech, Belden has written something rtt/i n mtrrl nitrf ri^raii *f in th/7 cr>t/itv\y rroth n 1 vri a card and given it to the sentry who, turn, has given it to the magistrate.) ■in Magistrate. It hath been suggested that, in the absence of any counsel for the defense, the minister of the defendant be allowed to speak on her behalf. Doth anyone in this court except against John Belden of Hatfield? . Elkanah. {rising) We are not here to listen to sermons ! Magistrate. Elkanah Parsons, hast thou no respect for a man of God? The object of this court is justice. Let John Belden come forward. (Belden comes forward and faces the assembly.) Belden. Honored Magistrate, neighbors of the 48 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. colony, it hath been said that ye are not here to listen unto sermons. Nay, but wherefore are yet met together in this house if it be not to put into action that which ye have learned from holy scrip- ure? Neghbors of the colony, forget not that ye are solemnly bounden to exercise great Christian con- descension towards each other. Also ye are charged to uphold the high idea of liberty which in all time, praise God, shall be imbibed from our New Eng- land. Therefore are ye exhorted to preserve firm- ness in opposing every encroachment upon the religious and civil privileges of the people of this colony. As man of God I charge ye regarding this young maid — are ye practicing great Christian condescen- sion ; are ye upholding the liberty of New England ; are ye granting the rightful privileges of the colonists ? This maid ye have charged with trespass against the Sumptuary Laws. The law saith that a woman may wear out the clothes which she already hath an they have not " immoderate great sleeves or slashed apparel." Doth she stand in condemnation of that offence? An she doth, gentlemen of the colony, it is not she but I, her pastor and our greatly revered neighbor, her mother who have offended. For albeit the devising of the frock was undertaken somewhat in the spirit of mirth, it hath not been worn save by consent from both of us. I have given the matter most prayerful consideration and it hath been disclosed unto me that there is naught sinful in a woman's desire for " purple and fine linen." Do ye charge me with the breaking of the Sumptuary Laws? Gentlemen of the colony, I make confession be- fore ye all that pondered have I deeply upon the brightness of the color wherein this maid is clothed. It dazzleth us; it hath the lightness of the poppy PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 49 and, to a measure, the charm of what is ungodly. But, brethren of mine, within the week one most pious of your number hath been noted to put on a flash of temper as startling and fiery as the color before you. I demand of your inmost hearts to tell me, is it not a greater sin for the soul to blaze in the brilliancy of an unholy fury than for the body to be clad in raiment no brighter than a summer rose? Further, I charge ye to answer by what right ye assert this maid to be frivolous? I am but now arrived from a visit upon a poor sick woman. The. week past I was upon one evening started to pay her a call in her misery, when of her own will and thoughtfulness Mistress Elizabeth Dearborn laded me with a basket of food and medicine, from the receiving whereof old Abigail made great steps to recovery. Brethren, mark ye now the providential hand of the Lord. The corner house in the street called Conney's, toward the north end of the village, was set on fire about four in the morn. The middle of the roof only was fired for it was discovered by an ancient woman rising early and so prevented, praised be God. That woman, friends, was Abigail Moses, whose new health had bestirred her to go about her work at an early hour. Were it not, therefore, for the depth of the heart of this young woman, where were the preservation of the whole village from the furious fangs of fire? Dare ye attach to her lightness of character? Dare ye con- demn ore who hath proven to be an instrument of the Lord? Lastly, brethren, I commend ye to our charters, the habits it hath engendered, the principles which the settlement of the country hath inspired, and in all things dreadfully to seek God who many times before hath touched your hearts. Elk an ah. (angrily) What right hath this man to defend this woman ? 