the insufferable wrongs to which my miserable countrymen are subjected?--
And yet, who shall warrant me that these people, rendered wild by
persecution, would not, in the hour of victory, be as cruel and as
intolerant as those by whom they are now hunted down? What degree of
moderation, or of mercy, can be expected from this Burley, so
distinguished as one of their principal champions, and who seems even now
to be reeking from some recent deed of violence, and to feel stings of
remorse, which even his enthusiasm cannot altogether stifle? I am weary
of seeing nothing but violence and fury around me--now assuming the mask
of lawful authority, now taking that of religious zeal. I am sick of my
country--of myself--of my dependent situation--of my repressed
feelings--of these woods--of that river--of that house--of all
but--Edith, and she can never be mine! Why should I haunt her walks?--Why
encourage my own delusion, and perhaps hers?--She can never be mine. Her
grandmother's pride--the opposite principles of our families--my
wretched state of dependence--a poor miserable slave, for I have not
even the wages of a servant--all circumstances give the lie to the vain
hope that we can ever be united. Why then protract a delusion so
painful?

"But I am no slave," he said aloud, and drawing himself up to his full
stature--"no slave, in one respect, surely. I can change my abode--my
father's sword is mine, and Europe lies open before me, as before him and
hundreds besides of my countrymen, who have filled it with the fame of
their exploits. Perhaps some lucky chance may raise me to a rank with our
Ruthvens, our Lesleys, our Monroes, the chosen leaders of the famous
Protestant champion, Gustavus Adolphus, or, if not, a soldier's life or a
soldier's grave."

When he had formed this determination, he found himself near the door of