hou canst save!' And then she told a tale;
It was not true--my mother was not such--
O God! The pander to a brother's sin!

1st Woman. There now? The truth is out! I told you, sister,
About that mother--

Con. Silence, hags! what then?

Eliz. She stretched her arms, and sank. Was it a sin
To love that sinful mother? There I lay--
And in the spirit far away I prayed;
What words I spoke, I know not, nor how long;
Until a small still voice sighed, 'Child, thou art heard:'
Then on the pitchy dark a small bright cloud
Shone out, and swelled, and neared, and grew to form,
Till from it blazed my pardoned mother's face
With nameless glory! Nearer still she pressed,
And bent her lips to mine--a mighty spasm
Ran crackling through my limbs, and thousand bells
Rang in my dizzy ears--And so I woke.

Con. 'Twas but a dream.

Eliz. 'Twas more! 'twas more! I've tests:
From youth I have lived in two alternate worlds,
And night is live like day. This was no goblin!
'Twas a true vision, and my mother's soul
Is freed by my poor prayers from penal files,
And waits for me in bliss.

Con. Well--be it so then.
Thou seest herein what prize obedience merits.
Now to press forwards: I require your presence
Within the square, at noon, to witness there
The fiery doom--most just and righteous doom--
Of two convicted and malignant heretics,
Who at the stake shall expiate their crime,
And pacify God's wrath against this land.

Eliz. No! no! I will not go!

Con. What's here? Thou wilt not?
I'll drive thee there with blows.

Eliz. Then I will bear them,
Even as I bore the last, with thankful thoughts
Upon those stripes my Lord endured for me.
Oh, spare them, sir! poor blindfold sons of men!
No saint but daily errs,--and must they burn,
Ah, God! for an opinion?

Con. Fool! opinions?
Who cares for their opinions? 'Tis rebellion
Against the system which upholds the world
For which they die: so, lest the infection spread,
We must cut off the members, whose disease
We'd pardon, could they keep it to themselves.

[Elizabeth weeps.]

Well, I'll not urge it,--Thou hast other work--
But for thy petulant words do thou this penance:
I do forbid thee here, to give henceforth
Food, coin, or clothes, to any living soul.
Thy thriftless waste doth scandalise the elect,
And maim thine usefulness: thou dost elude
My wise restrictions still: 'Tis great, to live
Poor, among riches; when thy wealth is spent,
Want is n