5o PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Belden. (clearly) The right which every man hath to defend the honor of the woman he. loves. Meekins. What? Mr. Belden, sir, this is un- seemly, most unseemly. I should like to ask you, sir, do you forget you are a minister ? Belden. (sadly) Will ye never learn, my brethren? (Betty is trembling so that she can hardly stand. She reaches down and takes up her long coat. She wraps it around her, hiding her dress and her jewels. Her obstinate defiance is gone.) Magistrate. Hath Elizabeth Dearborn aught to say? Betty. I throw myself on the mercy of the court. (The suspectors put their heads together for a moment.) Magistrate. Have the suspectors agreed upon a verdict? Suspector. We have. The verdict of the sus- pectors is " Not guilty." (There is general excitement. Everyone rises. Tom rushes to the door.) Constable, (rapping) Order! Silence in the court-room! (the Magistrate rises and nods to the Constable) Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! All persons having anything further to do before this Honorable Court at present depart and give your attendance at this place to-morrow morning at ten of the clock, to which time and place this meeting is now adjourned. God save the king! First Suspector. I have a deal of wood to chop before nightfall. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 51 Second Suspector. My wife hath asked me to see to bringing down a heavy chest from the attic. This seemeth a most favorable opportunity for so doing, (exeunt) Magistrate. Thinkest thou she will speak to thee now, Epaphrus? Deacon. I know not. Magistrate. And the lad — 'twas a good speech. Youth, red blood, the world before him. Oh, Epaphrus, what a cussed thing it is to be a man of judgment ! CURTAIN. ACT III. Scene : — Betty and Tom are discovered. Betty is working on a sampler. Tom is playing marbles. Tom. (coaxingly) Come and play at catch with me, Betty, (going over to her) What hath come over thee ? Thy diligence appalleth me ! And thou art so sad. Why dost thou not jump for joy that thou hast escaped the law? (capers about) Thou hadst not even to pay anything. Didst mind the deacon? Methought his eyes would pop from out his head ! Betty, (aroused) Ay, tell me, what said the deacon ? And the elders ? Tom. They did say but little but they did look — (doubles up with laughter) I vow they did look whole books of scripture. Betty, (fearfully) Said they — said they aught of Mr. Belden? Tom. (carelessly) I know not. Betty, (half to herself) And I can do naught 52 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. for him! (impulsively) Oh, he will lose his parish. Tom. Wherefore? Betty. Because he hath defended me. Because of what he said — because — The deacons did for- bid him to think of me thus. Tom. (with the utmost sang froid) Because he hath said that he did love thee? Do not trouble thyself, (comfortingly) Belike he did say it but to bait the magistrate. Betty, (rising indignantly) Nay, ministers do not lie. Tom. Never? (Betty shakes her head) Methinks 'twould be monstrous hard to be a minister, (thought f idly) To be a minister's wife is but a sorry task. She hath to endure all the hardships and the minister too. Thou wouldst have had to walk with John down the aisle after meet- ing every Sunday in the face of the whole congrega- tion. Thou wouldst Betty, (rising) Hold thy tongue, Tom! Tom. See, thou canst not even bear the mention of it. (Betty sits dozen again) When, think you, we shall start for Hartford? Betty. For Hartford? Tom. Ay, did mother not say that we should go and live with Aunt Mindwell? Betty. I had forgotten. Tom. Then can the deacon trouble us no more. (plays with marbles) When we go to live in Hart- ford, mayhap mother will allow me to go to the wolf-hunt, (pause) Art thou not glad that we are going to live in Hartford? Betty. I will try to be glad. Tom. 'Tis said to be a monstrous fine town. Betty. Ay, 'twas founded by people from Massachusetts. I — I wonder if anyone — I wonder if they will miss us, Tom. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 53 Tom. The deacon will miss us. (chuckles) So also will the tithing man. Betty, (dejectedly) Methinks the deacons and elders will have overmuch spare time when we are gone. Tom. (confidently) Satan will find " some mis- chief still " for their " idle hands to do." Betty. I wonder who will live in our house and — and who will take care of Mr. Belden. Tom. (soothingly) I doubt not Mr. Belden will be well taken care of. He will marry some maid of the colony. Betty. Marry? Tom. Ay, why not? (mimics the deacon) "It is not good for man to be alone." Betty, (half to herself) Marry? Tom. Do not all the men of the colony marry? Betty. Thou art right, Tom. He will marry some maid of the colony, someone who is quiet and gentle, — who has never been haled before the magistrate — (she goes tozvard the house crying) Tom. Why Betty, I did not mean — (Betty goes into the house) Betty, Betty! (goes in after her) (Enter from the street Goodwife Parsons and Goodwife Dearborn. They wear bonnets and cloaks. ) G. P. 