h an event, I am aware that
they would, probably, be our violent and indefinite separation. I could
not bear that, Edith; though I believe that I could bear much to
vindicate my honor.'

How changed was Roger's countenance now! All passion--all excitement--
was gone; and the natural sweetness of his disposition, and tenderness
of his heart, resumed their interrupted influence over his whole manner
and expression. Edith thought she had never either admired or loved him
so much as at this moment, when he had conquered his impetuous
feelings, and yielded his fiery impulse to show a bold resentment of
injury, to her influence and persuasions.

'Heaven bless you, my own Roger!' she exclaimed, 'and reward your
better resolution, by granting us many future years of united
happiness. But now we must think of the present, and provide for its
emergencies. I see clearly that there is now no safety for you in
Salem, and that a speedy flight can alone ensure your liberty. You have
made a great sacrifice for my sake; and I will also make one for yours.
I will not even ask to fly with you, for I could only be an encumbrance
to you at this inclement season of the year, and my presence here may
be of use to you. My heart rebels while I say it, Roger; but you must
go alone, and use every exertion to reach Plymouth as speedily as
possible. When you are safe beneath my father's roof, then will be time
enough to think of me. I feel no doubt that Governor Bradford will
afford you every assistance in his power; and, probably, will again
allow the vessel that brought us here in brighter days, to convey me
once more to you and to happiness.'

Edith had tried to speak with steadiness and composure; and, so far,
she had succeeded tolerably well. But when she realized to herself the
time that must elapse before she could rejoin her husband, and all the
dangers and privations that might await him in the interval, her
calmness quite gave way, and she burst into tears of uncontrollable
agony.

Roger strove to cheer her, and to point to the happy future that he
trusted was in store for them--if not on earth, yet assuredly in a
better world, where faithful hearts will never know the misery of
parting. But it was not until he had knelt with her in prayer, and had
humbly asked to meet the coming trial, and to be sanctified by it, that
her tears ceased to flow, and a smile of hope and resignation illumined
her interesting countenance.

'I must act