Valentine Hill, the merchant, and Lysle, the barber, and Davies, the gunsmith, and Tuesdale and Leverett, and behind them all, the broad shoulders and ruddy face of William Hudson. Not a few women, too, elbowed their way through the throng and filled the benches allotted to spectators. But among them all none was more calm and self-possessed, more indifferent to the gaze and chatter of the crowd without, than was the governor. The people shrank backward and gave him room as he approached, and, as the chief magistrate of the colony, ascended the bench and took his seat with Winthrop and Saltonstall.

"Of a truth," said Sir Richard, in a low tone to Winthrop, "Richard Bellingham will not himself sit, while he is accused." "It were not meet that he should do so," answered Winthrop.

"Have ye aught else to bring before us?" demanded Bellingham of the secretary, after he had heard and decided a few trifling causes. The people held their breath and looked upon the secretary with anxious expectancy.

"We have naught else," answered the secretary solemnly, "save a presentment against one Richard Bellingham, that he hath made a breach of the order of court."

"If ye have any causes that ye would bring against any person whatsoever, we will hear them," said the governor, while all marvelled at his boldness.

"But it is scarcely meet that a magistrate should sit in judgment upon his own cause," said the secretary. Winthrop and Sir Richard turned a glance upon each other, at these words, then looked upon Bellingham for his answer.

"Nay, we know naught of these things," said Bellingham. "The magistrates must hear what is brought before them. I will yield to no one of my right and duty."

"And thou wilt not come down?" asked the secretary.

all.

A silence, deep and solemn, fell upon At last the secretary spoke :"We have naught else."

"Then let the officer adjourn the court," said the governor, and he swept from the room, his robes of office rustling as he went.

Still greater was the amazement of the people when it became known throughout the colony that the governor had not only broken the law, but had openly defied its authority.

"We cannot have this man as our chief magistrate," said one and another, in the market place and upon the street corners. The fishermen, who were wont to gather for gossip at Hudson's Ordinary, and among whom Ezekiel was a hero, were loud in their denunciation of the governor. "Why should he not meet the reward of his deeds?" exclaimed their leader, Kidby, angrily.

"The Lord himself judgeth," answered the other solemnly.

The magistrates, too, whispering among themselves, found no excuse for their chief, who had so openly and flagrantly set the law at naught. Never kindly in their feelings toward Bellingham, their antagonism was now all the more increased, and an opportunity only was awaited for them openly to show their hostility to him.

But among all the people, none were more outspoken in their dislike, both of Bellingham and of his wife, than were the women. Sharp-tongued were some of these Puritan dames, and intolerant of those who were breakers of the law, human or divine. With their consciences braced upon their interpretation of the Scriptures, they could scarcely imagine any punishbreach of the order of court, and at the court following, in the 4th month, the secretary called him to answer the prosecution, but he not going off the

istrates present, he put it off to another time, intending to speak with him privately, and with the rest of the magistrates about the case, and accordingly he told him the reason why he did not proceed, viz., being unwilling to command him publicly to go off the bench, and yet not thinking it fit he should sit as a judge, when he was by law to answer as an offender. This he took ill, and said he would not go off the bench except he were commanded."

ment too severe for this aristocratic pair of law-breakers. It is not at all certain that, had these women had their will, they would not have condemned the governor and his young wife to an hour in the pillory, or even to a taste of the constable's whip.

XIII.

ONCE again came the day of the General Court of Elections, and once more the freemen of the colony crowded the streets of Boston. Very like it was to the throng which filled the streets a year ago; but quite unlike was the conversation in the market-stead and at the street corners. Not a voice was heard in praise of George Bellingham, nor in urging his re-election. Again and again was told the story of his infraction of the law, of his perfidy toward his friend, and of his defiance of the court. But the story was new to none. All had heard it, and what the governor had hoped would increase his popularity was itself the very thing which called forth their execration. It was, then, with exceeding chagrin that Governor Bellingham heard the announcement of Increase Nowell, that John Winthrop had been returned to the governor's seat, by a great majority of the votes of the freemen. It was a result that he must have anticipated; yet his chagrin was none the less keen, and was increased by the recollection of his own meagre majority a year before. It was with the bitterness of death that he administered the oath to his successor and surrendered to him his chair of office. That his own deputygovernor, Endicott, was re-elected did not in the least assuage his chagrin. As he withdrew, after the throng of freemen had disappeared and left the General Court to its deliberations, he felt that he was followed by all with a smile of derision. As he emerged into the market-place and faced the throng assembled there, and as they respectfully made way for him, he felt that all eyes were upon him and that few, if any, sympathized with him in his disappointment.

