Jane Rogers [ROGERS - Mr. Wroe’s Virgins

MARCH 183031

'The Lord has instructed me to take of your number, seven virgins for comfort and succour.

Seven? They say his wife is sickly, but seven? Judith touches my elbow, I know, I am trying not to giggle. It is so quiet, it seems no one breathes in the whole of Sanctuary. I must not laugh. I must not. Will he really? Will they let him? Who?

Once Abigail Whitehead said to me, Can you imagine doing it with the Prophet? We laughed with our heads beneath our quilt work, for fear God might have overheard. He is staring us out, everyone looks down. They are still and reverent; they take it for Gods will. When Abigail said it I imagined his strange back, which is like the thick shoulders of a bull. He is the ugliest man I have ever seen, but he is powerful.

Would I? People begin to clear their throats, to glance at one another. My sister Anne is looking at me. She widens her eyes. Me? I smile at her and pull a face. But she is serious; she mouths a word. Thomas. Thomas. When her own child is born, she will have no time for mine. I must remove him. I have promised.

But what is she thinking? To the Prophets house? Does she think he will take kindly to a virgin with a bastard child? Perhaps she thinks that I could hide him there, keep him secretly. It may be possible. They say the Prophets house is vast. I watch him now. His eyes continue to move slowly over the congregation, the silence goes on and on. He sees me. I can feel the blush rising up my cheeks. He is looking at me. The congregation shifts and sighs.

There are girls they would be glad to give. I know some as eager to be rid of daughters as any farmer his vicious cow on market day.

You can see what he wants, how he stared at my blushing. If I did If I went I would be the prettiest there. They will hardly hand over the marriageable ones.

Is this what Anne means? What if he did not like me? He sits himself down, now, and we are on with the hymn singing. Thank heavens it is not now. There is till this afternoon to decide.

Is he looking? Glance quickly. Yes. He is looking at me again, now all eyes are on their hymn books. If he wanted me, I could make him do anything. Could I live that life? Surely they would not make us pray all the day. We should have fine rooms, and servants at our beck and call. The church has money. Comfort and succour. Pray, how must we comfort him? I cough to save myself from laughing. We would not be prisoners. If it is anything tolerable, then I should be able to bear it. Will Judith? And the Elders and church close by: he could not maltreat us.

If I could win his favour I should be in a fine position. The favour of a man who talks to God, and whom the entire church fall over themselves to obey. But I should like to know what he has done with his wife.

If I stay at home, I make my daily visit to my sisters, to see poor hidden Thomas. I am locked into my room at night and guarded, ever since my father caught me creeping in at dawn. Allowed to walk out only with my saintly insipid cousin, who would faint away at mention of my child (although his thoughts are so fixed upon matters spiritual that I doubt he has any notion of how a child is conceived). What other escape will I ever be offered? The Prophet will never guard seven as closely as my father guards one.

He is still looking at me. Has he noticed me before this day? I never thought of him but that once, with Abigail. If I did he would be obliged to agree to Thomas. For his own preservation.

It is as neat as a row of my good plain sewing. The answer to my prayers. That makes me laugh. Judith pats my back, I cannot catch my breath. Hush, I must be calm.

How it would please my father! To so far exceed his neighbours in virtue, as to give the Prophet a pretty daughter!

The Lord has instructed me to take of your number, seven virgins for comfort and succour.

Praise God. This is the sign the women are not forgot. My heart leaps to his words, as the instrument to the hand of the craftsman.

The joy of that moment will never leave me nor, I think, will it be easily forgotten by any of those blessed enough to be present. God was indeed among us, He spoke to our hearts, He called us to join His glorious service. The joy within was so overpowering that I could do nothing but fall to my knees and thank Him a thousand times for calling His unworthy handmaiden. When I became conscious again of the world around me, I saw that a similar feverish joy had gripped the hearts of many. The sign we have waited for has come Southcotts call to the women: the time of the women approaches. Ann Taylor was so overwhelmed by holy ecstasy that she fell in a dead trance upon the floor, and their good neighbour Brother Paine assisted her father to carry her out. A hubbub arose in the pews at the back I could not quite see who was involved, but I do not doubt it was caused by a number of girls who, seeing the general enthusiasm, feared that they might not all find a place among the seven.

And this proved, sadly for many, to be the case. Elder Caleb announced that those who knew themselves called by the Prophets request should attend a special meeting in Sanctuary at four in the afternoon: and when I entered Sanctuary, ten minutes before the appointed time, I saw that many are called, but few are chosen.

The magnitude of the calling was proving almost too much to bear for several young women, whose tear-stained faces testified to their tremendous love and hope of selection. One or two were so overwhelmed by the call of the spirit that their bodies were turbulent and agitated, and they had to be clasped and held secure by their loving parents. Brother and Sister Mayall, blest as they are with nine beautiful daughters, held fast to the hands of their elder two, sisters Rachel and Rebekah, while many a solemn tear of happiness and overwrought anticipation trickled down the cheeks of these two.

I felt no fear, for I knew myself chosen I knew, from the arrow of certainty that pierced my heart as the Prophet spoke. Does a bird know when the dawn will rise? Can a woman tell when her child quickens in the womb? And when he stepped out into the gallery and gazed down upon us, I looked up fearlessly, knowing myself already dedicated heart and soul to this work. The call reached many a heart I might previously have thought unprepared for it or even, hardened against it. How grossly we are able to underestimate the faith and courage of our fellow creatures. Little did I think tha Elizabeth Ogden, whose honour has been maligned by so many, and whose present girth gives rise to a persistent rumour concerning her chastity, would have so repented as to be eager to devote her future to His service: I praise Him that He calls the sinners and the outcasts. Nor did I guess that Ruth Brierly, who is so beloved by her widowed father that all remark upon it, might feel her heart called by God so that she could contemplate leaving the poor distraught old man, who clung to her in an embrace more like a lovers than a fathers, unable to see the workings of Gods greater will, for his own small human unhappiness.