Keziah brushed back the hair from her forehead. “Yes,” she answered slowly. “I've heard it.”
“Well, it's great news, and if it wasn't for—if things weren't as they are, I'd be crowing hallelujahs this minute. Trumet has got a good man safe and sound again, and the Lord knows it needs all of that kind it can get.”
“Yes.”
“Yes. But there's the other matter. I've been to see Grace. She didn't say so, but it was easy enough to see; the man she promised to marry and thought was dead, is alive. She's a girl of her word—she promised him and she promised her dying uncle—and she'll marry him. And then what will become of John Ellery? He'll go downhill so fast that a ship's anchor wouldn't hold him. If he doesn't die I'll have to send him away somewhere, and the Regular church will lose the minister we've fought so hard for.”
“Yes,” concurred Zebedee, “and them blasted Danielses'll run the shebang and the rest of us'll have to sing small, I tell you.”
“So we've come to you, Keziah,” went on the doctor. “Do you see any salvation?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You do? Where?”
“In Nat Hammond. If he knows Grace doesn't want to marry him, do you suppose he'll hold her to her promise?”
“I don't know. I'm not so sure. Men don't give up girls like that so easy. I wouldn't—by George, I wouldn't! And she won't tell him the whole truth, I'm afraid. She'll pretend to be glad—hang it! she IS glad—to have him home again and—”