"Penelope," he said, as he seated himself in his library and drew his young wife toward him, "the blow hath come upon

on, scarcely noticing the effect of his communication upon his wife, "when the freemen of Boston did refuse to return Master Hibbens, who is the husband of my sister Ann, as a deputy to the General Court, but elected Captain Gibbons in his stead.' Even then I feared me that my magistracy was ended."

"But the people of Boston did again elect thee to order the town's affairs, but in the month after our marriage."2

"True, and so they did. But such hath been the custom, that the governor should be one of those who order the town's occasions. But now they have scorned me. Winthrop hath an ambition to be the governor, and some say that he doth desire that he be chosen for life. He hath but achieved his opportunity."

"Is Master Winthrop, then, the governor?"

"Even he."

Penelope turned slowly away, and walking to the alcoved window, cast herself in silence upon the crimson cushion. Bellingham regarded her attentively for a time, but she made no sign. At length he approached and seated himself beside her.

"Penelope, have I wronged thee? I did ask thee to be the governor's wife, and I did offer what was not mine to give," he said.

Penelope made no answer.

"Ah! how blind was I," sighed Bellingham. "I did tempt thee with a bubble, which hath broken at a breath. Thou didst violence to thine own heart and now hast naught to repay thee."

"Nay! nay! say not so," said Penelope, starting up. "For I still have thee, and thou art all the world. Let all else be forgotten. Thou art not the governor, but thou art still Bellingham, and I am thy wife. True will I be to thee, though thou art in sorrow. Thy grief is mine also, not

1 Vide Reports of Boston Record Commissioners, Vol. II., p. 65. "This 2d of 3d moneth, 1642, At a general Townsmeeting, upon warning from house to house, William Tyng, Treasurer and Capt. Gibones are chosen Deputyes for the next Generall

Court."

2 Ibid., p. 65. "This 6th of the 10th moneth, 1641. At a generall Towns meeting, upon Publique warning. There are chosen for the Affayres of the Towne for these six months next ensuing, Richard Bellingham, esqre. Governor, John Winthrop, esqre., William Tynge, Treasurer, Captaine Gibones, Williame Calbron, Jacob Eliott, Valentine Hill, James Penne, John Olivr."

Let the

for my own sake, but for thine. people do as they may. Some day again thou shalt come into thine own, and then shall I be the governor's wife, and thou wilt have kept thy promise."

Bellingham's face lighted with a smile. "If thou hast no regrets now, thou shalt have none hereafter."

"Of that I am sure," she answered. Penelope's words were prophetic. But long years must pass before their fulfilment, and both joy and sorrow were to come to her heart and home. Although deprived of the governorship, the social position which Bellingham occupied was well assured by his wealth and education. He was born to be a leader of men, and although never enjoying an extreme popularity, he was still looked up to for advice and counsel in both public and private affairs. As a selectman of the town he was vigilant and watchful of the public weal. There were few among the colonists who were possessed of wealth, and, following the monarchical system under which they were born and reared, they drew a sharp line between the gentry and the common people. Bred as a lawyer and possessed of wealth which, for those early days, was by no means inconsiderable, Bellingham could not fail to occupy a social position far above the greater portion of the people about him. But, unlike Winthrop, he failed to draw the hearts of the people to him, and he had not the rugged, bold conscientiousness of Endicott. Excessively opinionated, after the First Church and the Second Church were gathered, he could see no good reason for the formation of a third. Acting upon this belief, he became the implacable, unyielding enemy of the Third, or, as it came to be called, the Old South Church. When the church was finally gathered, and an edifice had been erected upon what had been the lawn of Governor Winthrop's mansion, he conceived for the church an opposition amounting almost to hatred, which ended only with his life. Some there were, at the last, who were fain to rejoice at his death, that a "Son of Belial" had been removed from among them. But this is anticipating.

