and my love, which brought me over the great waters for thy
sake. I will go among the Gentiles, and if it be the Lord's will,
peradventure I may turn away their wrath from my people. When my
wearisome pilgrimage is ended, none shall know the grave of Richard
Martin; and none but the heathen shall mourn for him. Mary! I forgive
thee; may the God of all mercies bless thee! I shall never see thee
more."

Hot and fast fell the tears of that stern man upon the hand of Mary.
The eyes of the young woman glanced hurriedly over the faces of her
neighbors, and fixed tearfully upon that of her lover. A thousand
recollections of young affection, of vows and meetings in another land,
came vividly before her. Her sister's home, her brother's instructions,
her own strong faith, and her bitter hatred of her lover's heresy were
all forgotten.

"Richard, dear Richard, I am your Mary as much as ever I was. I'll go
with you to the ends of the earth. Your God shall be my God, and where
you are buried there will I be also."

Silent in the ecstasy of joyful surprise, the Familist pressed her to
his bosom. Passaconaway, who had hitherto been an unmoved spectator of
the scene, relaxed the Indian gravity of his features, and murmured, in
an undertone, "Good, good."

"Will my brother go?" he inquired, touching Martin's shoulder; "my
squaws have fine mat, big wigwam, soft samp, for his young woman."

"Mary," said Martin, "the sachem is impatient; and we must needs go with
him." Mary did not answer, but her head was reclined upon his bosom,
and the Familist knew that she resigned herself wholly to his direction.
He folded the shawl more carefully around her, and supported her down
the precipitous and ragged bank of the river, followed closely by
Passaconaway and his companions.

"Come back, Mary Edmands!" shouted Mr. Ward. "In God's name come back."

Half a dozen canoes shot out into the clear moonlight from the shadow of
the shore. "It is too late!" said the minister, as he struggled down to
the water's edge. "Satan hath laid his hands upon her; but I will
contend for her, even as did Michael of old for the body of Moses.
Mary, sister Mary, for the love of Christ, answer me."

No sound came back from the canoes, which glided like phantoms,
noiselessly and swiftly, through the still waters of the river.
"The enemy hath prevailed," said Mr. Ward; "two women were grinding at
my mill, the one is taken and the other is left. Let