They had stopped walking while he said this, and Elizabeth was looking up at him with an expression divided between surprise and acknowledgment. A look came over her, the one that meant she was casting back through her memory for some words she had read somewhere, something to help her make sense of what she was feeling. And then she had them, and she spoke them out loud, but more for her own benefit than his.

"His flawed heart,--

Alack! too weak the conflict to support;

'twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,

Burst smilingly."

"That's about it, I'd say. Now where did that come from?"

"King Lear," said Elizabeth. "A man who misjudged his daughter and paid for that mistake very dearly."

"Maybe I should read that book," Nathaniel said, trying to strike a lighter tone. "The days ain't far off when Squirrel will be moving off on her own, and I suppose I should be ready."

"We'll read it together," Elizabeth said firmly. "I'll see if we can get a copy before we set sail."

There was a carriage in front of the door when they arrived back at Aunt Merriweather's lodgings, with gold trim and an elaborate crest upon the door. Elizabeth caught sight of a young man waiting inside, lolled back against the cushions.

"Someone has come to call," she said to Nathaniel, and seeing the reluctant look on his face, she said, "I don't care to sit with them, either. Let us go in through the kitchen entrance and see if we can avoid the visit."

Curiosity was waiting for them in the upstairs parlor. When they came in she said, "A letter came while you were away."

"A letter?" Elizabeth drew off her bonnet and put it on the table.

"From my Galileo," said Curiosity. "He sent it to Oakmere and they sent it up here." She stood and breathed deep, put back her shoulders and then smiled. Elizabeth smiled, too, realizing now that she had been holding her breath for bad news.

"Go on," Curiosity said. "Read it out loud, Elizabeth."

To my dear Wife, Curiosity Freeman

Our good daughter Polly writes this for me, with a quill I sharpened for her and the ink you made of dried blackberries last December. May the Almighty God hear our prayer and send you home to us healthy.

Lung-Fever has come to plague us here in Paradise. The Lord spared our girls and their husbands and this tired old man. Manny fell ill but his sisters nursed him back to health. The Judge is took right hard with it, but Daisy is nursing him and it look like he has weathered the storm. For the Lord thy God is a merciful God.

We ain't seen Kitty since she took Ethan away to Albany, nor did we have word of her till just yesterday. She and the boy are well. She writes that last week she was married to Dr. Richard Todd. They say they will come home to Paradise in the fall, when the Fever is run its course and the Lord sees fit to lift this yoke.

Yesterday evening I went up Hidden Wolf to see how the folks there were faring and found the place deserted except for Runs-from-Bears. He is in good health. The women are gone to stay with their people in Canada, and Otter with them. I am sorry to pass on the news that Liam Kirby ran off some weeks ago when the affliction came upon us and he ain't been seen since. I know Hannah will be sorry to hear it, too.

The girls want you to know that they have set plenty of beans and onions and pomkin. The spring grass is sweet and the livestock getting fat. God willing, Daisy will bring our first grandchild into this world in the late fall. The Lord moves in mysterious ways, his wonders to behold.

Now in the warm months the Miseries have left my back, but the Lord's truth is this: the house is mighty quiet these days, but there's no peace to be found here with you gone. Hurry home.

Your loving husband of these many years

Galileo Freeman

Paradise, New-York State

writ this sixth day of May in the Year of

our Merciful Lord 1794

"I don't know what I dread more," Curiosity said. "Telling your aunt about Kitty and Richard, or telling Hannah about Liam running off."

Elizabeth sat down and spread the letter out on her lap, ran her finger over the finely formed letters. She said, "What do you think it means, Nathaniel?"

He shrugged, his face impassive. "I don't know. Maybe Richard is hoping we won't come home at all, thinking he's still got a chance at getting Hidden Wolf."

They were silent for a moment, each of them thinking about that and what trouble it would mean.

"Poor Liam," said Elizabeth finally. "He lost faith in us, and I cannot say that I blame him very much. They have been a long time without word."

"Well, I admit it ain't the best news," said Curiosity, getting up. "But my folks are alive and well, and so are yours. Up at Carryckcastle they got four new graves, you'll remember. I'd say the Lord has been generous."

Elizabeth turned to Nathaniel, who was lost in his own thoughts, and far away--perhaps in Canada, with the boy he had already claimed as a son before he had ever seen him by daylight.

"Don't you think so, Nathaniel?" Curiosity pushed him.

He nodded. "Generous, indeed."

A soft scratching at the door, and Aunt Merriweather's waiting-woman came in. Maria had been in service at Oakmere for twenty years and Elizabeth had rarely seen her flustered, but now she was very much ill at ease. "Lady Crofton begs your company in the lower parlor."

"Who has come to call, Maria?" Elizabeth asked.

"A Miss Somerville, mum," said Maria, as she might have said the devil's bride.