In the struggle I had almost forgotten what had started it, but it came back to me as I led Marnie to the spring and demonstrated that she should wash her face and hands. She did so, following my example, and dried herself on the flour-sack towel I handed her. Then, when I started to turn away, she sat down on a rock by the flowing water, lifted the sadly bedraggled gown, and slipped her feet into the stream. When she lifted each to dry it, I saw the reddened, bruised soles and said, “No wonder you didn’t want to walk. Wait a minute.” I went back to the wagon and got my old slippers, and, as an afterthought, several pins. Marnie was still sitting by the stream, leaning over the water, letting it flow between her fingers. She put on the slippers-woefully large for her, and stood watching with interest as I turned up the bottom of the gown and pinned it at intervals.
“Now,” I said, “now at least you can walk. But this gown will be ruined if we don’t get you into some other clothes.”
We ate dinner and Marnie ate some of everything we did, after a cautious tasting and a waiting to see how we handled it. She helped me gather up and put away the leftovers and clear the tarp. She even helped with the dishes-all with an absorbed interest as if learning a whole new set of skills.
As our wagon rolled on down the road, Nils and I talked quietly, not to disturb Marnie as she slept in the back of the wagon.
“She’s an odd child,” I said. “Nils, do you think she really was floating? How could she have? It’s impossible.”
“Well, it looked as if she was floating,” he said. “And she acted as if she had done something wrong- something-” Nils’s words stopped and he frowned intently as he flicked at a roadside branch with the whip “- something we would hurt her for. Gail, maybe that’s why-I mean, we found that witch quotation. Maybe those other people were like Marnie. Maybe someone thought they were witches and burned them-“
“But witches are evil!” I cried. “What’s evil about floating-“
“Anything is evil,” said Nils. “It lies on the other side of the line you draw around what you will accept as good. Some people’s lines are awfully narrow.”
“But that’s murder!” I said, “to kill-“
“Murder or execution-again, a matter of interpretation,” said Nils. “We call it murder, but it could never be proved-“
“Marnie,” I suggested. “She saw-“
“Can’t talk-or won’t,” said Nils.
I hated the shallow valley of Grafton’s Vow at first glance. For me it was shadowed from one side to the other in spite of the down-flooding sun that made us so grateful for the shade of the overhanging branches. The road was running between rail fences now as we approached the town. Even the horses seemed jumpy and uneasy as we rattled along.
“Look,” I said, “there’s a notice or something on that fence post.”
Nils pulled up alongside the post and I leaned over to read: “‘Ex. 20:16’ That’s all it says!”
“Another reference,” said Nils. “‘Thou shalt not bear false witness.’ This must be a habit with them, putting up memorials on the spot where a law is broken.”
“I wonder what happened here.” I shivered as we went on.
We were met at a gate by a man with a shotgun in his hands who said, “God have mercy,” and directed us to the campgrounds safely separated from town by a palisade kind of log wall. There we were questioned severely by an anxious-faced man, also clutching a shotgun, who peered up at the sky at intervals as though expecting the wrath of heaven at any moment.
“Only one wagon?” he asked,
“Yes,” said Nils. “My wife and I and-“
“You have your marriage lines?” came the sharp question.
“Yes,” said Nils patiently, “they’re packed in the trunk.”
“And your Bible is probably packed away, too!” the man accused.
“No,” said Nils, “here it is.” He took it from under the seat. The man sniffed and shifted.
“Who’s that?” He nodded at the back of Marnie’s dark head where she lay silently, sleeping or not, I don’t now.
“My niece,” Nils said steadily, and I clamped my mouth shut. “She’s sick.”
“Sick!”’ The man backed away from the wagon. “What sin did she commit?”
“Nothing catching,” said Nils shortly.
“Which way you come?” asked the man.
“Through Millman’s Pass,” Nils answered, his eyes unwavering on the anxious questioning face. The man paled and clutched his gun tighter, the skin of his face seeming to stretch down tight and then flush loose and sweaty again.
“What-” he began, then he licked dry lips and tried again. “Did you-was there-“
“Was there what?” asked Nils shortly. “Did we what?”
“Nothing,” stammered the man, backing away. “Nothing.
“Gotta see her,” he said, coming reluctantly back to the wagon. “Too easy to bear false witness-” Roughly he grabbed the quilt and pulled it back, rolling Marnie’s head toward him I thought he was going to collapse. “That’s- that’s the one!” he whimpered hoarsely. “How did she get-Where did you-” Then his lips clamped shut. “If you say it’s your niece, it’s your niece.
“You can stay the night,” he said with an effort. “Spring just outside the wall. Otherwise keep to the compound. Remember your prayers. Comport yourself in the fear of God.” Then he scuttled away.
