"I trust thee will not be arbitrary in time, friend Biddle," said he, almost displeased.
But Barbara placed her hand in mine. "Samuel Biddle," said she, "may a man's suffering and pain be a woman sometimes?"
"Belike," I answered, and could say no more.
"Then I say I trust thee shall be free from grievousness all thy life if I can keep thee so."
"Thee can," I said.
"I will," she said.
"Farewell, Barbara."
"Fare thee well, friend Biddle."
I almost stumbled over a man as I hurried out by the gate. "I beg thy pardon, friend," I said.
"I beg yours, sir," he answered. I looked, and saw that he was a hireling minister with a white cloth at his neck and an unhappily-cut coat. And he raised his hand to his hat and said, "I am but new in this neighborhood: I am the pastor of the church newly erected here."