'Twas a most indecent exhibition of feel- ing. G. D. Thou thinkest G. P. To stand up before the whole court and say he loved her. G. D. But an he did love her G. P. That has naught to do with it 'Tis bad enough to love, but to say so before the whole assembly — 'Twas immodest. I blushed to hear him. G. D. But they did ask him. 54 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. G. P. Had they pressed the point, methinks it might have been not unmannerly for him to say that he had some slight interest in Elizabeth, (both c. ) G. D. But if that were not the whole truth? G. P. Even a minister rteecletff'not tell all that he knoweth. G. D. (sighing) Mayhap thou art right, Silence Parsons. But it pleaseth me to know that the lad hath red blood in his veins. 'Twas a brave speech and he risked much to make it. But, an he lose his parish because of it, I rejoice that he did make it and that the lass he defended was my daughter. G. P. 'Twas not a bad speech. He did it with a fervor which I have never observed when I have heard him preach here. G. D. 'Twas because his heart was in it. G. P. (scornfully) What hath the heart to do with preaching? (Goes l. c.) G. D. Oft times all too little. Didst mark the look in his eyes, Silence? It did mind me of Elizabeth's father. G. P. (surprised) Of Elizabeth's father? Nay, •he was one of the sanest men I have ever known. G. D. Can not a man love and still be sane? G. P. Why dost thou not ask " May a man not be mad and still be sane ? " G. D. (smiling) I trow thou hast ne'er beenimad, else thou wouldst not speak thus scornfully. G. P. Methinks thou art mad at this moment. G. D. Thou'rt as bad as a deacon of the church. G. P. Thou to speak thus — thou who art to marry a deacon ! G. D. Nay, Silence ! 'Tis true I did for a brief space»Vthink that mayhap — But that is over now. Mine eyes were dazzled with the glory of being the wife of a deacon, but now I see clearly. I had PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 55 thought to forget ; the lad hath shown me there is something sweeter — to remember. G. P. (incredulously) Thou wouldst refuse to marry a deacon of the church? G. D. (indifferently) I am sick of hearing of him. G. P. Take care how thou speakest. They will duck thee for a scold. (Enter the Deacon behind them, unobserved.) G. D. 'Twould be worth a ducking to be able to tell him what I think of him. Deacon. Now is the time, Goodwife Dearborn, for thee to embrace thine opportunity, (both turn around, surprised. G. P. retreats hastily into the garden) G. D. (embarrassed but game) Good-day, Deacon Small. Which of my household hast thou come to hale to court to-day? Deacon, (somewhat taken aback) Nay, thou dost mistake, Goodwife Dearborn. G. D. (dryly) Methinks 'twas thou who didst mistake. To drag an innocent child before the magistrate ! Deacon. But G. D. 'Twas a great shock to her. She hath not been the same since. Deacon. But 'twas not I. I had naught to do with it. G. D. Nay, thou hadst not the spunk to do it. (Deacon gazes at her open-mouthed) An thou hadst had the spunk, thou wouldst have done it. Are there no men in Hatfield save the minister? (Deacon sits down.) Deacon. I did but do my duty. G. D. Ay, thy duty. Thou dost make an idol of 56 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. it. What of thy duty to me, whom thou hast called friend ? When my daughter stood up in open court, where wast thou but on the stand, testifying against her? The only person who could say aught in her defense was this boy who six months ago was a stranger to us. An I speak hotly, Deacon Small, remember 'tis because I do feel strongly. I will remain no longer, lest I say aught of which I may repent me. (Goes into the house. The deacon sits with his chin on his hands, which clasp his cane. Enter along the street the Magistrate. Seeing the deacon, he enters.) Magistrate. Good morrow, Epaphrus Small. Deacon. Good morrow, Jonathan. Magistrate. I was on my way to thy house, but seeing thee here, I did stop. Deacon. Thou comest upon me at an evil time, Jonathan. She will do naught but berate me. Magistrate. Methinks thy wooing progresseth. When last I saw thee, she would not speak to thee at all. Deacon. An it progresseth, I fear me 'tis back- wards. Magistrate. Thy methods, Epaphrus, are they those which thou hast employed in the case of her daughter ? Deacon. My late discouragement did drive all thoughts of her from my mind. After the recent occurrence at Northampton, we did convene a meet- ing of the deacons and elders. It was decided that although John Belden's (coughs) outburst was most lamentable, nevertheless, in view of the candidate's youth, it should be overlooked and he should still be called to this parish. Twas his dis- course which decided us. 