"Yes, I know—they will be wed shortly," replied Bradford a little embarrassed. Standish eyed him keenly.
"And thou art of his mind, and mayhap thine own new mate is already bespoken?" demanded he in angry surprise.
"Nay, Standish, thou 'rt not reasonable to quarrel with another man's conscience so that it thwarts not thine," replied Bradford patiently, although the color rose to his cheek as he felt the scorn of his comrade's voice. "Neither Winslow nor I would do aught that we could not answer for to God, and have not we come to this wilderness that we might be free to serve Him only, in matters of conscience?"
"I meant not to forget courtesy, nay, nor friendship neither, Bradford; but my speech is ever hasty and none too smooth. So thou wilt marry, anon?"
"I'll tell thee friend, and thou 'rt the first I've told. There is a lady in the old country"—
"Which old country? The Netherlands or England?"
"She is in England now, or was when we set forth. Thou must have seen her, Standish,—Alice Carpenter, who wedded Edward Southworth in Amsterdam."
"Oh, ay. A goodly crop of daughters had Father Carpenter, and not one hung on hand so soon as she was marriageable. Truly, I remember Mistress Southworth well, a fair and discreet dame. And she was left a widow not many days before we left England, if I mistake not."
"Ay. One little week."
"And didst thou woo her as in the play I saw when last I was in London, King Richard wooed the widow of him he had slain, following her husband's corse to the grave? Nay then, nay then, man, I meant it not awry. But to ask a woman within one week of her widowhood, and thou still wived"—