Pennywell had brought down and wrapped them in the blanket. Mr. Pennywell gave me a coin. I put the money, silver and paper, which was less than two pounds, in my dress and I climbed the stairs to the kitchen. I took a loaf of bread from the hearth and left sixpence to pay for it.
I waited in the hickory grove until dawn. Then I set off for Mrs. Jessop's to return her Bible. I walked fast, among the trees most of the time.
Mrs. Jessop saw me on the road and came running out to meet me. All the early morning clouds had rolled in from westward. Now it was raining and I was wet through.
She took me into the house, built up a fire, and helped me dry off. I told her as best I could what had happened during the time I had been away, some of the things. I thought she might want to get rid of me, the way things were, but she said she had a place for me to sleep and I could stay as long as I wanted to.
"You can't go back to the farm. People are squatting in the ruins. The Sullivans. Three brothers, black-haired and black-hearted. You'd best not go near them."
I didn't want to go back to the farm. I wanted to go as far away from the sounds of battle, the hatred and the killings, as my feet would take me. Everything was mixed up in my mind, but this I knew for certain.
I untied the bundle and took out her Bible.
"Keep it," she begged me. "Hold it close. It'll guide your steps in the paths of righteousness. It'll comfort you. It'll protect you from evil."
Her words angered me. "It did not protect my father," I burst out. "Nor did it protect my brother."
Mrs. Jessop stared at me as if I had suddenly sprouted the devil's horns. She snatched the Bible from my hands, opened it, and marked a place with a finger.
"Job Five, eighteen," she said. "'He woundeth, and his hands make whole.'"
"I am not whole. I am sick and alone."
Mrs. Jessop frowned, but went on. "Job Five, seventeen. 'Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth.'" "I am not happy," I said. "And why should God correct me by killing my father and my brother? What of them? Why should they die for me? I don't understand."
Mrs. Jessop said, "You will understand, later, when you grow older. As Job understood." She turned several pages of the Bible, but spoke from memory, fixing her gaze upon me. "'Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind ... Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?... When the morning stars sang together?... Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea?... Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow?... Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven?... Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are?'"
Her eyes bored in upon me, two sparks of fire under her dark brows. "Like Job, you do not know all there is to know," she said. "Therefore, despise not the chastening of the Almighty."
I bit my lip, but answered her in a clear voice. "I do despise the chastening."
My words were barely spoken when lightning streaked across the lowering sky and a thunderclap shook the house.
Mrs. Jessop threw up her hands in horror. She plucked at the air. The Bible fell to the floor and lay there, its leaves fluttering.
"God has spoken," she cried.
A second flash of lightning flashed across the heavens. Thunder rolled, louder this time and closer. The smell of burning entered the room.
"Repent!" Mrs. Jessop croaked.
A yellow cat that was dozing on the hearth arched its back and showed its teeth. Mrs. Jessop's aunt, who had been sitting quietly near the fire, tried to rise from her chair, but slipped and fell.
"Repent thy words ere God destroys us," Mrs. Jessop cried. "Repent!"
I did not answer. Her aunt lay groaning on the floor. I gathered up my bundle and the Bible. I do not know why I took it, except that the Bible, my father's Bible, had been a part of me all the days of my life. I thanked Mrs. Jessop and fled out the door. It had stopped raining.
There was another roll of thunder. I
I waited in the hickory grove until dawn. Then I set off for Mrs. Jessop's to return her Bible. I walked fast, among the trees most of the time.
Mrs. Jessop saw me on the road and came running out to meet me. All the early morning clouds had rolled in from westward. Now it was raining and I was wet through.
She took me into the house, built up a fire, and helped me dry off. I told her as best I could what had happened during the time I had been away, some of the things. I thought she might want to get rid of me, the way things were, but she said she had a place for me to sleep and I could stay as long as I wanted to.
"You can't go back to the farm. People are squatting in the ruins. The Sullivans. Three brothers, black-haired and black-hearted. You'd best not go near them."
I didn't want to go back to the farm. I wanted to go as far away from the sounds of battle, the hatred and the killings, as my feet would take me. Everything was mixed up in my mind, but this I knew for certain.
I untied the bundle and took out her Bible.
"Keep it," she begged me. "Hold it close. It'll guide your steps in the paths of righteousness. It'll comfort you. It'll protect you from evil."
Her words angered me. "It did not protect my father," I burst out. "Nor did it protect my brother."
Mrs. Jessop stared at me as if I had suddenly sprouted the devil's horns. She snatched the Bible from my hands, opened it, and marked a place with a finger.
"Job Five, eighteen," she said. "'He woundeth, and his hands make whole.'"
"I am not whole. I am sick and alone."
Mrs. Jessop frowned, but went on. "Job Five, seventeen. 'Behold, happy is the man whom God correcteth.'" "I am not happy," I said. "And why should God correct me by killing my father and my brother? What of them? Why should they die for me? I don't understand."
Mrs. Jessop said, "You will understand, later, when you grow older. As Job understood." She turned several pages of the Bible, but spoke from memory, fixing her gaze upon me. "'Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind ... Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?... When the morning stars sang together?... Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea?... Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow?... Out of whose womb came the ice? and the hoary frost of heaven?... Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are?'"
Her eyes bored in upon me, two sparks of fire under her dark brows. "Like Job, you do not know all there is to know," she said. "Therefore, despise not the chastening of the Almighty."
I bit my lip, but answered her in a clear voice. "I do despise the chastening."
My words were barely spoken when lightning streaked across the lowering sky and a thunderclap shook the house.
Mrs. Jessop threw up her hands in horror. She plucked at the air. The Bible fell to the floor and lay there, its leaves fluttering.
"God has spoken," she cried.
A second flash of lightning flashed across the heavens. Thunder rolled, louder this time and closer. The smell of burning entered the room.
"Repent!" Mrs. Jessop croaked.
A yellow cat that was dozing on the hearth arched its back and showed its teeth. Mrs. Jessop's aunt, who had been sitting quietly near the fire, tried to rise from her chair, but slipped and fell.
"Repent thy words ere God destroys us," Mrs. Jessop cried. "Repent!"
I did not answer. Her aunt lay groaning on the floor. I gathered up my bundle and the Bible. I do not know why I took it, except that the Bible, my father's Bible, had been a part of me all the days of my life. I thanked Mrs. Jessop and fled out the door. It had stopped raining.
There was another roll of thunder. I
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