"I speak truth—what in my time is history," he replied. "Hasn't Dr. Phillips told you something of what happened?"
"In truth he sought to but I failed to credit him," she replied. "Ye mean, that in ye'r time, Darling Charles, our colonies will have their own king?"
"They'll have no king at all," he told her. He tried to explain something of the Revolution but so ingrained in her was the idea of monarchy that he finally gave it up and asked her to tell him what it was like to live in eighteenth-century Boston.
"'Tis mostly cold and heat and discomfort compared to life here in Belvoir," she said slowly. "Always is something lacking for our ease. When the river and harbors freeze so that we may glide over the ice, then never is there sufficient wood for our hearths.
"Come summer and we suffer the heat of hell—save for the governor, with his apartment on Castle Island, where he can enjoy the cool harbor breezes, and the rich with their estates in Milton and Dorchester and even beyond."
"But surely," he protested, "you have your good times. How about Guy Fawkes day, or Cambridge during Commencement Week? How about bundling parties and vaccination parties and all the rest?"
She turned her head away briefly and her eyes were full. "Aye," she replied, "there have been good times and I've had my share. But for me they are over upon my return."
"Is it this assignment Ortine has given you?" he asked her gently.
"Mayhap 'tis a part of my misery," she said.
Justin may have lived a life of enforced semi-celibacy for some years but he was neither a fool nor inexperienced where women were concerned. He thought—Hello—and suddenly a new and warm excitement flared up within him. Despite the suddenness of their passion, despite the fact that she had claimed an ulterior motive in flinging herself into his arms, this girl loved him.