Delusion; or, The Witch of New England
Page 17
CHAPTER XVII.
"'T is past! I wake A captive and alone, and far from thee, My love and friend! yet fostering, for thy sake, A quenchless hope of happiness to be; And feeling still my woman's spirit strong In the deep faith that lifts from earthly wrong A heavenward glance."
MRS. HEMANS.
The next morning Edith was informed that Seymore had arrived. As soon ashe received her letter he travelled with all the rapidity the state ofthe country permitted, when the journey from Boston to Salem was theaffair of a day, as it is now of half an hour.
From all we have learned of the character of Seymore, the reader willnot be surprised to find that, although never taking an active part inthe persecutions of the time, the character of his enthusiasm was suchthat he lent an easy faith to the stories he had heard of the possessed,and believed that God was manifesting his power by granting, for aseason, such liberty to the prince of evil.
When, however, he received Edith's letter, he felt pierced as it werewith his own sword. He trembled when he thought of his almost idolatrouslove, and with a faith which he fancied resembled that of Abraham, hebelieved the time had now come when he must cut off a right hand, andpluck out a right eye, to give evidence of his submission to the will ofGod.
With this disposition of mind he arrived at the scene of our narrative.In the mean time the tender-hearted elder had become so much interestedto save Edith, that he contrived to have Seymore placed on the jury,hoping that his deep interest in her would be the means of returning averdict of _not guilty_. Seymore was therefore spared the pain of aninterview with Edith, which would probably have convinced him of herinnocence, before the trial.
Edith awoke the next morning from a happy dream. She was walking withSeymore by the margin of the great ocean, and his low, deep voicemingled in her ear with the liquid sound of the dying wave. She awoke, acaptive and alone: no, not alone, for the faithful Dinah was standing byher bedside, so tearful, so subdued, that the smile the happy dream hadleft on Edith's lips instantly faded. She remembered it was the day ofher trial, and she prepared to meet it.
These trials were held in the meeting-house, and were opened and closedwith a religious service. This seems like a mockery to us, but ourfathers thought they were performing a sacred duty; and howeverfrivolous or disgusting were many of the details, the trial was renderedmore appalling by giving to the whole the appearance of a holysacrifice.
Edith was far from being insensible to the terrors of her situation, butshe found it necessary to assume a cheerfulness she did not feel, inorder to soothe the dreadful agitation of Dinah. The poor Africantrusted in God; but she could not shield her child from the tyranny ofhuman power.
When Edith entered the thronged meeting-house, a paleness, like that ofdeath, overspread her countenance. She requested that Dinah might standnear her to support her, lest she should faint. This was rudely denied.She was answered, "If she had strength to torment that child, she hadstrength to stand alone."
She could not wipe the tears that gushed into her eyes at this cruelanswer, for each hand was extended, and closely held by an officer,--aprecaution always adopted in these trials, lest the prisoner shouldafflict some person in the crowded multitude.
She had no sooner become a little calm, than her eye sought Seymoreamong the crowd. She was shocked with the change an "o'erwrought spirit"had effected in his person. His pale forehead was traced with veins thatwere swelled almost to bursting; a fire was burning in his dark, sunkeneyes, and crimson spots flushed each cheek.
As Edith looked at him, her heart swelled with an infinite pity. For themoment, her own appalling situation melted away from her thoughts. Forthe moment, it was of little importance to her whether she lived ordied. All she wished was to be near Seymore, to speak to him, to sootheand calm his agitated spirit.
She was recalled to herself by the opening of the trial. The prisonerwas first commanded to repeat the Lord's prayer. This Edith did in alow, sweet voice, that sounded to the hushed audience like plaintivemusic.
It is not my purpose to enter into the details of this trial. It isenough that "every idle rumor, every thing that the gossip of thecredulous, or the fertile memories of the malignant could produce thathad an unfavorable bearing on the prisoner, however foreign it might beto the indictment, was brought before the jury,"[3] in addition to thetestimony of the child, and the falsehood of the old woman.
[Footnote 3: Upham's History of Witchcraft.]
The cause was at length given to the jury. They did not leave theirseats; and when it came to the turn of Seymore, who was the last tospeak, the crimson blood rushed to the cheek, brow, and temples ofEdith, and then left them paler than before: a sick sensation came overher, and she would have fainted, had she not been relieved by tears,burning hot, that gushed from her eyes.
Seymore had covered his face when he first entered, and had not lookedat Edith. So hushed was the crowd, that the word "_guilty_," wrung as itwere from him in the lowest whisper, was heard distinctly through thewhole meeting-house. It pierced Edith's ear like the voice of a trumpet;and from that moment the spirit of a martyr entered her breast. She feltherself deserted by the whole of her little world, falsely convicted ofa crime she abhorred, and left without human sympathy. She turned toGod. "He who seeth in secret," she said, "knows my innocence;" and shebowed her head, and made no further answer.
The trial was closed as it began,--with religious services. A hymn wassung; and Edith, feeling, as I have said, an elevation that she couldnot herself understand, joined in the devotion. The others stopped; forthey would not mingle their voices with one convicted of witchcraft: thevery evil one was mocking them. Edith continued alone; and her rich,sweet tones thrilled their hearts like the voice of an angel. She wasreminded by a whisper from Dinah that she was singing alone; and,ceasing, she blushed deeply, and covered her face from the curious gazeof the multitude.
As Edith returned to her prison, guarded on each side, and followed byDinah, she thought of the Lady Ursula, whose cruel fate had moved her sodeeply. And was she indeed the same person? The child that had wept herfate so bitterly was now to meet one far more terrible: and she feltstrength to meet it. Every wave, as it had passed over her, had broughtout the hidden beauty and strength of her soul; and, though there was inher no air of triumph, a tranquil contentment and repose was expressedin her whole person.