The Strange Death of Mistress Coffin by Robert J. Begiebing Page B

never see you! Come sup then.”

XI

    On his way to consider once again the property to be granted him, Richard Browne passed Elizabeth Higgins’ house and noticed the woman dressed in summer calico moving about in her kitchen garden. Although he had not spoken to her since returning some weeks ago from the village where Jared Higgins hid himself from the society of Englishmen, Browne knew instantly that he could not prolong his own silence.
    He went up to the sturdy board fence that enclosed her garden, hearing the shunk-shunk of young Jared chopping wood on the opposite and shaded side of the house, and saw that she was now on her knees over weedpatches in the peas and lettuce. Bean leaves and blossoms stirred in the slight morning breeze. Browne saw coriander and dill plants underway, and one other plant that struck him as having the complete freedom of her garden—the large gillyflower. This, he guessed, to encourage hummingbirds. But here was a ripe profligacy by any garden standard, a crowding neighborliness of all manner of edible, herbaceous, and flowering plant.
    Kneeling in the morning sunlight, caught amongst her floral charges, she had yet to notice Browne. He toyed with the thought that he had surprised the very deity behind the glorious golden profusion of English gorse that some time ago had crept and spread through certain nearby fields, as it had in so many fields among the settlements to the east and south. Floraherself. “To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and greene; And sweet as Flora. . . .”
    But no, this woman wiping the perspiration from her face was real flesh entirely. And, come to think of it, was not Flora’s sweetness itself tainted? Loved by courtesans and common whores? Enshrined beside the Circus Maximus?
    She turned quickly, sensing someone behind her, and began to rise. He in turn was startled back from his wandering thoughts and approached to lean on the fence, confirming in that instant his decision not to tell her, not yet, of her husband’s true condition. He spoke immediately in his embarrassment over being caught watching her.
    â€œGood morning, Goody Higgins! Fine morning to be out in such a garden.” It was all he could think to say. He smiled and waved an arm over the garden.
    â€œLovely,” she said, catching her breath now that she recognized her onlooker. Her hand, which had been over her heart, rose to wipe her damp face.
    â€œâ€˜Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out.’” He rather too loudly declaimed the words of Solomon, and laughed. “I was just on my way to make early plans for the property granted me,” he added. “I’m to be your new neighbor, at some distance.” He waved his arm again, in the general direction of his property.
    â€œNot at too great a distance, I hope?” she said, her face pretty and open, expressing genuine interest.
    â€œNot too great,” he repeated. “Just as surely one you can call on for help in any need.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Browne.” She loosened the ties on her hat. “My children have been such a help to me since their father disappeared, the older ones especially. They’re a blessing. But your offer to help us is welcome. And if I can return the offer—some matter about your new house that requires my experienceor a woman’s touch. . . .” She wiped her forehead again, and her coarse, dirty gloves left a stain of soil on her face.
    â€œHave you a few moments to join me now?” Browne asked. “Perhaps you could begin by giving me your opinion of where I plan to situate the house.” He smiled to encourage her. “It is merely a quarter hour or so walk,” he said, looking off in the general direction. “I have meant to speak with you in any event. Can the children look after one another a short