'Edith,' he replied--and the bright flush faded from his cheek, and the fire in his eye died away, and he sank again upon his couch--'Edith, you have subdued my spirit; or perhaps,' he added, smiling up in her face, 'weakness has subdued it. I feel that I have no strength to accomplish what I desire, and to show my persecutors that liberty of thought and feeling is my birthright, and that I will never relinquish the privilege. I must, therefore, submit to the will of One who is wiser and mightier than I am; and believe me, my Edith,' he continued-- as he saw the tears falling from her gentle eyes--'believe me, I do to with perfect contentment now. The passion--the sinful passion--that stirred me so mightily just now, is gone; and I feel the goodness of my God in holding me back from the rash act I contemplated, and from rushing upon dangers that I might indeed defy, but could not hope to conquer. I will be calm, my love; and you shall devise some means for my escape. I feel assured that still more violent measures will be adopted by the Assembly to get me into their power; and now that I can quietly reflect on the consequences of such an event, I am aware that they would, probably, be our violent and indefinite separation. I could not bear that, Edith; though I believe that I could bear much to vindicate my honor.' How changed was Roger's countenance now! All passion--all excitement-- was gone; and the natural sweetness of his disposition, and tenderness of his heart, resumed their interrupted influence over his whole manner and expression. Edith thought she had never either admired or loved him so much as at this moment, when he had conquered his impetuous feelings, and yielded his fiery impulse to show a bold resentment of injury, to her influence and persuasions. ‘Heaven bless you, my own Roger!' she exclaimed, 'and reward your better resolution, by granting us many future years of united happiness. But now we must think of the present, and provide for its emergencies. I see clearly that there is now no safety for you in Salem, and that a speedy flight can alone ensure your liberty. You have made a great sacrifice for my sake; and I will also make one for yours. I will not even ask to fly with you, for I could only be an encumbrance to you at this inclement season of the year, and my presence here may be of use to you. My heart rebels while I say it, Roger; but you must go alone, and use every exertion to reach Plymouth as speedily as possible. When you are safe beneath my father's roof, then will be time enough to think of me. I feel no doubt that Governor Bradford will afford you every assistance in his power; and, probably, will again allow the vessel that brought us here in brighter days, to convey me once more to you and to happiness.'