386 Esther Wharncliff; [[Oct. 



" unclose that sacred volume. Drink of the fountain of truth, and learn 

 the maxims of universal charity. You may burn the orphan and the 

 widow at the stake, but the spirits of your victims will rise before the 

 throne of judgment, and the voice of the humblest will be heard against 

 you, from the furthest corner of heaven." 



The commissioners, although accustomed to witness daily the pangs 

 of their victims, and hardened by bigotry and habit against their appeals 

 and exhortations, listened for a time with attention and surprise to the 

 extraordinary woman before them. But though struck with awe, rage 

 rapidly replaced this feeling as she proceeded with her discourse ; and 

 she had scarcely uttered the concluding sentence, when her judges pro- 

 nounced sentence of death on herself and her child. They were con- 

 demned to be burnt on the following day, and their ashes scattered to 

 the winds. 



The night was far advanced ere the unfortunate prisoner flung herself 

 on the few rushes afforded her as a bed, and endeavoured to compose 

 herself to sleep by the side of her child, who had long before wept him- 

 self to rest. But the effort was vain ; she could not lose remembrance 

 for an instant, though every sound was hushed throughout the prison. 

 It was not that she thought of the morrow, or its punishment, but the 

 scenes of her youth, and its pleasures, came on the torrent of memory, 

 like flowers upon a deep dark river. Her follies and her faults, which 

 conscience magnified to crimes, pressed heavily around her ; life seemed 

 but a span of shadows, and now, when she stood on the brink of eter- 

 nity, gazing on its unfathomable waters for an instant, ere she was 

 plunged amidst their waves, the hopes she had indulged of salvation 

 melted like clouds beneath her feet, and but for the remembrance of a 

 Saviour's promises, she would liave despaired in her humility. Again 

 she thought of her husband ; and the very sound of the wind sighing 

 through the passages of the building, seemed to take the tone of his 

 voice, and recal more earthly feelings. A faint noise in the avenue 

 leading to the entrance of her prison was sufficient to dissipate these 

 illusions. She knew not why, but a wild feeling of hope flashed sud- 

 denly across her brain, and she started from the ground, and listened 

 for a repetition of the sounds with breathless expectation. It was no 

 illusion — the bolts were slowly drawn from the door of her cell. 

 " Could it be," she thought, " that her child was yet to be rescued, that 

 she was destined to rear him in the paths of honesty, before she laid her 

 head-in the grave !" The door was now cautiously unclosed, and the 

 heart of the poor prisoner again sunk within her, when she beheld a 

 monk in the dress of his order enter the cell. Esther arose, and de- 

 manded what he sought. 



" Thy rescue, my oaughter," he replied. 



" And my boy's }" she hastily rejoined. 



" His likewise," returned the monk. 



" Oh, bless thee for the tidings. He sleeps ; Ijut we will not tarry 

 an instant," exclaimed the mother, springing eagerly past the monk 

 towards her child ; but the priest, laying his hand on her arm, arrested 

 her purpose. 



" Forbear !" he said ; " let him sleep on ; for when his mother hath 

 abjured her heresies, then there is hope for him, but not till then." 



" Monster !" exclaimed Esther, shaking off" his grasp, " had I not 

 enough of agony, but thou must come to torture me with hope ?" 



