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diff --git a/old/62815-0.txt b/old/62815-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 90a1c86..0000000 --- a/old/62815-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6671 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of Witchcraft, by -Pauline Bradford Mackie Hopkins and E. W. D. Hamilton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of Witchcraft - -Author: Pauline Bradford Mackie Hopkins - E. W. D. Hamilton - -Release Date: August 1, 2020 [EBook #62815] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YE LYTTLE SALEM MAIDE *** - - - - -Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, Charlene Taylor and the -Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net -(This file was produced from images generously made -available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - -Ye Lyttle Salem Maide - - - - -[Illustration: _Copyright, 1898, by Lamson, Wolffe and Company_ - -“_There, keep ye at that distance. I ken your sly ways._” - -_page 75_] - - - - - Ye Lyttle Salem Maide - - _A Story of Witchcraft_ - - BY - Pauline Bradford Mackie - - _Author of_ - “Mademoiselle De Berny: A Story of Valley Forge” - - _Illustrated by_ - E. W. D. Hamilton - - “This world is very evil, - The times are waxing late” - - [Illustration] - - Lamson, Wolffe and Company - Boston, New York and London - MDCCCXCVIII - - Copyright, 1898, - By Lamson, Wolffe and Company. - - _All rights reserved._ - - _The Norwood Press - J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith - Norwood, Mass., U.S.A._ - - - - -To Alice - -IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF OLD DAYS AT ENGLEWOOD - - - - -Contents - - - Chapter Page - - I. A Meeting in the Forest 1 - - II. Sir Jonathan’s Warning 18 - - III. The Yellow Bird 38 - - IV. In which Demons assault the Meeting-house 55 - - V. The Coming of the Town Beadle 70 - - VI. The Woman of Ipswich 80 - - VII. The Trial of Deliverance 92 - - VIII. The Last Witness 113 - - IX. In which Abigail sees Deliverance 128 - - X. A Little Life sweetly Lived 141 - - XI. Abigail goes to Boston Town 158 - - XII. Mr. Cotton Mather visits Deliverance 169 - - XIII. In the Green Forest 188 - - XIV. A Fellow of Harvard 206 - - XV. Lord Christopher Mallett 226 - - XVI. At the Governor’s House 244 - - XVII. In a Sedan-chair 256 - - XVIII. The Coming of Thomas 273 - - XIX. On Gallows’ Hill 290 - - XX. The Great Physician 309 - - - - -List of Illustrations - - - Page - - “‘There, keep ye at that distance. I ken your sly ways’” _Frontispiece_ - - “‘Take care lest you harbour a witch in yonder girl’” 33 - - “Strangely enough, the old woman seemed like a witch” 194 - - “Her ladyship tilted her chin in the air” 260 - - - - -Ye Lyttle Salem Maide - - - - -Chapter I - -A Meeting in the Forest - - -Over two centuries ago a little Puritan maiden might have been seen -passing along the Indian path which led from out Salem Town to her home. -It was near the close of day. The solemn twilight of the great primeval -forest was beginning to fall. But the little maid tripped lightly on, -unawed, untroubled. From underneath her snowy linen cap, with its stiffly -starched ear-flaps, hung the braid of her hair, several shades more -golden than the hue of her gown. Over one arm she carried her woollen -stockings and buckled shoon. - -A man, seated near the path on the trunk of a fallen tree of such -gigantic girth that his feet swung off the ground, although he was a -person of no inconsiderable size, hailed her as she neared him. “Where do -you wend your way in such hasty fashion, little mistress?” - -She paused and bobbed him a very fine courtesy, such as she had been -taught in the Dame School, judging him to be an important personage by -reason of his sword with its jewelled hilt and his plumed hat. “I be -sorely hungered, good sir,” she replied, “and I ken that Goody Higgins -has a bowl o’ porridge piping hot for me in the chimney corner.” Her -dimpled face grew grave; her eyelids fell. “When one for a grievous sin,” -she added humbly, “has stood from early morn till set o’ sun on a block -o’ wood beside the town-pump, and has had naught to eat in all that time, -one hungers much.” - -“And would they put a maid like you up for public punishment?” cried the -Cavalier. “By my faith, these Puritans permit no children. They would -have them saints, lisping brimstone and wrestling with Satan!” - -“Hush, hush!” cried the little maid, affrighted. “Ye must not say that -word lest the Devil answer to his name.” She pointed to where the sunset -glimmered red behind the trees. “Do ye not ken that when the sun be set, -the witches ride on broomsticks? After dark all good children stay in the -house.” - -“Ho, ho!” laughed the stranger; “and have you a law that witches must not -ride on broomsticks? You Puritans had best be wary lest they ride your -nags to death at night and you take away their broomsticks.” - -“Ay,” assented the maid. “Old Goody Jones is to be hanged for witchery -this day week. One morn, who should find his nag steaming, flecked with -foam, its mane plaited to make the bridle, but our good Neighbour Root. -When I heard tell o’ it, I cut across the clearing to his barn before -breakfast, and with my own eyes saw the nag with its plaited mane and -tail. Neighbour Root suspicioned who the witch was that had been riding -it, but he, being an o’er-cautious man, kept a close mouth. Well, at -dawn, two days later, he jumped wide-awake all in a minute,—he had been -sleeping with an eye half-cocked, as it were,—for he heard the barn door -slam. He rose and lit his lantern and went out. There he saw Goody Jones -hiding in a corner of the stall, her eyes shining like a cat’s. When -she saw he kenned her, she gave a wicked screech and flew by him in the -form o’ an owl. He was so afeared lest she should bewitch him, that he -trembled till his red cotton nightcap fell off. It was found in the stall -by our goodly magistrate in proof o’ Neighbour Root’s words.” - -The Cavalier’s face grew grim. “Ay,” he muttered, “the Lord will yet -make these people repent the innocent blood they shed. Hark ye, little -mistress, I have travelled in far countries, where they have the Black -Plague and terrible diseases ye wot not of. Yet this plague of witchery -is worse than all,—ay, even than the smallpox.” He shrugged his shoulders -and looking down at the ground, frowned and shook his head. But as he -glanced up at the maid’s troubled countenance, his gloom was dispelled by -a sunny smile. He reached out and took her hand, and patted it between -his big warm palms. - -“Dear child,” he said, “be not afeared of witches, but bethink yourself -to keep so fair and shining a conscience that Satan and his hags who -work by the powers of darkness cannot approach you. We have a play-actor -in England, a Merry Andrew of the town, a slender fellow withal, yet -possessed of a pretty wit, for wit, my little maid, is no respecter -of persons, and springs here and there, like as one rose grows in the -Queen’s garden and another twines ’round the doorway of the poor. Well, -this fellow has written that, ‘far as a little candle throws its beams, -so shines a good deed in a naughty world.’ Many a time have I catched -myself smiling at the jingle, for it minds me of how all good children -are just so many little candles shining out into the black night of this -evil world. When you are older grown you will perceive that I spake true -words. Still, regarding witches, I would not have you o’er bold nor -frequent churchyards by night, for there, I, myself, have seen with these -very eyes, ghosts and wraiths pale as blue vapour standing by the graves. -And at cockcrow they have flown away.” He released her hand. “Come now,” -he said lightly, “you have not told me why you were made to stand on a -block of wood all day.” - -“Good sir,” she replied, “my punishment was none too heavy, for my heart -had grown carnal and adrift from God, and the follies and vanities o’ -youth had taken hold on me. It happed in this wise. Goodwife Higgins, who -keeps our home since my dear mother went to God, be forever sweethearting -me because I mind her o’ her own little girl who died o’ the smallpox. -So she made me this fair silken gown out o’ her wedding-silk brought -from England. Ye can feel for yourself, good sir, if ye like, that it -be all silk without a thread o’ cotton in it. Now, Abigail Brewster, -whose father be a godly man, telled him that when I passed her going to -meeting last Sabbath morn, I switched my fair silken gown so that it -rustled in an offensive manner in her ears. So the constable came after -me, and I was prosecuted in court for wearing silk in an odious manner. -The Judge sentenced me to stand all day on the block, near the town-pump, -exposed to public gaze in my fine raiment. Also, he did look at me o’er -his spectacles in a most awesome, stern, and righteous fashion, for he -said I ‘drew iniquity with a cord o’ vanity and sin with a cart-rope.’ -Then he read a stretch from the Bible, warning me to repent, lest I grow -like those who ‘walk with outstretched necks, mincing as they go.’” She -sighed: “Ye ken not, sir, how weary one grows, standing on a block, -blinking o’ the sun, first resting on your heels, then tipping forward -on your toes, and finding no ease. About the tenth hour, as I could see -by the sun-dial, there comes Abigail Brewster walking with her father. -When I catched sight o’ him I put my hands over my face, and weeped with -exceeding loud groans to show him I heartily repented my wickedness in -the sight o’ God. But he, being spiritually minded at the time, had no -thought for a sinner like me and went on. Now, I was peeking out betwixt -my fingers, and I saw Abigail Brewster had on her gown o’ sad-coloured -linsey-woolsey. Her and me gave one another such a look! For we were -both acquainted like with the fact that that sad-coloured linsey-woolsey -petticoat and sacque were her meeting-house clothes, her father, as I -telled ye, having no patience for the follies o’ dress. Beshrew me, sir,” -added the little maid, timidly, “but I cannot refrain from admiring your -immoderate great sleeves with the watchet-blue tiffany peeping through -the slashes.” - -“Sit you down beside me, little mistress,” said the Cavalier, “I would -ask a question of you. Ho, ho, you are afeared of witches! Why, see the -sunset still glimmers red. Have you not a wee bit of time for me, who am -in sore perplexity and distress?” - -“Nay, nay, good sir,” she rejoined sweetly, “I be no afeared o’ witches -when I can assist a soul in sore distress, for as ye telled me, a witch -cannot come near one who be on a good errand.” - -She climbed up on the trunk and seated herself beside him, swinging her -sturdy, bare feet beside his great high boots. - -“Can you keep a close mouth, mistress?” asked the Cavalier. - -She nodded. Irresistibly, as her companion remained silent a moment in -deep thought, her fingers went out and stroked his velvet sleeve. She -sighed blissfully and folded her hands in her lap. - -“I was telled by a countryman up the road that there is a house in your -town which has been recently taken by a stranger. ’Tis a house, I am -informed, with many gables and dormer windows.” The speaker glanced -sharply at his companion. “Do you hap to know the place?” - -“Yea, good sir,” she replied eagerly; “the gossips say it be a marvel -with its fine furnishings, though none o’ the goodwives have so much as -put their noses inside the door, the master being a stern, unsocial body. -But the Moorish wench who keeps his home has blabbed o’ Turkey covers -and velvet stool cushions. Ye should hear tell—” - -“What sort of looks has this fine gentleman,” interrupted the Cavalier; -“is he of lean, sour countenance—” - -She nodded. - -“Crafty-eyed, tall—” - -“Nay, not so tall,” she broke in; “about as ye be in height, but not -so great girth ’round the middle. The children all run from him when -he strolls out at even-tide, tapping with his stick, and frowning. Our -magistrate and minister hold him in great respect as one o’ wit and -learning, with mickle gold from foreign parts. The naughty boys call him -Old Ruddy-Beard, for aught ye can see o’ his face be the tip o’ his long -nose ’neath the brim o’ his beaver-hat and his red beard lying on his -white ruff. Also he wears a cape o’ sable velvet, and he be honoured with -a title, being called Sir Jonathan Jamieson.” - -During her description the Cavalier had nodded several times, and when -she finished, his face was not good to look at. His eyes, which had been -so genial, were now cold and shining as his sword. - -“Have I found you at last, oh mine enemy,” he exulted, “at last, at last?” - -Thus he muttered and talked to himself, and his smile was not pleasant -to see. Glancing at the little maid, he perceived she was startled and -shrank from him. He patted her shoulder. - -“Now, hark ye, mistress,” he whispered, “when next you pass this man, say -softly these words to greet his ears alone: ‘The King sends for his black -powder.’” - -“Perchance he will think me a witch and I say such strange words to him,” -she answered, drawing away; “some say no one be more afeared o’ witches -than he.” - -The Cavalier flung back his head. His laughter rang out scornfully. -“Ho, ho,” he mocked, “afeared of witches, lest they carry off his black -heart! He be indeed a lily-livered scoundrel! Ay, care not how much you -do fright him. At first he will doubtless pretend not to hear you, still -I should not be surprised and he pause and demand where you heard such -words, but you must say naught of all this, e’en though he torment you -with much questioning. I am on my way now to Boston Town. In a few days I -shall return.” He tapped her arm. “Ay, I shall return in state, in state, -next time, little mistress. Meanwhile, you must keep faith with me. Let -him not suspicion this meeting in the forest with me.” He bent his head -and whispered several sentences in her ear. - -“Good sir,” said the little maid, solemnly, when he had finished, “my -King be next to God and I will keep the faith. But now and ye will be -pleased to excuse me, as it be past the supper hour, I will hasten home.” -Saying which, she slipped down from the trunk of the tree and bobbed him -a courtesy. - -“Nay, not so fast, not so fast away,” he cried. “I would show you a -picture of my sweetest daughter, Elizabeth, of whom you mind me, giving -me a great heart-sickness for her bonny face far across the seas in Merry -England.” From inside his doublet he drew forth a locket, swung on a -slender gold chain, and opened it. Within was a miniature on ivory of a -young girl in court dress, with dark curls falling about a face which -smiled back at them in the soft twilight. - -“She be good to look upon and has a comely smile, I wot,” said the little -Puritan maid; “haps it she has seen as many summers as I, who be turned -fourteen and for a year past a teacher in the Dame School.” - -“Sixteen summers has she lived,” answered the Cavalier. “Eftsoons, she -will count in gloomier fashion, for with years come woes and we say so -many winters have we known. But how comes it you are a teacher in the -Dame School?” - -“A fair and flowing hand I write,” she replied, “though I be no great for -spelling. My father has instilled a deal o’ learning into my pate, but I -be not puffed up with vanity on that account.” - -“’Tis well,” said the Cavalier; “I like not an unread maid. Neither do -I fancy one too much learned.” He glanced again at the miniature. From -smiling he fell to sighing. “Into what great girls do our daughters -grow,” he murmured; “but yesterday, methinks, I dandled her on my knee -and sang her nursery rhymes.” He opened a leathern bag strapped around -his waist. Within it the little maid caught a glimpse of a gleaming array -of knives both large and small. This quite startled her. - -“Where did I put them?” he frowned; “but wait, but wait—” He felt in his -pockets, and at last drew forth a chain of gold beads wrapped in silk. -“My Elizabeth would give you these were she here,” he said, “but she is -far across the seas.” - -Rising, he bent and patted the little maid’s cheek. “Take these beads, -dear child, and forget not what I telled you, while I am gone to Boston -Town. Yet, wait, what is your name?” - -“Deliverance Wentworth,” she answered. With confidence inspired anew by -the kindly face, she added, “I have a brother in Boston Town, who be a -Fellow o’ Harvard. Should ye hap to cross his path, might ye be pleased -to give him my dutiful love? He be all for learning, and carries a -mighty head on young shoulders.” - -Then with another courtesy she turned and fled fearfully along the path, -for the red of the sunset had vanished. - -Far, far above her gleamed two or three pale silver stars. The gloom of -twilight was rising thickly in the forest. Bushes stretched out goblin -arms to her as she passed them. The rustling leaves were the whisperings -of wizards, beseeching her to come to them. A distant stump was a witch -bending over to gather poisonous herbs. - -At last she reached her home. A flower-bordered walk led to the door. -The yard was shut in by a low stone wall. The afterglow, still lingering -on the peaked gables of the house, was reflected in the diamond-paned -windows and on the knocker on the front door. There was no sign of life. -Save for the spotless neatness which marked all, the place had a sombre -and uninhabitable air, as if the forest, pressing so closely upon the -modest farmstead, flung over it somewhat of its own gloom and sadness. - -Deliverance hesitated a moment at the gate. Her fear of the witches was -great, but—she glanced at the gold beads. - -“I will say a prayer all the way,” she murmured, and ran swiftly along -the path a goodly distance, then crossed a belt of woods, pausing neither -in running nor in prayerful words, until she reached a hollow oak. In it -Deliverance placed the beads wrapped in their bit of silk. - -“For,” she reasoned, “if father, though I be no so afeared o’ father, -but if Goodwife Higgins set her sharp eyes on them, I should have a most -awesome, weary time with her trying to find out where I got them.” - -She was not far from the sea and she could see the tide coming in, a line -of silver light breaking into foam. Passing along the path which led to -Boston Town, she saw the portly figure of the Cavalier, the rich colours -of his dress faintly to be descried. An Indian guide had joined him. Both -men were on foot. Deliverance, forgetful of the witches, the darkening -night, watched the travellers as long as she could see them against the -silver sea. At a fordways the Cavalier paused, and the Indian stooped -and took him on his back. This glimpse of her merry acquaintance, being -thus carried pickapack across the stream, was the last glimpse she had of -him for many days to follow. Once she thought he waved his hand to her -as he turned his head and glanced behind him. In this she was mistaken. -He could not have seen the demure figure of the little Puritan maiden, -standing in the deep dusk of the forest edge. - - - - -Chapter II - -Sir Jonathan’s Warning - - -Although it was an evening in early June, the salt breeze blowing damp -and cold from off the sea made Master Wentworth’s kitchen, with its -cheerful fire, an agreeable place for the goodwives of the village to -gather with their knitting after supper. - -Goodwife Higgins, seated at her spinning-wheel, made but brief replies to -the comments of her guests upon the forward behaviour of her foster-child -Deliverance. Yet her glance was ever cast anxiously toward the door, -swung half-open lest the room should become too warm. - -“I trow the naughty baggage deserved correction to put to such ungodly -use the fair silk ye gave her,” remarked one portly dame. “Goody Dennison -says as it was your standing-up gown ye brought from England to be wed -in.” - -“Ay,” said Goodwife Higgins, grimly. Her face lighted as she spoke, for -the door was flung wide and the little maid of whom they spoke entered, -breathless with running. - -“It be time ye were in,” frowned Goodwife Higgins, a note of relief in -her sharp tone. “I gan to think a witch had catched ye.” - -“Come, come, child, stand out and let us see those fine feathers which -have filled your foolish pate with vanity,” cried Goody Dennison. - -Deliverance sighed profoundly. “I do repent deeply that iniquity and -vanity should have filled my carnal heart because o’ this fair gown o’ -silk. Ye can feel for yourself and ye like, Goody Dennison, there be no -thread o’ cotton in it.” - -As she spoke she glanced out of the corners of her downcast eyes at a -little, rosy, freckled girl, who sat at her mother’s side, knitting, but -who did not look up, keeping her sleek brown head bent resolutely over -the half-finished stocking. - -“Have ye had aught to eat, child?” asked Goodwife Higgins. - -Deliverance shook her head. - -“And ye would go off with but a sup o’ milk for breakfast,” scolded the -goodwife, as she rose and stirred the porridge she had saved. “Sit ye -down by Abigail, and I will bring ye summat nourishing.” - -Now, Deliverance had stood long in the hot sun with naught to eat, and -this and her long walk so weighed upon her that suddenly she grew pale -and sank to the floor. - -“Dear Goody,” she murmured faintly, “the Lord has struck my carnal heart -with the bolt o’ His righteous anger, for I wax ill.” - -That the welfare, if not the pleasure, of their children lay very close -to the hearts of the Puritans, was shown by the manner in which the -goodwives, who had greeted Deliverance with all due severity, dropped -their knitting and gathered hastily around her. - -“It be too long a sentence for a growing child, and it behooves us who -are mothers to tell our godly magistrate so,” grumbled one hard-featured -dame. - -“Dear child,” murmured a rosy-cheeked young wife, who had put her baby -down to assist Deliverance, “here be a sugar-plum I brought ye. We must -have remembrance, gossips,” she added, “that her mother has long been -dead, though Goodwife Higgins cares for her and that be well, Master -Wentworth being a dreamer. Ye ken, gossips, I say it with no malice, the -house might go to rack and ruin, for aught he would care, with his nose -ever in the still-room.” - -“Best put the child in the chimney-corner where it be warm,” suggested -Goody Dennison; “beshrew me, gossips, the damp o’ these raw spring nights -chills the marrow in your bones more than the frosts o’ winter.” - -So Deliverance was seated on a stool next to Abigail Brewster, with -Goodwife Higgins’ apron tied around her neck, a pewter bowl of steaming -hasty-pudding in her lap, a mug of milk conveniently near. - -The goodwives, their attention taken from the little maid, turned their -conversation upon witchcraft, and as they talked, sturdy voices shook and -florid faces blanched at every gust of wind in the chimney. - -“Abigail,” whispered Deliverance, “did ye e’er clap eyes on Goody Jones -sith she became a witch?” - -“Never,” answered Abigail. “Father telled me to run lest she give me the -malignant touch. Oh dear, I have counted my stitches wrong.” - -The humming of Goodwife Higgins’ spinning-wheel made a musical -accompaniment to all that was said. And the firelight dancing over the -spinner’s ruddy face and buxom figure made of her a pleasant picture as -she guided the thread, her busy foot on the treadle. - -Ah, what tales were told around the fireplace of the New England kitchen -where centred all homely cheer and comfort, and the gossips’ tongues -wagged fast as the glancing knitting-needles flashed! High in the yawning -chimney, from ledge to ledge, stretched the great lugpole, made from -green wood that it might not catch fire. From it swung on hooks the -pots and kettles used in cooking. Bright andirons reflected the dancing -flames and on either side were the settles. From the heavy rafters were -festooned strings of dried fruit, small yellow and green squashes, -scarlet peppers. Sand was scattered over the floor. Darkness, banished by -the firelight, lurked in the far corners of the room. - -Abigail and Deliverance, to all outward appearance absorbed in each -other’s society, were none the less listening with ears wide open to -whatever was said. Near them sat young wife Tucker that her baby might -share the warmth of the fire. It lay on her lap, its little red hands -curled up, the lashes of its closed eyes sweeping its cheeks. A typical -Puritan baby was this, duly baptized and given to God. A wadded hood -of gray silk was worn closely on its head, its gown, short-sleeved and -low-necked, was of coarse linen bleached in the sun and smelling sweetly -of lavender. The young wife tilted it gently on her knees, crooning -psalms if it appeared to be waking, the while her ever busy hands were -knitting above it. Once she paused to touch the round cheek fondly with -her finger. - -“Ye were most fortunate, Dame Tucker,” said one of the gossips, observing -the tender motion, “to get him back again.” - -“Ay,” answered the young wife, “the Lord was merciful to the goodman and -myself. Ne’er shall I cease to have remembrance o’ that wicked morn. I -waked early and saw a woman standing by the cradle. ‘In God’s name, what -come you for?’ I cried, and thereat she vanished. I rose; O woeful sight -these eyes beheld! The witches had taken away my babe and put in its -stead a changeling.” The young wife shuddered, and dropped her knitting -to clasp her baby to her breast. “Long had I been feared o’ such an evil -and ne’er oped my eyes at morn save with fear lest the dread come true. -Ye ken, gossips, a witch likes best a first bairn. There the changeling -lay in my baby’s crib, a puny, fretful, crying wean, purple o’ lips and -white o’ cheeks. Quick the goodman went out and got me five eggs from the -black hen, and we burnt the shells and fried the yolks, and with a jar o’ -honey (for a witch has a sweet tooth) put the relishes where she might -find them and be pacified. She took them not. All that day and the next I -wept sorely. Yet with rich milk I fed the fretting wean, feeling pity for -it in my heart though it was against me to hush it to sleep in my arms. -The night o’ the second day the goodman slept heavily, for he was sore o’ -heart an’ weary. But the changeling would not hush its wailing, so I rose -and rocked it until worn out by much grief I fell asleep, my head resting -on the hood o’ the crib. When I oped my eyes in the darkness the crying -was like that o’ my own babe. I hushed my breath to listen. - -“Quick I got a tallow dip and lighted it for to see what was in the crib. -I fell on my knees and prayed. The witches had brought back my bairn, and -taken their fretting wean away.” - -“How looked it?” asked Deliverance, eagerly. She never wearied hearing of -the changeling, and her interest was as fresh at the third telling of the -story as at the first. And, although under most circumstances she would -have been chidden for speaking out before her elders, she escaped this -time, so interested were the goodwives in the tale. - -“Full peaked and wan it looked,” answered the young wife, solemnly, “and -blue it was from hunger and cold, for no witches’ food will nourish a -baptized child.” - -“I should have liked to see where the witches took it, shouldn’t ye?” -whispered Abigail to Deliverance. - -“Abigail,” said Deliverance, in a cautious whisper, although the -humming of the spinning-wheel almost drowned her voice, “if ye will be -pleasant-mouthed and not run tittle-tattling upon me again, perchance I -will tell ye summat, only it would make your eyes pop out o’ your head. -Ye be that simple-minded, Abigail! And I might show ye summat too, only -I misdoubt ye have a carnal heart which longs too much on things that -glitter. Here, ye can bite off the end o’ my sugar-plum. Now, whisper no -word o’ what I tell ye,” putting her mouth to the other’s ear, “I be on a -service for his majesty, King George.” - -A door leading from an inner room into the kitchen opened and a man came -out. He was tall and hollow-chested and stooped slightly. His flaxen -wig, parted in the centre, fell to his shoulders on either side of his -hatchet-shaped face. He had mild blue eyes. His presence diffused faint -odours of herbs and dried flowers and fragrance of scented oils. This -sweet atmosphere, surrounding him wherever he went, heralded his presence -often before he appeared. - -“Has Deliverance returned, Goodwife Higgins?” he asked. “I need her to -find me the yarrow.” - -“And do ye think I would not have the child housed at this hour -o’ night?” queried the goodwife, sharply; “your father needs ye, -Deliverance. Ye ken, gossips,” she added in a softened voice, as -Master Wentworth retired, “that the poor man has no notion o’ what be -practicable. It be fair exasperating to a decent, well-providing body to -care for him.” - -Deliverance hastily set the porridge bowl on the hearth, and followed her -father into the still-room. - -Next to the kitchen the still-room was the most important one in the -house. Here were kept all preserves and liquors, candied fruits and -spices. From the rafters swung bunches of dried herbs, the gathering and -arrangement of which was Deliverance’s especial duty. From early spring -until Indian summer did she work to make these precious stores. With the -melting of the snows, when the Indian women boiled the sweet waters of -the maple, she went forth to hunt for winter-green. Together she and her -father gathered slippery-elm and sassafras bark. Then, green, fragrant, -wholesome, appeared the mints. Also there were mysterious herbs which -grew in graveyards and must be culled only at midnight. And there was -the blessed thistle, which no good child ever plucked before she sang the -verse:— - - “Hail, to thee, holy herb, - Growing in the ground, - On the Mount of Calvarie, - First wert thou found. - Thou art good for many a grief - And healest many a wound, - In the name of Sweet Jesu, - I lift thee from the ground.” - -And there were saffron, witch-hazel, rue, shepherd’s-purse, and -bloody-dock, not to mention the yearly store of catnip put away for her -kitten. - -Master Wentworth swung her up on his shoulder so she could reach the -rafters. - -“The yarrow be tied fifth bunch on the further beam, father,” she said; -“there, ye have stopped right under it.” - -Her small fingers quickly untied the string and the great bunch of yarrow -was in her arms as her father set her down. He handed her a mortar bowl -and pestle. - -“Seat yourself, Deliverance,” he said, “and pound this into a paste for -me.” - -Vigorously Deliverance pounded, anxious to return to Abigail. - -The room was damp and chilly. No heat came in from the kitchen for the -door was closed, but the little Puritan maiden was inured to the cold -and minded it not. The soft light that filled the room was given by -three dipped candles made from the fragrant bayberry wax. This wax was -of a pale green, almost transparent colour, and gave forth a pleasant -fragrance when snuffed. An hour-glass was placed behind one of the -candles that the light might pass through the running sands and enable -one to read the time at a glance. At his table as he worked, her father’s -shadow was flung grotesquely on the wall, now high, now low. Into the -serene silence the sound of Deliverance’s pounding broke with muffled -regularity. - -“I am telled, Master Wentworth,” said a harsh voice, “that your dear -and only daughter, Deliverance, be given o’er to vanity. Methinks, the -magistrate awarded her too light a sentence for her idle flauntings. As -I did chance to meet him at the tavern, at the nooning-hour, I took it -upon myself to tell him, humbly, however, and in no spirit of criticism, -that too great a leniency accomplishes much evil.” - -Deliverance fairly jumped, so startled was she by the unexpected voice. -Now for the first time she perceived a gentleman, in a sable cape, his -booted legs crossed, and his arms folded on his breast, as he sat in the -further corner of the room. One side of his face was hidden from view -by the illuminated hour-glass, but the light of the concealed candle -cast so soft and brilliant a glow over his figure that she was amazed -at not having seen him before. His red beard rested on the white ruff -around his neck. She could see but the tip of his long nose beneath his -steeple-crowned hat. Yet she felt the gaze of those shadowed eyes fixed -upon her piercingly. None other than Sir Jonathan Jamieson was he, of -whom the stranger in the forest had made inquiry. - -As she remembered the words she was commissioned to say to this man, her -heart throbbed fast with fear. She ceased pounding. Silently she prayed -for courage to keep her promise and to serve her King. - -At Sir Jonathan’s words, Master Wentworth glanced up with a vague smile, -having barely caught the drift of them. - -“Ah, yes,” he said, “women are prone to care for fol-de-rols. Still, I -have seen fine dandies in our sex. I am minded of my little girl’s dear -mother, who never could abide this bleak country and our sad Puritan -ways, sickening for longing of green old England.” He sighed. “Yet,” he -added hastily, “I criticise not our godly magistrate’s desire to crush -out folly.” He turned and peered into the mortar bowl. “You are slow at -getting that smooth, daughter.” - -Deliverance commenced pounding again hurriedly. Although she looked -straight into the bowl she could see plainly that stern figure in the -further corner, the yellow candle-light touching brilliantly the red -beard and white ruff. She trembled and doubted her courage to give him -the message. - -[Illustration: _Copyright, 1898, by Lamson, Wolffe and Company_ - -“_Take care lest you harbour a witch in yonder girl._” - -_page 33_] - -But there was staunch stuff in this little Puritan maid, and as her -father’s guest rose to depart and was about to pass her on his way to the -door, she looked up. - -“Good sir,” she whispered, “the King sends for his black powder.” - -Thereat Sir Jonathan jumped, and his jaw fell as if he had been dealt -an unexpected blow. He looked down at her as if he beheld a much more -terrible sight than a little maid, whose knees knocked together with -trembling so that the mortar bowl danced in her lap, and whose frightened -blue eyes never left his face in their fascinated stare of horror at her -own daring. A moment he stared back at her, then muttering, he hurried -out into the kitchen and slammed the door behind him. - -“Gossips,” he cried harshly, “take care lest you harbour a witch in -yonder girl.” - -With that, wrapping his cape of sable velvet around him, and with a swing -of his black stick, he flung wide the kitchen door, and passed out into -the night. - -“Father,” asked Deliverance, timidly, “how haps it that Sir Jonathan -comes this way?” - -Master Wentworth answered