Mine Is the Night Read Online Free PDF

too. I spent many a summer night with my back propped against a tree in the pine woods round Castleton of Braemar.”
    “You slept in the woods?” Marjory shook her head. “Truly, Bess, you never cease to astound me.”
    Elisabeth glanced across the room, hoping the trifling exchange had given their cousin’s ire time to cool.
    But Anne was still frowning. “I’ve a plaid for each of you,” she said, then reached into the recesses of her box bed and pulled out two light wool blankets, woven in muted blues and reds.
    “You’ll not miss them tonight?” Elisabeth asked, wanting to be certain.
    Anne shook her head. “But I’ll soon miss my sleep.”
    They took turns at the washstand, then slipped off their gowns and retired for the night. When Anne blew out the last candle, an awkward silence thicker than any plaid fell across the darkened room.
    “Good night,” Elisabeth said softly, hoping the others might respond and so end the evening on a sweeter note. But Anne closed her bed curtains without a word, and Marjory exhaled in obvious frustration.
    With the Sabbath almost upon them, Elisabeth refused to be discouraged. The light of day and the warmth of society would surely improve things. She quietly arranged her plaid by the faint glow of the coal fire, then closed her eyes and called upon the Almighty.
    I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches
. Since winter she’d consumed the psalms until the words had become her daily bread, feeding her soul, nourishing her mind. When the family Bible was out of reach, or the hour late, or the firelight dim, she could draw upon his holy truth buried inside her.
    The words came swiftly, silently, yet surely.
    My soul followeth hard after thee
. Her heart stirred at the thought. The Lord had led her to Selkirk, of that she was certain. Now came the harder task: resting in the knowledge that he’d brought her here for some good purpose.
    Thy right hand upholdeth me
. If the Almighty supported her, might she not support others? Elisabeth lifted her head, buoyed by the realization. Rather than be a burden to Anne, she could provide for their cousin’s upkeepby plying her needle. Had she not once earned her living in a tailor’s shop? And stitched her own gowns for the sheer pleasure of working with her hands?
    She would sew, then, and pray Anne’s heart might soften toward them. Sinking deeper into her chair, Elisabeth embraced the gift of sleep and let the Almighty shape her dreams.

Six
    There is in every true woman’s heart
a spark of heavenly fire …
which kindles up, and beams and blazes
in the dark hour of adversity.
W ASHINGTON I RVING
    arjory stared into her cup of tea, bleary eyed from a poor night’s sleep. Her daughter-in-law had meant well, but the hurlie bed was no prize. The mattress was lumpy, and the wooden frame groaned whenever she tossed and turned.
    Even so, you had a bed to yourself, Marjory. And supper before it
.
    She chafed at the reminder, wishing her conscience were still slumbering. But it was the Sabbath. All of Selkirk would be awake, dressed, and prepared to leave for the parish kirk at the first clang of the bell.
    Marjory considered the last bite of her oatcake, then pushed it aside. Her appetite had vanished at the thought of seeing her old neighbors, who would mark her diminished circumstances and quickly learn of her losses. And what would she say to Reverend Brown?
    “Come, Marjory.” Elisabeth beckoned her toward the window, hairbrush in hand. “Since every eye will be on you this morn, I would have you look your best.”
    Marjory submitted to her daughter-in-law’s ministrations, surprised when her thinning auburn hair turned into a sleek braid, pinned atop her head. Holding up Anne’s small looking glass, Marjory pretended not to see the wrinkles outlining her features and admired Elisabeth’s handiwork instead.
    “Another talent put to good use,” Marjory commended her. “Though my gown is