It was, therefore, with mingled feelings of pain and pleasure that Helen heard from Edith that Roger had, at length, taken courage to declare to her his own feelings, and to ask whether she could return them. Her glowing cheek and glistening eye, as she revealed the interesting fact, would have left her mother in no doubt as to the answer she had returned, even if she had not already guessed her sentiments; and she and Rodolph could but give their consent to her wishes, and ask a blessing on her choice. The joy and gratitude of Roger knew no bounds. Now he felt that life lay all bright and clear before him, and that no outward trials could have power to cloud his path, so long as Edith walked by his side, to divide his sorrows and double his joys.

He employed all his eloquence to persuade Rodolph and Helen to consent to his speedy marriage; for, now that his object in lingering at Plymouth was attained, all his love for his flock at Salem, and his desire once more to dwell among them, returned with added force. He was impatient to resume his spiritual duties where first he had commenced them in New England; and he was eager, also, to present Edith as his bride to the friends who had once so kindly received him, and who now so pressingly invited him to return.

The aspect of affairs in the State of Massachusetts was then peaceable, and no demonstration of enmity towards Roger had lately been made by the Boston rulers; so that Rodolph and Helen had no well-grounded pretext for delaying their daughter's marriage, and her removal to Salem with her husband. The letter of invitation to Roger Williams from that community, also contained such alarming accounts of the rapidly declining health of their pastor, Skelton, that the necessity for the presence of his intended successor could not be denied. With some reluctance the Maitlands, therefore, agreed to an early day for the performance of the simple ceremony that would unite their beloved and only remaining child to one whom they loved and respected, but whose fiery zeal inspired them with doubt and anxiety.

No sooner was the happy day fixed, than Roger hastened to dispatch a trusty messenger to Roxburgh, with a letter to his valued friend and brother minister, Elliot—who was appointed preacher in that town—to entreat him to be present at his marriage, and to honor the ceremony by giving the customary address at its conclusion.

Much to his satisfaction—and that of all the Maitland family—this request was acceded to, and the 'Prince of Missionaries' arrived at New Plymouth, accompanied also by his bride. He was betrothed when he left England, but circumstances had then prevented his intended wife from accompanying him. But as soon as he was settled at Roxburgh, she followed him to the land of his exile, and became his faithful and devoted companion through a long and toilsome life, and his able and efficient helpmate in all his difficulties.

The chief object of this excellent man, in leaving his own country, was not so much to escape the persecution that then awaited the ministers of his sect, as to attempt the conversion of the native heathen. For this pious and disinterested purpose, he abandoned home and kindred, and all that was dear to him, and, at the age of twenty-seven, entered that land of distant promise, to the evangelization of which he had resolved to devote all the powers of his life, and the faculties of his energetic mind. So abstemious and self-denying was he, that his mode of life resembled that of a hermit; and, at the same time, so liberal was he in relieving the wants of others—whether his own countrymen or the red Indians—that, if his wife had not been a careful and clever manager, they must often have been reduced to absolute want. There is an anecdote recorded of him, so characteristic of the self-forgetting spirit of the 'Great Apostle of the Indians,' that it ought not to be omitted here, where we are endeavoring to give a faithful picture of the manners and the principles of the Pilgrim Fathers, and their immediate followers.

The society in England, under whose auspices he had emigrated, allowed him a salary of £50 a year, a great portion of which, as well as of his small private resources, was always dedicated to charitable purposes. It was his custom, when he received his quarterly payment from the treasurer of the colony, to give away a considerable part of it before he reached his home, so that Dame Elliot—as she was called—only received a very small sum, inadequate to the necessary expenses of her frugal housekeeping. The paymaster knew the good man's peculiarities, and was aware of the domestic embarrassments that his too-liberal bounty often occasioned. He therefore tied the money up in a handkerchief with so many knots, that he was sure the pastor could never untie them; and gave it to him, saying in jest, 'Now really, reverend sir, you must this time give it all to your worthy spouse. Elliot smiled, and departed: but, before he reached his dwelling, he remembered an afflicted family who stood in need of his assistance and consolation; and, on going to visit them, he found them overwhelmed with unexpected distress. He immediately attempted to open his handkerchief, but all his efforts were unavailing to loosen the complicated knots. 'Well, well,' he said, at last, 'I see it is the will of the Lord that you should have the whole. And, giving them all his wealth, he returned home penniless.

Dame Elliot never showed any displeasure at these improvident acts of her husband. She admired and respected his pious motives, and his beautiful spirit of self-denial: and she only strove the more to limit her expenses, and to make their home cheerful and comfortable with the scanty means she possessed, while she willingly conformed to the life of extreme simplicity which he felt it right to adopt. More than one dish was never allowed to appear on his table, and water was his only beverage. If wine was offered him at the house of a friend, he courteously declined, but never blamed in others the indulgence which he denied to himself. He used to say, 'Wine is a precious, noble thing, and we should thank the Lord for it; but to suit me aright, water should rather be there.'

Such were the Christian pair who came to attend the wedding of Edith and Roger; and to offer their congratulations on the event, and their prayers that it might tend to the present and the eternal happiness of their valued friend and his interesting bride. It could not be otherwise than that Dame Elliot and Edith should form a speedy and a lasting friendship. There was a similarity of feeling, and a difference of character, that rendered them peculiarly agreeable to each other; and made them mutually rejoice in the prospect of future intercourse which the strong regard that subsisted between Elliot and Williams, and the nearness of Salem to Roxburgh, promised to afford them. The young matron was of a much more calm and subdued temperament than her new friend. Her early life and education had been very different from Edith's; and the man on whom she had fixed her affections, and the mode of life to which her marriage had conducted her, had alike tended to promote a quiet composure, and steady regulation of mind, rather than to arouse the enthusiastic feelings and the lively fancies that distinguished Edith's character, and which had proved so irresistible a charm to the fervid soul of Williams. But each of the young women was well adapted to the lot which Providence had assigned them; and each proved a blessing, and a support through life, to their respective partners.

But little preparation was required for the Puritan nuptials that were now about to be celebrated: and little gaiety or display was manifested on the occasion. According to the custom of the sect, the marriage ceremony was performed by Bradford, as the chief civil magistrate, and the personal friend of the family. At that period, marriage was regarded as a mere civil act; and either the magistrate of the place, or a commissary appointed for the purpose, was alone required by law to officiate. If a clergyman chanced to be present, he was generally requested to offer up a prayer, or even to deliver a suitable discourse to the, parties; but this was a matter of choice, and not of necessity, and had no share in the validity of the ceremony. Even the wedding ring had already begun to be regarded by the Plymouthers as a relic of Popish corruption and superstition, and was, in many cases, dispensed with, and some time afterwards formally forbidden. But on this occasion it was retained, at the wish of both Edith and her mother; who were accustomed to regard it as a beautiful, and almost a sacred, symbol of the purity and the duration of the holy tie of marriage.