absent-mindedly, “What, daughter, you are -concerned about Sir Jonathan. Yes, yes, run and get him a mug of sweet -sack and you like. Never let it be said I sent from my door rich or poor, -without offering him cheer.” - -“Nay, father,” she protested, “I but asked—” - -“Let me see,” murmured Master Wentworth; “to eight ounces of orris root, -add powdered cuttle-bone of like quantity, a gill of orange-flower water. -What said you, child,” interrupting himself, “a mug of sack for Sir -Jonathan. Run quickly and offer it to him lest he be gone.” - -Reluctantly, Deliverance opened the door and stepped out into the -kitchen. Sir Jonathan had been gone several moments. She was astonished -to see the goodwives had risen and were huddled together in a scared -group with blanched faces, all save Goodwife Higgins, who stood alone at -her spinning-wheel. The eyes of all were directed toward the still-room. -The baby, clutched tightly to its fearful young mother’s breast, wailed -piteously. - -Deliverance, abashed although she knew not why, paused when half-way -across the room. - -“Look ye, gossips,” cried one, “look at the glint o’ her een.” - -To these Puritan dames the extreme beauty which the solitary childish -figure acquired in the firelight was diabolical. The reflection of the -dancing flames made a radiant nimbus of her fair, disordered hair, and -brought out the yellow sheen in the silken gown. Her lips were scarlet, -her cheeks glowed, while her soft eyes, wondrously blue and clear, -glanced round the circle of faces. Before that innocent and astonished -gaze, first one person and then another of the group cowered and shrank, -muttering a prayer. - -Through the door, swung open by the wind, swept a terrible gust, and with -it passed in something soft, black, fluttering, which circled three times -around the room, each time drawing nearer to Deliverance, until at last -it dropped and fastened itself to her hair. - -Shrieking, the women broke from each other, and ran from the room, all -save Goodwife Higgins, who clapped her apron over her head, and fell to -uttering loud groans. - -Master Wentworth came out from the still-room, a bunch of yarrow under -one arm, and holding the mortar bowl. - -“What ungodly racket is this?” he asked. “Is a man to find no peace in -his own house?” - -Upon hearing his voice, Goodwife Higgins’ fright somewhat abated. She -drew down her apron, and pointed speechlessly to Deliverance who was -rigid with terror. - -“Lord bless us!” cried the goodman. “Have you no wits at all, woman?” He -laid the bowl on the table, unconsciously letting the herbs slip to the -floor, and hastened to Deliverance’s assistance. - -“You have catched a bird, daughter, but no singing-bird, only a loathsome -bat. Why, Deliverance, weep not. My little Deliverance, there is naught -to be frightened at. ’Tis a very pitiful thing,” he continued, lapsing -into his musing tone, while his long fingers drew the fair hair from the -bat’s claws with much deftness, “how some poor, pitiful creatures be made -with nothing for to win them grace and kind looks, only a hideous body, -so that silly women scatter like as a viper had come amongst them; and -yet, even the vipers and toads have jewelled eyes, did one but look for -them.” - -He crossed the room, and put the bat outside, then bolted the door for -the night. - -“I am minded of your dear mother, daughter,” he said, a tender smile on -his face; “she was just so silly about some poor, pitiful creature which -had no fine looks for to win it smiles. But she was ay bonny to the poor, -Deliverance, and has weeped o’er many a soul in distress.” - - - - -Chapter III - -The Yellow Bird - - -Goodwife Higgins, who kept the home for the little maid and her father, -rose early the next day before the sun was up. The soft light of dawn -filled the air; the eastern sky was breaking rosily. A moment, she stood -in the doorway, inhaling with delight the fresh, delicious air, noting -how the dew lay white as hoar-frost on the grass. She made the fire and -put the kettle on to boil, filling it first with water from the spring. -Then she went to Deliverance’s room to awaken her, loath to do so, for -she felt the little maid had become very weary the previous day. To her -surprise she found the small hooded bed empty. - -“The dear child,” smiled the goodwife, “she has gone to gather -strawberries for her father’s breakfast. She repents, I perceive, -her unchastened heart, and seeks to pleasure me by an o’er amount o’ -promptness.” - -She turned to fling back the covers of the bed that they might air -properly. This, however, had already been done. On the window-ledge a -little yellow bird sat preening its feathers. It looked at her with its -bright, black eyes and continued its dainty toilet undisturbed. Now, this -was strange, for as every one knew, the wild canary was a shy bird and -flew away at the least approach. The goodwife grew pale, for she feared -she was in the presence of a witch, knowing that witches often took upon -themselves the forms of yellow birds, that they might by such an innocent -and harmless seeming, accomplish much evil among unsuspecting persons. -She tiptoed out of the room, and returned with her Bible as a protection -against any spell the witch might cast upon her. - -“Ye wicked one,” she cried, and her voice shook, “ye who have given -yourself over from God to the Devil, get ye gone from this godly house!” - -At these words the bird flew away, proving it beyond doubt to be -possessed by an evil spirit, for it is known that a witch cannot bear to -hear the name of the Lord. The goodwife was yet more affrighted to see -the bird fly in the woods in the direction in which the strawberry patch -lay. There Deliverance probably was. What power could avail against the -witch casting a malignant spell upon her? She leaned out of the window, -calling,— - -“Deliverance, Deliverance, come into the house! There be a witch abroad. -Deliverance, oh, Deliverance!” - -Several moments passed. At last to her anxious gaze appeared Deliverance, -tripping out of the green woods from the direction in which the bird had -flown. She was attired in her tiffany gown, and there was that about the -yellow sheen of the fair silk and the long braid of her yellow hair which -made her seem like the yellow bird in human form. The first rays of the -sun struck aslant her head. She was singing, and as she sang she smiled. -She could not have gone to gather berries, for she carried neither -basket nor dish. It was evident she had not heard her name called, for -she paused startled and abashed, and the singing words died on her lips, -when she saw the dame leaning out of the window. - -“Deliverance, ye naughty baggage,” cried the goodwife, sharply, “where -have ye been and what for have ye on your gown o’ tiffany?” - -The words were stern, but her heart was beating like to break and -throbbed in unison with Sir Jonathan’s warning the previous night. -“Gossips, take care lest you harbour a witch in yonder girl.” She hurried -to the kitchen door to meet Deliverance. As the little maid shamefacedly -crossed the threshold she raised her hand to strike her, but dropped it -to her side and shook her head, for in her heart she said sadly, “And gin -ye be a witch, child, sore will be your punishment and my hand shall add -no blow.” For she was minded of her own little girl who had died of the -smallpox so many years ago. She prepared the breakfast with more bustle -and noise than usual, as was her wont when disturbed. - -Deliverance, greatly mortified at having been detected and wondering why -she was not questioned, went to her room and put on her linsey-woolsey -petticoat and sacque. - -When she came out to lay the table, to her surprise, Goodwife Higgins -spoke her gently. “Go, child, and call your father, for the Indian bread -be right crusty and brown and the bacon crisp.” - -Deliverance opened the still-room door. Master Wentworth, attired in -his morning-gown, was preparing his work for the day. He was celebrated -in Boston Town for his beauty and honey waters as well as for his -diet-drinks. Recently, he had had a large order from the Governor’s -lady—who had many vanities and was very fine indeed—for balls of sweet -gums and oils, which, wrapped in geranium leaves, were to be burned on -coals to perfume the room. - -This morning no accustomed sweet odour greeted Deliverance. Pungent, -disagreeable fumes rose from the bowl over which her father bent. So -absorbed was he in this experiment that he did not answer until she had -called him several times. - -Then he greeted her kindly and the two walked out to breakfast. Goodwife -Higgins watched Deliverance narrowly while grace was said and her heart -grew lighter to behold the little maid listen devoutly, her head humbly -bowed, as she said “amen” with fervour. Nevertheless, Sir Jonathan’s -words rang in the dame’s ears all day: “Gossips, take care lest you -harbour a witch in yonder girl.” - -Even the cream was bewitched. The butter would not come until she had -heated a horseshoe red-hot and hung it over the churn. Also, three times -a mouse ran across the floor. - -Deliverance hurried through her morning chores, anxious to reach the -town’s highway before school called, that she might see the judges go -riding by to court, then being held in Salem. A celebrated trial of -witches was going on. In the front yard she found Goodwife Higgins -weeding the flower-bed. - -“Be a good child, Deliverance,” said the dame, looking up with troubled -face, for she was much perplexed over the unseemly conduct of the little -maid. - -“Might ye be pleased to kiss me before I go?” asked Deliverance, putting -up her cheek. - -The goodwife barely touched her lips to the soft cheek, having a secret -fear lest the little maid were in communion with evil spirits. Her heart -was so full of grief that her eyes filled with tears, and she could -scarce see whether she were pulling up weeds or flowers. - -As soon as Deliverance had made the turn of the road and was beyond the -goodwife’s vision, she began to run in her anxiety to reach the town’s -highway and see the reverend judges go riding by. The Dame School lay -over half-way to town, facing the road, but she planned to make a cut -through the forest back of the building, that she might not be observed -by any scholars going early to school. To her disappointment, these happy -plans were set at naught by hearing the conch-shell blown to call the -children in. In her haste she had failed to consult the hour-glass before -leaving home. She was so far away as to be late even as it was, and she -did not dare be any later. She stamped her foot with vexation. The school -door was closed when she reached it, out of breath, cross, and flurried. -She raised the knocker and rapped. A prim little girl opened the door. -Prayers had already been said and Dame Grundle had called the first class -in knitting. - -Deliverance courtesied low to the dame, who kept the large room with -the older scholars. There were four rows of benches filled with precise -little girls. The class in knitting was learning the fox-and-geese -pattern, a most fashionable and difficult stitch, new from Boston Town. -In this class was Abigail Brewster. - -Deliverance opened the door into the smaller room. At her entrance soft -whispers and gurgles of laughter ceased. She had twelve scholars, seven -girls and five boys, the boys seated on the bench back of the girls. - -The little girls were exact miniatures of the larger scholars in Dame -Grundle’s room. Each of them held a posy for her teacher, the frail wild -flowers already wilting. The boys, devoid of any such sentiment, were -twisting, wriggling, and whispering. Typical Puritan boys were they with -cropped heads, attired in homespun small-clothes, their bare feet and -legs tanned and scratched. - -Deliverance made all an elaborate courtesy. - -They slipped down from the benches, the girls bobbing and the boys -ducking their heads, in such haste that two of them knocked together and -commenced quarrelling. Deliverance, with a vigorous shake of each small -culprit, put them at opposite ends of the bench. The first task was the -study of the alphabet. A buzz of whispering voices arose as the children -conned their letters from books made of two sheets of horn: on one side -the alphabet was printed and on the other the Lord’s Prayer. The humming -of the little voices over their A, B, C’s made a pleasant accompaniment -to their teacher’s thought, who, with every stitch in the sampler she -was embroidering, wove in a vision of herself in a crimson velvet gown -and stomacher worked with gold thread, such as were worn by the little -court lady, the Cavalier’s sweetest daughter. Growing conscious of a -disturbance in class she looked up. - -“Stability Williams,” she said sternly, “can ye no sit still without -jerking around like as your head was loosed?” - -Stability’s tears flowed copiously at the reproof. - -“Please, ma’am,” spoke up Hannah Sears, “he’s been pulling o’ her hair.” - -Deliverance’s sharp eyes spied the guilty offender. - -“Ebenezer Gibbs,” said she, “stop your wickedness, and as for ye, -Stability Williams, cease your idle soughing.” - -For awhile all was quiet. Then, there broke forth a muffled sob from -Stability, followed by an irrepressible giggle from the boys. Deliverance -stepped down from the platform and rapped Ebenezer Gibbs’ head smartly -with her thimble. - -“Ye rude and ill-mannered boy,” she cried; “have ye no shame to be -pulling Stability Williams’ hair and inticing others to laugh at your -evil doings? Ye can just come along now and stand in the crying-corner.” - -The crying-corner was the place where the children stood to weep after -they had been punished. Pathetic record of childish grief was this -corner, the pine boards black with the imprint of small grimy fingers and -spotted with tears from little wet faces. Doubtless Deliverance rapped -the offender more severely than she intended, for he wept steadily. -Although she knew he deserved the reproof, his crying smote her heart -sorely. - -“Ebenezer Gibbs,” she said, after a while, “when ye think ye have weeped -sufficient long, ye can take your seat.” - -But he continued to weep and sniffle the entire morning, not even ceasing -when his companions had their resting-minute. The day was quite spoiled -for Deliverance by the sight of the tiny figure with the cropped head -pressed close in the corner, as the culprit rested first on one foot and -then the other. - -Altogether she was very glad when Dame Grundle rang the bell for -dismissal, and she could put on the children’s things and conduct them -home. It was a pleasant walk to town through the woods. Deliverance, at -the head of her little procession, always entered the village at an angle -to pass the meeting-house where all important news was given forth and -public gatherings held. The great front door faced the highway and was -the town bulletin board. Sometimes a constable was stationed near by to -read the message aloud to the unlettered. A chilling wind swept down the -road this morning as Deliverance and her following drew near. - -Inside the meeting-house the great witch-trial was still in session. -A large crowd, which could not be accommodated inside, thronged the -steps and peered in through the windows. The sun which had risen so -brightly, had disappeared. The gray sky, the raw air, hung gloomily over -the scene, wherein the sad-coloured garments of the gentlefolk made a -background for the bright bodices of the goodwives, and the red, green, -and blue doublets of the yeomen. Soldiers mingled with the throng. So -much noise had disturbed the court that the great door had been ordered -closed. On the upper panels wolves’ heads (nailed by hunters in proof of -their success that they might receive the bounty), with grinning fangs -and blood trickling to the steps, looked down upon the people. - -The children with Deliverance grew frightened and clutched at her dress, -trying to drag her away, but she, eager to hear whatever news there was, -silenced them peremptorily. - -Suddenly she heard a strange sound. Glancing down she beheld one of her -scholars, crawling on his hands and knees, mewing like a cat. Another -child imitated this curious action, and yet another. A fourth child -screamed and fell in convulsions. In a few moments the panic had spread -to them all. The children were mad with terror. One little girl began -barking like a dog, still another crowed like a cock, flapping her arms -as though they were wings. - -The crowd, disturbed by the shrill cries, turned its attention and -pressed around the scene of fresh excitement. Faces of hearty women and -stout men blanched. - -“Even the babes be not spared,” they cried; “see, they be bewitched.” - -Goodwife Gibbs broke from the rest, and lifted up her little son who lay -in convulsions on the dusty road. “The curse o’ God be on the witch who -has done this,” she cried wildly; “let her be revealed that she may be -punished.” - -The child writhed, then grew quiet; a faint colour came back into his -face. His eyelids quivered and unclosed. Deliverance called him by name, -bending over him as he lay in his mother’s arms. As she did so he struck -her in the face, a world of terror in his eyes, screaming that she was -the witch and had stuck pins in him. - -“Dear Lord,” cried the little maid, aghast, raising her eyes to heaven, -“ye ken I but rapped his pate for sniffling and larfing in class.” - -But strange rumours were afloat regarding Deliverance Wentworth. Sir -Jonathan’s words were on every gossip’s tongue: “Gossips, take care lest -you harbour a witch in yonder girl.” - -Naturally, at the convulsed child’s words, which seemed a confirmation of -that warning, the good people drew away, shuddering, each man pressing -against his neighbour, until they formed a circle a good distance back -from the little assistant teacher of the Dame School. - -Thus Deliverance stood at noonday, publicly disgraced, sobbing, with her -hands over her face in the middle of the roadway; an object of hatred -and abhorrence, with the screaming children clutching at her dress, or -crawling at her feet. - -But suddenly her father, who, returning from his herb-gathering, had -pushed his way to the edge of the crowd and perceived Deliverance, -stepped out and took his daughter by the hand. He spoke sternly to those -who blocked the way, so that the people parted to let them pass. Master -Wentworth was a man of dignity and high repute in those parts. - -As the two walked home hand in hand, Deliverance, with many tears, -related the morning’s events; how in some anger she had rapped Ebenezer -Gibbs’ head with her thimble, and how he had cried thereat. - -“I am ashamed of you, Deliverance,” said her father. “Have you no heart -of grace that you must needs be filled with evil and violence because of -the naughtiness of a little child? Moreover, if you had been discreet -all this mortification had not befallen you. How many times have you -been telled, daughter, not to idle on the way, ogling, gossiping, and -craning your neck about for curiosity? And now we will say nothing more -about it,” he ended. “Only do you remember, Deliverance, that when people -are given over to foolishness, and there is a witch panic, it behooves -the wise to be very prudent, and to walk soberly, with shut mouth and -downcast eyes, so that no man may point his finger and accuse them. -Methinks Goodwife Gibbs’ boy is coming down with a fever sickness. Remind -me that I brew a strengthening draught for him to-night.” - - - - -Chapter IV - -In which Demons assault the Meeting-house - - -The Sabbath day dawned clear with a breeze blowing soft, yet cool and -invigorating, from off the sea. - -But the brightness of the day could not lighten the hearts of the -villagers, depressed by the terrible witch-trials. - -Master Wentworth, however, maintained a certain peace in his home, which, -lying on the outskirts of the town, was just beyond the circle of village -gossip. Moreover, he sternly checked any tendency in Goodwife Higgins or -Deliverance to comment on the panic that was abroad. So of all the homes -in Salem his little household knew the deepest peace on the morn of that -memorable Sabbath. - -“Goodwife,” he said, passing his cup for a third serving of tea, “your -Sabbath face is full as bonny a thing to look at and warms the heart, as -much as your tea and muffins console an empty stomach.” - -And the goodwife replied with some asperity to conceal her pleasure at -the remark, for, being comely, she delighted to be assured of the fact, -“Ay, the cook’s face be bonny, and the tea be well brewed. Ye have a -flattering tongue, Master Wentworth.” - -Then Master Wentworth, stirring his tea which had a sweetening of -molasses, related how, having once had a chest of tea sent him from old -England, he had portioned part of it among his neighbours. The goodwives, -being ignorant of its use, had boiled it well and flung the water away. -But the leaves they kept and seasoned as greens. - -Now, this little story was as delicious to Master Wentworth as the -flavour of his tea, and being an absent-minded body, withal possessed of -a most gentle sense of humour, he told it every Sabbath breakfast. - -He continued to converse in this gentle mood with Goodwife Higgins and -Deliverance, as the three wended their way to church. - -Very cool and pleasant was the forest road. Now and then through the -green they caught glimpses of the white turret of the meeting-house, as -yet without a bell. The building was upon a hill, that travellers and -hunters might be guided by a sight of it. - -Often there passed them a countryman, the goodwife mounted behind her -husband on a pillion. Later they would pass the horse tied to a tree and -see the couple afoot far down the road. This was the custom when there -was but one horse in the family. After awhile the children, carrying -their shoes and stockings, would reach the horse and, as many as could, -pile on the back of the much enduring nag and ride merrily the rest of -the way. - -Master Wentworth and his family arrived early. The watchman paced the -platform above the great door, beating a drum to call the people to -service. Several horses were tied to the hitching-post. Some of the -people were wandering in the churchyard which stretched down the -hill-slope. - -Others of the sad-eyed Puritans gathered in little groups, discussing a -new and terrible doctrine which had obtained currency. It was said that -the gallows had been set up, not only for the guilty but for those who -rebuked the superstition of witchery. The unbelievers would be made to -suffer to the fullest extent of the law. - -And another fearful rumour was being circulated to the effect that a -renowned witch-finder of England had been sent for. He was said to -discover a witch by some mark on the body, and then cause the victim to -be bound hand and foot and cast into a pond. If the person floated he was -pronounced guilty and straightway drawn out and hanged. But he who was -innocent sank at once. - -Soldiers brought from Boston Town to quell any riots that might arise, -added an unusual animation to the scene. Lieutenant-Governor Stoughton -and the six other judges conducting the trials, were the centre of a -group of the gentry. - -Deliverance and Abigail Brewster strolled among the tombstones reading -their favourite epitaphs. The two little maids, having the innocent and -happy hearts of childhood, had found only pleasurable excitement in -the witch-panic until the morning Deliverance had been accused by her -pupils. But they believed this affair had blown over and remained only -a thrilling subject for conversation. Both felt the Devil had made an -unsuccessful assault upon Deliverance, and, as she wrote in her diary, -sought to destroy her good name with the “Malice of Hell.” - -During meeting Deliverance sat with Goodwife Higgins on the women’s side -of the building. Her father, being of the gentry, was seated in one of -the front pews. - -Through the unshuttered windows the sunlight streamed in broadly, and as -the air grew warm one could smell the pine and rosin in the boards of the -house. Pushed against the wall was the clerk’s table with its plentiful -ink-horn and quills. - -The seven judges, each of whom had, according to his best light, -condemned the guilty and let the innocent go free, during the past week, -now sat in a row below the pulpit. Doubtless each felt himself in the -presence of the Great Judge of all things and, bethinking himself humbly -of his own sins, prayed for mercy. - -The soldiers stacked their firearms and sat in a body on the men’s side -of the church. Their scarlet uniforms made an unusual amount of colour in -the sober meeting-house. - -The long hours dragged wearily. - -Little children nodded, and their heads fell against their mothers’ -shoulders, or dropped into their laps. Sometimes they were given lemon -drops or sprigs of sweet herbs. One solemn little child, weary of -watching the great cobwebs swinging from the rafters, began to count -aloud his alphabet, on ten moist little fingers. He was sternly hushed. - -The tithing-man ever tiptoed up and down seeking to spy some offender. -When a woman or maid grew drowsy, he brushed her chin with the end of his -wand which bore a fox’s tail. But did some goodman nod, he pricked him -smartly with the thorned end. - -Deliverance loved the singing, and her young voice rang out sweetly as -she stood holding her psalm-book, her blue eyes devoutly raised. And the -armed watchman pacing the platform above the great door, his keen glance -sweeping the surrounding country for any trace of Indians or Frenchmen, -joined lustily in the singing. - -Many voices faltered and broke this morning. Few families but missed some -beloved face. Over one hundred persons in the little village were in -prison accused of witchery. - -The minister filled his prayers with the subject of witchcraft and made -the barn-like building ring with the text: “Have I not chosen you twelve, -and one of you is a devil?” - -At this Goodwife Cloyse, who sat next to Deliverance, rose and left -the meeting-house in displeasure. She believed the text alluded to her -sister, who was then in prison charged with having a familiar spirit. -The next day she too was cried upon and cast into prison as a witch, -although a woman of purest life. - -Deliverance thrilled with terror at the incident. She felt she had -been seated next to a witch, and this in God’s own house. Moreover she -imagined a sudden pain in her right arm, and dreaded lest a spell had -been cast on her. - -The day which opened with so fearful an event was to end yet more -ominously. - -Following the sermon came the pleasant nooning-hour. The people gathered -in family groups on the meeting-house steps, or sought the shade of the -nearby trees and ate their lunches. The goodwives provided bountifully -for the soldiers, and the judges ate with the minister and his family. - -Toward the end of the nooning-hour Master Wentworth sent Deliverance to -carry to Goodwife Gibbs the tea he had brewed. - -“Father sends ye this, goodwife,” said the little maid; “it be a -strengthening draught for Ebenezer. He bids me tell ye a fever sickness -has seized o’ the child.” - -The goodwife snatched the bottle and flung it violently from her. - -“Get ye gone with your brew, ye witch-maid! No fever sickness ails my -little son, but a spell ye have put upon him.” She began to weep sorely. -Duty compelled her to attend meeting, the while her heart sickened that -she must leave her little son in the care of a servant wench. - -The gossips crowded around her in sympathy. Dark looks were cast upon -Deliverance, and muttered threats were made. Their voices rose with -their growing anger, until the minister, walking arm-in-arm with Master -Wentworth, heard them and was roused to righteous indignation. - -“Hush, gossips,” he said sternly, “we will have no high words on the -Lord’s holy day, but peace and comfort and meek and contrite hearts, else -we were hypocrites. We will continue our discussion next week, Master -Wentworth,” he added, turning to his companion, “for the nooning-hour is -done.” - -Master Wentworth, who was given to day-dreaming, had scarce heard the -hubbub, and had not even perceived his daughter, who was standing near -by. So, a serene smile on his countenance, he followed the minister into -the meeting-house. - -His little maid, very sorrowful at this fresh trouble which had come upon -her, and not being able to attract his attention before he entered the -building, wandered away into the churchyard. - -That afternoon the tithing-man missed her in the congregation. So he -tiptoed out of the meeting-house in search of her. - -He called up softly to the watchman,— - -“Take your spy-glass and search if ye see aught o’ Mistress Deliverance -Wentworth.” - -The watchman started guiltily, and leaned over the railing with such -sudden show of interest that the tithing-man grew suspicious. His sharp -eyes spied a faint wavering line of smoke rising from the corner of the -platform. So he guessed the smoke rose from the overturned bowl of a -pipe, and that the watchman had been smoking, a comfortable practice -which had originated among the settlers of Virginia. Being in a good -humour, he was disposed to ignore this indiscretion on the part of the -watchman. - -The latter had now fixed his spy-glass in the direction of the churchyard. - -“I see a patch o’ orange tiger-lilies far down the hillside,” he -announced, “and near by be a little grave grown o’er with sweetbrier. And -there, with her head pillowed on the headstone, be Mistress Deliverance -Wentworth, sound in sleep.” - -Thus the little maid was found by the tithing-man, and wakened and -marched back to church. - -As the two neared the entrance the watchman called her softly, “Hey, -there, Mistress Deliverance Wentworth, what made ye fall asleep?” - -“The Devil set a snare for my feet,” she answered mournfully, not -inclined to attach too much blame to herself. - -“Satan kens his own,” said the watchman severely, quickly hiding his pipe -behind him. - -Now, at the moment of the disgraced little maid’s entrance, a great rush -of wind swept in and a timber in the rafters was blown down, reaching the -floor, however, without injury to any one. - -Many there were who later testified to having seen Deliverance raise her -eyes just before the timber fell. These believed that she had summoned -a demon, who, invisibly entering the meeting-house on the wings of the -wind, had sought to destroy it. - -The sky, lately so blue, grew leaden gray. So dark it became, that but -few could see to read the psalms. Thunder as yet distant could be heard, -and the roaring of the wind in the tree-tops, and ever in the pauses of -the storm, the ominous booming of the ocean. - -The watchman came inside. The tithing-man closed and bolted the great -door. - -The minister prayed fervently for mercy. None present but believed that -an assault of the demons upon God’s house was about to be made. - -The rain began to fall heavily, beating in at places through the -rafters. Flashes of lightning would illumine the church, now bringing -into vivid relief the row of judges, now the scarlet-coated soldiers, or -the golden head of a child and its terror-stricken mother, again playing -on and about the pulpit where the impassioned minister, his face ghastly -above his black vestments, called unceasingly upon the Lord for succour. - -The building was shaken to its foundations. Still to an heroic degree the -people maintained their self-control. - -Suddenly there was a more brilliant flash than usual, followed by a loud -crash. - -When this terrific shock had passed, and each person was beginning to -realize dimly that he or she had survived it, the minister’s voice was -heard singing the fifty-second psalm. - - “Mine enemies daily enterprise - to swallow me outright; - To fight against me many rise, - O, Thou most high of might.” - -And this first verse he sang unwaveringly through alone. - -With the commencement of the next verse, some few brave, but quavering -voices joined him. - - “What things I either did or spake - they wrest them at their wil, - And al the councel that they take - is how to work me il.” - -But before the third verse ended, all were singing, judges and soldiers, -and the sweet voices of the women and the shrill notes of the little -children. - - “They al consent themselves to hide - close watch for me to lay: - They spie my paths and snares have layd - to take my life away.” - -From this time on the storm abated its violence. - -When at last the benediction was pronounced, the soldiers and men, in -constant dread of attacks by Indians, left the meeting-house before the -women and children, thus making sure the safe exit of the latter. - -The people, crowding out, beheld the setting sun shining brightly. The -odour of the rain and the fresh earth greeted them. All the trees in the -leafy greenness of June quivered with fresh life. - -The hail lay white upon the ground as petals new-fallen from cherry trees -in bloom. - -All nature was refreshed. - -Only the mighty oak that had stood near the entrance was split in twain. - -And the people,—the goodmen with heads uncovered,—in the mellow light of -the departing day, rendered thanks unto God that they had been delivered. - - - - -Chapter V - -The Coming of the Town Beadle - - -The next morning, Goodwife Higgins and Deliverance heard steps coming -around the side of the house. - -“Who can it be at this hour o’ the dawning?” asked the goodwife. “It be -but the half-hour past six o’ the minute-glass.” - -“Ye don’t hear the tapping o’ a stick like as it might be Sir Jonathan, -goody,” asked Deliverance, listening fearfully. “I like not his ruddy -beard and his sharp, greeny-gray eyes.” - -But as she spoke, the form of the Town Beadle with his Bible and staff of -office darkened the doorway. - -“Has our cow Clover gotten loose again?” cried Deliverance, remembering -the meadow-bars were broken. One of the chief duties connected with the -office of Beadle was to arrest stray cows and impose a fine on their -owners. - -Goodwife Higgins said never a word, only watched the Beadle, her face -grown white. - -“As much as three weeks ago and over,” continued Deliverance, deftly -drying a pewter platter, “as I was cutting across the meadow to Abigail -Brewster’s back door, I saw those broken bars. ‘Hiram’, says I to the -bound boy, ‘ye had best mend those bars, or Clover and her calf will get -loose and ye get your ears boxed for being a silly loon, and ye ken ye -be that, Hiram.’ ‘I ken,’ says he. Hold your dish-cloth over the pan, -goody,” she added, “it be dripping on the floor.” - -While she spoke, the Beadle had been turning over the leaves of his -Bible. He laid it open face downward on the table, to keep the place, -while he carefully adjusted his horn-bowed spectacles on his nose. He -cleared his throat. - -“Peace be on this household,” he announced pompously, “and suffer the -evil-doer to be brought out from his dark ways and hiding-place into -the public highway where all may be warned by his example.” Having -delivered himself of these words he raised the Bible and read a stretch -therefrom. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live, neither wizards that -peep and mutter.... Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither -seek after them to be defiled by them.” He closed the book and removed -his spectacles. Then he lifted his staff and tapped Deliverance on the -shoulder. “I arrest ye in the name of the law,” he cried in a loud voice, -“to await your trial for witchery, ye having grievously afflicted your -victim, Ebenezer Gibbs.” - -Deliverance stared horrified at him and, although she opened her mouth to -speak, her voice was gone. - -Goodwife Higgins dusted off the seat of a stool with her apron and -pushed it over to the Beadle. “Sit ye down, goodman, and I will bring -ye a glass o’ buttermilk. Also I will look for the maid’s father who be -herb-gathering. As for ye, Deliverance, go to your room and wait there -until this matter be settled.” For it had flashed into her mind that if -she could get out of the kitchen, while Deliverance went to her room, she -could slip around the corner of the house and assist the little maid out -of the bedroom window, bidding her conceal herself in the forest. - -“Nay,” said the Beadle, “I have no time to dilly-dally, as I have five -stray cows to return this morning. Yet I will have a glass o’ buttermilk -to wet my throat. I will watch the witch-maid that she escape not while -ye be gone.” - -The goodwife, the tears rolling down her face, hurried to the spring -where the buttermilk was kept. - -“I be no so wicked as ye make out,” said Deliverance, finding her voice. - -“Touch me not,” cried the Beadle, jumping back in wondrous spry fashion -for so pompous a man, and in his fright overturning the stool, “nay, come -not so near. Take your hands off my doublet. Would ye cast a spell on me? -Approach no nearer than the length o’ this staff.” - -He turned the stool right side up again and seated himself to drink the -buttermilk the dame brought him. - -“Come,” he said, rising and giving back the mug when he had finished, “I -have no time to dally with five cows to be gotten in.” He drew a stout -rope from his pocket. “Tie her hands behind her, gossip,” he commanded, -“I hanker not for to touch a witch-maid. Nay, not so easy, draw that knot -tighter.” - -Goodwife Higgins, weeping, did as he bade, then rose and put the -little maid’s cap on her. She slipped some cookies into Deliverance’s -work-pocket. - -“I be not above cookies myself,” remarked the Beadle, quite jovially, and -he helped himself bountifully from the cooky-jar. - -“My father will come after me and bring me back,” murmured Deliverance, -with quivering lips. “Weep not, dear goody, for he will explain how it be -a fever sickness that aileth Ebenezer Gibbs, and no spell o’ witchery.” - -“Step out ahead o’ me,” commanded the Beadle, as he put the end of his -long staff against her back. “There, keep ye at that distance, and turn -not your gaze over your shoulder at me. I ken your sly ways.” - -Solemnly around the house and out of the gate he marched her, and as the -latter swung to behind them, he turned and waved his hand to Goodwife -Higgins. “Farewell, gossip,” he cried, “I have rid ye o’ a witch.” - -Down the forest road into the town’s highway, he marched Deliverance. -Many turned to look at them and drew aside with a muttered prayer. The -little maid was greatly relieved that they met no naughty boys to hoot -and call derisively after her. They were already at their books with the -schoolmaster. - -At last they reached the jail, in front of which the old jailer sat -smoking. - -“Bless my soul,” he piped, “’tis a pretty maid to be a witch, Beadle. -Bide ye at the stoop a bit until I get my bunch o’ keys.” He hobbled down -the corridor inside and disappeared, returning in a few moments jangling -a bunch of keys. He stopped half-way down the hall, and unlocking a heavy -oaken door, beckoned them to follow. - -“Step briskly, Mistress Deliverance,” commanded the Beadle, poking her -with his staff. - -The cell to which she was shown was long and very narrow, and lighted by -a small barred window set high in the wall opposite the door. An apple -tree growing in Prison Lane thrust its twigs and leaves between the bars. -A straw bed was the only furniture. An iron chain, nearly the length of -the cell, was coiled in one corner. - -“Beshrew me if I like the looks o’ that chain,” said Deliverance to -herself; “I be not at all minded to go in.” She wrinkled her nose and -sniffed vigorously. “The place has an ill savour. Methinks the straw must -be musty,” she added out loud. - -“Ye shall have fresh to lay on to-night,” piped the jailer, “but step in, -step in.” - -“Ay,” echoed the Beadle, “step in;” and he poked her again in the back -with his stick in a merry fashion quite his own. - -Sorely against her will, Deliverance complied. The jailer followed her in -and bent over the chain. - -“Take care lest she cast a spell on ye to make your bones ache,” advised -the Beadle, standing safely outside the threshold. - -“I be no feared,” answered the jailer, whom long experience and -familiarity with witches had rendered impervious, “but the lock on this -chain ha’ rusted an’ opens hard.” - -“Concern yourself not,” rejoined the Beadle; “the maid be in no hurry, -I wot, and can wait.” He laughed hugely at his little joke, and began -munching one of the seed-cookies he had brought in his doublet pocket. - -Nothing could have exasperated Deliverance more than to see the fat -Beadle enjoying the cookies she herself had helped to make, and so she -cast such a resentful look at him that he drew quickly back into the -corridor beyond her gaze. - -“If e’er I set eyes on a witch,” he muttered solemnly, “I have this time, -for she has a glint in her een that makes my blood run cold.” - -At the moment her attention was attracted to the Beadle, Deliverance felt -a hand clasp her left foot, and in another instant the jailer had snapped -the iron ring around her ankle. The other end of the chain was fastened -to the wall. - -The Beadle’s fat face appeared a moment at the side of the door. “A good -day to ye, Mistress Deliverance Wentworth,” quoth he, “I must away to -find my cows. Mistress Deliverance Wentworth, I say, ye had best confess -when ye come to trial.” - -“Ay,” retorted Deliverance, “and ye had best be careful lest a witch get -ye. Methinks I dreamed one had catched hold on ye by the hair o’ your -head.” - -“An’ I ha’ heerd tell o’ evil spirits taking on the form o’ a cow,” put -in the old jailer. He cackled feebly in such malicious fashion that -Deliverance shuddered, and felt more fear of this old man with his bent -back and toothless jaws than of the pompous Beadle. To her relief he did -not address her, but left the cell, locking the door after him. - -All that day Deliverance waited eagerly, but her father did not come for -her, and she feared he had been taken ill. She was confident Goodwife -Higgins would come in his stead, and so sure was she of this that she -slept sweetly, even on the musty straw the jailer had neglected to -change. But when the second day passed, and then the third, and the -fourth, until at last the Sabbath came again, and in all that time no one -had come, nor sent word to her, she grew despondent, fearing the present -and dreading the future under the terrible strain of hope deferred. The -jailer would have naught to say to her. At last she ceased to expect -any change, sitting listlessly on her straw bed, finding one day like -another, waiting only for her trial to come. - - - - -Chapter VI - -The Woman of Ipswich - - -Those were terrible times in Salem. Day after day the same scenes were -enacted. The judges with their cavalcade came in pomp from Ipswich, and -rode solemnly down the street to the meeting-house. - -The people were as frantic now lest they or their friends be accused -of witchcraft, as they had formerly been fearful of suffering from its -spells. - -That craving for excitement which had actuated so many of the possessed, -the opportunity for notoriety long coveted and at last put within reach -of the coarsest natures, now began to be regarded in their true light. -Moreover, there was a great opening for the wreaking of private hatreds, -and many, to quiet their uneasy consciences, persuaded themselves that -their enemies were in league with the Devil. But this zeal in pushing the -prosecutions was becoming dangerous. For the accused person, confessing, -and so granted his liberty, would straightway bring charges against his -accusers. - -The signs of witchery multiplied in number. Certain spots upon the -body were accounted marks of the Devil. Were the victims from age or -stupefaction unable to shed tears, it was counted against them. The most -ordinary happenings of life, viewed in the light of this superstition, -acquired an unnatural significance. - -There were those who walked abroad, free, but bearing the burden of a -wounded conscience. Many of these found intolerable the loathing and fear -which greeted them, and desired that they might have died before they had -falsely confessed to a crime of which they were not guilty. - -There were rumours, that for any contumacious refusal to answer, the -barbarous common English law—peine forte et dure—would be brought in -usage. - -Two dogs, regarded accomplices in the horrid crime, were hanged with -their owners. - -A child not more than four or five years old was also committed as a -witch. Her alleged victim showed the print of small teeth in his arm -where she had bitten him. - -Unbelievers were overwhelmed with evidence. Had not the laws of England -for over one hundred and fifty years been in force against witches? -Thirty thousand had been executed, and Parliament had lately appointed a -witch-finder, who, when he had discovered all the remaining witches in -England, so it was said, was to be sent to the colonies. Had not King -James written a book against sorcerers and those possessed by the Evil -One? - -Archbishop Jewell had begged Queen Bess to burn all found guilty of the -offence. Above all, the Lord Chief Justice of England had condemned them, -and written a book from the Bible upon the subject. - -Two weeks from the time she was put in prison, Deliverance was brought to -trial. - -So high a pitch had the excitement reached, so wrought to a frenzied -condition were the villagers, that the authorities had been obliged to -take extreme measures, and had forbidden every one except the minister -and officers of the law to visit the prisoner. - -Thus the little maid had not seen one familiar, loving face during the -two weeks previous to her trial. - -Aside from her deep trouble and anxiety for fear her father were ill, she -grew desperately weary of the long monotonous days. Sometimes she amused -herself by writing the alphabet or some Bible verse on the hard earth -floor with the point of the pewter spoon that was given her with her -porridge. Again she quite forgot her unhappiness, plaiting mats of straw. - -Short as her confinement had been, she had lost her pretty colour, and -her hands had acquired an unfamiliar whiteness. She had never been -released from the iron chain, it being deemed that ordinary fastenings -would not hold a witch. - -A woman, accused like herself, was placed in the same cell. She was -brought from Ipswich, owing to the over-crowded condition of the jail in -that village. For two days and nights, Deliverance had wept in terror -and abhorrence of her companion. Yet some small comfort had lain in the -fact that the woman was fastened by such a short chain in the further -corner that she could not approach the little maid. Several times she had -essayed to talk to Deliverance, but in vain. The little maid would put -her hands over her ears at the first word. - -One night, Deliverance had awakened, not with a start as from some -terrible dream, but as naturally as if the sunlight, shining on her own -little bed at home, had caused her to open her eyes. So quiet was this -awakening that she did not think of her surroundings, but lay looking -at the corner of the window visible to her. She saw the moon like pure, -bright gold behind the apple-leaves. After awhile she became conscious -of some one near by praying softly. Then she thought that whoever it was -must have been praying a long time, and that she had not observed it; -just as one often pays no attention to the murmur of a brook running, -hidden in the woods, until, little by little, the sound forces itself -upon his ear, and then he hears nothing but the singing of the water. So -now she raised herself on her elbow and listened. - -In the darkness the cell seemed filled with holy words; then she knew it -was the witch praying, and in her prayers she remembered Deliverance. -Thereat the little maid’s heart was touched. - -“Why do ye pray for me?” she asked. - -“Because you are persecuted and sorely afflicted,” came the answer. - -“I ken your voice,” said Deliverance; “ye be the witch-woman condemned to -die to-morrow. I heard the jailer say so.” - -“I am condemned by man,” answered the woman, “but God shall yet maintain -my innocence.” - -“But ye will be dead,” said Deliverance. - -“I shall have gone to my Father in heaven,” replied the woman, and the -darkness hid her worn and glorified face, “but my innocence will be -maintained that others may be saved.” - -“Do ye think that I will be saved?” asked Deliverance. - -“Of what do they accuse you?” asked her companion. - -“O’ witchery,” answered Deliverance; and she began to weep. - -But the woman, although she might not move near her, comforted her there -in the darkness. - -“Weep not that men persecute you, dear child. There is another judgment. -Dear child, there is another judgment.” - -For a long time there was silence. Then the woman spoke again. “Dear -child,” she said, “I have a little son who is a cripple. Should you live -and go free, will you see that he suffers not?” - -“Where bides he?” asked Deliverance. - -“In Ipswich,” came the reply. “He was permitted to be with me there in -the jail, but when I was brought to Salem, he was taken from me. Will -they be kind to him, think you, though he be a witch’s child?” - -“I ken not,” answered Deliverance. - -“Think you they would harden their hearts against one so small and weak, -with a crooked back?” asked the woman. - -Deliverance knitted her brows, and strove to think of something -comforting she could say, for the woman’s words troubled her heart. -Suddenly she sat up eagerly, and there was a ring of hope in her sweet, -young voice. - -“I remember summat which will comfort ye,” she cried, “and I doubt not -the Lord in His mercy put it into my mind to tell ye.” She paused a -moment to collect her thoughts. - -“I am waiting,” said the woman, wistfully; “dear child, keep me not -waiting.” - -“Listen,” said Deliverance, solemnly; “there be a boy in the village -and his name be Submit Hodge. He has a great hump on his back and bandy -legs——” - -“Thus has my little son,” interrupted the woman. - -“And he walks on crutches,” continued Deliverance. - -“My little son is o’er young yet for crutches,” said the woman. “I have -always carried him in my arms.” - -“And one day he was going down the street,” said Deliverance, resuming -her narrative, “when some naughty boys larfed at him and called him -jeering names——” - -A smothered sob was heard in the other end of the cell. - -“Then what should hap,” continued Deliverance, “but our reverend judge -and godly parson walking arm-in-arm along the street in pious converse, -I wot not. I saw the judge who was about to pass his snuff-box to the -parson, forget and put it back in his pocket, and his face go red -all at once, for he had spied the naughty boys. He was up with his -walking-stick, and I thought it was like to crack the pate o’ Thomas -Jenkins, who gave over larfing and began to bellow. But the parson told -him to cease his noise; then he put his arm around Submit Hodge. Ye ken -I happed to hear all this because I was going to a tea-party with my -patchwork, and I just dawdled along very slow like, a-smelling at a rose -I picked, but with ears wide open. - -“And I heard our parson tell the naughty boys that Submit was the Lord’s -afflicted, and that it was forbid in His Holy Word e’er to treat rudely -one who was blind or lame or wanting in gumption or good wits. ‘For,’ he -said, ‘they are God’s special care. And it be forbid any man to treat -them ill.’ With that the judge put his hand in his pocket and drew forth -a handful of peppermint drops for Submit. And being a high-tempered body, -he cracked another boy over his pate with his walking-stick. ‘’Twill -holpen ye to remember your parson’s words,’ quoth he. And then he and -the parson walked on arm-in-arm. When I passed Thomas Jenkins who was -bellowing yet, I larfed and snickered audible-like, for I ne’er liked -naughty boys. It be a goodly sight to clap eyes on Submit these days, so -blithe and gay. Nobody dare tease the lad.” - -“You comfort me greatly,” said the woman; “the Lord’s words were in my -heart, but in my misery I had nigh forgot them. You have given me peace. -Should you be saved, you will not forget my little son. Though you be but -a young maid, God may grant you grace to holpen him as is motherless.” - -“What be his name?” asked Deliverance. - -“’Tis Hate-Evil Hobbs,” answered the woman; “he lives in Ipswich.” - -“I will get father to take me there, and I be saved,” answered -Deliverance, drowsily; “now I will lie down and go to sleep again, for I -be more wore-out a-pining and a-weeping o’er my sad condition than e’er I -be after a long day’s chores at home.” - -She stretched herself out on the straw and pillowed her head on her arm. - -“Good-night, dear child,” said the woman. “I will pray that God keep us -in the hollow of His hand.” - -Deliverance, drifting into profound slumber, scarce heard her words. She -awoke late. The morning sunshine filled her cell. She was alone. In the -corner of the cell, where the woman had lain, were the irons which had -fastened her and her straw pallet. Deliverance never saw her again. - - - - -Chapter VII - -The Trial of Deliverance - - -At last one fair June day brought her trial. - -Her irons were removed, and she was conducted by the constable with a -guard of four soldiers to the meeting-house. In the crowd that parted at -the great door to make way for them were many familiar faces, but all -were stern and sad. In all eyes she read her accusation. The grim silence -of this general condemnation made it terrible; the whispered comments and -the looks cast upon her expressed stern pity mingled with abhorrence. - -On the outskirts of the throng she observed a young man of ascetic face -and austere bearing, clothed in black velvet, with neck-bands and tabs -of fine linen. He wore a flowing white periwig, and was mounted on a -magnificent white horse. In one hand he held the reins, in the other, a -Bible. - -Upon entering the meeting-house, Deliverance was conducted by the Beadle -to a platform and seated upon a stool, above the level of the audience -and in plain sight. - -In front of the pulpit, the seven judges seated in a row faced the -people. Clothed in all the dignity of their office of crimson velvet -gowns and curled white horse-hair wigs, they were an imposing array. One -judge, however, wore a black skull-cap, from beneath which his brown -locks, streaked with gray, fell to his shoulders, around a countenance at -once benevolent and firm, but which now wore an expression revealing much -anguish of mind. This was the great Judge Samuel Sewall, who, in later -years, was crushed by sorrow and mortification that at these trials he -had been made guilty of shedding innocent blood, so that he rose in his -pew in the Old South Church in Boston Town, acknowledging and bewailing -his great offence, and asking the prayers of the congregation “that God -would not visit the sin of him or of any other upon himself, or any of -his, nor upon the land.” - -In the centre of the group sat Lieutenant-Governor Stoughton, chosen to -be chief justice, in that he was a renowned scholar, rather than a great -soldier. Hard and narrow as he was said to be, he yet possessed that -stubbornness in carrying out his convictions of what was right, which -exercised in a better cause might have won him reputation for wisdom -rather than obstinacy. - -To the end of his days he insisted that the witch-trials had been meet -and proper, and that the only mistakes made had been in checking the -prosecutions. It was currently reported that when the panic subsided, and -the reprieve for several convicted prisoners came from Governor Phipps to -Salem, he left the bench in anger and went no more into that court. - -“For,” said he, “we were in a fair way to clear the land of witches. -Who it is that obstructs the cause of justice, I know not. The Lord be -merciful unto the country!” - -On the left of the prisoner was the jury. - -After Deliverance had been duly sworn to tell the truth, she sat quietly, -her hands folded in her lap. Now and then she raised her eyes and glanced -over the faces upturned to hers. She observed her father not far distant -from her. But he held one hand over his eyes and she could not meet his -gaze. Beside him sat Goodwife Higgins, weeping. - -There was one other who should have been present, her brother Ronald, but -he was nowhere to be seen. - -The authorities had not deemed it wise to send for him, as it was known -he had to a certain extent fallen in with dissenters and free-thinkers in -Boston Town, and it was feared that, in the hot blooded impetuosity of -youth, he might by some disturbance hinder the trial. - -The first witness called to the stand was Goodwife Higgins. - -Deliverance, too dazed with trouble to feel any active grief, watched -her with dull eyes. - -Weeping, the good dame related the episode of finding the prisoner’s bed -empty one morning, and the yellow bird on the window-ledge. Groans and -hisses greeted her testimony. There was no reason to doubt her word. It -was plainly observed that she was suffering, and that she walked over her -own heart in telling the truth. It was not simply terror and superstition -that actuated Goodwife Higgins, but rather the stern determination bred -in the very bone and blood of all Puritans to meet Satan face to face and -drive him from the land, even though those dearest and best beloved were -sacrificed. - -The next witness was the prisoner’s father. The heart-broken man had -nothing to say which would lead to her conviction. Save the childish -naughtiness with which all parents were obliged to contend, the prisoner -had been his dear and dutiful daughter, and God would force them to judge -her righteously. - -“She has bewitched him. She has not even spared her father. See how blind -he is to her sinfulness,” the whisper passed from mouth to mouth. And -hearts hardened still more toward the prisoner. - -Master Wentworth was then dismissed. While on the stand he had not -glanced at his daughter. Doubtless the sight of her wan little face would -have been more than he could have endured. - -Sir Jonathan Jamieson was then called upon to give his testimony. As his -name was cried by the constable, Deliverance showed the first signs of -animation since she had been taken from the jail. Surely, she thought, -he who understood better than she the meaning of her words to him, -would explain them and save her from hanging. Her eyes brightened, and -she watched him intently as he advanced up the aisle. A general stir -and greater attention on the part of the people was apparent at his -appearance. A chair was placed for him in the witness-box, for he was -allowed to sit, being of the gentry. As usual he was clothed in sombre -velvet. He seated himself, took off his hat and laid it on the floor -beside his chair. Deliverance then saw that the hair on his head was -quite as red as his beard, and that he wore it cropped short, uncovered -by a wig. Deliberately, while the judges and people waited, he drew off -his leathern gauntlets that he might lay his bare hand upon the Bible -when he took the oath. - -Deliverance for once forgot her fear of him. She leant forward eagerly. -So near was he that she could almost have touched him with her hand. - -“Oh, sir,” she cried, using strong old Puritan language, “tell the truth -and mortify Satan and his members, for he has gotten me in sore straits.” - -“Hush,” said one of the judges, sternly, “let the prisoner keep silent.” - -“Methinks that I be the only one not allowed to speak,” said Deliverance -to herself, “which be not right, seeing I be most concerned.” And she -shook her head, very greatly perplexed and troubled. - -Sir Jonathan was then asked to relate what he knew about the prisoner. -With much confidence he addressed the court. Deliverance was astonished -at the mild accents of his voice which had formerly rung so harshly in -her ears. - -“I have had but short acquaintance with her,” he said, “though I may -have passed her often on the street, not observing her in preference to -any other maid; but some several weeks ago as I did chance to stop at -the town-pump for a draught o’ cold water, the day being warm and my -throat dry, I paused as is meet and right before drinking to give thanks, -when suddenly something moved me to glance up, and I saw the prisoner -standing on a block near by, laughing irreverently, which was exceeding -ill-mannered.” - -At this Deliverance’s cheeks flushed scarlet, for she knew his complaint -was quite just. “I did not mean to laugh,” she exclaimed humbly, “but -some naughty boys had pinned a placard o’ the edge o’ your cape, and -’twas a fair comical sight.” - -At this interruption, the seven judges all frowned upon her so severely -that she did not dare say another word. - -“Now, while I did not suspicion her at the time,” continued Sir Jonathan, -“I was moved to think there was a spell cast upon the water, for after -drinking I had great pain and needs must strengthen myself with a -little rum. Later I met our godly magistrate and chanced to mention the -incident. He telled me the prisoner’s name, and how her vanities and -backslidings were a sore torment to her father, and that he knew neither -peace nor happiness on her account.” - -At these words Master Wentworth started to his feet. “I protest against -the scandalous words uttered by our magistrate,” he cried; “ne’er has my -daughter brought me aught save peace and comfort. She has been my sole -consolation, since her mother went to God.” - -He sat down again with his hand over his eyes, while many pitying glances -were cast upon him. - -“Mind him not,” said one of the judges to Sir Jonathan; “he is sorely -afflicted and weighs not his utterances. Oh, ‘how sharper than a -serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child,’” and he glanced sternly -at Deliverance. - -At these words, she could no longer contain herself, and covering her -face with her hands, she sobbed aloud, remembering all her wilfulness in -the past. - -“What I have to say,” continued Sir Jonathan, “is not much. But straws -show the drift of the current, and little acts the soul’s bent. The night -of the same day on which I saw the prisoner standing on the block near -the town-pump, I went with a recipe to Master Wentworth’s home to have -him brew me a concoction of herbs. The recipe I brought from England. -Knowing he was very learned in the art of simpling, I took it to him. I -found him in his still-room, working. Having transacted my business, I -seated myself and we lapsed into pleasant converse. While thus talking, -he opened the door, called his daughter from the kitchen, and gave -her a small task. At last, as it drew near the ninth hour when the -night-watchman would make his rounds, I rose and said farewell to Master -Wentworth, he scarce hearing me, absorbed in his simples. As I was about -to pass the prisoner, my heart not being hardened toward her for all -her vanities, I paused, and put my hand in my doublet pocket, thinking -to pleasure her by giving her a piece of silver, and also to admonish -her with a few, well-chosen words. But as my fingers clasped the silver -piece, my attention was arrested by the expression of the prisoner’s -face. So full of malice was it that I recoiled. And at this she uttered a -terrible imprecation, the words of which I did not fully understand, but -at the instant of her uttering them a most excruciating pain seized upon -me. It racked my bones so that I tossed sleepless all that night.” - -He paused and looked around solemnly over the people. “And since then,” -he added, “I have not had one hour free from pain and dread.” - -As Sir Jonathan finished his testimony, he glanced at Deliverance, whose -head had sunk on her breast and from whose heart all hope had departed. -If he would say naught in explanation, what proof could she give that she -was no witch? Her good and loyal word had been given not to betray her -meeting with the mysterious stranger. - -“Deliverance Wentworth,” said Chief Justice Stoughton, “have you aught to -say to the charge brought against you by this godly gentleman?” - -As she glanced up to reply, she encountered the malevolent glance of Sir -Jonathan defying her to speak, and she shook with fear. With an effort -she looked away from him to the judges. - -“I be innocent o’ any witchery,” she said in her tremulous, sweet voice. -The words of the woman who had been in jail with her returned to her -memory: “There is another judgment, dear child.” So now the little maid’s -spirits revived. “I be innocent o’ any witchery, your Lordships,” she -repeated bravely, “and there be another judgment than that which ye shall -put upon me.” - -Strange to say, the sound of her own voice calmed and assured her, much -as if the comforting words had been again spoken to her by some one else. -Surely, she believed, being innocent, that God would not let her be -hanged. - -The fourth witness, Bartholomew Stiles, a yeoman, bald and bent nearly -double by age, was then cried by the Beadle. - -Leaning on his stick he pattered up the aisle, and stumblingly ascended -the steps of the platform. - -“Ye do me great honour, worships,” he cackled, “to call on my poor wit.” - -“Give him a stool, for he is feeble,” said the chief justice; “a stool -for the old man, good Beadle.” - -So a stool was brought and old Bartholomew seated upon it. He looked over -the audience and at the row of judges. Then he spied Deliverance. “Ay, -there her be, worships, there be the witch.” He pointed his trembling -finger at her. “Ay, witch, the old man kens ye.” - -“When did you last see the prisoner?” asked the chief justice. - -“There her be, worships,” repeated the witness, “there be the witch, wi’ -a white neck for stretching. Best be an old throat wi’ free breath, than -a lassie’s neck wi’ a rope around it.” - -Deliverance shuddered. - -“Methinks no hag o’ the Evil One,” said she to herself, “be more given -o’er to malice than this old fule, Lord forgive me for the calling o’ him -by that name.” - -Now the judge in the black silk cap was moved to pity by the prisoner’s -shudder, and spoke out sharply. “Let the witness keep to his story and -answer the questions put to him in due order, or else he shall be put in -the stocks.” - -“Up with your pate, goody,” admonished the Beadle, “and speak out that -their worships may hear, or into the stocks ye go to sweat in the sun -while the boys tickle the soles o’ your feet.” - -The witness wriggled uneasily as having had experience. - -“A week ago, or it be twa or three or four past, your worships, the day -afore this time, ’twixt noon an’ set o’ sun, there had been thunder an’ -crook’d lightning, an’ hags rode by i’ the wind on branches. All the milk -clabbered, if that will holpen ye to ’membrance o’ the day, worships.” - -“Ay, reverend judges,” called out a woman’s voice from the audience, -“sour milk the old silly brought me, four weeks come next Thursday. Good -pence took he for his clabbered milk, and I was like to cuff——” - -“The ducking-stool awaits scolding wives,” interrupted the chief justice, -with a menacing look, and the woman subsided. - -“That day at set o’ sun I was going into toone wi’ my buckets o’ milk -when I spied a bramble rose. ‘Blushets,’ says I to them, ‘ye must be -picked;’ for I thought to carry them to the toone an’ let them gae for -summat gude to eat. So I set doone my pails to pull a handful o’ the -pretty blushets. O’ raising my old een, my heart was like to jump out -my throat, for there adoon the forest path, ’twixt the green, I saw the -naughty maid i’ amiable converse wi’ Satan.” - -“Dear Lord,” interrupted the little maid, sharply, “he was a very -pleasant gentleman.” - -“Silence!” cried the Beadle, tapping her head with his staff, on the end -of which was a pewter-ball. - -“As ye ken,” continued the old yeoman, “the Devil be most often a black -man, but this time he was o’ fair colour, attired in most ungodly fashion -in a gay velvet dooblet wi’ high boots. So ta’en up wi’ watching o’ the -wickedness o’ Deliverance Wentworth was I, that I clean forgot myself——” - -The speaker, shuddering, paused. - -“Lose not precious time,” admonished the chief justice, sternly. - -“O’ a sudden I near died o’ fright,” moaned the old yeoman. - -A tremor as at something supernatural passed over the people. - -“Ay,” continued the witness, “wi’ mine very een, I beheld the prisoner -turn an’ run towards her hame, whilst the Devil rose an’ come doone the -path towards me, Bartholomew Stiles!” - -“And then?” queried the chief justice, impatiently. - -“It was too late to hide, an’ I be no spry a’ running. Plump o’ my -marrow-boones I dropped, an’ closed my een an’ prayed wi’ a loud voice. I -heard Satan draw near. He stopped aside me. ‘Ye old silly,’ says he, ‘be -ye gane daffy?’ Ne’er word answered I, but prayed the louder. I heard the -vision take a lang draught o’ milk from the bucket wi’ a smackin’ o’ his -lips. Then did Satan deal me an ungentle kick an’ went on doon the path.” - -“Said he naught further?” asked one of the judges. - -“Nae word more, worships,” replied the yeoman. “I ha’ the caution not to -open my een for a lang bit o’ time. Then I saw that what milk remained i’ -the bucket out o’ which Satan drank, had turned black, an’ I ha’ some o’ -it here to testify to the sinfu’ company kept by Deliverance Wentworth.” - -From his pocket the old yeoman carefully drew a small bottle filled with -a black liquid, and, in his shaking hand, extended it to the judge -nearest him. - -Solemnly the judge took it and drew out the cork. - -“It has the smell of milk,” he said, “but milk which has clabbered;” and -he passed it to his neighbour. - -“It has the look of clabbered milk,” assented the second judge. - -“Beshrew me, but it is clabbered milk,” asserted the third judge; -“methinks ’twould be wisdom to keep the bottle corked, lest the once good -milk, now a malignant fluid, be spilled on one of us and a tiny drop do -great evil.” - -Thus the bottle was passed from one judicial nose to the other, and then -given to the Beadle, who set it carefully on the table. - -There may be seen to this day in Salem a bottle containing the pins which -were drawn from the bodies of those who were victims of witches. But the -bottle which stood beside it for over a century was at last thrown away, -as it was empty save for a few grains of some powder or dust. Little did -they who flung it away realize that that pinch of grayish dust was the -remains of the milk, which Satan, according to Bartholomew Stiles, had -bewitched, and which was a large factor in securing the condemnation of -Deliverance Wentworth. - -The next witness was the minister who had conducted the services on the -afternoon of that late memorable Sabbath, when the Devil had sought to -destroy the meeting-house during a thunder-storm. - -He testified to having seen the prisoner raise her eyes, as she entered -the church in disgrace ahead of the tithing-man, and instantly an -invisible demon, obeying her summons, tore down that part of the roof -whereon her glance rested. - -This evidence, further testified to by other witnesses, was in itself -sufficient to condemn her. - -The little maid heard the minister sadly. In the past he had been kind to -her, and was her father’s friend, and his young daughter had attended the -Dame School with her. - -Later, this very minister was driven from the town by his indignant -parishioners, who blamed him not that he had shared in the general -delusion, but that many of his persecutions had been actuated by personal -malice. - -And by a formal and public act, the repentant people cancelled their -excommunication of one blameless woman who had been his especial victim. - -“Deliverance Wentworth,” said the chief justice, “the supreme test of -witchery will now be put to you. Pray God discover you if you be guilty. -Let Ebenezer Gibbs appear.” - -“Ebenezer Gibbs,” cried the Beadle, loudly. - -At this there was a great stir and confusion in the rear of the -meeting-house. - -Deliverance saw the stern faces turn from her, and necks craned to see -the next witness. There entered the young man whom she had noticed, -mounted on a white horse, at the outskirts of the crowd. A buzz of -admiration greeted him, as he advanced slowly up the aisle, with a -pomposity unusual in so young a man. His expression was austere. His -right hand was spread upon a Bible, which he held against his breast. -His hand, large, of a dimpled plumpness, with tapering fingers, was -oddly at variance with his handsome face, which was thin, and marked by -lines of hard study; a fiery zeal smouldered beneath the self-contained -expression, ready to flame forth at a word. He ascended the platform -reserved for the judges, and seated himself. Then he laid the Bible on -his knees, and folded his arms across his breast. - -A pitiful wailing arose in the back of the house, and the sound of a -woman’s voice hushing some one. - -A man’s voice in the audience cried out, “Let the witch be hanged. She be -tormenting her victim.” - -“I be no witch,” cried Deliverance, shrilly. “Dear Lord, give them a sign -I be no witch.” - -The Beadle pounded his staff for silence. - -“Let Ebenezer Gibbs come into court.” - - - - -Chapter VIII - -The Last Witness - - -In answer to these summons, a child came slowly up the aisle, clinging to -his mother’s skirts. His thin little legs tottered under him; his face -was peaked and wan, and he hid it in his mother’s dress. When the Beadle -sought to lift him, he wept bitterly, and had to be taken by force, and -placed upon the platform where the accused was seated. The poor baby -gasped for breath. His face grew rigid, his lips purple. His tiny hands, -which were like bird’s claws, so thin and emaciated were they, clinched, -and he fell in convulsions. - -An angry murmur from the people was instantly succeeded by the deepest -silence. - -The magistrates and people breathlessly awaited the result of the coming -experiment. - -The supreme test in all cases of witchery was to bring the victim into -court, when he would generally fall into convulsions, or scream with -agony on beholding the accused. - -The Beadle and his assistants would then conduct or carry the sufferer to -the prisoner, who was bidden by the judge to put forth his hand and touch -the flesh of the afflicted one. Instantly the convulsions and supposed -diabolical effects would cease, the malignant fluid passing back, like a -magnetic current, into the body of the witch. - -Tenderly the Beadle lifted the small convulsed form of Ebenezer Gibbs and -laid it at the prisoner’s feet. - -“Deliverance Wentworth,” said the chief justice, “you are bidden by the -court to touch the body of your victim, that the malignant fluid, with -which you have so diabolically afflicted him, may return into your own -body. Again I pray God in His justice discover you if you be guilty.” - -Despite the severity of her rule, the little assistant teacher of the -Dame School had a most tender heart for her tiny scholars. She bent now -and lifted this youngest of her pupils into her lap. - -“Oh, Ebenezer,” she cried, stricken with remorse, “I no meant to rap your -pate so hard as to make ye go daffy.” - -Doubtless the familiar voice pierced to the child’s benumbed faculties, -for he was seen to stir in her arms. - -“Ebenezer,” murmured the little maid, “do ye no love me, that ye will no -open your eyes and look at me? Why, I be no witch, Ebenezer. Open your -eyes and see. I will give ye a big sugar-plum and ye will.” - -The beloved voice touched the estranged child-heart. Perhaps the poor, -stricken baby believed himself again at his knitting and primer-lesson at -the Dame School. In the awed silence he was seen to raise himself in the -prisoner’s arms and smile. With an inarticulate, cooing sound, he stroked -her cheek with his little hand. The little maid spoke in playful chiding. -Suddenly a weak gurgle of laughter smote the strained hearing of the -people. - -“Ye see, ye see I be no witch,” cried Deliverance, raising her head, “ye -see he be no afeared o’ me.” - -But as soon as the words left her lips, she shrank and cowered, for she -realized that the test of witchery had succeeded, that she was condemned. -From her suddenly limp and helpless arms the Beadle took the child and -returned it to its mother. And from that hour it was observed that little -Ebenezer Gibbs regained strength. - -The prisoner’s arms were then bound behind her that she might not touch -any one else. - -After quiet had been restored, and the excitement at this direct proof -of the prisoner’s guilt had been quelled, the young minister, who had -entered at a late hour of the trial, rose and addressed the jury. He was -none other than the famous Cotton Mather, of Boston Town, being then -about thirty years old and in the height of his power. He had journeyed -thither, he said, especially to be present at this trial, inasmuch as -he had heard that some doubters had protested that the prisoner being -young and a maiden, it was a cruel deed to bring her to trial, as if it -had not been proven unto the people, yea, unto these very doubters, that -the Devil, in his serpent cunning, often takes possession of seemingly -innocent persons. - -“Atheism,” he said, tapping his Bible, “is begun in Sadducism, and those -that dare not openly say, ‘There is no God,’ content themselves for a -fair step and introduction thereto by denying there are witches. You have -seen how this poor child had his grievous torment relieved as soon as the -prisoner touched him. Yet you are wrought upon in your weak hearts by her -round cheek and tender years, whereas if the prisoner had been an hag, -you would have cried out upon her. Have you not been told this present -assault of evil spirits is a particular defiance unto you and your -ministers? Especially against New England is Satan waging war, because -of its greater godliness. For the same reason it has been observed that -demons, having much spitred against God’s house, do seek to demolish -churches during thunder-storms. Of this you have had terrible experience -in the incident of this prisoner. You know how hundreds of poor people -have been seized with supernatural torture, many scalded with invisible -brimstone, some with pins stuck in them, which have been withdrawn and -placed in a bottle, that you all may have witness thereof. Yea, with mine -own eyes have I seen poor children made to fly like geese, but just their -toes touching now and then upon the ground, sometimes not once in twenty -feet, their arms flapping like wings!” - -The court-house was very warm this June morning. Cotton Mather paused to -wipe the perspiration from his brow. As he returned his kerchief to his -pocket his glance rested momentarily on the prisoner. - -For the first time he realized her youth. He noted her hair had a golden -and innocent shining like the hair of a little child. - -“Surely,” he spoke aloud, yet more to himself than to the people, “the -Devil does indeed take on at times the appearance of a very angel of -light!” - -He felt a sudden stirring of sympathy for those weak natures wrought upon -by “a round cheek and tender years.” The consciousness of this leaning in -himself inspired him to greater vehemence. - -“The conviction is most earnestly forced upon me that God has made of -this especial case a very trial of faith, lest we embrace Satan when he -appears to us in goodly disguise, and persecute him only when he puts -on the semblance of an old hag or a middle-aged person. Yet, while God -has thus far accorded the most exquisite success to our endeavour to -defeat these horrid witchcrafts, there is need of much caution lest the -Devil outwit us, so that we most miserably convict the innocent and -set the guilty free. Now, the prisoner being young, meseemeth she was, -perchance, more foolish than wicked. And when I reflect that men of much -strength and hearty women have confessed that the Black man did tender a -book unto them, soliciting them to enter into a league with his Master, -and when they refused this abominable spectre, did summon his demons -to torture these poor people, until by reason of their weak flesh, but -against their real desires, they signed themselves to be the servants -of the Devil forever,—and, I repeat, that when I reflect on this, that -they who were hearty and of mature age could not withstand the torture of -being twisted and pricked and pulled, and scalded with burning brimstone, -how much less could a weak, tender maid resist their evil assaults? And -I trust that my poor prayers for her salvation will not be refused, but -that she will confess and save her soul.” - -He turned his earnest glance upon Deliverance and, perceiving she was in -great fear, he spoke to her gently, bidding her cast off all dread of the -Devil, abiding rather in the love of God, and thus strong in the armour -of light, make her confession. - -But the little maid was too stupefied by terror to gather much -intelligent meaning from his words, and she stared helplessly at him as -if stricken dumb. - -At her continued, and to him, stubborn, silence, his patience vanished. - -“Then are you indeed obstinate and of hard heart, and the Lord has cast -you off,” he cried. He turned to the judges with an impassioned gesture. -“What better proof could you have that the Devil would indeed beguile -the court itself by a fair outward show? Behold a very Sadducee! See in -what dire need we stand to permit no false compassion to move us, lest -by not proceeding with unwavering justice in this witchery business we -work against the very cause of Christ. Still, while I would thus caution -you not to let one witch go free, meseemeth it is yet worth while to -consider other punishment than by halter or burning. I have lately been -impressed by a Vision from the Invisible World, that it would be pleasing -to the Lord to have the lesser criminals punished in a mortifying public -fashion until they renounce the Devil. I am apt to think there is some -substantial merit in this peculiar recommendation.” - -A ray of hope was in these last words for the prisoner. - -Deliverance raised her head eagerly. A lesser punishment! Then she -would not be hanged. Oh, what a blessed salvation that she would be -placed only in the stocks, or made to stand in a public place until she -should confess! And it flashed through her mind that she could delay her -confession from day to day until the Cavalier should return. - -Cotton Mather caught her sudden changed expression. - -The wan little face with its wide, uplifted eyes and half parted lips -acquired a fearful significance. That transfiguring illumination of hope -upon her face was to him the phosphorescent playing of diabolical lights. - -His compassion vanished. He now saw her only as a subtle instrument of -the Devil’s to defeat the ministers and the Church. He shuddered at the -train of miserable consequences to which his pity might have opened the -door, had not the mercy of God showed him his error in time. - -“But when you have catched a witch of more than ordinary devilment,” he -cried, striking the palm of one hand with his clinched fist, “and who, by -a fair and most subtle showing, would betray the cause of Christ to her -Master, let no weak pity unnerve you, but have at her and hang her, lest -but one such witch left in the land acquire power to wreak untold evil -and undo all we have done.” - -Still once again did his deeply concerned gaze seek the prisoner’s face, -hoping to behold therein some sign of softening. - -Beholding it not he sighed heavily. He would willingly have given his -life to save her soul to the good of God and to the glory of his own -self-immolation. - -“I become more and more convinced that my failure to bring this miserable -maid to confession, and indeed the whole assault of the Evil Angels -upon the country,” he continued, using those words which have been -generally accepted as a revelation of his marvellous credulity and -self-righteousness, “were intended by Hell as a particular defiance unto -my poor endeavours to bring the souls of men unto heaven. Yet will I wage -personal war with Satan to drive him from the land.” - -He raised his eyes, a light of exaltation sweeping over his face. - -“And in God’s own appointed time,” he cried in a voice that quivered with -emotion, “His Peace will again descend upon this fair and gracious land, -and we shall be at rest from persecution.” - -Whatever of overweening vanity his words expressed, none present seeing -his enraptured face might have judged him harshly. - -No infatuated self-complacency alone prompted his words, but rather his -earnest conviction that he was indeed the instrument of God, and believed -himself by reason of his long fastings and prayer, more than any person -he knew, in direct communion with the invisible world. - -And if his vanity and self-sufficiency held many from loving him, there -were few who did not involuntarily do him honour. - -Having finished he sat down, laid his Bible on his knee, and folded his -arms across his breast as heretofore. None, looking at him then as he sat -facing the people, his chest puffed out with incomparable pride, young, -with every sign of piety, withal a famous scholar, and possessed of -exceptional personal comeliness, saw how the shadow of the future already -touched him, when for his honest zeal in persecuting witches he should -be an object of insult and ridicule in Boston Town, people naming their -negroes Cotton Mather after him. - -During his speech, Deliverance had at first listened eagerly, but, as he -continued, her head sank on her breast and hope vanished. Dimly, as in -a dream, she heard the judges’ voices, the whispering of the people. At -last, as a voice speaking a great distance off, she heard her name spoken. - -“Deliverance Wentworth,” said Chief Justice Stoughton, “you are acquaint -with the law. If any man or woman be a witch and hath a familiar spirit, -or hath consulted with one, he or she shall be put to death. You have by -full and fair trial been proven a witch and found guilty in the extreme. -Yet the court will shew mercy unto you, if you will heartily, and with a -contrite heart, confess that you sinned through weakness, and repent that -you did transfer allegiance from God to the Devil.” - -“I be no witch,” cried Deliverance, huskily, “I be no witch. There be -another judgment.” - -The tears dropped from her eyes into her lap and the sweat rolled down -her face. But she could not wipe them away, her arms being bound behind -her. - -The judge nearest her, he who wore his natural hair and the black cap, -was moved to compassion. He leant forward, and with his kerchief wiped -the tears and sweat from her face. - -“You poor and pitiful child,” he said, “estranged from God by reason of -your great sin, confess, confess, while there is yet time, lest you be -hanged in sin and your soul condemned to eternal burning.” - -Deliverance comprehended but the merciful act and not the exhortation. -She looked at him with the terror and entreaty of a last appeal in her -eyes, but was powerless to speak. - - - - -Chapter IX - -In which Abigail sees Deliverance - - -Thus because she would not confess to the crime of which she had been -proven guilty in the eyes of the law, she was sentenced to be hanged -within five days, on Saturday, not later than the tenth nor earlier than -the eighth hour. Also, owing to the fact of the confusion and almost -ungovernable excitement among the people, it was forbidden any one to -visit her, excepting of course the officers of the law, or the ministers -to exhort her to confession. - -At noon the court adjourned. - -First, the judges in their velvet gowns went out of the meeting-house. -With the chief justice walked Cotton Mather, conversing learnedly. - -Following their departure, two soldiers entered and bade Deliverance rise -and go out with them. So, amidst a great silence, she passed down the -aisle. - -Then the people were allowed to leave. Some of them must needs follow -the judges, riding in stately grandeur down the street to the tavern for -dinner. But the greater part of them followed the prisoner’s cart to the -very door of the jail. - -As Deliverance stepped from the cart, she saw a familiar figure near by. -It was that of Goodwife Higgins. - -“Deliverance, oh, Deliverance,” cried the poor woman, “speak to me, my -bairn!” - -But Deliverance looked at her with woe-begone eyes, answering never a -word. - -The goodwife, regardless of the angry warnings of the guard to stand -back, pushed her way to her foster-child’s side. Deliverance was as one -stricken dumb. Only she raised her face, and the goodwife bent and kissed -the little maid’s parched lips. - -A soldier wrested them violently apart. “Are ye gone daft, gossip,” he -cried harshly, “that ye would buss a witch?” - -Of the many that had packed the meeting-house to the full that morning, -but one person now remained in it. This was Master Wentworth, the -simpler, honoured for his pure and blameless life as well as for his -great skill. All that summer noontide he knelt and prayed, unmindful -of the heat, the buzzing flies, the garish light streaming through the -window. He, knowing that the hearts of men were hardened to his cause, -had carried his grief to a higher Tribunal. - -When the jailer had turned the key in the door and locked her in, a -certain peace came to Deliverance. - -The abhorred prison-cell now seemed sweet to her. No longer was it a -prison, but a refuge from the stern faces, the judges, and the young -minister. Never had the lavender-scented sheets of her little hooded bed -at home seemed half so sweet as did now the pile of straw in the corner. -Once more the chain was fastened around her ankle. But the clanking of -this chain was music to her compared to the voices that had condemned her. - -The sunlight came in the window with a green and golden glory through -the leaves of the gnarled old apple tree. - -Drearily the long afternoon wore away. Deliverance wondered why she did -not cry, but she seemed to have no tears left, and she felt no pain. So -she began to believe her heart had indeed grown numb, much as her fingers -did in cold weather. She longed to know if the stranger she had met in -the forest had yet arrived from Boston Town. However, she felt that if he -had he would have found her before this. Something entirely unforeseen -must have detained him. Had he not said he would return in state in a -few days? Toward sunset she heard a rustling in the leaves of the apple -tree and the snapping of twigs as if a strong wind had suddenly risen. -She looked up at the window. Something was moving in the tree. After a -breathless moment, she caught a glimpse of the sad-coloured petticoat of -Abigail Brewster. Her heart throbbed with joy. The leaves at the window -were parted by two small, sunbrowned hands, and then against the bars -was pressed a sober face, albeit as round and rosy as an apple, and two -reproachful brown eyes gazed down upon her. - -“Deliverance,” asked the newcomer, “might ye be a witch and ne’er telled -me a word on it?” - -Hope came back with a glad rush to Deliverance and lit her eyes with joy, -and touched her cheeks with colour. For several moments she could not -speak. Then the tears streamed from her eyes, and she put forth her arms, -crying, “Oh, Abigail, I be fair glad to see ye! I be fair glad to see ye.” - -“I thought ye would have telled me on it,” repeated Abigail. - -“Ye be right,” answered the little maid, solemnly, “I be no witch. I -speak true words, Abigail. I ken not how to be a witch and I would.” - -“I calculate ye were none,” answered the other, “for ye were ne’er o’er -quick to be wicked save in an idle fashion. I calculate ye would ne’er -meddle with witches. Ye were gone so daffy o’er the adorning o’ your -sinful person that ye had thought for nothing else in your frowardness -and vanity.” Severe though the words were, the speaker’s voice trembled -and suddenly broke into sobs. “Oh, Deliverance, Deliverance, I ken not -what I shall do and ye be hanged! I tell ye a wicked witch has done this, -and hanged her evil deeds on ye to escape her righteous punishment.” - -“Ye silly one, hush your soughing,” whispered Deliverance, sharply, “or -the jailer will hear ye and send ye away.” She glanced toward the door to -assure herself that it was closed, then whispered, “The Lord has put into -my mind a plan by which ye can free me, and ye be so minded.” - -“I ken not how to refrain from soughing when I think o’ ye hanging from -the gallows, swinging back and forth, back and forth,” wept Abigail. - -Deliverance shuddered. “Ye were ne’er too pleasant-mouthed,” she retorted -with spirit, despite the terrible picture drawn for her; “but ye be -grown fair evil and full o’ malice to mind me o’ such an awful thing.” -She pointed frantically to the door. “Hush your soughing, ye silly one. -Methinks I hear the jailer.” - -“Ye look no reconciled to God, Deliverance,” protested Abigail, meekly, -wiping her eyes on the edge of her linsey-woolsey petticoat. - -“Now hark ye, Abigail,” said Deliverance, “and I will tell ye an -o’er-strange tale. But ye must swear to me that ye will breathe no word -o’ it. I be on a service for his Majesty, the King, the likes ye wot not -of. And now no more of this lest I betray a secret I be bound in all -loyalty to keep. But in proof o’ my words, that it be no idle tale, ye -can go to-morrow morning to the old oak tree with the secret hollow, and -run your arm into the hole and feel around until you touch summat hard -and small, wrapped in a bit o’ silk. Ye will see the package contains a -string o’ gold beads which ye can look at and try on; for it is great -consolation to feel ye have on good gold beads. Watch out, meantime, that -no witch spy ye. Then wrap them up, and put them back, and run fast away -so ye be no tempted to fall into the sin o’ envy by lingering, for ye be -o’er much given to hankering for worldly things, Abigail.” - -“I ken, I ken,” cried Abigail, breaking into sobs, “that I be no so -spiritual minded as I ought to be. But, oh, Deliverance, my unchastened -heart be all so full o’ woe and care to think o’ ye in prison, that I -cannot sleep o’ nights for weeping, and I continually read the Scriptures -comforting against death. But I can find no comfort for thinking on the -good times we have had together, and so I fear I be a great reproach unto -God.” - -“Hush, hush!” cried Deliverance, “I hear some one coming.” - -There was a moment of fearful listening. Then the approaching footsteps -passed the door and went on down the corridor. - -“Now, I have thought out a plan which be summat like this,” continued -Deliverance. “Ye must take a letter to Boston Town for me. If ye start -early and don’t dawdle by the way, ye will reach there by set o’ sun. -Still, if ye should not arrive until dusk, ye could ask the night -watchman the way. And I should advise ye to put on no airs as being -acquaint with the town, but to inquire humbly o’ him the way to Harvard -College. I doubt not he will be pleased to tell ye civilly it be up the -street a little ways, like as the boys’ school be here. So ye must walk -on, and when ye have reached it, raise the knocker and rap, and go in. -There ye will see one young man, much more learned and good to look at -than his fellows, and he will be my dear and only brother, Ronald. After -ye have asked the goodly schoolmaster permission, ye must go up and pluck -hold o’ Ronald by his doublet sleeve, and draw him down to whisper in his -ear o’ my sore plight. Now, I think ye will find all this to be just as -I say, though I have ne’er been in Boston Town. Ronald will go with ye -to search for the fine gentleman I met in the forest. Then, when he has -found him, they will both come and take me out o’ jail. Bring me some -paper and an ink-horn and quill, so I can write the letter to-morrow.” - -“I will come as soon as I can,” said Abigail. “I would have come before -this to-day, but some horrid boys were playing ball in Prison Lane, and I -was afeared lest they should see me climb the tree, and suspicion summat.” - -For the next hour, the two little maids planned a course of action which -they fondly hoped would free Deliverance. - -“Happen like ye have seen my father, lately?” asked Deliverance, very -wistfully, just before they said good-by. - -“So sad he looks,” answered Abigail; “shall I whisper to him that I have -talked with ye?” - -“Nay,” said Deliverance, “wait until ye have returned from Boston Town -with good news. Speaking o’ news, did ye hear whether or no a woman by -the name o’ Hobbs was hanged last week?” - -“That I did,” replied Abigail. “Father taked me to the hanging. A most -awful old witch was she, for sure, with bones like to come through her -skin. A judgment o’ God’s it was come upon her.” - -“Oh, Abigail,” wailed Deliverance, “she was no witch. She said many holy -words for me and prayed God forgive her judges. She was in this cell with -me.” - -“They shut a witch in with ye!” cried Abigail, aghast; “she might have -cast a spell on ye.” - -“She cast no spell on me,” answered Deliverance, sadly. “Go now, lest ye -be missed, and forget not to bring me the paper, quill, and ink-horn.” - -Ere Abigail could reply there were heavy footsteps in the corridor. They -paused at the door. - -“Get ye gone quick, Abigail,” whispered Deliverance, “some one be coming -in. Oh, make haste!” With wildly beating heart she lay down on the straw -and shut her eyes. - -She heard the jailer speaking to some one as he unlocked the door. Unable -to control her curiosity as to the identity of this second person, she -opened her eyes, but closed them again spasmodically. - -Of the two persons standing on the threshold, one was the bent old -jailer: the other—she quivered with dread. Through her shut lids she -seemed to see the familiar figure in its cape of sable velvet, the red -beard, the long nose beneath the steeple-crowned hat. - -The jailer had begun to have doubts regarding the justice of the law, and -his heart was in a strange ferment of dissatisfaction, for he thought -the Devil had taken upon himself the names and forms of people doubtless -innocent. - -Moreover, the witch looked so like his own little granddaughter that he -grumbled at permitting Sir Jonathan to disturb her. - -“Let the poor child sleep,” he said, “child o’ the Devil though she be. -Witch or no, I say, let her sleep if she can after such a day as this. Be -no disturbing her, Sir Jonathan. Ye can come again i’ the morning, sith -ye have gotten permission o’ the magistrate.” - -“Very well, goodman, very well,” answered Sir Jonathan, “you are -doubtless right. I bethink myself that she would be in no mood for -amiable converse. But I will come to-morrow, bright and early.” He -clapped the jailer on the shoulder and laughed sardonically. “Ha, ha, -goodman, ’tis the early bird that catches the worm. Best close a witch’s -mouth, I say, lest she fly away to bear tales.” - - - - -Chapter X - -A Little Life sweetly Lived - - -Deliverance awakened happily the next morning for she had been dreaming -of home, but as she glanced around her, her smile vanished. Nevertheless, -her heart was lighter than it had been for many days. Moreover, she was -refreshed by slumber and was surprised to find she enjoyed her breakfast. - -She no longer dreaded the anticipated visit of Sir Jonathan. He seemed -only an evil dream which had passed with the night. Yet when she heard -the tap of his awful stick in the corridor, and his voice at the door, -she had no doubt he was a terrible reality. So great was her fear that -she could not raise her voice to greet him when he entered, although, -remembering her manners, she rose and, despite the clanking chain, -courtesied. - -He came in pompously, flinging the flaps of his cape back, revealing his -belted doublet and the sword at his side. - -“’Tis o’er close and warm in here,” he said; “methinks you have forgotten -a seat for me, goodman.” - -“Ha’ patience, ha’ patience,” muttered the old jailer, “I be no so young -and spry as ye, your lordship.” Grumbling, he left the cell. - -While Sir Jonathan waited, he leant against the door-casing, swinging his -cane in time to a song he hummed, paying no attention to the little maid. -The jailer brought him a three-legged stool. He seated himself opposite -the little maid, saying naught until the old man had closed the door and -turned the key. - -Deliverance dared not raise her eyes. - -Sir Jonathan observed her sharply from underneath his steeple-hat, his -hands clasped on the top of his walking-stick. - -This little witch appeared harmless enough, with the fringe of yellow -hair cut straight across her round forehead. The rosy mouth was tightly -compressed; from beneath the blue-veined lids, two tears forced -themselves and hung on her eye-lashes. - -“There is no need to be afeared of me,” said he. “I come only from a -godly desire to investigate how you became a witch, for I am thinking of -writing a learned book on the evil art of witchery, which shall serve as -a warning to meddlers. Also I seek to lead you to confess, ere it be too -late and you descend into the brimstone pit.” - -Deliverance had heard such words before and known them to be for her -soul’s good. But her heart was hardened toward her present visitor, and -his words made no more impression upon her than water dropping on stone. -She looked up bravely. - -“Good sir,” she said staunchly, “the King sends for his black powder.” - -Sir Jonathan’s face grew white and he stared at her long. He opened his -mouth to reply, but his dry lips closed without a sound. He jumped up, -overturning the stool, and paced up and down the cell. - -“You witch!” he cried: “for I ’gin to think you are a witch and a limb of -Satan.” - -Deliverance prayed aloud, for she feared he would strike her with his -walking-stick. - -Sir Jonathan paused and listened with amazement. At last he laughed -abruptly. “Are you indeed a witch, or are you gone daft and silly that -you pray?” - -“I be no witch,” replied the little maid with dignity, “and it be no -daffy nor silly to pray. And if it seemeth so to ye, ye be a most ungodly -man and the burning pit awaits ye.” - -Sir Jonathan turned up the stool and sat down again. - -“Mistress Deliverance Wentworth,” quoth he, wagging his red beard at her, -“children were not so illy brought up in my young days. They were reared -in righteous fear of their elders and betters. But I have important -business with you and no time to talk of froward children. Now, you will -please tell me who taught you the lesson you repeat so well.” - -Deliverance answered never a word. - -Sir Jonathan regarded her anxiously. “I could go to the magistrate and -have you forced to speak,” he said slowly, after awhile, “but ’tis a very -private matter.” Suddenly a light broke over his countenance. “Ha, ha, my -fine bird,” he cried, “I have caught you now! You saw the parchment with -the royal seal I left with your father.” - -“Good sir,” she answered wonderingly, “I wot not what ye mean.” - -“You have been well taught,” he said, frowning. - -“Ay, good sir,” she replied sincerely, “I have been most excellently -taught.” - -He puzzled long, shaking his head anon, gazing steadily at the ground. - -“Mistress,” said he at last, looking up eagerly, “I had no thought of -it before, but the man in the forest—who might he be? Ay, that is the -question. Who was he? In velvet, with slashed sleeves, the old yeoman -said. Come, come,” tapping the floor with his walking-stick, “who was -this fine gentleman?” - -Deliverance perceived he was greatly perturbed, as people are who -stumble inadvertently upon their suspicions of the worst. - -“I cannot get through my head,” said he, “who this fine gentleman might -be. Come, tell me of what sort was this fine Cavalier.” - -Deliverance made no reply. - -“I am sore perplexed,” muttered Sir Jonathan; “this business savours -ill. I fear I wot not what. Alack! ill luck has pursued me since I left -England. Closer than a shadow, it has crept at my heels, ever ready to -have at my throat.” - -So real was his distress that Deliverance was moved to pity. For the -moment she forgot his persecution. “I be right sorry for ye,” said she. - -Now as Sir Jonathan heard the sympathy in the sweet voice, a crafty look -came into his eyes, and his lids dropped for fear the little maid might -perceive thereby the thought that crossed his mind. He