1 Vide Diary of Samuel Sewell, publications of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Vol. II. "The most to be regretted is his enmity to the foundation of the third church of Boston that

However great might be the unpopularity of her husband, Penelope was, or appeared to be, blissfully unconscious of it all. She looked up to her husband, since he was many years her senior, much as a child looks to a father for counsel. She believed in him, and she thoroughly believed that some day he would again fill the governor's chair. Although she rapidly lost her youthful manner, and assumed the airs of a matron, as became one in her social station, she did not forget her former associates and friends. Possessed of a nature far more genial and sunny than that of her husband, she made many friends and lost none. True, after her marriage she was looked upon with coldness by many, on account of her conduct toward Ezekiel. But this frost soon dissolved beneath the warmth of her smile, and those friends who had momentarily deserted her returned to their allegiance. Nor did she appear to have noticed, and if she did she readily forgave, their resentment toward her. The old mansion on Cotton Hill was filled with warmth and sunshine and the sound of young, fresh voices.

Madame Bellingham was by no means plebeian in her tastes, yet she was not exclusive. Many a worthy young man and maiden, who had not been accustomed to mingle in the higher society of the colony, were admitted and welcomed to her charmed circle. Thus did her influence among the people serve to level the social barriers and obliterate distinctions. In fact, the gentry, as a class, began rapidly to disappear, or rather to become absorbed, despite their struggles, into the great middle class.

Her leadership in the social life of the colony was one of the joys that came into the life of Penelope Bellingham. But there were others. One by one, little ones, charming buds of promise, came to her home. But these joys were soon followed by deepest grief; the cup of happiness was scarcely placed at her lips ere it was dashed away, and the sweet draught spilled upon the earth. So came little Hannah and tiny James, Sarai, and Ann, and Grace; but scarcely had the drops of the baptismal waters touched their foreheads ere they faded away, and "Rachael, weeping

ceased only with his life." Governor Coddington of Rhode Island is recorded as rejoicing at his death, calling him "Son of Belial."

Two only of the little band were left to her: John, a sturdy little lad, and his sister Elizabeth, a tiny girl, with hair as her mother's was, of the hue of the morning sunlight. One bright morning in spring-time, the little one slipped from her nurse's care and, opening the gate, danced merrily down the street. Away, away, she knew not, cared not where, only to be free and to hear the birds sing in the trees, or to play marbles with the children of the street, whom she had so often seen and envied from the windows of her father's house. At last she reached the landingplace, and stood, bedraggled and dusty, gazing far out upon the blue waters of the harbor. Her torn frock fluttered in the wind, and she swung her hood in her hand and laughed shrilly, as her hair blew in disorder about her face. She watched a gray-haired man, as he rowed slowly toward the landing-place, made fast his boat, and clambered upon the pier. He had a kindly eye, and none had ever spoken rudely to the child. She felt no fear, then, as he approached and addressed her.

"Who art thou, little one? not wandered from thy home? thy name? Canst tell me?"

Hast thou What is

"My name?" answered the child. "Oh, yes! I can tell my name. It is Elizabeth." "And what is thy other name, little one?" "I have no other name. I am only Elizabeth."

"But who is thy father?"

"Dost thou not know my father? Thou canst not live in Boston, that thou dost not know Master Richard Bellingham. My mother saith that he was once the governor and that he will be, mayhap, again. But that was long, long ago, before ever I was born."

"Thou art Richard Bellingham's child? I knew him once," added the man, as if to himself. "And I knew thy mother, also," he continued, addressing the child after a pause. "Thou hast thy mother's look in thy face. But that, too, was long, long ago; but I have not forgotten," he added, dreamily. He took the child's hand tenderly within his own and pressed it in his broad palms. Then he softly 1 Vide Reports of Boston Record Commissioners, Vol. IX. (City Document 130.)

"But thou art far from home for a little one like thee. Dost thou know the way? Let me lead thee home."

Gently he led the little child along, lifting her tenderly over the rough places, and listening delightedly to her childish prattle by the way. At length they came within sight of the mansion of Bellingham, and the child sprang forward with a cry of delight.

"See! there is my father's house."

