Jonathan stirred and opened his eyes. He had not slept well, waking many times during the night from half-formed dreams: of Nathaniel being dragged away by witches, or sinking out of sight in a bog, of himself being chained to the cottage. He had at some point in the night turned away from Rebecca. She was lying behind him, her head in the nape of his neck, one hand on his shoulder. He needed to relieve himself. Rising quietly from the bed, he made his way outside to avoid the embarrassment of using the chamber pot. He stood leaning against a large maple tree, shivering in the cold. He thought of what had happened. He realized the plan had gone asunder. How could he face Nathaniel?
He returned to the room where he quietly laid two small logs on the fire and stirred the coals. Turning to t