rested his elbow -on his knee, bowed his head on his hand, and sighed heavily. - -“Could you but know how persecuted a man I am, mistress,” said he, “you -would feel grief for my poor cause. Alackaday, alackaday! that I should -have such an enemy.” - -“Who might your enemy be, good sir?” asked the little maid. - -“You would not know him,” he answered. “In England he dwells,—a man of -portly presence, with a dash, a swagger, a twirl of his sword. A man -given o’er to dress.” - -Now, in thinking he could surprise Deliverance into admitting that the -fine gentleman she had met that eventful day in the forest was a man of -such description, he was mistaken, for the little maid had been taught to -keep a close mouth. - -“Perchance, I had best tell you my sad tale,” continued Sir Jonathan. “I -was obliged to flee England, lest mine enemy poison me. Spite of his open -air and swagger, he was a snake in the grass, forever ready to strike at -my heel, to sting me covertly in darkness. An honest man knows no defence -against such a villain. Why look you so at me? I harbour no malice -against you.” - -“But why, good sir,” said she, “and ye bore me no malice, did ye tell the -reverend judges that I had muttered an imprecation, and cast a spell on -ye?” - -“How did you know the words you spoke, words which filled me with -bitterness and pain, unless you have a familiar spirit?” he asked. - -“No familiar spirit have I,” answered Deliverance, pitifully. “I be no -witch to mutter unco words.” - -“I know not, I know not,” said Sir Jonathan, shrugging his shoulders; -“but I shall believe you a witch and you be unable to explain those -words.” - -“Oh, lack-a-mercy-me!” said Deliverance. “Oh, lack-a-mercy-me, whatever -shall I do!” And she lifted her petticoat, and wiped her eyes and sighed -most drearily. - -Sir Jonathan sighed also in a still more dreary fashion. - -“This be fair awful,” said Deliverance. “I ken not which to believe, ye -or the gentleman in the forest.” - -“What said he?” asked Sir Jonathan, eagerly. - -“Nay, good sir,” protested Deliverance, “I must have time to think.” Even -as she spoke, she recalled the stranger’s smile, the love-light in his -eyes as he showed her the miniature of his sweetest daughter. All doubt -that he had deceived her was swallowed up in a wave of keenest conviction -that only an honest gentleman could so sincerely love his daughter,—even -as her father loved her. And all the former distrust and resentment she -had entertained toward Sir Jonathan came back with renewed force. - -“I will not tell ye,” she said. “Have I not given my good and loyal word? -Nay, good sir, I will not tell ye.” - -“There are ways to make stubborn tongues speak,” he threatened. - -Deliverance pursed up her mouth obstinately, and looked away from him. - -Sir Jonathan pondered long. - -“There are ways,” he muttered. “Nay, I would not be ungentle. We’ll -strike a goodly bargain. Come now, my pretty mistress, tell me the -secret the stranger telled you. It has brought you naught but grief. I -promise, and you do, that you shall not be hanged. How like you that?” - -At these words Deliverance paled. “How could ye keep me from being -hanged, good sir?” she faltered, and hung her head. She did not meet -his glance for very shame of the thought which made parleying with him -possible,—the desire to save herself. - -“Ay, trust me,” he replied. “I will be true to my bargain and you tell me -the truth. I am a person of importance, learning, and have mickle gold. -This I tell with no false assumption of modesty,” he added pompously. “I -will tell the magistrates that I have discovered the witch who hanged her -evil deeds on you, that the law has laid hold of the wrong person. Then -will I demand that you have a new trial.” - -Deliverance began to sob, for at his words all her terror of being hanged -returned. Suppose Abigail should fail,—she grew faint at the thought. - -Was it not better to tell the secret and return to her poor father, to -Ronald, and to Goodwife Higgins? So she wept bitterly for shame at the -temptation which assailed her, and for terror lest she should be hanged. - -“Good sir!” she cried piteously, “I pray ye tempt me not to be false to -my word. I pray ye, leave me.” - -Sir Jonathan rose. A fleeting smile of triumph appeared on his face. -“Think well of my words, mistress,” said he; “to-morrow at this time I -will come for my answer.” He knocked on the door with his walking-stick -for the jailer to come and let him out. While he waited, he hummed -lightly an Old World air, and brushed off some straws which clung to his -velvet clothes. - -Deliverance, still weeping, hid her face in her hands, deeply shamed. For -she feared what her answer would be on the morrow. - -The jailer returned from showing Sir Jonathan out. He picked up the stool -to take it away, yet hesitated to go. - -“I ha’ brought ye a few goodies,” he said, and dropped the sweetmeats in -her lap. - -“I thank ye,” said Deliverance, humbly, “but I have no stomach for them.” - -Still the old man lingered. “Mayhaps ye confessed to his lordship?” - -“I be no witch,” said Deliverance. - -The old man nodded. “Ay, it be what they all say. It be awful times. I -ha’ lived a long life, mistress, but I ne’er thought to see such sights.” -He tiptoed to the threshold, and looked up and down the corridor to -assure himself none were near to hear. “I ha’ my doubts,” he continued, -returning to the little maid, “I ha’ my doubts. I wot not there ha’ been -those that ha’ been hanged, innocent as the new-born babe. Who kens who -will next be cried upon as a witch? As I sit a-sunning in the doorway, -smoking my pipe, the whilst I nod i’ greeting to the passers-by, I says -to myself, ‘Be not proud because ye be young, or rich, or a scholar. Ye -may yet be taked up for a witch, an’ the old jailer put i’ authority -o’er ye.’” He lifted the stool again. “I ha’ my doubts,” he muttered, -going out and locking the door. - -Late in the afternoon Abigail came again. - -“Deliverance,” she said, “be ye there?” She could not see Deliverance, -who lay on her straw bed beneath the window. - -A meek voice from the darkness below replied, “I be here wrestling with -Satan.” Deliverance rose as she spoke. “Oh, Abigail,” she said, meeting -her friend’s glance, “I be sore bruised, buffeting with Satan. I fear -God has not pardoned my sins. I be sore tempted. Sir Jonathan was here -to-day.” - -“Bah, the Old Ruddy-Beard,” sniffed Abigail, “with his stick forever -tapping and his sharp nose poking into everybody’s business! I suspicion -he be a witch. Where gets he his mickle gold?” - -“He be a wicked man,” answered Deliverance, “and now I do perceive he be -sent o’ the Lord to test my strength. But have ye heard yet o’ the fine -gentleman I telled ye o’ yesterday?” - -“Nay,” replied Abigail. - -“Then summat unforeseen has held him in Boston Town, for the more I think -o’ his goodly countenance, the more convinced I be o’ his goodly heart, -though he be high-stomached and given o’er to dress, which ye ken be not -the way to heaven,” continued Deliverance. “Did ye bring the paper?” - -“I brought my diary,” answered Abigail, “and ye can tear out as many -pages as ye need, but no more, and I also brought ye your knitting that -ye might have summat to do.” - -She lowered by a string the little diary, the tiny ink-horn and quill, -and a half-finished stocking, the needles thrust through the ball of yarn. - -In cautious whispers, with eyes anxiously fastened on the door lest it -open, the two little maids planned every detail of the course of action -they had decided to follow. - -But after Abigail had said good-night, Deliverance sat motionless a -long time. All knowledge of the village came to her only in the sounds -that floated through the window. She heard the jingle of bells and a -mild lowing, and knew it was milking-time and that the cows were being -driven home through Prison Lane. She wondered if Hiram had yet mended the -meadow bars. Later she heard the boys playing ball in the lane, and she -seemed to see the greensward tracked by cow-paths and dotted by golden -buttercups. At last the joyous shoutings of the boys ceased and gave way -to the sound of drumming. She could see the town-drummer walking back and -forth on the platform above the meeting-house door, calling the people to -worship. - -Suddenly she thought of her father. She put forth her arms, reaching in -vain embrace. “Oh, my dear father,” she cried, and her voice broke with -longing, “oh, my dear father, I be minded o’ ye grieving for me all so -lonesome in the still-room! Alas, who will pluck ye June roses for the -beauty waters?” - -Sad though her thoughts were that she could not see him, yet these very -thoughts of him at last brought her peace. - -She knew that Sir Jonathan’s proposal to procure a new trial for her -had found favour in her heart, and she feared what her answer would be -on the morrow. Underneath her tears and prayers, underneath her gladness -and relief to see Abigail and the plans they had devised, was the shamed -determination to reveal the secret rather than be hanged. She would -hold out to the last moment, then—if Abigail were able to accomplish -nothing—the little maid’s cheeks burned in the darkness, burned with such -shame at her guilty resolve that she put her hands over them. - -In the darkness she saw forming a shadowy picture of the dearest face -in the world to her, her father’s long thin face, with its kindly mouth -and mild blue eyes. All her life Deliverance believed that, in some -mysterious way, her father came to her in prison that night. However it -was, she thought that he asked her no question, but seemed to look down -into her heart and see all her shame and weakness. - -She shrank from his gaze, putting her hands over her breast to hide her -heart away from him. Was it not better, she urged, she should commit -just one small sin, and return to him and Ronald, and live a long life so -good that it would atone for the wrong-doing? - -But he answered that a little life sweetly lived was longer in God’s -sight than a life of many years stained by sin. - -She asked him if it were not a great pain to be hanged when one was -innocent, and he admonished her that it was a greater pain to lose one’s -loyal word and betray one’s King who was next to God in authority. - -All at once he faded away in a bright light. Deliverance opened her eyes -and found that the long night had passed, that the morning had come, and -that she must have been dreaming. She lay silent for a long time before -rising. All the shame of yesterday had gone from her heart, which was -washed clean and filled with peace. She whispered very softly the words -of her dream, A little life sweetly lived. - -Her hour of temptation was passed. - -Thus Deliverance knew God had pardoned her sins. - - - - -Chapter XI - -Abigail goes to Boston Town - - -That same morning, while it was still in the cool of the day and the -sun cast long shadows across the dew-wet grass, Abigail was making her -way along the forest path which led to Deliverance’s home. In a pail -she carried ginger-cookies her mother had sent in exchange for some of -Goodwife Higgins’ famous cheese-balls. - -Since such woeful misfortune had befallen its little mistress, the -farmhouse seemed to have acquired a sorrowful aspect. The gate swung open -dismally, and weeds had sprung up boldly in the garden. Abigail went -round to the kitchen. - -It was empty. The floor had been freshly sprinkled with sand; the -milk-pans were scoured and shining in the sun; a black pot, filled with -water, swung over the fire, and Deliverance’s kitten slumbered on the -hearthstone. - -Abigail placed the pail of cookies on the table and seated herself to -await Goodwife Higgins’ return. Soon the goodwife entered, bearing a big -golden pumpkin from the storehouse. - -“I be glad to see ye, Abigail, if a sorrowful heart kens aught o’ -gladness,” she said, putting down the pumpkin. “Ye look well and -prosperous. I wonder if my little Deliverance has sufficient to eat and -warm clothing o’ night. I have reared her tenderly, only to strike her a -blow when most she needed me. I carry a false and heavy heart.” She sat -down and, flinging her apron over her head, sobbed aloud. - -Abigail longed to tell the poor dame she had seen Deliverance, but dared -not. - -After a little, the goodwife drew her apron from her head and wiped her -eyes with a corner of it. “Hark ye, Abigail, the Lord has punished me, -that I took it upon myself to be a judge o’ witches. Ye recall how I -telled the reverend judges I had seen a yellow bird. I saw that bird -again at rise o’ sun this morn.” - -Abigail shivered, although the fire was warm, and glanced around -apprehensively. “It was the witch,” she cried, “what hanged her evil -deeds on Deliverance.” - -“It was no witch,” cried the goodwife. “I would it had been a witch.” - -Abigail edged off her stool. “I must be going,” she said; “methinks I -hear a witch scratching on the floor.” - -But her companion pushed her back. “Sit ye down. I have summat to tell -ye. The hand o’ the Lord be in it, and laid in judgment on me. Betimes -this morn, led o’ the Lord, I went to Deliverance’s room. There on the -sill was the yellow bird. My heart was so full o’ sadness, there was no -room for fear. ‘Gin ye be a witch, ye yellow bird,’ said I, ‘ye will have -hanged a maid that knew not sin.’ At this the bird flew off and lighted -in the red oak tree o’ the edge o’ the clearing. I put my Bible in my -pocket and hurried out after it. As I neared the red oak, I shuddered, -for I thought to find the bird changed into an hag with viper eyes. But -naught was to be seen. I looked up into the branches. I cried, ‘Ye shall -not escape me, ye limb o’ Satan,’ and with that I clomb the tree. It was -a triumph o’ the flesh at my years, and proof that the Lord was holpen -me. As I stood on the lower branches, I spied a nest and four eggs. I -heard a peep, and saw the mother-bird had fluttered off a little way. -At her call came the yellow bird, her mate, and flew in my face. Then I -was minded these very birds nested there last spring. I suspicioned all. -My little Deliverance had scattered crumbs on the window-ledge for the -birds.” - -“Did ye look for to see?” asked Abigail. - -The goodwife nodded sadly. “Ay, I found many in the cracks. I be going -to see the magistrate and confess my grievous mistake. Bide ye here, -Abigail, whilst I be gone, as Master Wentworth has gone herb-gathering. I -will stop by and leave the cream cheeses at your mother’s.” - -Left alone, Abigail tied on an apron and went briskly to work at the task -the dame had given her. She cut the best part of the pumpkin into dice -an inch square, in order to make a side dish to accompany meat. When well -made it was almost as good as apple sauce. Having cut the pumpkin up, -she put it into a pot, and poured over it a cup of cider-vinegar. Then -she swung the pot on the lugpole and stirred the fire. She sighed with -relief when the task was finished. At last she was free to attend to -Deliverance’s errand. Was ever anything so fortunate as the goodwife’s -mission to the village? - -She opened the still-room door and stepped inside. The window-shutters -were closed. All was cool, dark, and filled with sweet scents. At first -she could see nothing, being dazzled by the light from which she had -just come. Something brushed against her ankles, frightening her. But -when she heard a soft purring, she was greatly relieved that it was -Deliverance’s kitten. With great curiosity she looked around the room, -which she had never before entered. Under the window a long board served -as a work-table. It held a variety of bowls, measuring spoons, and -bottles. In the centre was a very large bowl, covered by a plate. She -lifted the cover and peered in, but instantly clapped the plate on again. -A nauseating odour had arisen from the black liquid it contained. Hastily -Abigail closed the door that the terrible fumes might not escape into -the kitchen. She now perceived close by the bowl a parchment, which was -written upon with black ink and stamped with a scarlet seal. With fingers -that trembled at their daring, she put the parchment in her pocket. As -she turned to go she screamed, unmindful in her fright that she might be -heard. - -For, from a dark corner, there jumped at her a witch in the form of a -toad. - -Now it is all very well for a little maid to stand still and scream -when assailed by a witch, but when a second and a third, a fourth, a -fifth, and even a sixth witch appear, hopping like toads, it behooves -that little maid to stop screaming and turn her attention to the best -plan of removing herself from their vicinity. So Abigail frantically -stepped upon a stool and thence to the table. Then she looked down. -She saw the six witches squatted in a row on the floor, all looking -up at her, blinking their bright eyes. They had such a knowing and -mischievous air that she felt a yet greater distance from them would be -more acceptable. With an ease born of long experience in climbing trees, -she swung herself to the rafter above the table. Her feet, hanging over, -were half concealed by the bunches of dried herbs tied to the beams. She -had no sooner seated herself as comfortably as possible, when she heard -footsteps and the tap of a walking-stick in the kitchen. Another moment -and the door opened, and Sir Jonathan Jamieson put his head inside. - -“Are you in, Master Wentworth?” he asked. Receiving no reply he stepped -inside. He lifted the cover from the large bowl and instantly recoiled. -“Faugh,” he muttered, “the stuff has a sickish smell.” He searched the -table, even peered into the pockets of Master Wentworth’s dressing-gown -hanging on the wall. - -Abigail, holding her small nose tightly, silently prayed. The dust she -had raised from the herbs made her desire to sneeze. - -Suddenly Sir Jonathan sneezed violently. - -“Kerchew,” came a mild little echo. - -“Kerchew!” sneezed Sir Jonathan again. - -“Kerchew,” went Abigail in instant imitation. - -“Kerchew!” sneezed Sir Jonathan, more violently than ever this third time. - -“Kerchew,” followed Abigail. - -Sir Jonathan glanced around suspiciously at this last distinct echo. But -he saw nothing unusual. He poked the toad witches with his stick. “Scat!” -said he, and they all jumped back into their dark corners. After some -further searching, he went out muttering to himself. - -Abigail could see him through the open door pacing up and down the -kitchen, awaiting Master Wentworth. But at last growing impatient he went -away. - -Abigail, not daring to get down, quivered at every sound, fearing it -was Master Wentworth returning. An appetizing odour of the pumpkin was -wafted to her. She was indeed in a quandary now. If she descended, how -should she escape the witches? If she let the pumpkin burn, she would -have to explain how it happened to the goodwife. She sniffed anxiously. -Surely the pumpkin was scorching. All housewifely instinct aroused, she -descended, and with a shudder at encountering the witches, bounded from -the room, slamming the door after her. - -She was just in time to save the pumpkin. She added some butter and -sweetening and a pretty pinch of ginger. While thus engaged, Master -Wentworth returned. He greeted her kindly, not observing the goodwife’s -absence, and seated himself at the table to sort his herbs. - -But Abigail noticed he did not touch them, only sat quietly, shading his -eyes with his hand. - -The silence was broken by a scratching at the still-room door. - -Master Wentworth rose and opened it, and the kitten walked out purring, -its tail proudly erect. - -There are various ways of banishing indiscreet witches who assume the -form of toads. - -“It is strange how it came in there,” remarked Master Wentworth, mildly; -“the goodwife seldom enters.” - -Abigail, with guiltily red cheeks, stirred the pumpkin briskly. But when -she glanced again at her host, she perceived he was thinking neither of -her nor of the kitten. She could not know, however, that his eyes, fixed -in a far-away gaze, seemed to see the green and sunken grave, blue with -innocents and violets, where Deliverance’s mother slept. - -“Master Wentworth,” Abigail summoned up courage to ask, “would ye mind -biding here alone until the goodwife returns?” - -“Nay,” he answered, “I mind it not.” - -“And would ye be above giving the pumpkin a stir once in awhile?” she -ventured timidly. And as he nodded assent, she put the spoon in his hand -and left him. - -When Goodwife Higgins returned, weary, disappointed that she could not -obtain the hearing of the magistrates,—who were in court,—she found -Master Wentworth sitting as in a dream, the spoon in his hand and the -odour of burning pumpkin filling the air. - -“The naughty baggage!” muttered the goodwife; “just wait till I clap eyes -on her.” - -The following day the disappearance of Abigail Brewster caused general -consternation in Salem Town. She had left home early in the morning for -school. Several boys asserted having seen her in Prison Lane. No further -traces of her were found. Many villagers had seen evil spirits in the -guise of Frenchmen and Indians lurking in the surrounding forest; and -when by night the child was still missing, it was popularly believed that -one of these evil spirits had borne the little maid away. - -Meanwhile the object of this anxiety was trudging serenely the path to -Boston Town, carrying her shoes and stockings, her petticoat turned up to -her knees, there being many fordways to cross. - - - - -Chapter XII - -Mr. Cotton Mather visits Deliverance - - -Now, upon the very day of Abigail’s disappearance, ye godly minister -of Boston Town, Mr. Cotton Mather, was in Salem in attendance upon the -trial of an old woman, whose spectre had appeared to several people -and terrified them with horrible threats. Furthermore, the Beadle had -testified to having seen her “Dead Shape” lurking in the very pulpit -of the church. It was with unusual relish Cotton Mather had heard her -condemnation to death, considering her crime, in particular, deliberate -treason to the Lord. - -As he stepped from the hot and dusty court into the fresh air, salt with -the sea and bright with the sunshine, a great rush of gladness filled -his heart, and he mentally framed a prayer that with God’s assistance -he might rid this fair, new land of witches, and behold the church of -his fathers firmly established. Leaving his horse for the present where -it was tied to the hitching-post, outside the meeting-house, he walked -slowly down the village street to the inn, there to have luncheon before -setting out for Boston Town. - -The fruit trees growing adown the street were green, and cast little -clumps of shadow on the cobblestone pavement. And he thought of -their fruitage—being minded to happy thoughts at remembrance of duty -done—in the golden autumn, when the stern Puritans held a feast day in -thanksgiving to the Lord. - -All the impassioned tenderness of the poet awoke in him at the sight of -these symbolical little trees. - -“And there are the fair fruit trees,” he murmured, “and also the trees of -emptiness.” - -Now he bowed to a group of the gossips knitting on a door-stoop in the -sun, and now he stooped to set upon its feet a little child that had -fallen. At the stocks he dispelled sternly a group of boys who were -tickling the feet of the writhing prisoners. - -Thus, in one of the rarely serene moments of his troubled life, he made -his leisurely way. - -But only his exalted mood, wrapping him as an invisible, impenetrable -garment, enabled him to pass thus serenely. - -To every one else a weight of terror hung like a pall. The awful -superstition seemed in the very air they breathed. How unnatural the -blue sky! What a relief to their strained nerves would have been another -mighty storm! Then might they have shrieked the terror which possessed -them, but now the villagers spoke in whispers, so terrible the silence -of the bright noonday. And many, although aware of the fact that the -evil spirits were mostly abroad at night, yet longed for the darkness -to come and cover them. No man dared glance at his neighbour. From one -cottage came the cry of a babe yet in swaddling clothes, deserted by its -panic-stricken mother, who believed it possessed by an evil spirit. - -Yet, mechanically the villagers pursued their daily duties. - -At the tavern, Cotton Mather found Judge Samuel Sewall and the -schoolmaster—who acted as clerk in court—conversing over their mugs of -sack. Pleased to fall in with such company, he drew his stool up to their -table. - -“Alas, my dear friend,” said the good judge, “this witchery business -weighs heavy on my soul! I cannot foresee an end to it, and know not who -will next be cried out upon. ’Tis a sorry jest, I wot, but meseemeth, in -time, the hangman will be the only man left in this afflicted township. -E’en my stomach turns ’gainst my best loved dishes.” - -On the younger man’s serene, almost exalted face came a humanizing gleam -of gentle ridicule. “Then indeed has the Lord used this witchery business -to one godly purpose, at least, if you do turn from things of the flesh, -Samuel.” A rare sweetness, born of the serenity of his mind and his -friendship, was in his glance. - -“Nay, nay,” spoke the good judge, gruffly, “’tis an ill conscience and -an haughty stomach go together. No liking have I for the man who turns -from his food. Alas, that such a man should be I and I should be such a -man!” he groaned. “The face of that child we condemned troubles me o’ -nights.” - -A menacing frown transformed Cotton Mather’s face, and he was changed -from the genial friend into the Protestant priest, imperious in his -decisions. He struck his hand heavily on the table. “Shall we, then, be -wrought upon by a round cheek and tender years, and shrink from doing -the Lord’s bidding? Most evil is the way of such a maid, and more to be -dreaded than all the old hags of Christendom.” - -“Ay,” joined in the schoolmaster, “most evil is the way of such a maid! -Strange rumours are afloat regarding her. ’Tis said, that for the peace -of the community she cannot be hanged too soon. ’Tis whispered that the -glamour of her way has e’en cast a spell on the old jailer. Moreover, -the woman of Ipswich, who was hanged a fortnight ago, did pray that the -witch-maid be saved. Now ’tis an unco uncanny thing, as all the world -knows, that one witch should desire good to another witch.” - -Cotton Mather turned a terrible glance upon the great judge. “O fool!” he -cried, “do you not perceive the work of the Devil in all this? The woman -of Ipswich would have had the witch-maid saved that her own black spirit -might pass into this fair child’s form, and thus, with double force, -working in one body, the two witches would wreak evil on the world.” - -“Nay, nay,” protested the judge, “my flesh is weaker than my willing -spirit, and, I fear me, wrought upon by a fair seeming and the vanity -of outward show. But we must back to court, my good friend,” he added, -addressing the schoolmaster. - -So the two arose and donned their steeple-hats and took their -walking-sticks, and arm-in-arm they went slowly down the middle of the -street. - -Cotton Mather, as he lunched, became absorbed in troubled thought. The -conviction grew that it was his duty to investigate to the full and -personally these rumours of the witch-maid. Also, he would seek to lead -her to confession to the salvation of her own soul, and, further, that -he might learn something regarding the evil ways of witches, and by some -good wit turn their own methods against them to the establishment of the -Lord. - -Full of eager resolve, he did not finish his luncheon, but left the -tavern and proceeded to the jail. - -There he had the old jailer open the door of the cell very softly, that -he might, by some good chance, surprise the prisoner in evil doing. - -Quietly the old jailer swung open the door. - -Cotton Mather saw a little maiden seated on a straw pallet, knitting. -Some wisps of the straw clung to her fair hair, some to her -linsey-woolsey petticoat. Where the iron ring had slipped on her white -ankle was a red mark. - -All the colour went from Deliverance’s face as she looked up and -perceived her visitor. Before his stern gaze she trembled, and her head -drooped, and she ceased her knitting. The ball of yarn rolled out from -her lap over to the young minister’s feet. - -She waited for him to speak. The moments passed and still he did not -speak, and the torture of his silence grew so great that at last she -lifted her head and met his glance, and out of her pain she was enabled -to speak. “What would ye have with me, good sir?” - -“I have come to pray with you, and to exhort you to confession,” he -answered. - -“Nay, good sir,” protested Deliverance, “I be no witch.” - -The old jailer entered with a stool for Mr. Mather, and having set it -down, went out and left the two together. - -Ere either could speak, there was a rapping at the door. - -In answer to the young minister’s summons to enter, Sir Jonathan Jamieson -came in. - -Deliverance glanced dully at him, all uncaring; for she felt he had -harmed her all he could, and now might nevermore injure her. - -The young minister, having much respect for Sir Jonathan, rose and begged -that he be seated. But Sir Jonathan, minded to be equally polite, refused -to deprive Mr. Mather of the stool. So they might have argued and bowed -for long, had not the jailer appeared with another stool. - -“I did but see you enter now, as I chanced to come out of the tavern near -by,” remarked Sir Jonathan, seating himself comfortably, leaning back -against the wall, “and, being minded to write a book upon the evil ways -of witchery, I followed you in, knowing you came to exhort the prisoner -to repentance. So I beg that you will grant me the privilege to listen in -case she should confess, that I may thereby obtain some valuable notes.” -As he spoke he shot a quick glance at Deliverance. - -She could not divine that menacing look. Was he fearful lest she should -confess, or did he indeed seek to have her do so? - -Cotton Mather turned, his face filled with passionate and honest fervour, -toward the speaker. - -“Most gladly,” he answered with hearty sympathy; “it is a noble and -useful calling. I oft find more company with the dead in their books -than in the society of the living, and it has ever been one of my chief -thanksgivings that the Lord blessed me with a ready pen. But more of this -later. Let us now kneel in prayer.” - -They both knelt. - -But Deliverance remained seated. - -“Wicked and obstinate o’ heart I be,” she said, “but Sir Jonathan holds -me from prayer. I cannot kneel in company with him.” - -She no longer felt any fear to speak her mind. - -At her words Cotton Mather glanced at Sir Jonathan and saw the man’s -face go red. His suspicions were aroused thereat, and he forgot all his -respect for Sir Jonathan’s great position and mickle gold, and spoke -sternly, as became a minister, recognizing in his profession neither high -nor low. - -“Do you indeed exercise a mischievous spell to hold this witch-maid from -prayer when she would seem softened toward godliness?” - -“Nay,” retorted Sir Jonathan, “’tis the malice of her evil, invisible -spectre whispering at her ear to cast a reflection on me.” - -“I prithee go, however, and stand in the corridor outside, and we will -see if the witch-maid, relieved of your presence, will pray,” advised -Cotton Mather. - -Sir Jonathan was secretly angered at this command, yet he rose with what -fair show of grace he could muster, and went out into the corridor. But -an indefinable fear had sprung to life in his heart. For, lo, but a look, -a word, an accusation, and one was put upon as a witch. - -Deliverance, although she feared the young minister, yet knew him to be -not only a great but a good man, and desirous for her soul’s good. Thus -willingly she knelt opposite him. - -Long and fervently he prayed. Meanwhile, Sir Jonathan sauntered up and -down the corridor, swinging his blackthorn stick lightly, humming his Old -World tune. - -Every time he passed the open door, he cast a terrible glance at -Deliverance over the minister’s kneeling figure, so that she shuddered, -feeling she was indeed besieged by the powers of darkness on one hand, -and an angel of light on the other. - -Cotton Mather could not see those terrible glances, but even as he -prayed, he was conscious of Sir Jonathan’s unconcerned humming and light -step. This implied some disrespect, so that it was with displeasure he -called upon him to return. - -“I cannot understand, Sir Jonathan,” he remarked, rising and resuming his -seat, “how it is that you who are so godly a man, should exercise a spell -to hold this witch-maid from prayer.” - -Sir Jonathan shrugged his shoulders. “She has a spectre which would do -me evil. ’Tis a plot of the Devil’s to put reproach on me, in that I have -refused to do his bidding.” An expression of low cunning came into his -glance. “Have not you had similar experience, Mr. Mather? Methinks I have -heard that the tormentors of an afflicted young woman did cause your very -image to appear before her.” - -“Yea,” rejoined Mr. Mather with some heat, “the fiends did make -themselves masters of her tongue, so in her fits she did complain I put -upon her preternatural torments. Yet her only outcries when she recovered -her senses were for my poor prayers. At last my exhortations did prevail, -and she, as well as my good name, was delivered from the malice of Satan.” - -Sir Jonathan stooped to flick some dust off his buckled shoe with his -kerchief. “One knows not on whom the accusation of witchery may fasten. -Even the most godly be not spared some slander.” Now when he stooped, -Deliverance thought she had seen a smile flicker over his face, but -when he lifted his head, his expression was deeply grave. He met the -young minister’s suspicious and uncomfortable glance serenely. “What most -convinces me,” he continued easily, “of the prisoner’s guilt, e’en more -than the affliction she put upon me, is the old yeoman’s testimony that -he saw her conversing in the woods with Satan. Could we but get to the -root of that matter, perchance the whole secret may be revealed. But I -would humbly suggest she tell it in my ear, alone, lest the tale prove of -too terrible and scandalous a nature to reach thy pious ear. Then I would -repeat it to you with becoming delicacy.” - -“Nay,” answered Cotton Mather, “a delicate stomach deters me not from -investing aught that may result to the better establishment of the Lord -in this district.” - -Deliverance began to feel that her secret would be torn from her against -her will. Alas, what means of self-defence remained to her! Her fingers -closed convulsively upon the unfinished stocking in her lap. The -feminine instinct to seek relief from