The preacher’s face was broad, and when he looked upward at the sky, the sun seemed to bless him with a special radiance. As he was helped up to the platform he had looked unwell; yet once his melodious voice rang out over the crowd on the Common, he seemed to draw new life from the inspiration of the day. The crowd was enraptured.

But Mercy could not concentrate.

Abigail was by her side. At ten years old, she was old enough to understand. At the moment, she was dutifully staring at the preacher, but Mercy suspected that Abby was not listening either. Several times already, she had seen her daughter glance around.

She had lied to the child when she told her that her father could not come, and she could see that she had been disappointed. She suspected that Abby had heard them arguing. What was the child secretly thinking? Mercy almost wished she hadn’t come. But it was too late to do anything about that now. Though they were at the fringe of the crowd, she couldn’t very well walk away from the preaching. How would that look? Besides, she had her pride.

Minutes passed. Then, suddenly, Abby was tugging at her arm.

“Look. Papa’s coming.”

He was striding toward them. Dear God, had he ever looked more splendid and more handsome? And he was smiling. She could scarcely believe it. He reached her, and took her hand.

“We went together to a preaching once,” he said softly. “So I thought we’d go again.”

She did not reply. She squeezed his hand. She knew what this had cost him. But after a minute or two she whispered: “Let’s go home, John.”

As they walked back arm in arm, little Abby was skipping ahead, joyful to see her parents united again.

“I have a confession, John,” said Mercy, after a while.

“What is that?” he asked affectionately.

“I think I went to the preaching because I have been angry with you, for many years.”

“Why?”

“Because I blamed you for letting James remain in London. It is five years now since I have seen my only son. I wish he were here.”

John nodded. Then kissed her hand.

“I shall write to him today, and tell him he is to return at once.”

The letter from James, together with one from Albion, was brought to the house early that evening. Hudson took them to Master in his library. Mercy and Abigail were reading in the parlor. He read them alone.