Puritanism Term Analysis

An hour ago [Kit] had declined to go to Meeting, saying airily that she and her grandfather had seldom attended divine service, except for the Christmas Mass. What an uproar she had caused! There was no Church of England in Wethersfield, her uncle had informed her, and furthermore, since she was now a member of his household she would forget her popish ideas and attend Meeting like a God-fearing woman.

“I am mistaken,” Matthew Wood challenged him, “because I do not favor knuckling under to this new King’s governor?”

“Governor Andros was appointed by King James. Massachusetts has recognized that.”

“Well, we here in Connecticut will never recognize it—never! Do you think we have labored and sacrificed all these years to build up a free government only to hand it over now without a murmur?”

“[…] She’s been there as long as I can remember.”

“All alone?”

“With her cats. There’s always a cat or so around. People say she’s a witch.”

“Do you believe in witches, Judith?”

“Maybe not,” said Judith doubtfully. “All the same, it gives me a creepy feeling to look at her. She’s queer, that’s certain, and she never comes to Meeting. I’d just rather not get any closer.”

Kit looked back at the gray figure bent over a kettle, stirring something with a long stick. Her spine prickled. It might be only soap, of course […] But that lonely figure in the ragged flapping shawl—it was easy enough to imagine any sort of mysterious brew in that pot!

“[…] But no one in Wethersfield has anything to do with Hannah Tupper.”

“Why on earth not?”

“She’s a Quaker.”

“Why is that so dreadful?”

Rachel hesitated. “I can’t tell you exactly. The Quakers are queer stubborn people. They don’t believe in the Sacraments.”

“What difference does that make? She is as kind and good as—as you are, Aunt Rachel. I could swear to it.”

“Why should you take it upon yourself to mend a roof for the Quaker woman?” demanded [Matthew].

“She lives all alone—” began Kit.

“She is a heretic, and she refuses to attend Meeting. She has no claim on your charity.”

“Or you can go on to the West Indies with us.”

Barbados! The tears sprang to her eyes. “I can’t, Nat. I have to stay here […] ‘Tis Mercy,” she stammered. “She’s terribly ill. I couldn’t go, I just couldn’t, not knowing—”

“‘Tis true I did not welcome you into my house,” [Matthew] said at last. “But this last week you have proved me wrong. You haven’t spared yourself, Katherine. Our own daughter couldn’t have done more.”

Suddenly Kit wished, with all her heart, that she had never deceived this man. She would like to stand here before him with a clear conscience. She was ashamed of the many times—more times than she could count—when she had skipped off and left her work undone.

I shall tell him some day, she vowed to herself, when I am sure that Hannah is safe. And I will do my full share, beginning this very moment. I don’t even feel tired any more.

“Is it true that you were also acquainted with a certain cat which the widow entertained as a familiar spirit?”

“It—it was just an ordinary cat, sir, like any cat.”

“Hold your tongue, woman,” shouted her husband unexpectedly. “I’m sick and tired of hearing about Prudence being bewitched. All these years you been telling me our child was half-witted. Why, she’s smart as a whip. I bet it warn’t much of a trick to teach her to read.”

Goodwife Cruff’s jaw dropped. For one moment she was struck utterly dumb, and in that moment her husband stepped into his rightful place. There was a new authority in his voice.