painful thought by some simple -occupation of sewing or knitting, awakened in her. She resolved to -continue her knitting, counting each stitch to herself, never permitting -her attention to swerve from the task, no matter what words were -addressed to her. - -So in her great simplicity, and innocent of all worldly -conventionalities, she sought security in her knitting. - -This action was so unprecedented, it suggested such quiet domesticity and -the means by which good women righteously busied themselves, that both -priest and layman were disconcerted, and knew not what to do. - -Suddenly Sir Jonathan laughed harshly. “The witch has a spice of her -Master’s obstinacy,” he cried. “Methinks ’twere right good wisdom, -since your prayers and exhortations avail not with her, to try less -gentle means and use threats,” his crafty mind catching at the fact that -whatever strange, but, he feared to him, familiar tale, the little maid -might tell, it could be misconstrued as the malice of one who had given -herself over to Satan. - -“Perchance ’twould be as well,” assented Cotton Mather, greatly perplexed. - -Sir Jonathan shook his forefinger at Deliverance. “Listen, mistress,” -said he, and sought to fix her with his menacing eye. - -Deliverance, counting her stitches, heeded him not. - -How pale her little face! How quick the glancing needles flashed! And -ever back of her counting ran an undercurrent of thought, the words of -her dream,—A little life sweetly lived. - -“This would I threaten you,” spoke Sir Jonathan. “You have heard how old -Giles Corey is to be put to death?” - -The knitting-needles trembled in the small hands. Now she dropped a -stitch, and now another stitch. - -“And because he will say neither that he is guilty, nor yet that he is -not guilty, it is rumoured that he is to be pressed to death beneath -stones,” continued Sir Jonathan. - -A sigh of horror followed his words. The involuntary sound came from -Cotton Mather, whose imaginative, highly-strung organism responded to the -least touch. His eyes were fixed upon the little maid. He saw the small -hands shaking so that they could not guide the needles. How small those -hands, how stamped with the innocent seeming of childhood! Oh, that the -Devil should take upon himself such a disguise! - -“And so, if you do not confess,” spoke Sir Jonathan’s cold, menacing -voice, “you shall not be accorded even the mercy of being hanged, but -tied hands and feet, and laid upon the ground. And the villagers shall -come and heap stones on you, and I, whom you have afflicted, shall count -them as they fall. I shall watch the first stone strike you—” - -A loud cry from the tortured child interrupted him. She sprang to her -feet with arms outstretched. “And when that first stone strikes me,” she -cried, “God will take me to Himself! Ye can count the stones the others -throw upon me, but I shall never ken how fast they fall!” - -Cotton Mather was moved to compassion. “Let us use all zeal to do away -with these evil sorcerers and their fascinations, good Sir Jonathan, but -yet let us deal in mercy as far as compatible with justice, lest to do -any living thing torture be a reflection on our manhood.” With gentleness -he then addressed himself to Deliverance, who had sunk upon her pallet -and covered her face with her hands. “Explain to us why the woman of -Ipswich, that was hanged, did seek that you be saved.” - -Deliverance made no reply. Nor could he prevail upon her in any way; -so, after a weary while spent in prayers and exhortations, he and Sir -Jonathan rose and went away. At the threshold Cotton Mather glanced back -over his shoulder at the weeping little maid. - -“This affair savours ill,” he remarked, laying his hand heavily on his -companion’s shoulder as the two went down the corridor; “my heart turned -within me, and strange feelings waked at her cry.” - -It was late in the afternoon. It would not be possible for the young -minister to reach Boston Town until after midnight, so he decided to -postpone his journey until the next day. Moreover, he rather seized at -an excuse to remain for the morrow’s court, having great relish in these -witch-trials. - -But that night Cotton Mather had a strange vision. - - - - -Chapter XIII - -In the Green Forest - - -Seldom has a little girl undertaken entirely alone a more perilous -journey than Abigail had started upon. Salem was not more than fourteen -miles from Boston Town, but the trip invariably occupied a day, owing -to the many patches of spongy ground, quicksands, and streams which -intersected the way. Travellers were often aided by fallen trees and -natural fordways of stone. Abigail was confident of her way, having made -the trip with her father. She soon discovered the original Indian path -which was acquiring some semblance to a public highway. Trees had been -notched, and now and then the government had nailed notices, signifying -the remaining distance to the metropolis of New England. Far more serious -dangers than losing her way threatened Abigail. In the wild woods lurked -savages and wolves, and the wily Frenchman with unbounded influence over -the cruel Indian. - -When the sun was high in the heavens, Abigail ate her luncheon. To go -with what she had brought she found some strawberries, the last of the -season, as if they had lingered to give this little guest of the forest a -rare treat, daily acquiring a richer crimson, a finer flavour. - -Abigail was obliged to follow a little stream some distance before she -found an available spot to lie down and drink. It was here she missed her -way. Confident that she could at will regain the main path, she walked on -along a ferny lane. - -Nightfall found her in the heart of the forest, unwitting which way to -turn. Darkness seemed to rise from the earth, enveloping all, rising, -rising, until only the tops of the trees were still brightly green. Such -a sense of desolation and loneliness came over her that a sob welled up -in her throat. The forest encircled her, dark, impenetrable. She walked -on some distance, and at last caught a glimpse of the white sea-sands. -It looked lighter on the water, the waves yet imprisoning the sunlight. -Her anxious gaze was attracted by a faint column of blue smoke rising -beyond five tall pine trees. So very thin was it that it was indeed -surprising she had observed it. She started forward gladly, but even as -she made her first eager steps she drew back with a low cry of fear. -How did she know but that the fire was kindled by Indians or Frenchmen? -Shivering with fear, she ran back to the forest. - -“God save my soul,” she murmured, stopping to catch her breath, “here be -a pretty to-do. Yet perchance it might prove to be woodmen or hunters -cooking their supper, or a party of travellers, belated like myself. I -doubt not ’twould be wisdom for me to go tippy-toe and peek at them.” - -She stole back near the trees and crouched behind a clump of -hazel-bushes. It was some time before she summoned sufficient courage to -part the leaves and look through. And her teeth chattered like little -castanets. Softly her two trembling hands parted the foliage, and her -brown eyes stared out. - -There just beyond the five pines was a little thatched cottage, very -humble, but all so neat and clean. The roof was covered with moss which, -even in the twilight, gleamed like green velvet. Up one side and over the -corner, trailed the dog-rose with its blush-tinted blossoms, while on -both sides of the pathway flourished the wild lilies and forest ferns. In -the doorway stood a spinning-wheel, a stool beside it. - -Abigail wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “Happen like I smell potatoes -frying in the fat o’ good bacon.” - -She walked boldly to the threshold and looked in. - -An old woman, her back turned to the door, held a smoking skillet over -the red coals on the hearth. - -Abigail’s heart leapt in her throat. Frenchmen and Indians—what were -they? This old woman might be a witch. - -Quickly she doubled her thumbs in her palms, and hastened to be first -to address the old woman with pleasant words,—these being precautions -advisable to take in dealing with witches. - -“The cream o’ the even to ye, goody,” she said, “and I trust ye will have -appetite for your potatoes and fat bacon, for my mother has taught me -unless ye have relish for your food from honest toil, ’twill not nourish -ye.” - -The old woman turned. “Ay,” she answered in a cracked voice, “honest -toil, honest toil, but I be old for toil. Who might ye be that comes so -late o’ day?” - -As she came forward, something seemed to clutch at the little maid’s -throat, and she could scarcely breathe. - -For a single yellow tooth projected on the old woman’s lower lip, and -she had a tuft of hair like a beard on her chin,—unmistakable signs of -witchery. - -Yet Abigail was troubled by misgiving, for faded and sunken as the -old woman’s eyes were, they were still blue as if they had once been -beautiful, and they had a kindly light on beholding the little maid. - -“Beshrew me, it be a maid,” she cried; “ye have a fair face, sweeting. -How come ye here alone at the twilight hour?” - -“I come from Salem, and I be bound for Boston Town,” answered Abigail, -timidly. - -“It be good to see a bonny face,” replied the old woman; “take the bucket -and fetch fresh water from the spring back o’ the five pines. Ay, but -it be good to see a human face, to hear a young voice, and the sound o’ -young feet. Haste, little one, whilst I cook another flapjack, which ye -shall have wi’ a pouring o’ molasses.” - -Abigail proceeded to the spring, joyful at the avenue of escape open to -her. She planned to fill the bucket, leave it by the spring, and run -away. But as she lifted the bucket to the stone ledge, the effort took -all her strength. She could not help but think how like a dead weight it -would seem to the old woman, with her bent back, when, finding that her -guest did not return, she would hobble down to the spring. Strangely -enough, the old woman seemed to her like a witch one moment, and the next -reminded her of her own dear old Granny Brewster. So with a prayer in -her heart, she carried the bucket up and set it down on the stoop, just -without the threshold. There, as she had first seen her, stood the old -woman cooking a flapjack, with her back turned to the door. - -“It smells uncommon relishing for a witch-cake,” murmured Abigail, -remembering with distaste the corn-bread in her pocket. She pictured to -herself the old woman’s disappointment, when she should find her guest -stolen away. Although possessed by fear, pity stirred within her breast, -and, moved by a generous impulse, she put her hand in the front of her -dress and drew forth a precious, rose-red ribbon with which she had -intended to adorn herself when she reached Boston Town, and laid it on -the threshold, near the bucket. Then, with an uncontrollable sob at this -sacrifice, she ran swiftly away. - -[Illustration: _Copyright, 1898, by Lamson, Wolffe and Company_ - -_Strangely enough, the old woman seemed like a witch._ - -_page 194_] - -She heard the old woman calling after her to stop. Not daring to turn -around, and ceasing to run, lest doing so should betray her fear, she -doubled her thumbs in her palms and began to sing a psalm. Loudly and -clearly she sang, the while she felt the hair rising on her head, fearing -that she heard the old woman coming up behind her. Desperately she looked -back. Still, very faintly in the deepening dusk, could she see the little -old woman standing in the doorway, while from her hands fluttered the -rose-red ribbon. And as the voice of an angel singing in the wilderness, -Abigail’s singing floated back to her dull ears. - - “He gently-leads mee, quiet-waters bye - He dooth retain my soule for His name’s sake - inn paths of justice leads-mee-quietly. - Yea, though I walke inn dale of deadly-shade - He feare none yll, for with mee Thou wilt bee - Thy rod, thy staff, eke they shall comfort mee.” - -Abigail walked rapidly, glad to leave the little hut and its lonely -inmate far behind. - -The night was upon her. Where could she seek safety? Her anxiety -increased as the shadows deepened. - -Alarmed, she looked around her for the safest place in which to pass -the night. At first she thought of sleeping near the sea, on the warm -sands. But she could not find her way out of the woods. Suddenly, on the -edge of a marsh, she spied a deserted Indian wigwam. Near by were the -ashes of recent fires, and a hole in the ground revealed that the store -of corn once buried there had been dug up and used. Into this wigwam -she crept for protection. Terrified, she watched the night descend on -the marsh, which, had she but known it, was a refuge for all gentle and -harmless animals and birds. Fallen trees were covered with moss, the -lovely maiden-hair fern, lichens, and gorgeous fungi. The purple flag, -and the wild crab, and plum trees grew here, as well as the slender red -osiers, out of which the Indian women made baskets. Ere twilight had -entirely vanished, Abigail saw brilliantly plumaged birds flying back -to the marsh for the night. A fox darted into the dusk past the wigwam. -To her, nothing in all this was beautiful. Crouched in the wigwam, she -saw through the opening white birches, like ghosts beckoning her. A wild -yellow canary, with a circling motion, dropped into its nest. Abigail -shuddered and breathed a prayer against witchery. Will-o’-the-wisps -flashed and vanished like breaths of flame, and she thought they were the -lanterns of witches out searching for human souls. - -As night now settled in good earnest, a stouter heart than this little -Puritan maiden’s would have quailed. The terrible howling of wolves -arose, mingling with the mournful tu-whit-tu-whoo of the owls and the -croaking of the bull-frogs. She was in constant dread lest she might be -spied upon by Indians, who, according to the Puritan teachings, were the -last of a lost race, brought to America by Satan, that he might rule them -in the wilderness, undisturbed by any Christian endeavours to convert -them. - -On the opposite edge of the marsh, a tall hemlock pointed to a star -suspended like a jewel just above it. - -When, in after years, Abigail became a dear little old lady, she used to -tell her grandchildren of the strange fancy that came into her mind as -she watched that star. For, as she said, it was so soft and yellow, and -yet withal so bright, that it seemed to be saying as it looked down at -her:— - -“Here we are, you and I, all alone in these wild woods; but take courage. -Are we not together?” - -A sweet sense of companionship with the star stole over her, and she was -no longer lonely. She found herself smiling back at this comrade, so -bright and merry and courageous. Thus smiling, she passed into the deep -slumber, just recompense of a good heart and honest fatigue. - -When she awoke, the sun was shining. Hastily she drew off her shoes and -stockings, which she had worn during the night for warmth. Then as her -eyes, still heavy with sleep, comprehended the beauty of the marsh, she -was filled with delight. - -The sun sent shafts of golden light into the cool shade. All the willows -and slender fruit trees glistened with morning dew. The pools of water -and the green rushes rippled in the morning breeze. The transparent wings -of the dragon-fly flashed in the blue air. All the birds twittered and -sang. Beyond, the solemn pines guarded the secret beauties of the marsh. -Thus that which had filled her with terror in the darkness, now gave her -joy in the light. - -By the height of the sun she judged she must have slept late and that she -must make all haste to reach Boston Town in time. It was not long before -she struck the main path again. - -Great was her astonishment and delight to learn by a sign-board, nailed -to a tall butternut tree, that she was within little over an hour’s walk -from Boston Town. - -This sign, printed in black letters on a white board, read as follows:— - - Ye path noo Leadeth to ye flowing River & beyonde wich ye Toone - of Boston Lyeth. bye ye distance of 2 mls uppe ye Pleasant Hill. - -And below was written in a flowing hand:— - -“Oh, stranger, ye wich are Aboute Arriv’d safe at ye End of ye dayes -journey the wich is symbolical of ye Soule’s Pilgrimage onn earth, Kneel -ye doone onn yur Marrow Bones & Pray for ye Vile Sinner wich has miss’d -ye Strait & Narrow path & peetifully Chosen ye Broad & Flowery Waye wich -leadeth to Destruction & ye Jaws of Death.” - -Abigail read the sign over hastily and passed on. “I will get down on my -marrow-bones when I come back,” she murmured; “I be in mickle haste for -loitering.” - -Soon she neared the river beyond which stretched the pleasant hill. She -heard a voice singing a hymn a far distance behind her. She turned and -waited until the singer should have turned the curve of the road. The -singing grew louder and then died away. A little later Mr. Cotton Mather, -mounted on his white horse, came in sight. It seemed to her that far as -he was from her, their glances met and then he turned and looked behind -him. - -That moment was her salvation. Quickly she ran and hid behind the trunk -of a great tree. Cotton Mather came slowly on. His horse was well -nigh spent with fatigue. She saw him distinctly, his face white from -exhaustion, his eyes sombre from a sleepless night. His black velvet -small-clothes were spattered with mud. He reined in his horse so near her -that she might almost have touched him. - -He removed his hat to greet the cool river breeze. His countenance at -this time of his young manhood held an irresistible ardour. Some heritage -had bestowed upon him a distinction and grace, even a worldliness of -mien, which, where he was unknown, would have permitted him to pass for -a courtier rather than a priest. At this moment no least suggestion -of anything gross or material showed in his face, which was so nearly -unearthly in its exaltation that the little maid watching him was awed -thereat and sank to her knees. His very presence seemed to inspire prayer. - -A moment he looked searchingly around him, then spurred his horse to take -the ford. She saw the bright water break around his horse’s feet, the -early sunshine falling aslant his handsome figure. She watched until he -reached the further bank and disappeared behind a gentle hill. Then she -came out from her hiding. - -When in after years she beheld him,—his public life a tragedy by reason -of his part in the witchcraft trouble and his jealous strivings to -maintain the infallibility of the Protestant priesthood,—saw him mocked -and ridiculed and slaves named after him, a vision would rise before her. -She would see again that magnificent young figure on the white horse, -the radiant air softly defining it amidst the greenness of the forest, -herself a part of the picture, a little child kneeling hidden behind a -tree in the early morning. - -The fordway was so swollen that Abigail did not dare attempt to cross -on foot. And although further down where the river narrowed and deepened -there was a ferryman, she had not the money with which to pay toll. -Thinking, however, that it would not be long before some farm people -would be going into town with their produce, she sat down on the shore -and dabbled her feet in the cold water to help pass away the time. At -last when the first hour had passed, and she was waxing impatient, there -appeared, ambling contentedly down the green shadowed road, a countryman -on his fat nag, his saddle-bags filled with vegetables and fruit for -market. - -Abigail rose. “Goodman,” said she, “would ye be so kind as to take me -across the river? I be in an immoderate haste.” - -“To be sure,” said the countryman; “set your foot on my boot; let me have -your shoes and stockings. Give me your hands. Now, jump; up we go, that’s -right. Ye be an uncommon vigorous lassie.” - -The horse splashed into the water, which rose so high that Abigail’s bare -feet and ankles and the farmer’s boots were wet. The little maid put her -arms as far as she could reach around her companion’s broad waist, and -clung tightly to him, her little teeth firmly set to keep from screaming -as the horse rolled and slipped on the stones in the river bed. - -When they reached the other side, Abigail, desperately shy, insisted upon -her companion permitting her to dismount, although he offered to carry -her all the way into town. - -“Ye be sure ye can find your home, child?” he asked, loath to leave her. - -Abigail nodded and sat down on the ground to pull on her shoes and -stockings, while the countryman after a moment’s further hesitation made -his way leisurely up the grassy hill. - -After a brisk walk, Abigail arrived at Boston Common, a large field in -which cows were pastured during the daytime, and where, in the evening, -the Governor and his Lady and the gallants and their “Marmalet Madams” -strolled until the nine o’clock bell rang them home and the constables -began their nightly rounds. The trees that once covered the Common had -been cut down for firewood, but there were many thickets and grassy -knolls. On one side the ground sloped to the sea where the cattle -wandered through the salt marsh grasses. And there was to be heard always -the sweet incessant jangle of their bells. At this hour of the morning -there was generally to be seen no person except the herdsman, but as -Abigail approached a stately elm which stood alone in the field, she saw -a student lying on the grass, reading. - - - - -Chapter XIV - -A Fellow of Harvard - - -His book lay open between his elbows, and his chin was propped on his -hands. His cap lay on the grass near by. - -Abigail’s shyness tempted her to hurry by him without attracting -attention, but when she remembered that he might know something of the -fine gentleman she was seeking, she paused bravely. - -“It will be a fair day, sir,” she said in a quavering voice. - -The young man rolled over on his elbow. He wore no wig, and his lank dark -hair, parted in the centre, fell on either side of his long, colourless -face. His eyes were sharp and bright. - -“On what authority dare you make so rash a statement?” inquired he, -sternly. “Take heed how you say such things, lest it rain and thunder and -the wind blow, and a hurricane come upon us this afternoon, and you be -prosecuted for telling a falsehood.” - -Abigail failed to perceive he was but jesting, and this, as well as -timidity and anxiety, so wrought upon her, that without further ado she -began to cry. - -At this the student jumped up, deeply repentant, and entreated her to -rest in the shade of the old elm tree by him. He gave her his kerchief to -dry her eyes, and offered an apple from his pocket. - -“There, there,” he said, “’twas but an idle jest. I am a bit of a -merry-andrew in my way, but a harmless fellow, without a grain of malice -in me. Sure the sun will shine all day when the morn is fair like this. -Look up, my pretty lass. See, it still shines.” - -Abigail obediently blinked her tear-wet lashes at the dazzling sun, then -turned her attention to the apple. She ate it with great relish, the -while the student leant back against the tree, his hands in his pockets -and his long legs crossed. Thus leisurely reclining, he sang a song -for her pleasure, such as never before had greeted her staid, religious -little ears. His voice was wondrous mellow, and its cadences flung over -her a charmed spell. - - “It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey and a ho and a hey-nonino. - That o’er the green corn fields did pass - In the spring-time, the only pretty ring-time - When birds do sing, hey-ding-a-ding, ding, - Sweet lovers love the spring.” - -“Beshrew me,” remarked Abigail, taking a bite of her apple, “but ye sing -strange songs in Boston Town.” - -“Did ye ne’er hear tell of Willie Shakespeare, the play-actor,” cried -the student. “I am amazed, sore amazed, at your ignorance. Many a rare -rhyme has he written, God rest his bones, and betwixt you and me, I, as -a Fellow of Harvard, privileged to be learned, find that there are times -when his poesy rings with more relish in my ears than the psalms. I have -tried my hand at verse-making with fair fortune, though I say it as -should not.” Then he burst forth into another rollicking song:— - - “Full fathoms five thy father lies; - Of his bones are coral made; - Those are pearls that were his eyes: - Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell—” - -“Beshrew me, sir,” interrupted Abigail, her disapproval too strong to -be repressed, “but these songs are not to my liking.” She rose. “I will -be pleased to have you read this description, sir,” she said, drawing a -paper from her pocket tied by a string around her waist, “and tell me if -ye ken aught o’ this fine gentleman.” - -The student rose and made her a low bow. “Since you be pleased to put on -such dignity, mistress,” said he, with a fine and jesting air, “I must -needs fall in with your ways.” - -He took the paper she extended to him and unfolded it with many airs, the -while crooking his little fingers daintily. - -This was what he read, written in a fair and flowing hand as did befit a -teacher of the Dame School:— - - “A descripshun of ye fine gentellman whom I met in ye forest on - ye afternoon of June 3 wich is herein sett downe. He be aboute - three score more or less & be of make suffishunt large to be - stared att & for ye naughty boys of ye streete to call att, - he having an immoderate goodly girth arounde ye middle. shure - did yu know him yu would be of my minde that he had grate rank - across ye seas fore he wears full breeches with knots of ryban - of a Purple-Blue colour att his knees. alsoe he do walke inn - grate bootes. his Sleeves be of fine Velvet withe watchet-Blue - Tiffany peeping through ye Slashes. alsoe he carried a blacke - case bestock with smal sharp knives exceeding bright. he showed - me a picture of his lyttle maide of faire countenance. As - regardes ye countenance of ye fine gentellman itt was wrighte - goode to looke att having Witte Beauty & Goodness, as theay - say. alsoe he weares a light Brown Wigg, parted to ye Crown - & falling in Naturall Silke curles to his Shoulders. his - Moustache curls finely towards his Nose. - - by ye wich descripshun Abigail finde him & deliver ye pckge soe - saye I & ye Lord be willing. - - Deliverance Wentworth. - - note. alsoe he weares a sword.” - -“Well-a-day!” laughed the student as he finished, “this is a pretty joke.” - -“It be no joke at all, sir,” said Abigail, “and ye will pardon my -frowardness in contradicting ye, for my dear friend Deliverance will be -hanged o’ Saturday for witchery.” And putting the kerchief to her eyes -she wept afresh. As she did so, she heard a strange sound like a groan, -and looked up quickly. - -The student was leaning against the elm, his eyes closed and his face -whiter than the paper which had fluttered from his fingers to the ground. - -“Haps it that ye ken her, sir?” she asked in an awed whisper. - -He looked at her and tried to regain his composure. His lips moved -dumbly. He turned away and put his hand over his eyes, leaning once more -against the tree. When he looked again at Abigail, she saw that tears -bedimmed his eyes. This exhibition of feeling on the part of this gay -student seemed an even more serious thing than the fact that Deliverance -was in jail, or that she herself had passed a night in the forest, -exposed to savages and wolves. - -The student, looking at the little maid’s troubled, tear-stained -countenance, smiled in a faint, pitiful fashion, bidding her have hope -and cheer. But his voice faltered and broke. - -Something in his smile arrested Abigail’s attention. Suddenly, a light -of recognition breaking over her face, she put forth her hands, crying -joyfully: “Ye be Ronald. Ye be Deliverance’s brother. She telled me to -look for ye, but I ne’er suspicioned it to be ye. But when ye smiled I -thought o’ her, and now I have remembrance o’ having seen ye in Salem -Town.” - -Young Wentworth made no reply save by a groan. “Long have I misdoubted -these trials for witchery,” he muttered. “It tempts one to atheism. She, -Deliverance, a witch, to be cast into prison! a light-hearted, careless -child! God himself will pour out His righteous wrath upon her judges if -they so much as let a hair of her head be harmed. They have convicted her -falsely, falsely! Come,” he cried, turning fiercely upon Abigail, “come, -we will rouse the town! We shall see if such things can be done in the -name of the law. We shall see.” - -Now such anger had been in his eyes as to have burned away his tears, but -all at once his fierceness died and his voice broke. - -“Did they treat her harshly,” he asked,—“my little sister, who since her -mother died, has been a lone lassie despite her father and brother. Tell -me again, again that it be not until to-morrow,—that one day yet of grace -remains.” - -So Abigail told him all she knew. But when he desired to see the letter -she was to give to the Cavalier, she protested:— - -“I promised not to read it myself nor to let any other body, except him, -for Deliverance said it must be kept secret, she being engaged on a -service for the King. She said when I found ye, ye would go with me to -look for the fine gentleman.” - -“Very well, we will go,” he answered briefly, and took her hand, seeing -that it would only trouble her then to insist upon having the letter, but -resolving to obtain possession of it at the first opportunity. - -“We will go to the Governor’s house, first,” he added, “and see if he -knows the whereabouts of any such person. If not, then I must read the -letter and find the clue to unravel this sad mystery.” - -Master Ronald walked on rapidly, holding her hand in so tight a grasp -that she was obliged to run to keep up with him. They soon left the -Common and entered a street. There were no sidewalks then in Boston Town. -The roadways, paved with pebbles, extended from house to house. They took -the middle of the street where the walking was smoothest. Once Master -Ronald paused to consider a sun-dial. - -“It lacks o’er an hour of ten,” he said; “we shall be obliged to wait. -The new Governor is full of mighty high-flown notions fetched from -England, and will see no one before ten, though it be a matter of life -and death. It sorts not with his dignity to be disturbed.” He glanced -down at Abigail as he finished speaking, and for the first time took -notice that she was tired and pale. - -“Have you broken fast this morn?” he inquired; “I should have bethought -me of your lack. There is yet ample time, and you must eat. Come,” he -added, taking her hand again and smiling, “it is good for neither soul -nor body that the latter should go hungered. The Queen’s coffee-house -lies just around yon corner.” - -A few moments later Abigail found herself seated at a table in a long, -dark room, very quiet and cool, with vine-clad windows. Only one other -customer besides themselves was in the room. He was an old gentleman in -cinnamon-brown small-clothes, and he was so busy sipping a cup of coffee -and reading a manuscript, that he did not glance up at their entrance. -The inn-keeper’s buxom wife received Master Ronald’s order. Quite on her -own account she brought in also a plate of cookies. - -“Kiss me well, honey-sweet,” said she, “and you shall have the cookies.” - -So Abigail kissed the goodwife in return for her gift. - -“Heigh-ho!” remarked Master Ronald, “in all this worry and grief I forgot -that every maid has a sweet tooth, if she be the proper sort of maid.” In -spite of his little pleasantry, his troubled look remained. - -Abigail ate steadily, not pausing to talk, only now and then glancing at -her companion. After awhile Master Ronald rose, and strode up and down -with savage impatience. “Alack!” he said, “I seem to be losing my wits.” - -Abigail, having finished, commenced putting the remaining cookies in her -pocket. - -“Why do you do that?” asked Master Ronald. - -“I want summat to eat on my way home,” answered Abigail, resolutely, -crowding in the last cooky. - -The young man laughed, but his laughter ended abruptly in a sigh of pain. - -Abigail could not but admire the grand and easy way in which, with a wave -of his hand, he bade the inn-keeper charge the breakfast to his account, -as they left the coffee-house. - -He led the way back to the sun-dial. They had been gone not more than -twenty minutes. Frowning, Master Ronald turned his back toward the dial -and leant against it. “We may as well stop here,” said he, “and wait for -the minutes to speed.” - -Abigail pushed away the vines to read the motto printed on the dial. “‘I -marke the Time; saye, gossip, dost thou soe,’” she read unconsciously -aloud. - -“Time,” echoed Master Ronald, catching the word, “time.” He shrugged his -shoulders. “What is more perverse than time? It takes all my philosophy -to bear with it, and I oft wonder why ’twas e’er put in the world. ’Tis -like a wind that blows first hot then cold. It must needs stand still -when you most wish it to speed, and when you would fain have it stand -still, it goes at a gallop.” He sighed profoundly and kicked a pebble -with the toe of his shoe. - -His expression was so miserable that Abigail’s ready tears flowed again -in sympathy, so that she was obliged to pick up the hem of her petticoat -and wipe them away. Her attention was suddenly attracted by noisy singing -and much merriment. She dropped her petticoat. “Happen like there be a -dancing-bear in town?” she asked eagerly. - -“Nay,” answered Master Ronald, “’tis some of my fellows at the tavern, -who have been suspended a day for riotous conduct.” - -“Come, come,” cried he, taking her almost fiercely by the hand. There was -a new ring in his voice, a sudden strong resolve shining in his face. He -led her along the road in the direction from which the sounds proceeded, -and paused at last in front of a tavern which had as a sign a head of -lettuce painted in red. From this place came the singing. - -Master Ronald, still holding her hand, swung the door open and stepped -inside with her. As her eyes became accustomed to the dim light she -perceived some eight or ten young fellows with lank locks falling about -their faces, seated around a large bowl of hasty pudding, into which bowl -they dipped their spoons. Two or three who were perched on the table, -however, had ceased eating, and were smoking long brier-wood pipes. They -did not perceive Master Ronald and Abigail. Suddenly they all lifted -high their mugs of sack and broke into song. - - “Where the red lettuce doth shine, - ’Tis an outward sign, - Good ale is a traffic within. - It will drown your woes - And thaw the old snow - That grows on a frosty chin, - That grows on a frosty chin.” - -“Enough, enough, sirs!” Master Ronald cried sharply; “down with your -mugs! Are ye to drink and be merry when murder—murder, I