Girl in a Buckskin

friendly Indians,” he told her.
    The thought of this wilderness filled her with trembling. But they would be free. There was the wilderness and then there was the town with its well-ordered ways of which she could never be a part. There was so little for her here. A man married his own kind, a girl with family and dowry; only a bold gentleman like Mr. Smeed would dare to marry beneath him, and for reasons Rebecca dreaded pondering.
    Yet it was madness to consider running away. If they were found—unconsciously she shivered and Eseck said, “Never mind, Becky, we’ll stay and face what comes, I was wrong to say it.”
    “Wrong? No, Eseck, not wrong. I was only thinking if we were found.”
    He probed her face intently. “That was all?”
    “That was all.”
    “I can promise you we won’t be found,” he said. “Not even Mr. Smeed’s pacer will be able to match our speed.”
    “Then now-—let’s go now,” begged Rebecca, thinking of Mr. Smeed waiting in the front room. “This very minute, Eseck.”
    Eseck shook his head. “No. Becky, for we cannot go far without musket or food. Do you still have the trunk that belonged to Mother? Good. Then here is what I want of you—this is what you must bring to the woods in an hour.” And sitting down Eseck told her just what she must do.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    “REBECCA?” SAID MR. LEGGETT AS BECKY CAME THROUGH THE DOOR. “I have been looking for you. Mr. Smeed  is here.”
    “The kitchen was so close,” she stammered, “a breath of air—”
    “Quite so,” said Mr. Leggett in a kindly voice, “but you must not keep your elders waiting. Come in, child, come in.”
    Rebecca nodded and walked slowly through the door that he held open for her, trying not to see Mr. Smeed who stood before the fireplace, his back as stiff as a bread peel. “How do, sir,” she said, curtsying, and moved to the comer.
    Mr. Leggett closed the door. He said firmly, “Mr. Smeed has been asking me for your hand, my dear. He would like to marry you.”
    “Oh?” Rebecca queried.
    Mr. Smeed swung around and stared at her. He was a tall, thin man, yet with a round plump face and eyes set deep into the flesh of his cheeks like hot coals. “Surely you were informed of this?” he said. Then recollecting his errand he smiled, which made it worse, for his face did not lend itself easily to a smile; it was a little like watching a pudding fold into a different shape.
    “Yes, sir,” she said softly, “but I would have to think upon it.”
    “Indeed?” said Mr. Smeed, raising his eyebrows. “Surely, Leggett, you told the girl—”
    “Softly, Joshua,” said Mr. Leggett, “there is no point in courting in anger.”
    Mr. Smeed’s mouth tightened. “Of course,” he said. “The hour—my weariness—” He brushed a hand across his forehead to prove his weariness. “You would stand up before the magistrate in a gown of real silk,” he said, addressing her as if she were a child. “Have you ever owned a gown of silk before?”
    No, thought Becky, nor would I own the gown you’d give me; I’ll warrant t’would be an unwilling loan from one of your wives on Cemetery Hill.
    “Nor would you need to slave any longer in someone else’s kitchen,” went on Mr. Smeed, “begging Mr. Leggett’s pardon. You would be one of the finest ladies in town.”
    “Yes, sir,” she said, “but I would have to think upon it for a while.”
    His eyes sharpened. “For exactly how long a time, pray tell?”
    “Now, now, Joshua,” said Mr. Leggett, “I’m sure she will have the right answer for you tomorrow. The child is overcome with awe of you. A town pauper does not receive such a fine offer every day. It is a most unusual thing.” Mr. Smeed looked at Mr. Leggett with hard eyes. “I have told you I am not a patient man.”
    “Mr. Leggett is right,” said Rebecca softly. “I would like but a night to sleep upon it.”
    Mr. Smeed’s gaze turned to her and his eyes were so penetrating that Rebecca glanced away, fearful that he might read her plans. “Very well,” he said, “I shall see you tomorrow. Until then, Rebecca.” He nodded curtly at Mr. Leggett and strode from the room with a flick of the whip that he seemed always to carry with him.
    Rebecca sighed and going to the fire began to bank the ashes. “Do not wait up, sir,” she told Mr. Leggett. “I will bar the door.”
    Still Mr. Leggett hesitated. “Rebecca,” he said at last, “you are going to accept