And yet, majestic as the voice sometimes
became, there was for ever in it an essential character of
plaintiveness. A loud or low expression of anguish--the whisper,
or the shriek, as it might be conceived, of suffering humanity,
that touched a sensibility in every bosom! At times this deep
strain of pathos was all that could be heard, and scarcely heard
sighing amid a desolate silence. But even when the minister's
voice grew high and commanding--when it gushed irrepressibly
upward--when it assumed its utmost breadth and power, so
overfilling the church as to burst its way through the solid
walls, and diffuse itself in the open air--still, if the auditor
listened intently, and for the purpose, he could detect the same
cry of pain. What was it? The complaint of a human heart,
sorrow-laden, perchance guilty, telling its secret, whether of
guilt or sorrow, to the great heart of mankind; beseeching its
sympathy or forgiveness,--at every moment,--in each accent,--and
never in vain! It was this profound and continual undertone that
gave the clergyman his most appropriate power.
During all this time, Hester stood, statue-like, at the foot of
the scaffold.
Pages:
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372