"See, they are gone!--
The earth has bubbles, as the waters have,
And these are some of them. They vanished
Into the air, and what seemed corporal,
Melted as breath into the wind."
SHAKSPEARE.
When Edith was alone, she felt that weakness and exhaustion of the body
that all the painful excitements of the day had produced. She threw
herself on the bed, and Dinah was soon at her side.
"Sing me one of the hymns you used to sing in my happy childhood;
perhaps I may sleep."
Dinah sat by the side of the bed, and Edith laid her head on the breast
of her faithful friend, while she began in a tremulous, low tone, that
became stronger and clearer as the holy fervor of the hymn inspired her.
Edith lay motionless, but between her closed eyelids the large tears
forced themselves, and fell slowly down her cheeks. At length, like a
tired infant, she slept.
Dinah laid her head gently on the pillow; with the tenderest hand, wiped
away the tears; drew the covering over her; with noiseless step excluded
the light, and then sat down to watch by her.
It was the bitterest hour poor Dinah had ever passed. She tried to pray,
but she found submission impossible. She had had many trials. She had
been torn from her native land, chained in a slave ship, exposed for
sale in the slave market; but since she had been a Christian, she had
blessed her various trials. Now her faith in God seemed entirely to
fail.
She took, as she had often done to comfort her, the cool, soft hand of
her mistress in hers. It was now burning hot, and her own tears, as they
fell, seemed to scald her.
But just at that moment a thought darted into her mind, and she has
often said that it was a direct inspiration from God. "I will save her!"
was the thought. The blood rushed to her head and face, and then
retreated again to the heart; she trembled, and, for the first time in
her life, the poor African was near fainting. She fell on her knees:
"Yes, God help me, I will save her." The operations of the mind at such
moments are rapid as lightning; and, in a few moments, her plan was
arranged.
When Edith awoke and saw the change a few moments had wrought in Dinah's
appearance, the light that shone in her eye, and her cheek "flushed
through its olive hue," she feared, for an instant, that great anxiety
and grief had shaken her reason.
"My poor Dinah," she said, taking her hand in hers, "you are ill; you
are feverish; you have been too long shut up in this dismal room with
me. Go out, I pray you, and take the cool evening air, and I will try to
sleep again."
It was what Dinah wished, for she desired to consult Paul; but she
busied herself with all those little nameless attentions that love alone
can devise. As she was folding her mistress's hair for the night, Edith
said, "Dinah, I can escape this dreadful death that awaits me."
"O, my dear mistress, how?" said Dinah, her whole face quivering with
emotion.
"With a lie! by confessing that I have tormented that poor child, and
that I am myself possessed by evil spirits."
Dinah drooped again. "You could not do that," she said; "no, you could
not dishonor yourself with a falsehood: but if you could escape without
violating your conscience, would you not?"
"Certainly," answered Edith: "if God were to place the means of escape
within my reach, I would make use of them, as I would use the means to
recover from a fever. I should violate no law, for the proceedings
against me were unjust, and the testimony false. I could not yield to
Seymore's desire that I should escape, because his was one of the voices
that condemned me, and he could open my prison door, if at all, only by
an open and honorable confession of his error."
Dinah trembled with joy at hearing Edith speak thus of her willingness
to escape, could it be effected with truth; but she would not hint at
her hopes till she had arranged her plan with the assistance of Paul.
After a pause, Edith said, "Alas, there is no hope of escape: and why do
you fold my hair so carefully? it will never delight your eyes more."
Dinah answered, "Never despair: I see a light behind the cloud: the
morning is breaking."
Dinah consulted Paul, and the plan they concerted together was not
difficult to execute. Edith, after long entreaty, yielded to the
affectionate creature, and the more readily, as she knew Dinah was so
great and universal a favorite in the village that no evil could befall
her.
After having her complexion darkened with an herb which Dinah had
prepared, Edith exchanged clothes with her humble friend; and at night
Dinah remained in the prison, while, with infinite precaution, she
eluded the observation of the one person who had been placed at the door
to guard her. Paul was secreted without, and the trembling Edith,
without being observed, found shelter and concealment in the ruined hut
of Phoebe's grandmother.
Paul, as I have said before, was an excellent boatman. Soon as the first
streak of dawning light appeared, secretly and in silence, he dipped his
oar into the water.
The beautiful morning star shone alone in the sky, and as the shore
melted away, Edith strained her eyes to catch the outline of her happy
home, and the little mound where her parents reposed.
They reached a place of safety, and Edith was soon made happy by hearing
of the safety of her affectionate and humble friend.
It is well known that this fearful delusion of our country ceased as
suddenly as it had risen. Edith was one of the last of the accused. When
it was discovered that she had escaped, no inquiries were made, and no
regret expressed. "The curtain had fallen, and a close was put to one of
the most tremendous tragedies of real life. The wildest storm, perhaps,
that ever raged in the moral world, instantly became a calm. The tide
that had threatened to overwhelm every thing in its fury sank back, in a
moment, to its peaceful bed."
What could have been Seymore's emotions when the cloud had vanished, and
he stood in the clear sunshine of reason? Happy he was indeed,
inexpressibly happy, that his beloved Edith had escaped the most
dreadful consequences of this mad delusion.
Whether their union ever took place, I must leave to the imagination of
my readers. The young who have never had their hearts stirred with a
deeper love than that for a pet lamb, or a canary bird, will reject the
thought as impossible. The old, if any who have passed the age of
thoughtless amusement should condescend to read these pages, perhaps
will judge otherwise. Having learned from that severe teacher,
experience, how prone we are to err, and how often we need forgiveness
from each other, as well as from Heaven; having found, also, that the
jewel of true love, though sullied by error, and sometimes mixed with
baser stones, yet, like the diamond, can never lose its value,--they
will cherish the belief that Seymore found, in the devoted affection of
Edith, a balm for his wounded spirit, and an unfailing strength for the
duties and trials of life.
THE END.