'Twas true the subject was an unfortunate one, but he did deliver it with a PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 57 fire which was of a truth a revelation. It was with satisfaction that I did mark how he managed his thirdly and fourthly. Magistrate, {impatiently) Yes, yes, and when are the banns to be published? Deacon. Whose banns? Magistrate. The banns of Elizabeth Dearborn and John Belden. Deacon, (pounding with his cane) Brr-rrr ! Magistrate, (amazed) But John Belden loveth the lass. Deacon, (dryly) Ay, he did make that most uncommon evident. But did I not tell thee that the deacons and elders of the church did forbid him to marry her? Magistrate. Yea, thou didst tell me. Thou didst also tell John Belden, but methinks thine admonitions were but of little effect. Deacon, (impressively) We have spoken. Magistrate. So also hath the minister. " The end is not yet," Epaphrus Small. Deacon. Meanest thou that he will marry her anyway? Then shall he be cast out of this parish. She is no fit wife for a man of God. Magistrate. Thou'rt a hard man, Epaphrus. Deacon, (stubbornly) I do but do my duty. Magistrate. Thou shouldst know her better than I, and yet — Didst thou see her face when he did defend her? Deacon. Ay, there was in it an unholy joy. Magistrate. Thou wilt never remove mountains with thy faith, Epaphrus. Deacon. The day of miracles is past. I do but perform what seerheth to me right. Dost think that I enjoy to be looked askance at by Goodwife Dear- born? I would that I might believe the girl to be what thou seemest to think her. I have no personal spite against her; 'tis but a matter of principle. Show me that I have misjudged her and I will with- 58 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. draw my objection and (somewhat proudly) I may say that mine opinion is not without weight among the deacons and elders. Magistrate, (approvingly) Thou speakest fairly. An I do not mistake, 'twill be an easy thing to prove. We will ask her to come out. (goes over and knocks at the door. Lucie comes to the door) Is Elizabeth Dearborn within? Lucie. Yes, sir. Magistrate. I would have speech with her. Lucie. Yes, sir. (She goes into the house. The Magistrate and Deacon show signs of nervousness. Betty comes out. ) Magistrate. Good morrow, Elizabeth Dearborn. Betty. Good morrow, sir. Good morrow, Deacon Small. (Deacon is surprised at her quiet and dignified manner. Magistrate pokes deacon to make him speak but the deacon will not. There is an awkward pause) You would have speech with me? Magistrate. Ay, on a matter of great import. (Pokes the deacon again.) Deacon, (somewhat at a loss) A matter of the greatest import, (clears his throat) 'Tis concern- ing John Belden. (Betty starts) The committee hath decided to overlook his late indiscretion. But there still remaineth in my mind some uncertainty. Since his feelings are so strong as to cause him to do violence to the proprieties, I doubt not he will choose thee without his parish rather than his parish without thee. Betty. That he must not do ! I did plead with him not to defend me, but it was in vain. But it is not yet too late. My mother purposeth to remove to PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 59 Hartford. (Deacon looks blank) I will go with her and he shall never see me more. Deacon. But he did say before the whole court that he did — that he did {coughs) take some slight interest in thee. Betty, (proudly) Ay, he did say he loved me. That canst thou never take away from me. And be- cause he was willing to swear " to his own hurt " and change not, I care for him too much to spoil his life. Deacon, (still unable to believe) I marvel at thee, Elizabeth. That all the admonitions of the men of authority in this parish should be of less avail than the " I love thee " of a young whipper- snapper. (Magistrate gradually retreats up stage.) Betty, (smiling a little) Methinks thou hast never loved, Deacon