page, being resolved to withdraw his thoughts from this child of sin and
wrath, and to waste no more of his holy breath upon her. The shadow had
now grown so deep, where he was sitting, that he made continual mistakes
in what he read, converting all that was gracious and merciful to
denunciations of vengeance and unutterable woe on every created being but
himself. Mary Goffe, meanwhile, was leaning against a tree, beside the
sepulchral cave, very sad, yet with something heavenly and ethereal in
her unselfish sorrow. The light from the setting sun still glorified her
form, and was reflected a little way within the darksome den, discovering
so terrible a gloom that the maiden shuddered for its self-doomed
inhabitant. Espying the bright fountain near at hand, she hastened
thither, and scooped up a portion of its water, in a cup of birchen bark.
A few tears mingled with the draught, and perhaps gave it all its
efficacy. She then returned to the mouth of the cave, and knelt down at
Richard Digby's feet.

"Richard," she said, with passionate fervor, yet a gentleness in all her
passion, "I pray thee, by thy hope of heaven, and as thou wouldst not
dwell in this tomb forever, drink of this hallowed water, be it but a
single drop! Then, make room for me by thy side, and let us read
together one page of that blessed volume; and, lastly, kneel down with me
and pray! Do this, and thy stony heart shall become softer than a
babe's, and all be well."

But Richard Digby, in utter abhorrence of the proposal, cast the Bible at
his feet, and eyed her with such a fixed and evil frown, that he looked
less like a living man than a marble statue, wrought by some dark-
imagined sculptor to express the most repulsive mood that human features
could assume. And, as his look grew even devilish, so, with an equal
change did Mary Goffe become more sad, more mild, more pitiful, more like