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Mute and amazed was Alden; and listened and

looked at Priscilla, Phinking he never had seen her more fair, more di

vine in her beauty. He who but yesterday pleaded so glibly the cause of

another, Stood there embarrassed and silent, and seeking in

vain for an answer. So the maiden went on, and little divined or imagined

685 What was at work in his heart, that made him so

awkward and speechless. “Let us, then, be what we are, and speak what we

think, and in all things Keep ourselves loyal to truth, and the sacred profes

sions of friendship. It is no secret I tell you, nor am I ashamed to declare


I have liked to be with you, to see you, to speak with you always.

690 So I was hurt at your words, and a little affronted to

hear you

Urge me to marry your friend, though he were the

Captain Miles Standish. For I must tell you the truth: much more to me is

your friendship

Than all the love he could give, were he twice the hero you

think him." Then she extended her hand, and Alden, who eagerly grasped it,

695 Felt all the wounds in his heart, that were aching and

bleeding so sorely, Healed by the touch of that hand, and he said, with

a voice full of feeling : “Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer

you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and



Casting a farewell look at the glimmering sail of the

Mayflower Distant, but still in sight, and sinking below the horizon, Homeward together they walked, with a strange, in

definite feeling, That all the rest had departed and left them alone in

the desert. But, as they went through the fields in the blessing and

smile of the sunshine, Lighter grew their hearts, and Priscilla said very archly :

705 “Now that our terrible Captain has gone in pursuit

of the Indians



Where he is happier far than he would be commanding

a household, You may speak boldly, and tell me of all that hap

pened between you, When you returned last night, and said how ungrate

ful you found me." Thereupon answered John Alden, and told her the

whole of the story, — Told her his own despair, and the direful wrath of

Miles Standish. Whereat the maiden smiled, and said between laugh

ing and earnest, “He is a little chimney, and heated hot in a moment!” But as he gently rebuked her, and told her how he

had suffered, How he had even determined to sail that day in the Mayflower,

715 And had remained for her sake, on hearing the dan

gers that threatened, All her manner was changed, and she said with a fal

tering accent, “Truly I thank you for this: how good you have

been to me always !”

Thus, as a pilgrim devout, who toward Jerusalem


Taking three steps in advance, and one reluctantly backward,

720 Urged by importunate zeal, and withheld by pangs of

contrition; Slowly but steadily onward, receding yet ever advanc

ing, Journeyed this Puritan youth to the Holy Land of

his longings, Urged by the fervor of love, and withheld by remorse

ful misgivings.

orse-) 3,



Meanwhile the stalwart Miles Standish was marching steadily northward,

725 719–724 Give-in your own words the meaning of this paragraph.

723 Holy Land: what is its geographical name? Where is it? Why was it called the Holy Land ?

725 Northward : this was an expedition against the Indians which Miles Standish undertook in 1623 instead of 1621. But it suits the story better to bring it in here. A friend of the Pilgrims in London, a Mr. Weston, had sent out a colony of his own which settled at about the present location of Weymouth. This colony was not composed of very sensible men, and they were faring badly at the hands of their Indian neighbors. Out of friendship for the founder of the colony, the Pilgrims sent Standish and his little band to their assistance. Eventually, a few of Weston's men joined the Pilgrims, and the rest found their way back to England.

Winding through forest and swamp, and along the

trend of the sea-shore, All day long, with hardly a halt, the fire of his anger Burning and crackling within, and the sulphurous

odor of powder Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all the scents

of the forest. Silent and moody he went, and much he revolved his

discomfort; He who was used to success, and to easy victories

always, Thus to be flouted, rejected, and laughed to scorn by

a maiden, Thus to be mocked and betrayed by the friend whom

most he had trusted ! Ah! 'twas too much to be borne, and he fretted and

chafed in his armor!


“I alone am to blame,” he muttered, “ for mine was the folly.

735 What has a rough old soldier, grown grim and gray

in the harness, Used to the camp and its ways, to do with the wooing

of maidens ? 'Twas but a dream, - let it pass, - let it vanish like

80 many others !

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