Small. Deacon, (gloomily) Methinks I have loved Deacon Small too much. (Betty looks at him. He looks slowly up at her. It dawns on both of them that the Deacon has tried to make a joke. She begins to laugh, rather hysterically. A smile breaks over his face and he tries to laugh, although it is hard work. Exit Magistrate) When doth thy mother purpose to remove to Hartford? (Both stop laughing.) Betty. I know not. I hope it will be soon. (Grows sadder and sadder.) Deacon. Hartford is a long way from here. Betty, (dejectedly) Ay. Deacon. Hatfield will miss thee. Thinkest thou she might be persuaded to change her mind? 60 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Betty. I trow not. (he, lips begin to quiver) Have I not given rrr promise to go ? Deacon. Thou makest me co feci that I do drive thee out of Hatfield. It ma be that I have been mistaken in thee, Elizabeth, (she begins to cry. He looks embarrassed, but awkwardly tries to pat her arm. She cries harder and cannot find her handkerchief. He pulls out his own and gives it to her. Then lie slowly and as if afraid of breaking her puts his arm around her shoulders. Soothingly) I might have known that thy mother's daughter could be naught but good, (she still sobs) For him to marry anyone else while loving thee, 'twould be a sin and " it is not good for man to be alone." (she looks up quickly) I am an old man, Elizabeth. It hath been borne in upon me of late. I have tried to be just, but it may be that there is something- higher than justice. Betty. I do feel that I have never before ap- preciated thee, Deacon Small. Deacon, (looking around) I had forgot Jonathan, (they go up stage and look down the road) I must after him. I would have him help me to tell John Belden. Betty. Oh, no! No! Deacon. We have not yet told him that we have decided to overlook his conduct in the Northampton meeting house. Betty. Oh ! Deacon, (mischievously) The rest thou canst tell him. Betty. Nay, I will not! (Exit Deacon dozvn the road. Goodwife Dear- born bustles out of the house.) G. D. What was the noise I did*near but late? It sounded like the cackle of a hen. Was there a hawk in the hen-coop? PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 61 Betty, {looking puzzeld) Belike thou didst hear the deacon laugh. G. D. Laugh? The deacon? Betty. Ay. G. D. He knoweth not how to laugh. As for thee, an I mistake not, thou hast been weeping. Betty. I have both laughed and wept, (begins to look embarrassed) Mother, the deacon hath been most kind. He did apologize for his conduct to- ward me. (At the word " Deacon " Goodwife Dearborn's face hardens.) G. D. Is that all? Betty. He did say that being the daughter of such a mother, I could be naught but good. (G. D. begins to relent.) G. D. He did say that, did he ? Betty. Ay, and he did say that — he did also say G. D. Go on ! What aiieth thee, girl ? Betty. He did also say that for Mr. Belden to marry another when caring for me, would be a sin. G. D. (prtending scorn) So of their grace they will allow him to marry thee? Betty, (timidly) But I can not marry him an he doth not ask me. G. D. Ask thee ? Perchance I may contrive that he will ask thee. Betty. No, mother ! Thou shalt not ! G. D. I would but give him a slight hint. Betty, (commandingly) No! I will be thrown at no man's head, (they go tozvards the house) Give me my will in this, mother. G. D. (ruefully) I vow thou hast not changed so much after all ! 62 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. (They go into the house. Enter from the street John Belden, looking very sad. He sits down on the bench, taking off his hat. He looks wistfully once or twice towards the house, then begins to read a learned-looking book which he carries. Enter from the street the Deacon and the Magistrate. They pause a moment and then enter.) Deacon. Good day, Mr. Belden. Belden. (rising) Good day, Deacon Small. Good day, sir. (his air is slightly defiant) Will you not come within? Deacon. Nay, 'tis not necessary. Belden. I prithee come and be seated. Deacon. Nay, we must not bide. Belden. Can I do aught for you? Deacon, (impressively) "We are come to tell you that despite your somewhat irregular conduct in the Northampton meeting house, you are still to be called to be minister of this parish. Belden. (stiffly) I thank you. Deacon. I — I feel that I have mayhap some- what misjudged Elizabeth Dearborn. Belden. It doth gratify me to know that you are of that opinion. Deacon. Your defence of her hath opened my eyes. Belden. I thought it my duty to correct an unjust opinion. (Magistrate and Deacon look at each other.) Deacon, (craftily) But are you willing to make the same promise which was before required of you? Belden. (sadly) I am. (Magistrate and Deacon smile knowingly at each other and draw nearer to Belden.