It was summer, and Quarterly-Meeting Day had arrived. There had been
rumors of the expected presence of "Friends from a distance," and not
only those of the district, but most of the neighbors who were not
connected with the sect, attended. By the by-road through the woods, it
was not more than half a mile from Friend Mitchenor's cottage to the
meeting-house, and Asenath, leaving her father to be taken by Moses in
his carriage, set out on foot. It was a sparkling, breezy day, and the
forest was full of life. Squirrels chased each other along the branches
of the oaks, and the air was filled with fragrant odors of
hickory-leaves, sweet-fern, and spice-wood. Picking up a flower here
and there, Asenath walked onward, rejoicing alike in shade and
sunshine, grateful for all the consoling beauty which the earth offers
to a lonely heart. That serene content which she had learned to call
happiness had filled her being until the dark canopy was lifted and the
waters took back their transparency under a cloudless sky.
Passing around to the "women's side" of the meeting-house, she mingled
with her friends, who were exchanging information concerning the
expected visitors. Micajah Morrill had not arrived, they said, but Ruth
Baxter had spent the last night at Friend Way's, and would certainly be
there.
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