more fiercely into the flesh. My prayer was heard, and I went on in peace and
joy toward the wilderness."
The old man, though his fanaticism had generally all the calmness of reason,
was deeply moved while reciting this tale, and his unwonted emotion seemed to
rebuke and keep down that of his companion. They sat in silence, with their
faces to the fire, imagining, perhaps, in its red embers new scenes of persecution
yet to be encountered. The snow still drifted hard against the windows, and
sometimes, as the blaze of the logs had gradually sunk, came down the spacious
chimney and hissed upon the hearth. A cautious footstep might now and then be
heard in a neighboring apartment, and the sound invariably drew the eyes of both
Quakers to the door which led thither. When a fierce and riotous gust of wind
had led his thoughts by a natural association to homeless travellers on such a
night, Pearson resumed the conversation.
"I have wellnigh sunk under my own share of this trial," observed he, sighing
heavily; "yet I would that it might be doubled to me, if so the child's mother
could be spared. Her wounds have been deep and many, but this will be the
sorest of all."
"Fear not for Catharine," replied the old Quaker, "for I know that valiant
woman and have seen how she can bear the cross. A mother's heart, indeed, is
strong in her, and may seem to contend mightily with her faith; but soon she will
stand up and give thanks that her son has been thus early an accepted sacrifice.
The boy hath done his work, and she will feel that he is taken hence in kindness
both to him and her. Blessed, blessed are they that with so little suffering can
enter into peace!"
The fitful rush of the wind was now disturbed by a portentous sound: it was a
quick and heavy knocking at the outer door. Pearson's wan countenance grew
paler, for many a visit of persecution had taught him what to dread; the old man,
on the other hand, stood up erect, and his glance was firm as that of the tried
soldier who awaits his enemy.
"The men of blood have come to seek me," he observed, with calmness. "They
have heard how I was moved to return from banishment, and now am I to be led
to prison, and thence to death. It is an end I have long looked for. I will open
unto them lest they say, 'Lo, he feareth!'"