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 63 Magistrate. We have come to say that it is pos- sible Deacon. That it is in fact most probable Magistrate. That it is very likely that you will not be called upon to keep that promise. Deacon. That it is to be expected that you will be released from it. (Both stare at Belden, expecting him to show surprise.) Belden. Do I understand that the church with- draws its objection to my taking Elizabeth Dearborn to wife? Deacon, (beaming) It is most likely that such will be the case. (They look expectantly at Belden but he says nothing.) Magistrate, (impatiently) Well, John Belden? Belden. What, sir? Magistrate. Have you nothing to say ? Belden. (civilly) I am much rejoiced that you have reached a better understanding of the char- acter of a most estimable young woman. Deacon. Methinks he doth not yet comprehend, Jonathan. Magistrate. Suffer me to make it plain to him, Epaphrus. John Belden, an you will, you are free to marry her. Belden. (comprehending) And did you think it was the displeasure of the elders which kept me from it? You do mistake, my friends. 'Tis not for fear of either deacons or elders that I do not marry Elizabeth Dearborn. 'Tis because she doth not choose me ! (Magistrate and Deacon sit down hard on the bench.) 6 4 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Both. What? Belden. (dejectedly) Nay, she loveth another. (Magistrate and Deacon gasp and sit with mouths open.) Magistrate. Tis impossible. Deacon. Thou didst lure me into this, Jonathan. (They gasp again. Then they lean forward.) Magistrate. I could have sworn — (gets up) Deacon, (getting up) In truth it did appear as if (Both edge up stage.) Both. Good day, Mr. Belden. Belden. Good day, sirs. Deacon, (as they go out) We did but do our duty, Jonathan. (Belden gives a long sigh and another glance to- wards the house. Then he sits down on the bench with his back to the house and begins to read. Betty conies out of the house and stands for a moment on the porch, looking at Belden. She smiles a little.) Betty, (to herself) Nay, I'll not do it. 'Tis unmaidenly. (takes one step down) An I did it, I could never forgive myself, (she steps to the ground) 'Tis not even leap year. (she 7valks slowly and hesitatingly towards Belden until she stands behind him. Speaking almost in his ear) Is't not a lovely day? (He jumps up, dropping the book. They stare at each other.) PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 65 Belden. (unable to take his eyes off of her and speaking slowly) What didst thou ask me? Betty. I said 'twas a lovely day. Belden. Yea, verily. And thou art well? The trial hath not fatigued thee? Methinks it hath not harmed thine appearance. Betty, (shyly) Methinks I have not hitherto appreciated the law. Belden. And can you forgive me? Betty. Forgive? Belden. For speaking — for saying — Betty, I could not withstand their hard faces. My own temper waxed wroth. I had to speak and say that I did love you ! (Hangs his head.) Betty, (anxiously) And thou didst — you did — not mean it? Belden. (fervently but wretchedly) Ay, thou knowst I love thee with my whole heart. (Betty smiles) But 'twas not for them to hear. 'Twas for thee alone. Betty. In truth, to hear you say it at all has been a privilege which I have been permitted to enjoy but seldom ! Belden. (in the depths of despondency) It would not be right for me to urge thee now when thou art weak in the sorrow that he whom thou dost love hath married another. Why do I trouble thee ? (Goes towards house.) Betty. Yes, why? I am minded of something David hath said. Belden. David ! I fear I despise him. Betty, (tremulously) Why should you despise a man who has been dead hundreds of years ? (Belden stares at her) I did speak of King David. DEC 13 1913 66 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. Was't not he who said "All men are liars?" (edging farther away) Methinks when he did say that, he was over-chivalrous to the women. Belden. (going over to her) What meanest thou ? (seises her hands) Thou art too quick for me. Betty, is it possible — ? Betty, (firmly) I will help thee no more. Belden. (joyously) Then must I help myself. ' Why art thou cast down ? " (Kisses her.) CURTAIN. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 215 179 4 $