protection, nor ask anything whateverfor her own sake. All her zeal was for his welfare.
"Come back with me!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands,--"come back tothy fellow-men; for they need thee, Richard, and thou hast tenfold needof them. Stay not in this evil den; for the air is chill, and thedamps are fatal; nor will any that perish within it ever find the pathto heaven. Hasten hence, I entreat thee, for thine own soul's sake;for either the roof will fall upon thy head, or some other speedydestruction is at hand."
"Perverse woman!" answered Richard Digby, laughing aloud,--for he wasmoved to bitter mirth by her foolish vehemence,--"I tell thee that thepath to heaven leadeth straight through this narrow portal where I sit.And, moreover, the destruction thou speakest of is ordained, not forthis blessed cave, but for all other habitations of mankind, throughoutthe earth. Get thee hence speedily, that thou mayst have thy share!"
So saving, he opened his Bible again, and fixed his eyes intently onthe page, being resolved to withdraw his thoughts from this child ofsin and wrath, and to waste no more of his holy breath upon her. Theshadow had now grown so deep, where he was sitting, that he madecontinual mistakes in what he read, converting all that was graciousand merciful to denunciations of vengeance and unutterable woe on everycreated being but himself. Mary Goffe, meanwhile, was leaning againsta tree, beside the sepulchral cave, very sad, yet with somethingheavenly and ethereal in her unselfish sorrow. The light from thesetting sun still glorified her form, and was reflected a little waywithin the darksome den, discovering so terrible a gloom that themaiden shuddered for its self-doomed inhabitant. Espying the brightfountain near at hand, she hastened thither, and scooped up a portionof its water, in a cup of birchen bark. A few tears mingled with thedraught, and perhaps gave it all its efficacy. She then returned tothe mouth of the cave, and knelt down at Richard Digby's feet.
"Richard," she said, with passionate fervor, yet a gentleness in allher passion, "I pray thee, by thy hope of heaven, and as thou wouldstnot dwell in this tomb forever, drink of this hallowed water, be it buta single drop! Then, make room for me by thy side, and let us readtogether one page of that blessed volume; and, lastly, kneel down withme and pray! Do this, and thy stony heart shall become softer than ababe's, and all be well."
But Richard Digby, in utter abhorrence of the proposal, cast the Bibleat his feet, and eyed her with such a fixed and evil frown, that helooked less like a living man than a marble statue, wrought by somedark-imagined sculptor to express the most repulsive mood that humanfeatures could assume. And, as his look grew even devilish, so, withan equal change did Mary Goffe become more sad, more mild, morepitiful, more like a sorrowing angel. But, the more heavenly she was,the more hateful did she seem to Richard Digby, who at length raisedhis hand, and smote down the cup of hallowed water upon the thresholdof the cave, thus rejecting the only medicine that could have cured hisstony heart. A sweet perfume lingered in the air for a moment, andthen was gone.
"Tempt me no more, accursed woman," exclaimed he, still with his marblefrown, "lest I smite thee down also! What hast thou to do with myBible?--what with my prayers?--what with my heaven?"
No sooner had he spoken these dreadful words, than Richard Digby'sheart ceased to beat; while--so the legend says-the form of Mary Goffemelted into the last sunbeams, and returned from the sepulchral cave toheaven. For Mary Golfe had been buried in an English churchyard, monthsbefore; and either it was her ghost that haunted the wild forest, orelse a dream-like spirit, typifying pure Religion.
Above a century afterwards, when the trackless forest of RichardDigby's day had long been interspersed with settlements, the childrenof a neighboring farmer were playing at the foot of a hill. The trees,on account of the rude and broken surface of this acclivity, had neverbeen felled, and were crowded so densely together as to hide all but afew rocky prominences, wherever their roots could grapple with thesoil. A little boy and girl, to conceal themselves from theirplaymates, had crept into the deepest shade, where not only thedarksome pines, but a thick veil of creeping plants suspended from anoverhanging rock, combined to make a twilight at noonday, and almost amidnight at all other seasons. There the children hid themselves, andshouted, repeating the cry at intervals, till the whole party ofpursuers were drawn thither, and, pulling aside the matted foliage, letin a doubtful glimpse of daylight. But scarcely was this accomplished,when the little group uttered a simultaneous shriek, and tumbledheadlong down the hill, making the best of their way homeward, withouta second glance into the gloomy recess. Their father, unable tocomprehend what had so startled them, took his axe, and, by felling oneor two trees, and tearing away the creeping plants, laid the mysteryopen to the day. He had discovered the entrance of a cave, closelyresembling the mouth of a sepulchre, within which sat the figure of aman, whose gesture and attitude warned the father and children to standback, while his visage wore a most forbidding frown. This repulsivepersonage seemed to have been carved in the same gray stone that formedthe walls and portal of the cave. On minuter inspection, indeed, suchblemishes were observed, as made it doubtful whether the figure werereally a statue, chiselled by human art and somewhat worn and defacedby the lapse of ages, or a freak of Nature, who might have chosen toimitate, in stone, her usual handiwork of flesh. Perhaps it was theleast unreasonable idea, suggested by this strange spectacle, that themoisture of the cave possessed a petrifying quality, which had thusawfully embalmed a human corpse.
There was something so frightful in the aspect of this Man of Adamant,that the farmer, the moment that he recovered from the fascination ofhis first gaze, began to heap stones into the mouth of the cavern. Hiswife, who had followed him to the hill, assisted her husband's efforts.The children, also, approached as near as they durst, with their littlehands full of pebbles, and cast them on the pile. Earth was thenthrown into the crevices, and the whole fabric overlaid with sods.Thus all traces of the discovery were obliterated, leaving only amarvellous legend, which grew wilder from one generation to another, asthe children told it to their grandchildren, and they to theirposterity, till few believed that there had ever been a cavern or astatue, where now they saw but a grassy patch on the shadowy hillside.Yet, grown people avoid the spot, nor do children play there.Friendship, and Love, and Piety, all human and celestial sympathies,should keep aloof from that hidden cave; for there still sits, and,unless an earthquake crumble down the roof upon his head, shall sitforever, the shape of Richard Digby, in the attitude of repelling thewhole race of mortals,--not from heaven,--but from the horribleloneliness of his dark, cold sepulchre!
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