Giles Corey, Yeoman Part 15

_Messenger._ Your worship, Giles Corey has not spoken.

_Parris._ And he hath been under the weights since early light.

Truly such obstinacy is marvellous. [_Exit_ Messenger.

_Hathorne._ Satan gives a strength beyond human measure to his disciples.

_Enter_ Olive _and_ Paul Bayley, _appearing in the distance._ Olive _wears a white gown and white bonnet._

_Hathorne._ Who is that maid coming in a bride bonnet?

_Corwin._ 'Tis Corey's daughter. I marvel that Paul lets her come hither. 'Tis no place for her, so near. Master Hathorne, let us withdraw a little way. I would not see her distress. I am somewhat shaken in nerve this morning.

[Corwin, Hathorne, _and_ Parris _exeunt at other end of lane._

_Olive_ (_as she and_ Paul _advance_). Who were those men, Paul?

_Paul._ The magistrates and Minister Parris, sweet.

_Olive._ Are they gone?

_Paul._ Yes, they are quite out of sight. Oh, why wouldst thou come here, dear heart?

_Olive._ Thou thinkest to cheat me, Paul; but thou canst not cheat me. Three fields away to the right have they dragged my father this morning. I knew it, I knew it, although you strove so hard to keep it from me. I'll be as near my father's death-bed on my wedding-day as I can.

_Paul._ I pray thee, sweetheart, come away with me. This will do no good.

_Olive._ Loyalty doth good to the heart that holds it, if to no other. Think you I'll forsake my father because 'tis my wedding-day, Paul? Oh, I trow not, I trow not, or I'd make thee no true wife.

_Paul._ It but puts thee to needless torment.

_Olive._ Torment! torment! Think of what he this moment bears! Oh, my father, my father! Paul Bayley, why have I wedded you this dreadful day!

_Paul._ Hush! Thy father wished it, sweetheart.

_Olive._ I swear to you I'll never love any other than my father. I love you not.

_Paul._ Thou needst not, poor la.s.s!

_Olive_ (_clinging to him_). Nay, I love thee, but I hate myself for it on this day.

_Paul_ (_caressing her_). Poor la.s.s! Poor la.s.s!

_Olive._ Why wear I this bridal gear, and my father over yonder on his dreadful death-bed? Why could you not have gone your own way and let me gone mine all the rest of my life in black apparel, a-mourning for my father? That would have beseemed me. This needed not have been so; it needed never have been so.

_Paul._ Never? I tell thee, sweet, as well say to these apple blossoms that they need never be apples, and to that rose-bush against the wall that its buds need not be roses. In faith, we be far set in that course of nature, dear, with the apple blossoms and the rose-buds, where the beginning cannot be without the end. Our own motion be lost, and we be swept along with a current that is mightier than death, whether we would have it so or not.

_Olive._ I know not. I only know I would be faithful to my poor father. But 'twas his last wish that I should wed thee thus.

_Paul._ Yes, dear.

_Olive._ He said so that morning before his trial. Oh, Paul, I can see it now, the trial! I have been to the trial every day since.

Shall I go every day of my life? Perchance thou may often come home and find thy wife gone to the trial, and no supper. I will go on my wedding-day; my father shall have no slights put upon him. I can see him stand there, mute. They cry out upon him and mock him and lay false charges upon him, and he stands mute. The judge declares the dreadful penalty, and he stands mute. Oh, my father, my poor father!

I tell ye my father will not mind anything. The Governor and the justices may command him as they will, the afflicted may clamor and gibe as they will, and I may pray to him, but he will not mind, he will stand mute. I tell ye there be not power enough in the colony to make him speak. Ye know not my father. He will have the best of it.

_Paul._ Thou speakest like his daughter now. Keep thyself up to this, sweet. The daughter of a hero should have some brave stuff in her. Thy father does a greater deed than thou knowest. His dumbness will save the colonies from more than thou dreamest of. 'Twill put an end to this dreadful madness; he himself hath foretold it. [_A clamor is heard._

_Olive._ Paul, Paul, what is that?

_Paul._ Naught but some boys shouting, sweet.

_Olive._ 'Twas not. Oh, my father, my father!

_Paul._ Olive, thou must not stay here.

_Olive._ I must stay. Who is coming? [Paul _and_ Olive _step aside._

_Enter second_ Messenger. Hathorne, Corwin, _and_ Parris _advance to meet him._

_Hathorne._ How goes it now with Giles Corey?

_Messenger._ Your worship, Giles Corey hath not spoken.

_Hathorne._ What! Have they not increased the weights?

_Messenger._ They have doubled the weights, your worship.

_Parris._ I trow Satan himself hath put his shoulder under the stones to take off the strain. [_Exit_ Messenger.

_Hathorne._ 'Tis a marvel the old tavern-brawler endures so long, but he'll soon speak now.

_Corwin._ Hush, good master, his daughter can hear.

_Hathorne._ Let her then withdraw if it please her not. I'll warrant he cannot bear much more; he will soon speak.

_Parris._ Yea, he cannot withstand the double weight unless his master help him.

[Corwin _speaks aside to_ Paul _and motions him to take_ Olive _away._ Paul _takes her by the arm. She shakes her head and will not go._

_Hathorne._ I trow 'twill take other than an unlettered clown like Giles Corey to stand firm under this stress. He'll speak soon.

_Parris._ Yea, that he will. He can never hold out. He hath not the mind for it.

_Hathorne._ It takes a man of finer wit than he to undergo it. He will speak. Oh yes, fear ye not, he will speak.

_Olive_ (_breaking away from_ Paul). My father will _not_ speak!

_Hathorne._ Girl!