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 as he received her letter he travelled with all the rapidity the state of the country permitted, when the journey from Boston to Salem was the affair of a day, as it is now of half an hour.
From all we have learned of the character of Seymore, the reader will not be surprised to find that, although never taking an active part in the persecutions of the time, the character of his enthusiasm was such that 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 a season, such liberty to the prince of evil.
When, however, he received Edith's letter, he felt pierced as it were with his own sword. He trembled when he thought of his almost idolatrous love, and with a faith which he fancied resembled that of Abraham, he believed the time had now come when he must cut off a right hand, and pluck out a right eye, to give evidence of his submission to the will of God.
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 interested to 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 a verdict of not guilty. Seymore was therefore spared the pain of an interview with Edith, which would probably have convinced him of her innocence, before the trial.
Edith awoke the next morning from a happy dream. She was walking with Seymore by the margin of the great ocean, and his low, deep voice mingled in her ear with the liquid sound of the dying wave. She awoke, a captive and alone: no, not alone, for the faithful Dinah was standing by her bedside, so tearful, so subdued, that the smile the happy dream had left on Edith's lips instantly faded. She remembered it was the day of her trial, and she prepared to meet it.
These trials were held in the meeting-house, and were opened and closed with a religious service. This seems like a mockery to us, but our fathers thought they were performing a sacred duty; and however frivolous or disgusting were many of the details, the trial was rendered more appalling by giving to the whole the appearance of a holy sacrifice.