A little to one side
was the whipping post: a woman had been whipped that morning,
and her cries had tainted the air even more effectually than had the
decayed matter with which certain small devils had pelted the
runaway in the pillory. I looked away from the poor rogue below
me into the clear, hard brightness of the March day, and was most
heartily weary of the bars between me and it. The wind blew
keenly; the sky was blue as blue could be, and the river a great
ribbon of azure sewn with diamonds. All colors were vivid and all
distances near. There was no haze over the forest; brown and bare
it struck the cloudless blue. The marsh was emerald, the green of
the pines deep and rich, the budding maples redder than coral. The
church, with the low green graves around it, appeared not a stone's
throw away, and the voices of the children up and down the street
sounded clearly, as though they played in the brown square below
me. When the drum beat for the nooning the roll was close in my
ears. The world looked so bright and keen that it seemed new
made, and the brilliant sunshine and the cold wind stirred the
blood like wine.
Now and then men and women passed through the square below.
Well-nigh all glanced up at the window, and their eyes were
friendly. It was known now that Buckingham was paramount at
home, and my Lord Carnal's following in Virginia was much
decayed.
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