ll, and who hath sacrificed his worldly estate, and
perilled his soul's salvation for thy sake. Mary, dear Mary, for of a
truth thou art very dear to me; wilt thou go with me and be my wife?"

The tones of Richard Martin, usually harsh and forbidding, now fell soft
and musical on the ear of Mary. He was her first love, her only one.
What marvel that she consented?

"Let us hasten to depart," said Martin, "this is no place for me. We
will go to the Providence plantations. Passaconaway will assist us in
our journey."

The bright flush of hope and joy faded from the face of the young girl.
She started back from the embrace of her lover.

"What mean you, Richard? What was 't you said about our going to that
sink of wickedness at Providence? Why don't you go back with me to
sister Ward's?"

"Mary Edmands!" said Martin, in a tone of solemn sternness, "it is
fitting that I should tell thee all. I have renounced the evil
doctrines of thy brother-in-law, and his brethren in false prophecy. It
was a hard struggle, Mary; the spirit was indeed willing, but the flesh
was weak, exceeding weak, for I thought of thee, Mary, and of thy
friends. But I had a measure of strength given me, whereby I have been
enabled to do the work which was appointed me."

"Oh, Richard!" said Mary, bursting into tears, "I'm afraid you have
become a Williamsite, one of them, who, Mr. Ward says, have nothing to
hope for in this world or in that to come."

"The Lord rebuke him!" said Martin, with a loud voice. "Woe to such as
speak evil of the witnesses of the truth. I have seen the utter
nakedness of the land of carnal professors, and I have obeyed the call
to come out from among them and be separate. I belong to that
persecuted family whom the proud priests and rulers of this colony have
driven from their borders. I was brought, with many others, before the
wicked magistrates of Boston, and sentenced to labor, without hire, for
the ungodly. But I have escaped from my bonds; and the Lord has raised
up a friend for his servant, even the Indian Passaconaway, whose son I
assisted, but a little time ago, to escape from his captors."

"Can it be?" sobbed Mary, "can it be? Richard, our own Richard,
following the tribe of Gorton, the Familist! Oh, Richard, if you love
me, if you love God's people and his true worship, do come away from
those wicked fanatics."

"Thou art in the very gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity,"
answered Ma