Constance: A Story of Early Plymouth

By: Patricia C. Clapp

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Synopsis: The Indians started some sort of rhythmic chanting, with a clapping of their hands to accent it, and I sat a little apart at, one of the fires listening. It was a strange sound that somehow sent my blood pulsing more quickly and made me wish I could stand up and dance round and round the fire, but this I knew would not be fitting. Of a sudden I was aware of someone beside me, and turning, saw Ted Leister easing himself down to the ground. I thought it best to say nothing of the disagreement he and t'other Ted had, so I spoke of the singing. "It nigh makes me giddy," I said. "'Tis not at all like English singing." "If it makes you giddy, lie back and close your eyes," Ted Leister told me. "'Twill soon pass." I did as he suggested, and I could feel the very earth under me throbbing from the beat and beat and beat of the voices and hands. My eyes were closed, but the dizziness got no better and I moved to sit up when I felt Ted's hand push me gently back again, and then he kissed me.