say—is being -done in the name of the church and the law?” - -The students turned in open-mouthed amazement, several still holding -their mugs suspended in the air. At first they were evidently disposed to -be merry as people accustomed to all manner of jesting, but the pallor -and rigid lines of the young man’s face checked any such demonstration, -as well as the unusual appearance of a little maid in their midst. - -Then one tall and powerful fellow rose. “Murder,” he said slowly, shaking -back his hair, “murder—under sanction of the church and law. How comes -that?” - -Master Ronald made a gesture commanding silence, for the others had -risen, and a confused hubbub of questions was rising. Then he pointed to -Abigail, who was near to sinking to the floor with mortification, as all -eyes were turned upon her. - -“This little maid,” he continued, when the room was again silent, -“journeyed alone from Salem to Boston Town, to find and tell me that in -Salem prison there is confined another maid condemned for witchery and -under sentence of being hanged on the morrow.” - -His words were interrupted by groans and hisses. - -“A plague upon these witch-trials,” cried one of his hearers; “a man dare -not glance askance at his neighbour, fearing lest he be strung up for -sorcery. And now ’tis a maid. Lord love us! Are they not content with -torturing old beldames?” - -There came a flash into the eyes of the stalwart youth who had first -spoken. “’Tis not so long a journey to Salem Town but we might make it in -a night.” - -An answering flash lit the eyes of his fellows as they nodded and laughed -at the thought which, half-expressed, showed in the faces of all. But -they grew quiet as Master Ronald began speaking once more. - -“’Tis a matter of life and death. The imprisoned maid is near the age of -this little maid, as innocent, as free from guile—.” He broke down and -dropped into a chair, folded his arms on the table, and buried his face -in them while his shoulders shook with repressed grief. - -The rest, troubled and embarrassed by his emotion, drew together in a -little group and talked in low tones. - -“Perchance ’tis a relation, a sister,” commented one young man, “a maid, -he said, like yonder little lass;” and the speaker indicated Abigail, -who had edged over to the door and stood, with burning face, nervously -fingering her linsey-woolsey petticoat. - -“I have no patience with these, our godly parsons,” cried another -student, who wore heavily bowed spectacles. “I have here a composition, -which with great pains I have set down, showing how weak are the proofs -brought against those accused of witchery.” He took off and breathed on -his spectacles and wiped them on his kerchief. Then, having replaced them -on his nose, he drew a written paper out of his pocket and unfolding it -began to read aloud. - -But he was interrupted impatiently by the rest. “’Tis no time for words -but action, Master Hutchinson,” they cried, giving him the prefix to his -name, for these young Cambridge men called each other “Master” and “Sir” -with marked punctiliousness. - -“It behooves me ’twere well to inquire into the merits of this case, but -I am loath to disturb him,” said one bright-eyed young man, whom his -fellows called Philander, glancing at Master Ronald’s bowed head. “Ah, I -have it!” he cried, clapping the man nearest him on the shoulder: “we’ll -not disturb his moping-fit but let him have it out. Meanwhile we’ll make -inquiry of this little maid.” - -As he drew near Abigail, she, startled, flew to Master Ronald’s side and -shook him. “Oh, sir,” she cried, “wake up! They are going to speer me.” - -At this the gravity of the young men relaxed into laughter so hearty that -even Master Ronald, looking up, comprehended the situation and smiled -faintly. - -“They are less amusing and more dangerous than dancing-bears, eh, -Mistress Abigail?” he asked, rising to his feet. - -Abigail did not commit herself by replying. “Let us haste away, sir,” she -said; “bethink yourself how Deliverance waits, and you will pardon my -rudeness, but, sir, it be no time now for a moping-fit.” - -“Bravo!” cried Master Philander, “there is the woman of it. You prefer to -do your duty first and have your weep afterwards.” - -“I will take you to see the Governor in a moment, Mistress Abigail,” said -Master Ronald; “we will be there prompt on the moment. There is that -whereof I would speak to my friends who are bound to any cause of mine, -as I to theirs, in all loyalty, when that cause be just.” - -At this the students interrupted him by shouts, but he raised his hand to -silence them. “Hear me to the end without interruption, as the time waxes -short. In Salem, my fair young sister, scarce more than a child in years, -languishes in jail, for having, it is asserted, practised the evil art of -witchery. On the morrow she will be hanged, unless, by the grace of God, -the Governor may be prevailed upon to interfere. If he refuses justice -and mercy, then have we the right to take the law into our own hands, not -as trespassers of the law, but rather as defenders of law and justice. -As men sworn to stand by each other, how many of you will go with me to -Salem Town this night and save the life of one as innocent and brave, as -free from evil, as this maid who stands before you now?” - -There was no shouting this time, but silently each young man moved over -and shook hands with the speaker in pledge of his loyalty and consent. - -“And now,” added Master Ronald, “I will go to the Governor’s house, that -you may have your say with him, Mistress Abigail.” - -“We will escort you there,” said the stalwart young fellow Abigail had -first noticed. Before she could protest, to her indignation he had seized -her and swung her up on his broad shoulder, passed her arm around his -neck, and rested her feet on his broad palm. - -“Now I have placed you above learning, little mistress,” he cried gayly; -“duck your head as we go through the door.” - -Abigail clasped his neck tightly, and lifted up her heart in prayer. -Intense was her mortification to observe how the people turned and looked -after them. She grew faint at the thought of her father’s awful, pious -eye beholding her. - -“They may be much for learning,” she murmured, glancing over the heads of -the students, “but, beshrew me, they be like a pack o’ noisy boys. Oh, -Deliverance, Deliverance, how little ye kenned this torment!” - - - - -Chapter XV - -Lord Christopher Mallett - - -Down many a crooked street and round many a corner, the crowd of students -bore her, until at last they reached the Governor’s place, “a faire brick -house” on the corner of Salem and Charter streets. - -Above the doorway were the King’s arms richly carved and gilded. Some -stone steps led down the sloping lawn to the street, which was shut out -by a quaint wooden fence. - -Here, at the lanterned gateway, the student who carried Abigail set her -down upon the ground. - -“Come, Mistress Abigail,” said Master Ronald, holding the gate open for -her to pass in. - -Once safely inside Abigail did not forget her manners, but turned -about, spread out her petticoat, and courtesied to all the merry young -gentlemen, who, leaning over the gate, smiled and doffed their caps. - -Then retying the strings of her bonnet primly under her chin, and giving -her skirts a flirt, she walked with Master Ronald to the door. - -Master Ronald raised the knocker and rapped thrice vigorously. - -The door was opened by an old Moor,—so was the negro called by the good -folk of those days. When he beheld the student he smiled and bowed; then -with deprecating gesture fell to shaking his head solemnly. - -“Don’t concern yourself this time, Pompey,” said the student, grimly. -“I have other business than whining for pardon. Lack-a-mercy-me! I feel -as if I should never have heart for any more quips or pranks. Is his -Excellency in? Tell him that Ronald Wentworth, a Fellow of Harvard, -awaits his pleasure.” - -The negro ushered them into the hall-room and placed a stool for Abigail. -The little maid perched herself stiffly upon it and gazed around her, -greatly awed by the magnificence, while Master Ronald, with his hands -behind him clasping his cap, paced restlessly up and down the room, his -countenance so colourless and lined with anxiety that it was like the -face of an old man. The hall into which they had been shown served not -only as a passageway but as a living-room. From one side the staircase, -with its quaintly carved balustrade, rose by a flight of broad steps to -the second story. In the centre of this hall-room was a long table laid -with a rich cloth on which was placed a decanter of wine. Stools with -cushions of embroidered green velvet were placed for those who sat at the -Governor’s board. Abigail’s sharp eyes noted a spinning-wheel in front -of the fireplace, which was set round with blue Dutch tiles. But she was -most delighted by a glimpse she caught of the cupboard which contained -the Governor’s silver plate. - -The rear door of the hall was swung open and she could see a pretty -gentlewoman working in the garden. Her cheeks vied in richness of colour -with the crimson coif she wore beneath her straight-brimmed, steeple -hat, as she gathered a nosegay, the basket on her arm being filled to -overflowing. - -At last, Master Ronald, pausing, leant his elbow on the carved newel-post -of the staircase and sighed heavily. - -“Did you say Deliverance was treated with decency and kindness in jail?” -he asked. “Let them but harm a hair of her pretty head and they shall -have ample proof of the love I bear my little sister.” - -As he spoke, the door opposite opened and a gentleman came out, closing -it behind him. He was a tall and solemn-visaged man, richly attired in -velvet, with a sword at his side. There was that air of distinction in -his bearing which made Abigail instantly surmise that she was in the -presence of Sir William Phipps, the new Governor, who had arrived last -month from England. He addressed her companion, taking no notice of her. - -“Well, well, Master Wentworth, and that be your name,” he said, “let me -warn you to expect no leniency from me nor intercession on your behalf -with your masters at Cambridge. I have scarce been in this miserable -country two months, yet have had naught dinged in my ears but the -mischievous pranks of you students of Harvard. ’Tis first the magistrates -coming to complain of your roisterings and rude and idle jestings, and I -no sooner have rid myself of them than you students come next, following -on their very heels with more excuses than you could count, and puling -and whining for mercy. But sit down, young sir, sit down,” he ended, -taking a seat as he spoke. He crossed his legs, put the tips of his -fingers together, and leant back comfortably in his massively carved oak -chair. Chairs were then found only in the houses of the very well-to-do. -So it was with some pride that Sir William waved the student to the one -other chair in the hall. - -But Master Ronald, too nervous to remain quiet, refused impatiently. “I -have come with——” - -“There is too much of this book-learning, nowadays,” interrupted Sir -William, following his own train of thought. “The more experience I have -of yon Cambridge students, the more convinced I be, that three fourths -should be taken out of college and apprenticed to a worthy trade. Let -such extreme learning be left to scholars, lest ordinary men, being too -much learned, should set themselves above their ministers in wisdom. As -for myself—” - -“Ay,” interrupted Master Ronald, desperately, “but the matter on which I -come to-day—” - -“As for myself,” continued Sir William, glancing severely at the student, -“I started out in life apprenticed to an honest trade. From ship’s -carpenter, I have risen to fortune and position. But I will confess I -grow that troubled with the management of this province, what with the -Indian and French wars on the one hand, and this witchery business on the -other, that I do often wish I might go back to my broad-axe again, where -one can be an honest man with less perplexity.” - -“Sir,” spoke the student, sharply, “I crave your pardon, but I have no -time for talk to-day. ’Tis a matter—” - -“Very well,” retorted Sir William, annoyed, “we will hear of this very -important matter, but let me warn you beforehand to expect no indulgence. -So you can go on with your plaint, if you count time so poorly as to -waste it on a cause already lost, for ’tis to-day I shall begin to make -an example of some of you.” - -“I come on no private business of my own,” retorted Master Ronald with -spirit, “but in company with this little maid.” He indicated Abigail by a -wave of his hand. - -She slipped down from her stool thereat and courtesied. - -The Governor took no notice of her politeness beyond a severe stare. -“Well,” he inquired, “and for what did you come?” - -“If you please, your Excellency,” faltered Abigail, “Deliverance, my dear -friend—” - -At this, Master Ronald, who stood on the further side of the Governor’s -chair, coughed. She glanced up and saw he had put his finger to his lips -to enjoin silence. Frightened, she stopped short. - -During the pause, the Governor drew out a gold snuff-box and took a pinch -of snuff. Then he flicked the powder, which had drifted on his velvet -coat, off daintily with his kerchief. “Well,” said he, “have you lost -your tongue?” - -“My dear friend, Deliverance,” repeated Abigail. - -“In other words,” broke in Master Ronald, his tone sharp with anxiety, -“she desires to ask your Excellency if you know the whereabouts of any -person answering this description.” And briefly he described the stranger -whom Deliverance had met in the forest. - -At these words the Governor’s expression mellowed slightly and he smiled. -“Then you have no favour to ask of me,” he said. “I think I know the -person of whom you speak.” He rose. “I will find out if you may see him.” - -As he crossed the hall, he glanced out of the entrance-door which had -been left half-closed. - -Abigail’s eyes, following the direction of his, beheld the students -perched in a row on the front fence. - -His Excellency turned, bestowing a grim look on Master Ronald. - -“What scarecrows are those on my fence?” he asked. “I doubt not I could -make better use of them in my corn-fields.” And with an audible sniff he -opened the door on his right and entered the room beyond. - -“The Lord in his infinite justice is on our side,” spoke Master Ronald, -solemnly, as the door closed behind the Governor. “Praise be unto Him -from whom cometh all mercy.” He took a couple of long steps which brought -him to Abigail’s side. “Say no word of witchery to his Excellency,” he -whispered sternly, “lest you spoil all by a false move. Mind what I say, -for he is carried away by fanaticism, and in his zeal to clear the land -of witches makes no provision to spare the innocent. Hush!” He drew -quickly away as steps were heard in the next room. He clasped his hands -behind him and commenced pacing the floor, humming in apparent unconcern:— - - “Full fathoms five thy father lies; - Of his bones are coral made; - Those are pearls that were his eyes: - Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell”— - -Abigail fairly quaked in her shoes. - -Another moment, and the door through which the Governor had passed was -opened by the old Moor. He beckoned them to enter. - -They found themselves in a spacious apartment, the state bed-chamber of -the house. - -Standing well out in the centre of the room was a great four-poster bed, -with a crimson canopy. The curtains were drawn back, revealing a man -lying dressed on the bed, propped up by pillows. - -The Governor sat beside him. He nodded to the two young people. - -“Is not this the gentleman you seek?” he asked, with a wave of his hand -toward the occupant of the bed. - -They had recognized him, however, at once. There was the flowing wig -of chestnut hue, the comely countenance, the rich dress, the curled -moustache Deliverance had so admired. One of his legs, bound in wool and -linen, rested on a pillow. On a table at the further side of the bed were -placed some quills, an ink-horn, and paper; also a jug of wine and silver -mugs. - -“By my troth,” cried this fine person, jovially, “I expected none such -pretty visitor. Come here and kiss me, little maiden, and I swear you -shall have your wish, whatsoe’er it be. And it be not the round moon or -the throne of England,” he added chuckling. - -Abigail courtesied at a safe distance from the bed. - -Meanwhile, Master Ronald had his eye on Governor Phipps. He feared to -mention their errand in the presence of his Excellency, knowing that they -might expect neither reason nor tolerance from him. So he drew himself -up to his full height and said with confidence, not unbecoming in so -learned a Fellow of Harvard:— - -“Your Excellency, this is a very private and personal business.” Having -said this he bowed so low that his dark hair fell over his face. Thus he -remained with his head deferentially bent during the moment of amazed -silence which elapsed before his Excellency replied. - -“I have no desire to hear,” he retorted, his small eyes snapping with -wrath, “but I would say unto you, young sir, that ’tis exceeding -low-bred for you to be setting a lesson in manners to your elders and -betters; exceeding unfortunate and ill-bred, say I, though you be a -Fellow of Harvard, where, I warrant, more young prigs flourish than in -all England.” With which fling his Excellency rose and left the room, -followed by his servant. - -“I ’gin to be fair concerned as to what this mighty business will prove -to be,” said the merry invalid; “my curiosity consumes me as a flame. -But sit you down, little mistress, and you, young sir. You must not deem -me lacking in gallantry that I rise not. Here have I lain two weeks with -the gout. Was e’er such luck? But, why fret and fume, say I, why fret and -fume and broil with anxiety like an eel in a frying-pan? Yet was e’er -such luck as to have your thumb on your man and not be able to take him?” - -“Sir,” spoke Master Ronald from the stool on which he had seated himself, -“we come on a matter of life and death. My sister, Deliverance Wentworth, -the child you met in the forest outside Salem Town, some three weeks ago, -is to be hanged on the morrow for witchery, unless by the grace of God -you have power to interfere.” - -At these words the invalid’s florid face paled, and he sank back on his -pillows with a gasp of mingled horror and astonishment. - -“The Lord have mercy on this evil world!” he said, wagging his head -portentously. “Alack, alack! the times grow worse. What manner of men are -these lean, sour Puritans that they would e’en put their babes to death -for witchery? As pretty and simple a maid was she as any I e’er set eyes -on, not excepting my sweetest daughter over the seas.” - -“Ay,” said the student, raising his white face from his hands, “as sweet -a maid as God e’er breathed life into. But I say this,” he cried, raising -his voice shrilly, in his excitement, “that if they harm her they shall -suffer for it.” - -“Not a hair shall they hurt, and God grant me grace to live to get -there,” cried the invalid. “Is my word to be accounted of naught,” and he -tapped his breast, “mine? Oh, ho! let any dare to deny or disregard it, -and he shall rue it.” - -“Sir,” said Abigail, approaching him timidly, “Deliverance Wentworth -sends ye this.” - -He took the package and untied the tow string which bound it. There were -two papers, one the sealed parchment Abigail had found in the still-room -and the other the letter Deliverance had written. - -When the Cavalier saw the parchment, he gave an inarticulate sound and -clutched it to his breast, kissed it and waved it wildly. - -“By my troth!” he cried, “the little maid whom they would hang, hath -saved England.” - -In his excitement he rose, but no sooner had he put his foot on the -floor, than he groaned and fell back on the bed. His face became so -scarlet that Master Ronald started up, thinking a leech should be sent -for to bleed him, but the sufferer waved him back, and lay down uttering -praise and thanksgiving, save when he paused for groans so terrible, that -Abigail jumped at every one. When he had exhausted himself and grown -quiet, she, feeling it safe to approach him, summoned up courage to hand -him Deliverance’s letter, which had fallen from the bed to the floor. - -“Ye forgot her letter,” she said reproachfully. - -As the Cavalier read, he swore mighty oaths under his breath, and before -he finished, the tears were falling on the little letter. - - “HON’D SIR: yu will indede be surprised to lern of my peetiful - condishun fore I be languishing away in prison & round my ankel - be an iron wring held by ye chain & itt be a grate afflictshun - to ye flesh. Alle this has come uponn me since I met with yu - in ye forest & olde Bartholomew Stiles wich some say be a - Fule—but I would nott say of my own Accord—took yu fore Satan - wich was a sadd mistake fore me. Alsoe Goodwife Higgins mistook - a yellow witch-bird & said ye same was me. I blame her nott - fore I had rised betimes & gonne to ye brooke & tried onn ye - golde beads & this yu will perceive I could nott tell her - lest I should betray ye secret & I did give ye message to Sir - Jonathan Jamieson & he saide I was a witch & alsoe Ebenezer - Gibbs saide I stuck pinnes in him when I but rapped his pate - fore larfing in school & intising others to Evil acts such as - Twisting ye Hair of Stability Williams & fore alle this ye - godly magistrates have sentenced me to be hanged wich Hon’d Sir - yu will agree be a sadd afflictshun to ye flesh. - - As regards ye service fore ye King Abigail wich be my deare - friend will give yu a pckge. but no more lest this fall into ye - wrong handes when yu read this I trust yu will in Gods name - come fast to Salem & take me out of prison fore I am in sore - Distress & can find nothing comforting in ye Scripture, against - being hanged & I beginn to feare God has not pardoned my sinnes. - - Sir Jonathan Jamieson torments me most grievous & I saye - unto yu Privately he be a Hypocrite & itt be Woe unto him - Whited sepulchre I ken nott what he will do when he findes ye - Parchment be gonne but no more lest I betray ye secret & if I - should be hanged afore yu come I do heartily repent my sinnes - wich I cannot set down in wrighting fore I have no more Ink. I - beg with tears yu will come in time. Hon’d Sir I bewayl my ylls - & peetiful condishun - - DELIVERANCE WENTWORTH. - - note—I hereinn putt down my will that Abigail shall have my - golde beads amen - - note—alsoe in Ipswich bides a hunchback whose mother be hanged - fore a witch & he be named lyttel Hate-Evil Hobbs & should I be - hanged I trust Hon’d Sir yu will shew him kindness fore me & - now no more amen.” - -“Please God!” spoke the Cavalier, reverently, “Deliverance Wentworth hath -done a mighty service for her King, and she shall not go unrewarded, for -I am one who speaks with authority.” - -At these words the student looked up with a flash of hope in his eyes, -and Abigail drew nearer the bed. - -“Arrange the pillows under my head, little mistress,” said the Cavalier, -“and you, young sir, draw up the table and fill the mugs. ’Tis bad, I -wot, for my leg, still a little good red wine for the stomach’s sake is -not to be done away with. - -“And now,” quoth he, solemnly, lifting high his mug, “we will drink to -the health of Deliverance Wentworth, who hath done a mighty service for -her King. She shall not go unrewarded, for I speak with authority. For,” -swelling his chest importantly, “you behold in me Christopher Mallett, -Lord of Dunscomb County and Physician to his Majesty, the King.” - - - - -Chapter XVI - -At the Governor’s House - - -While they were still drinking, there came an imperious rap on the door. -In response to Lord Christopher’s bidding, the Governor entered, followed -by a young minister. - -Abigail was awed at the sight of the latter, recalling how she had seen -him in the forest only a few short hours ago. The student put down his -wine-cup and rose, deeply respectful. - -“I have come to tell you, my dear friend,” said the Governor, addressing -himself to the Cavalier, “that a very strange miscarriage of justice -calls me at once to Salem.” - -Ere the Cavalier could reply, his attention was diverted by the strange -action of Cotton Mather, who, pausing half-way across the room, was -staring at the little maid. - -“I did see the spectre of that child rise before me in the forest this -very morn,” he cried in a curious voice. - -“Nay, good sir,” cried Abigail, finding voice in her terror, “it was my -very living shape ye saw.” - -“It rose in my path,” spoke Cotton Mather, as if he heard her not. “I, -believing it a living child, did glance about to see who accompanied it. -When I looked for it again the Shape had gone.” - -“Nay,” cried Abigail, in mortal terror. “Nay, good sir, nay, it was my -living self.” - -“Ay, reverend sir, it was the little maid you beheld indeed, and no Dead -Shape that rose at the Devil’s bidding,” cried Lord Christopher, and the -effect of his mellow, vigorous voice was magical. So heartily it rang -that the others’ thoughts of spirits and visions grew faint as those -visions are disposed to be faint in flesh. - -All felt it but Cotton Mather. Wrapped in his own thoughts, he still -stared at the little maid. - -“Do you not perceive the child is frightened to be so regarded?” cried -the Cavalier, impatiently. “I can swear to you, prove to you, her living -self was in the forest this morning. In Salem Town, accused falsely of -witchery, there languishes a little maid——” - -“A little maid,” cried Cotton Mather, still in his strained voice. -Suddenly, as if grown faint, he sank upon a chair and covered his -eyes with his hands. Thus he remained for several moments, while his -companions, awed by his emotion, waited in a silence not unmingled -with curiosity. After awhile he took away his hand from his eyes and -raised his face. Worn it was by the night’s long ride and lack of food, -sad it was, for he had but just come from the death-bed of a beloved -parishioner, but above all it was glorified by a transfiguring faith. - -“A little maid,” he repeated, and now his voice was tender; “she sits in -prison on her straw pallet, knitting, and the good God watches over her.” - -In that solemn silence which followed his words, the room lost all -semblance to the Governor’s state bed-chamber. Its spacious walls faded -and narrowed to a prison cell, wherein on her straw pallet, sat a little -maiden knitting. - -The silence was broken by a smothered sob. The faithful little friend, -her face buried on Lord Christopher’s broad breast, was weeping. - -When at last on that kind breast her sobs were hushed, the minister spoke -again and she raised her head that she might listen. - -He told them how the night before, after his supper at the inn-house, -he had retired to his room to study. But he was restless and could not -compose his thought, and whatever he wrote was meaningless. So, believing -this non-success to be a reproof from the Lord, inasmuch as he was -writing on a profane and worldly subject, he laid down his quill and -fastened his papers with a weight, that the breeze coming in the open -window might not blow them away. Then had he opened his Bible. Now the -breeze was grateful to him, for his room was warm. A subtle fragrance of -the meadow and the peace of the night seemed to be wafted about him. He -was reminded how one of the Patriarchs of old had gone “forth into the -fields at even-tide to pray.” This thought was gracious and so won upon -him, that he rose and snuffed his candles, and went out into a wide field -lying back of the inn. - -The moon was not risen, but the night was so fair and holy by reason of -the starlight, that the white reflection of some young meadow birches -showed in the stream, and, a distance off, he could see the moving shapes -of some cows. He heard the tinkling of their bells. He felt no longer -restless but at deep peace. - -It seemed not long before he heard the night watchman making his rounds, -crying all good folk in for the night. He heard him but faintly, however, -as in a dream. His heart was exceedingly melted and he felt God in an -inexpressible manner, so that he thought he should have fallen into a -trance there in the meadow. The summons of the night watchman began to -sound louder in his ears, so, reminding himself that the greatest duty -was ever the nearest duty, he turned to go toward the inn-house. Just -then he saw near the cluster of meadow birches, the little maid he had -visited in prison in the afternoon. She was clothed in shining white and -transparent in the starlight as a wan ghost. - -Still, by the glory in her face, he knew it was not her Dead Shape, but -her resurrected self. As he would have spoken she vanished, and only the -white trunks of the young birches remained. - -By this, he knew it was a sign from God that she was innocent, being -showed to him as if caught up to Heaven. At this he remembered her -words in prison, when Sir Jonathan had sought to make her confess by -threatening that she should be put to death by stones. - -An enraged groan and a missile thrown interrupted him. The pale student -in his passion had hurled his wine-mug across the room. - -“And you sat by and heard that vile wretch so torture a child!” he -cried. “Oh, my God! of what stuff are these thy ministers fashioned, -that this godly servant of thine did not take such a living fiend by the -scruff of his neck and fling him out of the cell?” - -“Come, come, young sir,” cried Sir William, angrily, “Mr. Mather had not -then received the sign that your sister was not bound to the Evil One. -I will have not the least discourtesy put upon him in my house, and the -wine-mug flung in your wicked passion but just missed my head.” - -Cotton Mather waited patiently until the disturbance his words had -wrought subsided. His ministerial experience had taught him sympathy with -the humours of people in trouble. With a compassionate glance, directed -toward the student, he continued to relate how he had straightway -repaired to the inn, and ordering his horse saddled, had journeyed all -night, that he might get a reprieve for the prisoner’s life from Governor -Phipps in time. He was delayed in seeing the Governor sooner, as upon -entering Boston Town he was summoned to the death-bed of a parishioner. - -“While all this but the more surely convinces me of the evil reality -of this awful visitation of witches,” he ended, “yet we must not put -too much faith in pure spectre evidence, for it is proven in this case -that the Devil did take upon himself the shape of one very innocent and -virtuous maid.” - -“’Tis a very solemn question, my dear sir,” rejoined the Cavalier, -wagging his handsome head. “I remember once talking it over with my very -honoured contemporary, Sir Thomas Browne. ‘I am clearly of the opinion,’ -said he to me, ‘that the fits are natural, but heightened by the Devil -coöperating with the malices of the witches, at whose instance he does -the villanies.’” - -“Sir,” asked Master Ronald of the Governor, “when will you give me the -reprieve, that I may start at once for Salem?” - -“Nay,” cried Lord Christopher, “’twas I who brought trouble on the little -maid. ’Tis I shall carry the reprieve.” - -“Methinks ’twere wisdom that I should go in person, accompanied by -soldiers,” spoke the Governor, “lest there be an uprising among the -people at the reprieval of one convicted for witchery.” - -“Little mistress,” said the Cavalier to Abigail, “be pretty-mannered and -run and get me the decanter of wine from the living-room that we may -again drink the health of the little maid in prison.” - -Abigail obediently went out into the hall. There she saw the pretty -gentlewoman whom she had noticed in the garden, standing by the table, -drawing off her gauntlet gloves. Behind her stood a little black Moor -dressed in the livery of the Governor’s household, and holding a basket -filled with eggs and vegetables fresh from the market. - -Lady Phipps turned as she heard steps behind her, and revealed a -sprightly face with a fresh red colour, and fine eyes, black as sloes. -“Lackaday, my pretty child!” she cried, “and prithee who might you be?” - -Abigail dropped a courtesy. “I be Abigail Brewster, of Salem Town,” -answered she. - -“I hope I see you well,” said the gentlewoman. - -Abigail dropped another courtesy. “And it will pleasure you, madam,” said -she, “yon fine and portly gentleman, whom I come for to see, wishes more -wine to drink therein the health of Deliverance Wentworth.” - -Lady Phipps shook her head. “I fear in drinking others’ health he drinks -away his own. I will attend to you in a moment, as soon as I have sent my -little Moor to the kitchen with the marketing.” - -While Abigail waited there was a vigorous pounding in the adjoining room. -At this, Lady Phipps smiled. “Our good guest be as hot tempered as hasty -pudding be warm. Tell him, sweet child, that he must bide in patience a -moment longer.” - -Abigail opened the door just wide enough to put her head inside. She saw -Lord Christopher, purple in the face, frowning and tapping on the floor -with his walking-stick. He smiled when he saw Abigail. - -“Haste ye, little maid,” he said blandly, “I wax impatient.” - -“Bide ye in patience, honoured sir,” said Abigail, quoting the Governor’s -lady, and then she withdrew her head and shut the door. - -Meanwhile Lady Phipps had dusted a lacquered tray which had been brought -her from the East Indies, and laid upon it a square of linen. She cut -some slices of pound cake, so rich that it crumbled, and laid them on -a silver platter. She further placed some silver mugs and a plate of -biscuit on the tray. - -“Now you may take this in,” she said, “and I will follow with the wine.” - -She crossed the hall and held the chamber-door open for the little maid -to pass in. Perceiving the student inside, she bowed graciously, her fine -black eyes twinkling. - -Master Ronald put his hand to his heart and bowed very low, his cheek -reddening, for he perceived by the twinkle in her eyes the drift of the -madam’s thought,—that she surmised him to be in trouble on account of -some rude jesting. - -Soon the door opened again and Lady Phipps entered with the wine, which -she placed upon the table. She began to feel that this unusual gathering -in her home, betokened more than some mere student prank, and her manner -bespoke such a modest inquisitiveness, as they say in New England, -that Lord Christopher, understanding, called her back as she was about -to leave the room, and begged that she honour the poor tale he had to -relate, by her gracious presence. - - - - -Chapter XVII - -In a Sedan-chair - - -Never did Abigail forget that wonderful day. The journey could