Free The Pilgrim by Hugh Nissenson Page A

one.”
    â€œI will, sir. May I wear a feather in my hat?”
    He said, “That you may. A white feather in a black hat. My daughter, Sarah, wears a white lace veil.”
    I inquired of him the name and whereabouts of an honest goldsmith with whom I could invest my twenty pounds. He gave me a letter for John Loop by The Sign of the Rook on Goldsmith’s Row.
    Then he said I was to eat with him, his other clerk, and his family in his chambers in the fair tenement, south of Charing Cross, on the left hand. He bade the other clerk, Michael Hendy, to take me to our chamber on the left hand of The Sign of the Bear and Ragged Staff. We repaired thence, wherein I found a decent bed that we would share, clean bedclothes, a cupboard, a chest, and a table, but only one stool.
    Behold an act of Providence! Hendy said to me that a local joiner named Zachariah Rigdale, on Suffolk Street, had recently replaced the rusty iron hinges on the chest. Hendy said, “Rigdale will make us a goodly stool,” and we went round to see him.
    Thus, for want of a stool, God willed that I meet Zachariah Rigdale, a man of about thirty years of age, who said, “I will make you a joint stool for one pound. Come back for it in a week, as my apprentice and I are presently busy making a table and two chairs.”
    Then Rigdale said to me, “I see you wear a mourning ring, sir. For whom do you mourn?”
    I said, “My father, who is lately dead.”
    He said, “I mourn my dear wife, Ann, who died two years ago on Mid-Summer Eve. Our babe followed soon thereafter. A cough took her. Her name was Joan. She had the daintiest hands and feet you ever saw!”
    Hendy and I later dined in our master’s large, well-appointed chambers. Mistress Appletree bore a pretty little spaniel in her bosom. She nourished the dog with meat at the table. The Appletrees used Hendy and me as friends, not servants. They not only allowed us to sit with them, above the salt, but shared the dishes served by their butler. We shared a leg of mutton, a loin of veal, and a chicken.
    Appletree said to me, “Shall I be your carver? Will you have this hen’s wing?”
    â€œI will, sir, thank you.”
    â€œAnd wine? Some sack? Here, wash your liver with a cup of sack.”
    â€œThank you, sir!”
    He bade me greet his daughter, Sarah, who indeed wore a white lace veil. I glimpsed her large dark eyes behind her veil. She gazed at my pitted face. Then she said to me, “Master Michael, here, went to Oxford for two years. Are you an Oxford man, Master Charles?”
    â€œI studied Divinity at Cambridge, Mistress, but did not take a degree.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œMy father died, and I did not feel myself fit to be a Minister of God.”
    She said, “I have wrestled with Him for some years now.”
    â€œIndeed!” said I. “You are very young, Mistress, to wrestle with God.”
    â€œOur common affliction roused me to it as a child.”
    â€œI can well understand that.”
    She said, “Then, sir, we understand each other.”
    The morning following, my master said to me, “Well, what do you think of my dear Sarah?”
    â€œI think she is a goodly maiden, sir.”
    â€œI am pleased to hear it. You are a big, tall man. She favors big, tall men. Tell me, Wentworth, do you keep the Sabbath?”
    â€œI do, sir.”
    â€œAll the day?”
    â€œThe whole day, yes sir.”
    â€œWould you bowl with me in St. James Park this coming Sabbath after church?”
    â€œOh no, sir. By my faith, I could not.”
    â€œBy your faith,” said he. “And what faith is that? Are you a Puritan?”
    â€œYes, sir, I am, sir, though I do not like that word. I am not pure, but just one of God’s people.”
    He said, “You are very sure of yourself.”
    â€œNo, sir, I live in doubt.”
    He gave me leave, and I went to buy me a black cloak and a black