She reminded him, that if, even in Spain, where the abominations of
Antichrist prevailed, and the triumph of the mother of witchcrafts
and spiritual seduction was complete, the fearful offer he alluded
to had been made and rejected with such unmitigated abhorrence,
the renunciation of one who had embraced the pure doctrines of the
gospel should be expressed with a tenfold energy of feeling and
holy defiance. “You,” said the heroic woman, “you first taught me
that the doctrines of salvation are to be found alone in the holy
scriptures,--I believed you, and wedded you in that belief. We are
united less in the body than in the soul, for in the body neither of
us may probably sojourn much longer. You pointed out to me, not the
legends of fabulous saints, but the lives of the primitive apostles
and martyrs of the true church. There I read no tales of “voluntary
humility,” of self-inflicted--fruitless sufferings, but I read that
the people of God were “destitute, afflicted, tormented.” And shall
we dare to murmur at following the examples of those you have pointed
out to me as ensamples of suffering? They bore the spoiling of their
goods,--they wandered about in sheep skins and goat skins,--they
resisted unto blood, striving against sin.--And shall we lament the
lot that has fallen to us, when our hearts have so often burned within
us, as we read the holy records together? Alas! what avails feeling
till it is brought to the test of fact? How we deceived ourselves, in
believing that we indeed participated in the feelings of those holy
men, while we were so far removed from the test by which they were
proved! We read of imprisonments, of tortures, and of flames!--We
closed the book, and partook of a comfortable meal, and retired to
a peaceful bed, triumphing in the thought, while saturated with all
the world’s good, that if their trials had been ours, we could have
sustained those trials as they did. Now, _our_ hour has come,--it is an
hour sharp and terrible!”--“It is!” murmured the shuddering husband. “But shall we therefore shrink?” replied his wife. “Your ancestors,
who were the first in Germany that embraced the reformed religion,
have bled and blazed for it, as you have often told me,--can there be
a stronger attestation to it?”--“I believe there can,” said Walberg,
whose eyes rolled fearfully,--“that of starving for it!--Oh Ines,”
he exclaimed, as he grasped her hands convulsively, “I have felt,--I
still feel, that a death at the stake would be mercy compared to
the lingering tortures of protracted famine,--to the death that we
die daily--and yet do not die! What is this I hold?” he exclaimed,
grasping unconsciously the hand he held in his. “It is my hand, my
love,” answered the trembling wife.--“Yours!--no--impossible!--Your
fingers were soft and cool, but these are dry,--is this a human
hand?”--“It is mine,” said the weeping wife. “Then you must have been
famishing,” said Walberg, awakening as if from a dream. “We have all
been so latterly,” answered Ines, satisfied to restore her husband’s
sanity, even at the expense of this horrible confession,--“We have all
been so--but I have suffered the least. When a family is famishing,
the children think of their meals--but the mother thinks only of her
children. I have lived on as little as--I could,--I had indeed no
appetite.”--“Hush,” said Walberg, interrupting her--“what sound was
that?--was it not like a dying groan?”--“No--it is the children who
moan in their sleep.”--“What do they moan for?” “Hunger I believe,”
said Ines, involuntarily yielding to the dreadful conviction of
habitual misery.--“And I sit and hear this,” said Walberg, starting
up,--“I sit to hear their young sleep broken by dreams of hunger,
while for a word’s speaking I could pile this floor with mountains of
gold, and all for the risk of”---- “Of what?”--said Ines, clinging
to him,--“of what?--Oh! think of that!--what shall a man give in
exchange for his soul?--Oh! let us starve, die, rot before your eyes,
rather than you should seal your perdition by that horrible”---- “Hear
me, woman!” said Walberg, turning on her eyes almost as fierce and
lustrous as those of Melmoth, and whose light, indeed, seemed borrowed
from his; “Hear me!--My soul is lost! They who die in the agonies of
famine know no God, and want none--if I remain here to famish among
my children, I shall as surely blaspheme the Author of my being, as I
shall renounce him under the fearful conditions proposed to me!--Listen
to me, Ines, and tremble not. To see my children die of famine will
be to me instant suicide and impenitent despair! But if I close with
this fearful offer, I may yet repent,--I may yet escape!--There is
hope on one side--on the other there is none--none--none! Your hands
cling round me, but their touch is cold!--You are wasted to a shadow
with want! Shew me the means of procuring another meal, and I will spit
at the tempter, and spurn him!--But where is that to be found?--Let
me go, then, to meet him!--You will pray for me, Ines,--will you
not?--and the children?--No, let them not pray for me!--in my despair
I forgot to pray myself, and their prayers would now be a reproach to
me.--Ines!--Ines--What? am I talking to a corse?” He was indeed, for
the wretched wife had sunk at his feet senseless. “Thank God!” he again
emphatically exclaimed, as he beheld her lie to all appearance lifeless
before him. “Thank God a word then has killed her,--it was a gentler
death than famine! It would have been kind to have strangled her with
these hands! Now for the children!” he exclaimed, while horrid thoughts
chased each other over his reeling and unseated mind, and he imagined
he heard the roar of a sea in its full strength thundering in his
ears, and saw ten thousand waves dashing at his feet, and every wave
of blood. “Now for the children!”--and he felt about as if for some
implement of destruction. In doing so, his left hand crossed his right,
and grasping it, he exclaimed as if he felt a sword in his hand,--“This
will do--they will struggle--they will supplicate,--but I will tell
them their mother lies dead at my feet, and then what can they say? Hold now,” said the miserable man, sitting calmly down, “If they cry to
me, what shall I answer?