Thoreau in Love by John Schuyler Bishop Read Free Book Online Page A

different, the way it droops.”
    Embarrassed by the attention being paid him, Henry said, “You’re mad.”
    “No I’m not,” said Ben.
    “John always made fun of my nose.”
    “Did he? Well, I love your nose.”
    “Anyway, when John finally asked Ellen to marry him, she told him she was sorry but she was in love with me. And John? John was happy for me. More than happy. It was as if he hadn’t cared for Ellen at all.”
    “Maybe he didn’t.”
    “Oh Lord, it never occurred to me. . . .”
    “What?”
    “He cut his ring finger. His wedding ring finger. That’s how he died.”
    “He died from a cut?”
    “No. Lockjaw. Oh my Lord. Maybe he wasn’t so happy for me. I never thought of that. It was his wedding ring finger. Before Ellen told him she was in love with me, he used to pretend he’d be putting on a wedding ring. Lord. . . . Anyway, soon after Ellen told John no, we went to Scituate, with the intention of my asking for Ellen’s hand. The Sewells have this beautiful house, servants. They’re a very important family. Ellen’s great-great-great grandfather was one of the Salem witch trail judges.”
    “The Salem witch trial? That really happened?”
    “Yes it really happened.”
    “I thought it was just a story to scare children. They actually hanged all those people? Crushed them with millstones?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “You’re lucky they don’t do witch trials now—they’d crush you to death for not going to church.”
    “They probably would, wouldn’t they?”
    “I’m sorry, I talk too much. Go on.” Ben sat up and casually closed the neck of Henry’s jacket, making Henry feel like the most important man on earth. “It’s getting cold again.”
    “It is,” said Henry, astonished that Ben would care so much—about him. Henry wanted only to put an arm around Ben. Instead, he went on. “This is the part I forgot all about. We’re sitting at dinner—me, John. Bone china, white linen tablecloth, silver spoons and forks, sparkling glasses. Reverend Sewell is at the head—”
    “Reverend? What did he think of your not going to church?”
    “I suppose he didn’t know. But there he was, and Mrs. Sewell is at the other end of the table. I’m sitting between Ellen and Edmund.”
    “Your student.”
    “Yes. John and Ellen’s aunts are across from us. Cocoa tapioca was being served. Edmund flops a spoonful onto his plate and the way it lands, well, he whispers, ‘Just like your poo.’”
    “Your poo?”
    “Edmund and I were very close. We used to go out to this pond to go swimming, all by ourselves, and when we had to go we’d just squat Indian-style. One time, I don’t know, it must have been something I ate, but Edmund couldn’t stop making fun of my poo, and the tapioca, it did look exactly like my poo did that day. I was nervous enough as it was, wondering if I was doing the right thing asking for Ellen’s hand, so when Edmund said that, I burst out a laugh. Then Edmund giggled and the more he giggled the more I laughed. Mrs. Sewell said, ‘What’s so funny?’ And of course we couldn’t say, so we laughed even more. Then Reverend Sewell boomed out, ‘Edmund. Henry. Share the fun or stop laughing. Do you hear me?’ Edmund and I stopped at the exact same moment, which almost set us off again. Then Reverend Sewell said, ‘If I didn’t know better, Henry, I would have thought you were set on Edmund, not Ellen.’”
    “Lord.”
    “Yes.” Henry sat up, faced Ben. “That’s exactly what he said. How could I have forgotten that? No one dared move or make a sound. Everyone was glaring at me. The awful truth of it just sitting there. Then Mrs. Sewell said, ‘Oh, Edmund,’ that was her husband’s name too, and she chirped out this little laugh. And everyone snickered and then laughed and laughed, me hardest of all, at the clear, horrifying truth.”
    “So you knew it was true?”
    “I didn’t before, but I did then.” Henry’s head dropped, and he shook