CHAPTER IX.
THE FORCED SACRAMENT.
It was the Sabbath—that solemn day in the colonies when the voices of men were hushed, or only uplifted in prayer—when the very children held their breath with awe, and the good wife scarcely ventured to smooth the bed she had slept in, or dress the food for her household, lest the holy time given to the Lord should be encroached upon.
The very smoke, as it curled up from the chimneys of Boston, seemed to float off more dreamily than on other days. There was no sound of life abroad, for men who went forth left the beaten track and walked softly along the turf on each side of the highway, as if the noise of their own footsteps was a sacrilege.
But on this particular Sabbath there was, at least within doors, signs of unusual commotion. The mother in each household brought forth her best apparel, as if to grace some great occasion; while the good father, in his Sabbath-day raiment, read an extra chapter in the Bible before going forth, and drilled his offspring into deeper seriousness. On that day the most mischievous urchin would have looked upon a single smile as among the unforgivable sins of which he had heard so much, but could never understand.
But of all the houses in the town, the gubernatorial mansion was the most silent; and yet important preparations were going on in its stately rooms. The servants spoke in whispers as they moved up and down the broad staircase; and even Norman Lovel, whose gay spirits were not easily tamed, looked grave as he seated himself by the window to wait.
At last, an open carriage, drawn by four gray horses, swept slowly around the gravelled path, and drew up on one side of the steps.
Then the front door swung open, both heavy leaves at once, and Governor Phipps appeared, followed by four attendants, bearing halberts.
It is hardly possible to imagine a more imposing presence than this extraordinary man presented. His self-made greatness seemed like an inheritance, so completely did his air and sumptuous habiliments harmonize with each other. The broad, firm forehead, the deep-set eyes, proud and steady in their glances, the firm mouth, grave without severity, the thick hair, so slightly powdered that a few gray threads were still to be detected in the wavy masses, the upright figure, tall and robust, all possessed the power of command, had no other signs of state been lidded to them. But no outward effect was wanting.