[Footnote 4: "Fifty-five persons, many of them previously of the most _unquestionable character for intelligence, virtue, and piety_, acknowledged the truth of the charges that were made against them, confessed that they were witches, and had made a compact with the devil. It is probable that the motive of self-preservation influenced most of them: an awful death was in immediate prospect. The delusion had obtained full possession of the people, the witnesses, the jury, and the court. By acknowledging the crime, they might in a moment secure their lives and liberty. Their principles could not withstand the temptation: they made a confession, and were rewarded by a pardon."--_Upham's Lectures on Salem Witchcraft._] "But _I_ should confess to a lie,--a base and wicked lie. I have no faith in these temptations. I believe God suffers us to be tempted by our own passions and unrestrained imaginations, but not by visible or invisible evil spirits. O, listen to me: go no further in this mad, this wicked delusion. Spare the innocent blood that will be shed. If I must die, let my death be the means of turning you and others from this dreadful sin." "And can you bear to have your name sullied by this alliance with the wicked? Those who die as criminals are believed guilty of crimes; and can you consent to be remembered as the associate of evil spirits?" "Falsehood can live but a few years," she answered; "there is an immortality in truth and virtue. I cannot blush to be confounded with the guilty; for it is my unwillingness to sully my conscience with a lie that leads me there." Seymore was silent for a few moments. "Edith," he said at last, straining both her hands in his, "have you been able to think how cruel this death may be? Have you fortitude? Can you bear to think of it?" and he shuddered, and covered his face with his hands. Edith for a moment turned pale. "I have ever shrunk," she said, "from physical pain. My own extreme timidity has never given me courage to bear the least of its evils. I believe, then, that it will be spared me: God will give me courage at the moment, or he will mercifully shorten the pain; for what is beyond our strength we are not called to bear." "And can you part with life thus triumphantly?" "Ah, my friend, there is no triumph in my soul. In its deepest sanctuary, I feel that God will pardon my sins, and accept my death as in obedience to my conscience. But, O! I have not sought it: life is still sweet to me." "You shall not die,--you must not! you will not leave me! Edith, have you forgotten our moments of bliss,--our dreams of happiness to come,--the quiet home, the peaceful fireside, where we hoped to pass our lives together? Have you forgotten how long, how truly, how fervently, I have loved you? and is this to be the close of all?"