"Yea, child, I know it," said the man. 66 Stay but a moment;" and he loosened a spray of fresh mayflowers from his doublet. "Give thou these to thy mother, child, and say to her that she must care for these blossoms, lest they wither, like the others."

"Yea, I will tell her what thou sayest," said the child, and she tripped away to her home. A moment later she was pouring her tale of her wonderful adventures into her mother's startled ears.

66

"But as I stood upon the pier," said the child, a good man with gray locks and sad eyes, that once looked misty as he talked, came to me and asked me my name. And when I told him, he said that I had wandered from home, and that he knew my father and my mother once, long, long ago, and that he would take me home. And he took me by the hand and led me, and he lifted me over the stones, that I fell not, and he brought me to the corner yonder, until I could see my father's house. And he gave to me these flowers," she added, " and he bid me give them to thee, and to say to thee: Take care of these flowers, lest they wither like the others.'

"What was he like, this man, my child?" asked the mother. "Had he deep, blue eyes?"

"Yea, mother, they were deep and dark, but they looked at me so sadly, and when I turned away and looked again, he was still looking at me with his sad eyes. Who was he, mother? Dost thou know him?"

"Nay, nay, my child. I know him not. He had gray locks, thou sayest?" But as she spoke, she gasped slightly and turned away to hide a tear, and left the room. Once safely in her own chamber, she covered her face with her hands and wailed in anguish.

"My children ! my children! He said, 'Alas, the withered blossoms! the withered blossoms!' Can he have had a presage? And he warned me that I tempt not the name of the Lord. Alas! alas! hath the Lord come in judgment upon me? Hath he sent children to me but to mock me? I did call his will what was but my own desire for wealth and power. Oh! that my repentance might save to me these two!" And she wept bitterly.

But woe came again upon her, and as she clasped her little one to her bosom, she faded and was not, and John alone was left as his mother's comforter.

XIV.

IT has been said that Penelope's words were prophetic, when she assured her husband that some day he would again be the governor of the colony of Massachusetts Bay. But, doubtless, Bellingham little thought that twelve years must pass before he would again be elevated to power. Yet so it was, and even at the expiration of that long period of penance, he was not elevated to the highest place, but was forced to be content to be the deputygovernor only. But a year later, he was again given a short lease of the highest office, and once more the people bowed their heads to Governor Bellingham, as he passed. But Penelope, his wife, was no longer the bright young girl who had become the governor's bride. She was now a woman of middle age, among whose golden locks sorrow and care had already drawn, here and there, a line of silver. The governor himself now trod more heavily than of yore, and his locks were gray. But in nowise had he endeared himself to the people more than before. His manner was austere; but this was the manner of the times. It was something more than austerity that was the controlling characteristic of Governor Bellingham's nature. Yet as time passed, the remembrance of many of the failings of his earlier years faded from the minds of the people. Many of his generation, of his early antagonists, passed away or ceased to be active in the local political arena. The remembrance of his violation of the law and of his lack of personal good faith, in the affair of his marriage, ceased to be

come.

The years which had elapsed between the first and the last election of Bellingham, as governor of the colony, had been the most eventful which England had ever seen. Only now and then, however, when a ship arrived, bringing supplies and welcome additions to their number, did the colonists learn of the great events that were happening across the sea. Then they heard of the great contest which was waged between Parliament and the throne. They heard that their countrymen had taken up arms against one another, and that great battles were fought between those whom they deemed to be their friends and the troops led by the king. They heard that the Puritan Cromwell had arisen, almost from obscurity, and had become the great leader of the cause of the people. They heard, at last, and they told it with bated breath and in startled whispers, in the market-place and about the streets, that Charles had laid his royal head upon the block and that imperialism, in England, with him had died. They heard and rejoiced that, upon the ruins of the monarchy, had arisen a commonwealth, which they regarded as the realization of their dreams of religious freedom and the extinction of popery.

But their exultation was not of long duration. One day a ship arrived bringing the dread news that Cromwell was dead, and that the second Charles, already the crowned king of Scotland, had been restored to the English throne. The adherents of Cromwell were flying for their lives, or were laying their heads upon the block. The same ship brought three mysterious strangers, who shrank from the gaze of men, and soon disappeared from the settlement as mysteriously as they