Candle in the Darkness (Refiner's Fire #1)

by Lynn Austin

Cannon boomed for more than an hour, rattling store windows and shaking the ground beneath my feet. Across the city, church bells rang endlessly from every spire and steeple. All around us, people embraced each other and danced with jubilation. Jonathan hugged Sally tightly, then lifted her in the air and whirled her around. “Isn’t this wonderful?” Jonathan shouted, his voice hoarse from cheering. “Yes! Yes!” Sally laughed, gripping him for dear life. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, rosier than any rouge could have made them. I didn’t understand what Jonathan meant. The atmosphere was certainly more thrilling than any Fourth of July celebration I’d ever seen, but I could see nothing wonderful about the inauguration of a war. Charles had added his own shouts of “Yes!” and “Hear, hear!” to some of the speeches, but he and I were much more subdued than the others. Still, we couldn’t help feeling the electric charge of exuberance that filled the air, nor could we help being swept away by it all. We followed the multitudes back up the hill to the Enquirer’s offices for more speeches, including a stirring one by editor Jennings Wise. The crowd—and the traffic jams—swelled to even greater proportions as people arrived from the surrounding countryside, drawn by the clamor and noise. I scarcely noticed that darkness had fallen. Bonfires and torches lit the city, lamps