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"Substantial and well-told story that makes real one of the longest and most vigorous strands in the making of our country." —New York Herald Tribune
"Miss Seton handles her clan cleverly. . . . In all this the house itself stands as an eloquent reminder of Yankee staunchness." —Saturday Review of Literature
"Skillfully weaves the events of the time . . . an excellent read." —The Historical Novels Review
Rough wind that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long.?.?.
he repeated slowly.
Hesper was used to his quotations, and usually she liked the sound of them and the vague enchanted pictures they made in her mind, but tonight she felt sympathy with her mother, who entered the kitchen to hear the last lines.
“God-blost it, Roger!” she cried, “I’ll not stand for that quiddling poetizing tonight. What do you know of grief, or knells, or aught else, forever shut up in your room with them books!” She shoved his plate back in front of him, and banged the coffeepot down on the table.
Roger lifted his head and looked at her. “I merely thought, Susan, that Shelley had rather well expressed the mood of the night.” His tone strove to be sarcastic, and to show a gentlemanly reproof, though his hands trembled and he looked toward the child for the eager response she usually gave him. But Hesper was staring at her mother, who made a strange rough sound in her throat. “To hell I pitch your Shelley, whoever the bostard may be. D’you hear that storm out yonder? D’you have wit enough to know what it may mean, you buffleheaded loon?”
Her eyes were blazing, her heavy freckled face suffused with dull red.
Hesper saw her father retreat, seeming to shrivel into himself, but he said, “Spoken like a true Marblehead fishwife?—”
Again Susan made the sound in her throat?—?“?’Tis what I am. I come from fisher folk and so do you for all you never set foot in a dory these thirty year?—?for you weren’t no good as a fisherman?—nor no good at being a tavern keeper, neither—nor at being a fine gentleman at the college? —”
Hesper saw the color leave her father’s face, and she hoped for anger to replace it? — ?anger to match her mother’s. Why couldn’t he shout too?—hit out, even strike at that flushed, furious face across the table.
But there was silence in the kitchen except for the woman’s heavy breathing. Then outside, another gust threw itself against the house and a branch crashed off the big chestnut tree.
Posted July 19, 2013
Posted January 18, 2013
Posted August 31, 2014
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