Mercy Wood Character Analysis

“Why, girls! What on earth—?” Rachel Wood had come back unnoticed, and she stood now staring at her daughter in the peacock blue gown with something, half fear and half hunger in her eyes.”

“[…] 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.”

Sometimes Kit wanted to stop her ears. Would she have to hear the price of every nail that went into those board, and every single nail the finest that money could buy? […]

Judith, however took a lively interest in such details. She had a flair for line and form and a definite mind of her own, and it was plain, to Kit at least, that as William planned his house Judith was comparing it, timber for timber, with the house she dreamed for herself. Her purpose was only too apparent as she made adroit attempts to draw John Holbrook into the discussion.

“I think you should have one of those new roofs, William,” she said now. […] “I think they look so distinguished, don’t you, John?”

Mercy laughed at John’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe John even notices there’s a roof over his head,” she teased gently.

“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.

“Why, girls! What on earth—?” Rachel Wood had come back unnoticed, and she stood now staring at her daughter in the peacock blue gown with something, half fear and half hunger in her eyes.”

“[…] 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.”

Sometimes Kit wanted to stop her ears. Would she have to hear the price of every nail that went into those board, and every single nail the finest that money could buy? […]

Judith, however took a lively interest in such details. She had a flair for line and form and a definite mind of her own, and it was plain, to Kit at least, that as William planned his house Judith was comparing it, timber for timber, with the house she dreamed for herself. Her purpose was only too apparent as she made adroit attempts to draw John Holbrook into the discussion.

“I think you should have one of those new roofs, William,” she said now. […] “I think they look so distinguished, don’t you, John?”

Mercy laughed at John’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe John even notices there’s a roof over his head,” she teased gently.

“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.