The Pilgrims of New England / A Tale of the Early American Settlers

by Mrs. J. B. Webb

The acquaintance of Roger Williams was soon made by the Maitlands; and, once begun, it quickly ripened into intimacy and friendship. In Rodolph he found a sound and able adviser; in Helen, a kind friend and a well-informed companion; but in Edith he found a kindred spirit to his own—one who could understand and sympathize in his yearnings for freedom of thought and action, and in his strong sense of the injustice of his oppressors. In all their tastes and pursuits they were, likewise, as well agreed as in their religious and social opinions. Edith's passionate love of natural beauty was fully shared by the young refugee; and many an hour passed swiftly away while he instructed his quick and willing scholar in the mysteries of sketching, in which pleasant art he was himself a proficient. Edith loved music also, and frequently accompanied her own rich voice with the simple notes of the mandolin, while she sang the old songs of her fatherland.

Hitherto, her mother had been her only instructor in this most refined and refining of all human pleasures; but now she found an able and very ready teacher in Roger Williams: and it was a matter of astonishment to her father when he observed the rapid progress she made both in the science and the practice of music, from the time the interesting stranger undertook to give her lessons. His deep, manly voice harmonized perfectly with her sweet tones; and they often brought tears to the eyes of Helen, and called forth a sigh from the breast of Rodolph, as they sang together some ancient English ballad, or united their voices in the chants and anthems that were dear to the hearts of the exiles, and recalled days of youth and happiness long passed away, and never to return.

Edith's bower was the usual scene of these domestic concerts; and there the long, sweet summer evenings glided away in happiness, that the 'queen of that bower '—as Henrich had named her—had never known since the last evening that she spent there with her brother. She began to wonder why she had hitherto associated none but melancholy ideas with the lovely spot; and to find that it was possible to feel even gay and light-hearted while surrounded by Henrich's flowers, and looking on Fingal's grave. How strange it seemed—and yet, how pleasant! A new existence seemed opening before Edith's soul; and life no longer appeared a dreary pilgrimage, which duty alone could render interesting. The powers of her mind also received a fresh impulse from the society of the cultivated Englishman, and was drawn out in a manner as agreeable as it was new. Roger had brought from his native land a collection of books, which, though small in number, seemed to Edith a perfect library; and all were offered for her perusal. Several of them were, of course, on controversial and doctrinal subjects; and these she was able to understand and to appreciate: but among these graver and more abstruse treatises, were some of a more attractive nature—some volumes of foreign travel, and ancient legends, and heart-stirring poetry, in which the soul of Edith reveled, as in a garden of new and fragrant flowers.

It was a fresh, and a very rich enjoyment to one who had known so few literary pleasures, to pore over these volumes, and find her own vivid thoughts and wild imaginings set before her in all the captivating colors of poetry and fiction; or to follow the wanderings of travelers through the civilized and enlightened countries of the old continent, and learn from books those manners and customs of refined life, which, in all human probability, it would never be her lot to witness. But this enjoyment was more than doubled when Roger took the book, and—as he often did—read to her and her mother while they sat at their work in Edith's bower in the heat of the day; and if the younger listener did occasionally pause in her occupation, and forget to ply her needle while she looked up at the fine expressive countenance of the reader, she may be pardoned; for the voice and the expression were in such perfect unison, that the one added greatly to the effect of the other.

Perhaps these days of peaceful intercourse, and growing, but unacknowledged, affection, were among the happiest of Edith's checkered life: certain it is that, in after days of trial and difficulty, she looked back upon them as on some green and sunny spot in the varied field of memory.

But they could not last for ever. Days and weeks passed by, and Edith was too happy in the present to occupy herself much about the future. But her parents thought of it for her; and Roger thought of it for her, and for himself. Her graceful manners and appearance had attracted him on his first acquaintance with her, and the favorable impression had been strengthened from day to day, as he acquired a more intimate knowledge of her thoughtful character and amiable temper: and it was not long ere he felt that his future happiness in life depended on her returning those sentiments with which she had inspired him.

Had he been possessed of much vanity, he would not long have entertained any doubt on this interesting point; for Edith was too open and ingenuous, and too little in the habit of disguising her feelings, to pretend an indifference that her heart soon denied. But the very admiration and respect with which she inspired Roger prevented him from 'laying the flattering unction to his soul'; and caused him, for some time, to suppose that the very evident pleasure she felt in his society arose from the solitary life she had hitherto led, and the natural enjoyment of an intelligent mind in conversing with one who could enter into her feelings and tastes, and impart some fresh ideas to give food to her thoughts and imagination.

Helen, however, was not under this misconception with regard to her daughter's feelings, and she felt much anxiety as to the result of her acquaintance with the young clergyman. The remarkable transparency of Edith's character rendered it easy for a parent's eye to discover the deep impression that Roger's fascinating manners, and rare accomplishments, had made both on her fancy and her heart; and it was equally easy to perceive that his affections were entirely gained, and that he was not a man to draw back in this, or any other pursuit in which his feelings were deeply engaged. There was a simple earnestness of manner in every thing that he said or did that irresistibly won both confidence and love; and Helen and her husband entertained not the slightest doubt of the sincerity of his attachment to their child, or of his full intention to offer his hand to her, as soon as he could feel any certainty of its being accepted. Neither did they doubt his power to make her happy; for it was evident that their tastes and dispositions were admirably suited, and their characters marked to a great degree by the same peculiarities. But it was these very peculiarities in which they so well agreed, and which each would probably strengthen and confirm in the other, that gave rise to the anxious thoughts that dwelt in Helen's mind, and which she communicated to Rudolph.

Roger Williams was already a marked man, and an object of suspicion and displeasure to the rising power of Boston. Already he had been compelled to retire before the persecuting spirit of the Boston Church, and to seek shelter in the rival and more charitable colony, where his peculiar opinions were tolerated, even if they were not approved. But the Maitlands knew that his position at New Plymouth did not satisfy the yearnings of his earnest and aspiring soul, and that he felt a strong desire to return to Salem, and minister among those who had been his first friends, and his first congregation. His reason for so bag delaying this measure was very evident; and Edith's parents justly feared that, as soon as the object which now engrossed his whole mind was attained, and he had won their daughter's heart and band, be would take her from her present safe and peaceful home, to share with him the trials and difficulties, and even dangers, which might await him on his return to the state of Massachusetts, where they felt sure he would again proclaim the opinions that had already given so much offence.

This was a reasonable cause for anxiety; but it was not a sufficient ground on which to refuse a connection with such a man as Roger Williams—a man who might, indeed, by his daring freedom of spirit and uncompromising opinions, bring earthly trial on himself and any one whose fate was united to his; but whose lofty piety and steadfast faith must carry with them a spiritual blessing, and gild and cheer the path, however dark and thorny, in which he and his partner should be called to tread.