A Distant Shore Read Online Free PDF Page A

uselessly, for Maggie was already skipping indoors.

    Boston, 1838
    The church hall was buzzing with conversation as Isobel took her program and followed Margaret to the front row.
    “I’ve heard he speaks very quietly,” Margaret explained as she settled herself in a chair, arranging her wide skirts on either side of her. “The poor man’s voice has given out. I can only imagine what he has endured.”
    Isobel sat besides Margaret and glanced at the program: Come and be Entertained, Inspired and Educated by the Saint of Burma, A Noble and Pious Man of God, Adoniram Judson. Hear of His Travails and Triumphs in the Dark Jungles of Burma . She felt a little thrill of excitement. Dark jungles! It all sounded very exciting, far more exciting than anything she’d ever experienced.
    “What a courageous man he must be,” Margaret said. “His wife died on the voyage back to America, you know. Terribly sad.” Her eyes clouded as she gave a little shake of her head.
    Isobel’s excitement flagged as she considered the sufferings of America’s first foreign missionary. What might seem enthralling from the first row of a church hall could in fact be dangerous or even deadly, she realized with a pang of conscience. Although, she acknowledged, she still wanted to hear Mr. Judson speak, and learn of his travails—and triumphs—in the dark jungles. She turned to Margaret.
    “And where is my brother this evening? As a sea captain, I thought he might be interested in Mr. Judson’s travels.”
    “Undoubtedly,” Margaret replied. “I’m quite sure he would like nothing more, especially in light of his own forthcoming travels.”
    Isobel’s eyes widened, for she had not heard that her brother intended to travel. Looking more closely at Margaret, she wondered if her sister-in-law’s smile seemed a bit fixed. “His travels?” she repeated. “But where is he going?”
    “China,” Margaret replied. Isobel thought her voice sounded over-bright. “For trade. There is much to be had there, or so he tells me.” She fanned herself with her program. “These church halls do get overheated, don’t they?”
    “China,” Isobel repeated blankly. She had no impression or image of China to draw on; it was utterly foreign to her. Distant, and perhaps dangerous too. Henry couldn’t possibly be thinking of going to such a place. It was one thing to think of faraway adventures in a church hall, but for her own brother to be chasing after such things… “But he has not said,” she protested. “And why should he travel so far?”
    “He was going to tell you all at dinner on Sunday,” Margaret explained with an apologetic shrug. Her mouth twisted, and Isobel knew her sister-in-law was not saying all that she felt—or feared. “I suppose I shouldn’t have said anything, but really, it is exceedingly difficult to keep such news to oneself.” She looked away, blinking rapidly, and Isobel laid a hand on Margaret’s arm.
    “I can only imagine,” Isobel murmured. “Will it—will it be very dangerous?”
    Margaret shrugged again. A shadow flashed in her eyes and she pressed her lips together. “I can hardly say. One hears things, of course. The voyage is long, and the Chinese are angry about the dreadful opium that is being smuggled in—”
Isobel drew back, shocked although in truth she had only a hazy idea of what opium was. “But Henry surely won’t be trading in that?”
    “No, of course not, Isobel!” Margaret’s face darkened. “His competitor, Russell and Company, may not mind dealing in the odious stuff, but Henry has higher principles than turning a quick profit.” Her mouth tightened; everyone knew, even if it was not spoken of in polite circles, that Warren Delano had built the fortune of the Boston-based trading company on the smuggling of opium from India into China. “Opium aside,” Margaret continued in a low voice, “China is not a safe place to be. The Manchu emperor does not like