Chapter 15 January 1774
My dearest Miss Atkins, It seems like years since we were last in each other's company! Jeremiah is to be married, and the wedding shall take place on the 14th of March. I am sure you have received an invitation, but thought I would inform you of this news myself. Would you be so kind as to join me for tea on the 21st? Please do me this honor. I would be delighted to see you. Yours, Susan Hathorne
I could see no reason why I should not accept this invitation, and so I did. Susan was as beautiful and vivacious as ever, her blond ringlets bouncing joyously as she jumped from her plush, green-and-white-striped seat to greet me. "Abby!" she exclaimed "Oh how wonderful it is too see you! It has been much too long." "It has," I said, and I meant it. I had missed having a friend like Susan-someone to giggle with, to speak to of girlish things and be understood completely. But I wasn't sure I wanted to speak of girlish things anymore. I knew that I missed those days of innocence, deep in the back recesses of my mind. I would never admit it, for it went against all my principles of freedom and independence that I missed being a slave to my family and never being permitted to think for myself. "And how have you been?" Susan inquired. It seemed like the first time which I had heard that particular phrase used in a sincere manner: I was so accustomed to Mama's friends (Abby darling, you look simply marvelous. How have you been, my dear?). "To be entirely frank, I've been fair to meddling, Susan. My sister Meg continues to be a trial." Susan frowned, and then burst out laughing. "Oh Abby, why in heaven's name are you speaking like that? I hope we've been through more than to apply those frilly manners." Her blue eyes sparkled with her common gaiety, and I saw my old friend, just as I had left her; so she would forgive me, for abandoning her for so long. I laughed. "I'm sorry, Susan. I wasn't sure where we stood." Conversation flowed freely after that, although no confessions were made on my part. Susan remained Loyalist, though neutral to politics as anything other than a family obligation. Jeremiah was to be married to Meghan something-or-other, a name I had heard vaguely as a kind girl-from a Patriot family, no less. I was most definitely impressed, although not surprised. I knew I should have known better than to think that Jem-or any true friendship-could be blinded by his political leanings. I was utterly ashamed by my conduct: it had, after all, been I who had been blinded by my own political leanings when I distanced myself from my two Loyalist friends. There was another friendship in which I had been blinded by my fervent Patriotism, and it was high time for that to end.
My dearest Miss Atkins, It seems like years since we were last in each other's company! Jeremiah is to be married, and the wedding shall take place on the 14th of March. I am sure you have received an invitation, but thought I would inform you of this news myself. Would you be so kind as to join me for tea on the 21st? Please do me this honor. I would be delighted to see you. Yours, Susan Hathorne
I could see no reason why I should not accept this invitation, and so I did. Susan was as beautiful and vivacious as ever, her blond ringlets bouncing joyously as she jumped from her plush, green-and-white-striped seat to greet me. "Abby!" she exclaimed "Oh how wonderful it is too see you! It has been much too long." "It has," I said, and I meant it. I had missed having a friend like Susan-someone to giggle with, to speak to of girlish things and be understood completely. But I wasn't sure I wanted to speak of girlish things anymore. I knew that I missed those days of innocence, deep in the back recesses of my mind. I would never admit it, for it went against all my principles of freedom and independence that I missed being a slave to my family and never being permitted to think for myself. "And how have you been?" Susan inquired. It seemed like the first time which I had heard that particular phrase used in a sincere manner: I was so accustomed to Mama's friends (Abby darling, you look simply marvelous. How have you been, my dear?). "To be entirely frank, I've been fair to meddling, Susan. My sister Meg continues to be a trial." Susan frowned, and then burst out laughing. "Oh Abby, why in heaven's name are you speaking like that? I hope we've been through more than to apply those frilly manners." Her blue eyes sparkled with her common gaiety, and I saw my old friend, just as I had left her; so she would forgive me, for abandoning her for so long. I laughed. "I'm sorry, Susan. I wasn't sure where we stood." Conversation flowed freely after that, although no confessions were made on my part. Susan remained Loyalist, though neutral to politics as anything other than a family obligation. Jeremiah was to be married to Meghan something-or-other, a name I had heard vaguely as a kind girl-from a Patriot family, no less. I was most definitely impressed, although not surprised. I knew I should have known better than to think that Jem-or any true friendship-could be blinded by his political leanings. I was utterly ashamed by my conduct: it had, after all, been I who had been blinded by my own political leanings when I distanced myself from my two Loyalist friends. There was another friendship in which I had been blinded by my fervent Patriotism, and it was high time for that to end.