not be -made until nightfall, as Lord Christopher, who insisted upon accompanying -the expedition, would have to be bled and must rest during the -afternoon. So Lady Phipps took the little maid with her, and changed the -sad-coloured linsey-woolsey sacque and petticoat—having perceived a rent -in the latter garment—for a white lute-string dress she herself had worn -when young. Her own fair hands braided the little maid’s soft brown hair -and bound it with yellow ribbon, and she tied a similar ribbon around her -waist. Abigail’s shy brown eyes shone like stars and her cheeks were the -colour of blush-roses. - -Mr. Mather remained to dinner. Although solemn in some respects, it was -on the whole a happy company that sat at the Governor’s board that day. - -After dinner Lady Phipps and Abigail went out into the garden, leaving -the gentlemen to their pipes and conversation. - -Lady Phipps mended the little petticoat with elaborate and careful -darning. She told Abigail many stories and also had her little guest -read aloud from the psalms. Thus the pleasant afternoon was whiled away. -When at last the shadows began to lengthen in the pretty garden, and it -was the hour of five by the ivy-festooned sun-dial, supper was served -out of doors. The Governor and Master Ronald joined them. Mr. Mather had -repaired to his home. Lord Christopher rested in his room. Then Lady -Phipps hurried Abigail upstairs to don again her linsey-woolsey attire. - -While thus engaged they heard a great trampling of horses. - -“Oh, what may that be?” cried Abigail, all agog. - -“It is the soldiers who will accompany my husband to Salem,” replied her -ladyship. - -Abigail could scarce dress quickly enough, so anxious was she to get -downstairs. “And what may that other sound o’ laughing be?” - -“It is made by the college students outside,” answered Lady Phipps, -glancing out of the window; “they are seated on the fence. They -huzza because the Governor is going to Salem to save your friend. -Lack-a-mercy-me! one great bumpkin hath fallen backwards into my -flower-bed and broken the lily-stalks. Off that fence they go, every -mother’s son of them.” And she flew out of the room and ran downstairs -while Abigail hurried to the window. - -She looked out upon a busy scene. It was near sunset. The mellow light -of the departing day flashed upon the spear-heads and muskets and the -burnished armour of mounted soldiers drawn up into a group on the further -side of the street. Near by a Moor held two saddle-horses, one of the -steeds having a pillion. She saw the students all tumble pellmell off -the fence when Lady Phipps appeared, breathless with running, her fine -black eyes flashing, as she lamented her lily-stalks. But the student who -had fallen picked himself up and handed one of the broken stalks to her, -with so much grace that she smiled and went back into the house. - -Two black men now bore out the Governor’s state sedan-chair, upholstered -in crimson cloth and gold fringe, the outside painted cream-colour. It -had one large glass door. - -Lady Phipps hovered near, a feather duster in her hand. - -Lord Christopher next appeared, leaning on two slaves, his face pale from -his recent bleeding. Groaning, he seated himself in the chair. When he -was comfortably settled, one of the slaves at her ladyship’s direction -shut the door. - -Abigail saw Lord Christopher’s face change from pallor to crimson. - -He strove to open the door, but it was locked on the outside. He rapped -sharply on the glass and shouted to the slave to let him out. - -Lady Phipps, alarmed lest he have a fit or break the door, opened it -herself. - -“Madam,” said the great physician, fixing her with his stern eye, “was -it at your request that I was boxed up in this ungodly conveyance to -suffocate to death?” - -“Sir,” replied she with spirit, “my glass door shall not go swinging -loose to hit against the bearers’ heels and be broken on the journey.” - -“Madam,” thundered he, “am I to suffocate to gratify your inordinate -vanities?” - -Her ladyship tilted her chin in the air. “Sir,” she replied, “nothing -could compensate me for the breaking of that door.” - -“Madam,” he retorted angrily, “in my condition, I should perish of the -heat.” - -“Sir,” she replied serenely, “I will lend you a fan.” - -[Illustration: _Copyright, 1898, by Lamson, Wolffe and Company_ - -_Her ladyship tilted her chin in the air._ - -_page 260_] - -His lordship gasped. The spectacle she invoked of himself sitting in a -closed chair, energetically fanning himself through the long night, -incensed him beyond the power of speech for several moments. - -“Fy, fy, Lady Phipps,” he said at last, wagging his head at her, “is this -the way you Puritan wives are taught to honour your husbands’ guests?” - -“Where should I find such another glass door?” quoth she. - -“Very well, madam,” retorted he, “not one step do I go toward Salem, and -that little maid may go hang, and her death will be due to your vanities -and worldlinesses.” - -At this her ladyship’s black eyes sparkled with wrath, but those near by -saw her proud chin quiver,—a sign she was weakening. - -For several moments there was silence. - -The students looked preternaturally grave. The waiting soldiers smiled. -Lord Christopher folded his arms on his breast, rolled his eyes up to the -ceiling of the chair, and sighed. The voices of Master Ronald and the -Governor, inside the house, could be heard distinctly. - -This painful calm was suddenly broken by a shrill little voice above -their heads. - -“Why don’t ye take the door off’n its hinges and put it in the house?” - -All looked up. There, leaning out of the second-story window, was a -small excited maiden, unable to contain longer her anxiety at Lord -Christopher’s threat that her friend might go hang. - -On beholding her, the students cheered, the soldiers laughed openly, and -the slaves showed all their white teeth in delight. - -“These Puritan children are wondrous blest with sense and wit,” quoth -Lord Christopher. - -“Bring a wrench,” ordered Lady Phipps. Thus the painful affair was -happily solved. - -Abigail, overcome at her temerity in calling out to the gentlefolk, drew -away from the window and waited in much inquietude until she should be -called. - -Soon she heard Lady Phipps’ voice at the foot of the stairs. “Hurry down, -dear child; all are ready to start.” - -Outside, the Governor was mounted and waiting. Lord Christopher was -drinking a glass of water, with a dash of rum in it as a tonic, -preparatory to starting. Master Ronald had mounted the pillioned horse. - -“Make haste, Mistress Abigail,” he cried, “so we may be fairly on our way -before nightfall.” Old Pompey swung the little maid upon the pillion. - -The Governor and the soldiers turned their horses’ heads and rode off -grandly. Next the four Moors lifted the handles of the sedan-chair, -turned and followed. Master Ronald spurred his horse and it trotted off -gayly. - -Lady Phipps waved her lace-bordered kerchief and the Fellows of Harvard -their caps. Abigail, sorry to say good-by, gazed backwards until her -ladyship’s lilac-gowned figure, surrounded by the students, with her -kerchief fluttering, was hidden from sight by a turn of the road. - -Little could Abigail foresee that within the course of several weeks, the -dreaded accusation of witchcraft would be levelled at Lady Phipps. - -Many townspeople stood agape on the road to see the imposing company go -by and cross the Common, which was cool and green in the mellow light. -The salt breeze was blowing off the sea. Early as it was, the gallants -and their “Marmalet Madams” were strolling arm in arm. It was still light -when the party reached the river. Here the ferryman took Lord Christopher -across, the rest of the party taking the fordways a short distance -above. As they entered the road on the other shore, Abigail was glad -of companionship, so gloomily the forest rose on all sides. The night -descended sultry and warm as if a storm were brewing. The moon had not -yet risen, but a few pale stars shone mistily. - -Now and then between the trees there flashed on their sight the white -line of foam breaking along the beach of the ocean. They made their way -tediously, those who rode suiting the gait of the horses to the rate of -speed maintained by the chair-bearers. Often the poor fellows, straining -under their heavy burden, stumbled on the rough road, jolting the -invalid so that he swore mightily at them. - -And there were many fordways to be crossed, so that he was carried up -stream and down stream to find the most shallow places. Twice the streams -were so swollen that the soldiers had to make rude bridges before Lord -Christopher could be taken across. - -Shortly before midnight, to the relief of all, the moon arose, breaking -through light clouds. - -Abigail first perceived it behind five tall pine trees. - -“Master Ronald,” she cried excitedly, “there be a witch’s cottage back of -those five pines.” - -“Nonsense,” answered the student, glancing around him sharply. - -“But I be sure o’ it,” averred Abigail. “I saw an old goody with a gobber -tooth, cooking a witch-cake in a weamy-wimy hut, near five pine trees. -And just beyond I drew her water in a bucket, at a spring.” - -Master Ronald, great as was his anxiety to press forward to Salem, -nevertheless turned his horse’s head and went up beyond the pines until -he came to the spring. “Here is your spring, Mistress Abigail,” he said, -drawing rein and laughing with gay scorn; “come now, show me the old hag -and her hut.” - -He looked back and saw the little maid’s face white in the moonlight. “I -ken not where it can be now,” she said in a fearful whisper, “but it was -there.” She pointed to an empty space of ground where some flowers could -be seen in the silver moonshine, but there was neither hut nor any sign -of human habitation. - -As the student observed these flowers a strange uneasiness took -possession of him. A climbing rose stood upright in the air with naught -to cling to, while the other flowers seemed to follow a pathway to an -invisible dwelling. - -“I beseech ye, let us hurry from the place,” whispered Abigail, “it be -uncanny. But there on that spot an hut stood when I went to Boston Town.” - -Master Ronald spurred his horse, but suddenly drew up again. “What was -that?” he cried; “my horse stumbled.” - -“Hurry!” shrieked Abigail, glancing down and recognizing the outlines of -the dark object, “it be the witch’s pail.” - -Now Master Ronald, for all his fine scorn of witches, spurred his -horse and rode on in a lively fashion. His face had grown so wet with -perspiration that he was obliged to borrow Abigail’s kerchief, his own -not being convenient to get at under his belted doublet. - -“It be the kerchief ye lent me this morn,” said Abigail. She clasped her -arms tightly around his waist, casting terror-stricken glances behind -her. “Master Ronald,” she inquired, recalling some of her father’s tales, -“ye don’t see a wolf near by, do ye, with bloody jowls, a-sitting down, -a-grinning at us?” - -“I fear I am going in the wrong direction,” he answered abstractedly; “we -have gone some ways now. Your eyes are sharp, Mistress Abigail. See if -you can distinguish our friends ahead.” - -“Not one do I see,” she replied, after a moment’s peering. - -“We will turn back toward the sea,” said the student, “and try to strike -the path again from there.” - -Suddenly a lusty calling broke the silence. - -“What can that be?” cried Master Ronald; “it sounds uncommon near.” - -“It be Lord Christopher’s voice,” said Abigail; “summat awful has happed.” - -“I cannot get the direction of the sound; can you?” asked the young man, -holding his hand to his ear. - -“Just ahead o’ us,” cried Abigail. “Hurry!” - -After several moments of brisk riding they came to a bar of sand where -the sea had once sent up an arm. All was silent again, save for the -hooting of an owl. - -“I see naught,” said the student, reining in his horse. - -“There below us be summat dark,” said Abigail, pointing. - -As she spoke, the calling for help broke forth again not a stone’s throw -from them. This time the voice was unmistakably Lord Christopher’s. - -“Halloo!” cried Master Ronald, riding forward, “what’s the matter there?” - -“Don’t come so near,” came the reply, “there is quicksand. Lord have -mercy on my soul!” - -Master Ronald dismounted and ran toward Lord Christopher, relapsing into -a cautious walk as he neared him. - -“May Satan take the knaves that left me in this plight!” groaned his -lordship. - -And, although it was but a sorry time for laughter, Master Ronald, -perceiving that his lordship was in no immediate danger, must needs clap -his hands to his knees and double up with merriment. For while most of -the chair rested on the solid earth, the back and one side tilted toward -a strip of quicksand in such fashion that the invalid did not dare move, -lest in his struggles to free himself, he tip the chair completely over -and be swallowed up. - -He smiled at Master Ronald’s convulsed figure. “’Tis a merry jest, I -wot, young sir,” he said dryly, “but it so haps I be in no position to -observe the marvellous humour of the situation.” - -“Sir,” said Master Ronald, “I beg your pardon. Take a good grip of my -hand. Now out with your best foot—the ground is solid here—wait till I -brace myself. Ah-h-h!” and he tumbled over backwards, nearly pulling the -invalid with him. - -The chair, thus lightened, rose slightly from the quicksand. The young -man seized the shafts and with a vigorous jerk had the chair on good, -hard sand. But he pulled it over yet some way. “What became of the Moors, -sir?” he asked. - -Poor Lord Christopher leant heavily on the student’s slender frame. “My -lad,” he said, “I wot not what I should have done had you not followed -after. Those cowardly knaves, startled by a wolf crossing our path, -dropped the shafts of my chair, and with a howl, fitter to issue from -brutish throats than human, took to their heels without a thought of me.” - -“But what has become of the Governor?” asked the student. - -“He and his soldiers had been a fair distance ahead of us, until my -bearers, trying to find the smoothest path at my direction, lost their -way,” he answered, groaning. - -“Bide you here,” said the student, tenderly assisting him into his chair, -“whilst I go and halloo to those rascals. They cannot be far off.” -Turning, he called to Abigail, “Be not afeared, Mistress Brewster, I will -be back in a minute.” And he ran on and vanished in the forest beyond. - -The Cavalier and Abigail waited. - -“My little maid,” he called, breaking the silence between them, “come -nearer.” - -Abigail crept over into the saddle and took the reins. “Get up,” she -said, shaking them. Her steed obediently stepped out into the strip of -moonlit sand and she guided him over to the chair, the rich colouring of -which in crimson and gold was to be faintly discerned. - -“I have been thinking of my sweet Elizabeth in Merry England,” quoth his -lordship. - -“Ay,” assented Abigail, listening intensely for any sound of the student; -“ah, Master Ronald hath catched the knaves. I can hear their voices and -the trampling of horses’ feet.” - -“’Tis well,” rejoined his lordship. “Little maid, I have been thinking of -the words of my very learned contemporary, Sir Thomas Browne.” - -“And what might they be?” asked Abigail, giving him but half an ear. - -“Great experience hath he had of death and hath seen many die,” replied -his lordship, solemnly, “for he too is a physician. Thus was he led to -say that when he reflected upon the many doors which led to death, he -thanked his God that he could die but once!” - - - - -Chapter XVIII - -The Coming of Thomas - - -Softly the daylight faded in Deliverance’s prison-cell. But the purple -twilight which brought repose after the day’s work, and long hours of -sweet sleep to the tired world, came sorrowfully to her anxious heart. -Slowly, as the golden light which had filtered through the leaves of -the apple tree was withdrawn, so moment by moment, hope vanished, and -despair, like a pall of darkness, settled upon her. - -The long day of patient waiting was past. No longer might her straining -ears listen for Abigail’s voice, for the tramp of horses’ feet coming to -her rescue from Boston Town, or, joy of joys, Ronald, Ronald, to clasp -her in his arms and defy any to touch her harmfully. - -All that day, at every step in the corridor, she had started and -quivered, waiting with nerves strung to the highest tension. Now she knew -the sun had set upon Abigail’s failure. - -The little maid had departed the morning of the previous day, and had she -met with success, would have reached Boston Town in the evening, and have -returned the next day to Salem. - -Perhaps she had not been able to find the Cavalier, or had not found him -soon enough and would arrive too late, or—and at this last thought, she -shuddered—who could tell but that Abigail had mistaken her way and fallen -a victim to the Indians or wolves, or a witch had cast a malignant spell -upon her and she was wasting away in the forest, with none to know of her -dire distress and to succour her. “Oh, Abigail,” she whispered, “I wish -ye had not gone! I should have kenned better, for I be older than ye. Oh, -Abigail! I shall be hanged and not ken whether good or evil happed to ye. -I was fair selfish to send ye.” - -With full and penitent heart, she prayed that, although the Lord in His -wisdom suffered her to die, yet he would, out of his great mercy, send -her a sign that her sins had been forgiven, and her selfishness had not -brought harm to Abigail. - -Having thus prayed, she rose from her knees and sat down on the straw -bed. The minutes passed. She heard the jailer open her door and put her -supper on the floor, but she paid no heed to him. Time dragged by, and -her cell was filled with gloom. The leaves at the window, however, were -still brightly green in the outside light. - -Yet God had sent no sign to her. She folded her hands patiently in her -lap. “It will come,” she murmured, with trustful eyes uplifted, “it will -come.” - -In Prison Lane she heard a mad barking of dogs and the shouting of -boys, directly under her window. The excited clamour died away in a few -moments. Suddenly her attention was aroused by a plaintive crying. She -glanced up. Looking at her through the bars on the outside window-ledge, -was a limp, bedraggled and forlorn kitten with a torn ear. It had climbed -the apple tree to be rid of its merciless pursuers. - -Deliverance jumped to her feet and stretched forth her arms with a cry of -joy. - -“Oh, Thomas, Thomas, the Lord hath sent ye as a sign to comfort me!” - -The kitten mewed sympathetically. It made its way in through the bars to -the inner ledge. Then it thrust a shrinking paw downwards, but hastily -drew it back. Deliverance was puzzled to know how to reach the little -creature. - -She held up her petticoat like a basket and coaxed the kitten to jump, -but without effect. Then she made a shelf of her hands, held high as -possible, while she stood on tip-toes. But the shaking hands offered no -safety to the shrinking kitten. - -Yet the tender, beseeching tones of his little mistress won at last -upon the cowardly soul of Thomas and fired him to dare all. He made an -unexpected flying leap, landing on the golden head as the securest -foothold. There he slipped and scrambled valiantly, until two eager -hands lifted him down and the beloved little voice, broken with sobs, -cried, “Oh, Thomas, my own dear Thomas, the Lord has sent ye as a sign to -comfort me!” - -Thus Thomas, a starved, runaway kitten, worn to a shadow, chased by dogs, -ready to die of exhaustion, came into his own again. - -Deliverance learned a lesson that evening which all must learn, sooner -or later, that the crust thankfully shared with another, makes even -prison-fare sweeter and more satisfying than plenty served in luxury and -loneliness. - -The corn mush and milk, which at times she had refused with a disdainful -toss of her little head, now became a delicious dish with a rare savour, -such as she had never before perceived. For while she ate from one side -of the bowl with a spoon, Thomas, on the opposite side, drank the milk -with incessant lapping of his small pink tongue, until in his eagerness -to drain it, he thrust his two front feet in the bowl. - -“Thomas, ye unmannerly person,” cried Deliverance, “what would ye think -o’ me to be putting my two feet in the bowl?” And she lifted him up and -went back to her straw bed, while Thomas, loudly purring, curled up in -slumber in her lap. - -The cell had now grown so dark that a flash of orange-light showing -in the crack beneath the door, startled her, reminding her that the -jailer was making his nightly rounds. Alarmed lest the kitten should be -discovered, she pushed it under the straw. She was none too soon, for in -another moment the door was flung open and revealed the jailer with his -lantern, which made a circle of yellow light around him and showed the -feet of another person following. - -This personage was none other than Sir Jonathan Jamieson. The light shone -on the tip of his long nose, his ruddy beard, the white ruff above his -sable cape. As he was about to cross the threshold, he started and drew -back. The jailer also started and his knees knocked together. - -“Methought I heard a strange noise,” said Sir Jonathan with dignity. “I -will investigate.” - -The jailer clutched his cape. “My lord, my lord, meddle with no witch, -lest ye tempt the Devil.” - -Again they heard the strange sound. The lantern’s circle of light fell -half-way across the floor of the cell. Beyond, and concealed by the -shadow, Deliverance, terror-stricken, held the outraged Thomas firmly -under the straw. - -“It sounds like a cat,” quaked the jailer, and he straightway forgot -all his previous doubts as to the guilt of the prisoner. “The witch be -turning herself into an imp o’ Satan.” - -While Sir Jonathan still hesitated, there came a long-drawn-out, -blood-curdling cry. Bravely, he raised his walking-stick and tapped -stoutly on the floor. “Scat!” he cried in a voice that shook slightly, -“scat!” - -“Miow,” answered the angry Thomas. - -Shudderingly, the jailer reached in past Sir Jonathan, pulled the door to -and locked it. Then, grown too weak to hold the lantern, he set it on -the floor, and leant against the wall, his knees knocking together even -more violently than before. “Oh, miserable doubter that I ha’ been!” he -chattered, “’t be a judgment come upon me.” - -Sir Jonathan leant against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, -with his knees shaking also. “Since it troubles you, goodman,” he said, -“I shall not persist in entering, although I cling to the opinion that -when one is sufficient exalted in spiritual things, the Devil has no -power over him.” - -“I ha’ been a miserable doubter,” chattered the jailer; “the Lord ha’ -mercy on my soul!” - -From the cell came again that terrible cry, a wailing, mournful sound, so -wild and eerie as to strike terror to stouter hearts. - -“The witch be calling on her Master, Satan,” chattered the jailer. - -“Ay, pray,” muttered Sir Jonathan; “you must have an ill conscience, -goodman, to be so afeared. But let me haste away; the time waxes apace -and the night watchman will be making his rounds.” - -Perhaps it was part of his punishment that from that hour Sir Jonathan -was never free from dread. He, who originally had no faith in witchcraft -and secretly laughed at it, although he falsely testified to his belief -in it, was doomed, henceforth, to start at his own shadow, to cower in -bed, to ever after keep a night-light burning. He hurried along in the -silver moonlight which fell whitely on the pebbled street, a solitary -black figure with flapping cape and steeple-hat. - -Suddenly, he drew back with a shrill cry, startled by his own shadow -flung ahead of him as he turned a corner. So, cowering and starting, he -reached his room and crept into his bed, there to fall into an uneasy -slumber, which the taper’s pale flame was as ineffectual to calm as the -light of truth to reach his darkened heart. - -Meanwhile, an indignant kitten stood gasping and sneezing, nearly choked -by the straw under which it had lain. - -Ah! how its little mistress held it to her breast and soothed it and -kissed it, weeping for thanksgiving that she had been spared a visit from -Sir Jonathan. There were hours, however, in the long unhappy night, when -not even the kitten nestled in her arms could comfort Deliverance,—hours -when all the bright days of her life came trooping through her fancy, to -be realized no more. - -Never again would she be filled with joy that the fruit trees blew sweet -in blossom, that the violets budded in the long grass in the orchard, -that she and Abigail had found a bird’s nest holding four blue eggs, or -had happened upon a patch of strawberries. There were other times which -would not return,—the moonlit winter nights, fairer than the days, when -she and Goodwife Higgins went to husking-bees and quilting parties. Not -for her would there be a red ear found amidst the corn. Still sadder were -her thoughts of her father, missing her help with the herbs, blundering -in his helpless fashion over the task that had once been hers. - -Goodwife Higgins would have no one left now to mind her of the little -daughter that had died so long ago of the smallpox. - -And there was one other whom she had not seen for many months. - -“Oh, Ronald!” she whispered, “my heart be full o’ grief that ye could not -come to me.” - -After a weary while she fell into a deep sleep from which she was wakened -by the jailer. - -For the first time he spoke to her harshly, roughly bidding her rise and -prepare for death. He pushed the bowl containing her breakfast inside -the threshold with his foot, fearing to enter the cell. So hurried was -his glance that it failed to take in Thomas, snuggled up warmly in the -depression in the straw, made where Deliverance had slept. - -Sadly the little maid dressed herself and braided her hair. - -She ate a little of the mush and milk, but she fed most of it to Thomas. - -“Thomas,” she said, tipping the bowl conveniently for him, “my own dear -Thomas, I hope ye will not forget me. Ye can go home again, Thomas, but -I shall never see my home again.” - -After this she rose and put the cell in order, making the straw bed over -nicely. Then she wrote a note on a leaf torn from Abigail’s diary, and -pinned this note by a knitting-needle on the stocking she had completed. -Having finished, she sat down and waited patiently. It was not long -before the jailer again appeared. She saw behind him the portly Beadle. - -“How now, witch,” cried the latter, peering in over the old man’s -shoulder, “hath prison-fare fattened ye?” But as he caught sight of the -prisoner he started. “I’ faith,” he cried, “how peaked ye be. Go in, -goody, and fetch her forth,” he commanded the jailer. - -“Na step will I take toward the witch,” chattered the jailer. - -“Step in, step in, goody,” advised the Beadle; “how can I convey the -witch away unless ye free her?” - -But the jailer was not to be persuaded to go near the prisoner. He and -the Beadle fell into an angry controversy over the matter and were near -to serious quarrelling, when a soldier appeared at the doorway. - -“What causeth the delay?” cried the guard, crossly. “Hath the witch flown -out of the window?” - -“They be feared lest I cast a spell on them and so dare not unlock my -chain,” spoke Deliverance, “but I wot not how to cast a spell and I -would, good sir.” - -“Give me the keys,” said the guard, brusquely. He snatched them in no -gentle manner from the jailer. “Enough, enough of this foolishness, ye -chicken-hearted knaves. Stand up, mistress,” he added, entering the cell. - -He knelt in front of the little maid, fumbling to find the right key of -the bunch. Deliverance, suddenly grown faint, rested one hand on his -shoulder. He started and his heart leapt for fear, but the continued -touch of the small, trembling hand, so weak and helpless, changed his -fear to pity. So he said naught, but was willing the witch-maid should -lean on his strong shoulder. He unlocked the padlock and flung the chain -aside. Deliverance stood unbound once more. - -She turned and lifted the stocking with the note pinned on it, from the -floor. - -“Oh! would ye mind,” said she, “to bear this to my father for me?” - -The soldier, with a gruff assent, put the stocking and note in his -pocket. He turned away, no longer caring to look into those blue, -beseeching eyes, which filled him with tormenting misgivings. - -“Come, come,” he cried to the Beadle, “it waxeth past time. Let an ill -duty be done quickly, say I.” He strode out of the cell and down the -corridor. - -The Beadle reached in and touched Deliverance’s shoulder with his staff -of office. “Step forth,” he commanded, “and follow yon soldier, and I -will come up behind.” - -Suddenly the little maid bent down and lifted something from the straw -pallet. As she turned they saw she held a little black kitten, curled in -slumber, against her breast. - -The old jailer shuddered and muttered a prayer, and the Beadle’s fat face -grew white. They believed that she, after the manner of witches, had -summoned an imp from Hell to bear her company. - -Close to the prison door was drawn a rude cart, with a stool fastened -to the floor in the back. The driver, indifferent through much similar -experience, sat nodding on the seat. The soldier who had preceded -Deliverance, waited to assist her in the cart, which was too high a step -for a little maid. He lifted her in bodily, kitten and all, keeping his -eyes turned from her face. - -The driver clucked to his horse, the soldier mounted his and rode ahead, -and the Beadle walked pompously at the side of the cart, moving slowly -down the street. - -All Salem had gathered to behold this hanging, which was of awful import -to the townspeople, brought to a frantic belief that Satan had taken -possession of the heart of one of their children, known and loved by them -all her life. A strange, sad thing it was that the Devil should have -taken on himself the guise of a motherless young maiden. - -So although the crowd through which the cart passed was large, but -little noisy demonstration was made, and few curses or mutterings heard. -Several boys who ventured to call jeeringly, were sternly hushed. In the -throng there was only one near friend to the prisoner. This was Goodwife -Higgins, who plodded bare-headed beside the cart, weeping. Neither -her father nor brother was to be seen. All night following the trial, -Master Wentworth had wandered in the fields in a drenching rain, and had -returned home to succumb to an illness, from which he daily grew weaker, -lying unconscious this very morning. - -Many of the women were affected to tears by the sight of the little maid, -seated on the stool in the cart, the kitten clasped to her breast. - -Deliverance knew naught of this sympathy. She had but a dull sense of -many people, and that the sun had never shone so brightly before. She was -dazed by terror and grief, and a stupor crept over her, so that her head -hung heavily on her breast and her limbs seemed cold and of leaden weight. - -The cart passed out of the street into a rocky path, and ascended by -imperceptible degrees to the summit of a low, green hill. - -The little maid lifted her head and looked steadfastly at the scaffold -there erected. On the platform she saw the figures of the minister and -the hangman, dark against the blue sky. - - - - -Chapter XIX - -On Gallows’ Hill - - -At the foot of this scaffold, the driver stopped. Deliverance was bidden -to step out. Attended by the guard, she ascended the ladder. Only one -instinct remained to the heart-broken child, and that was to clasp still -closer to her breast the little kitten, the one faithful and loving -friend who clung to her in this dread hour. - -“Deliverance Wentworth,” spoke the minister in a loud, clear voice, “will -you, while there is yet time, confess your sin of witchery, or will you -be launched into eternity to the loss of your immortal soul?” - -She looked at him vaguely. His words had not pierced to her dulled -comprehension. - -He repeated them. - -Again she was silent. Slowly her unresponsive gaze turned from the -minister and swept the sea of upturned faces. Never was there a sterner, -sadder crowd than the one upon which she looked down; the men lean, -sour-visaged, the women already showing a delicacy, born of hardship -and the pitiless New England winters. Children hoisted on the shoulders -of yeomen were to be seen. She saw the wan, large-eyed face of little -Ebenezer Gibbs, as his father held him up to behold the witch who had -afflicted him with such grievous illness. Drawn together in a group -were the gentry. And all thrilled to a general terror for none knew on -whom the accusation might next fall. At the tavern, the loiterers, made -reckless by the awful plague, gathered to be merry and pledge a cup to -the dying. - -With these latter mingled foreign sailors, their faces bronzed, wearing -gold rings in their ears and gay scarves around their waists. - -One of these tavern roisterers shouted: “Behold the imp the witch carries -in the shape of a black cat!” - -There came another cry: “Let the cat be strung up also, lest the witch’s -spirit pass into it at her death!” - -Others caught up and repeated the cry. An ominous murmur rose from the -crowd, drowning the single voices. - -The minister strove in vain to make himself heard. - -To Deliverance the clamour was meaningless sound. But yet closer to her -breast she clasped the little kitten. - -Slowly she turned her head and her gaze travelled over the landscape. -Vaguely she felt that she would never see the morrow’s sun, that now she -looked her last upon the kind earth. - -Suddenly her gaze became fixed as she caught the flash of spears and saw -mounted soldiers emerge from the forest and come rapidly down the winding -road from the opposite hill. Some dim instinct of self-preservation -struggled through the stupor which enveloped her. She raised her arm -and pointed to the forest. So strange, so silent, seeming guided by -a mysterious power, was that gesture, that a tremor as at something -supernatural passed through the people. - -They saw the minister speak excitedly to the hangman, whose jaw dropped -in amazement. Soon was distinctly heard the trampling of horses. A moment -later four soldiers, riding two abreast, swept up the hill with cries of:— - -“Way, make way, good people, in the King’s name!” - -Following these came his Excellency the new Governor, Sir William Phipps. -He sat severely erect on his richly caparisoned horse, attended by two -more soldiers. Reaching the scaffold he reined in his horse and waited. A -yet more astonishing thing than the unlooked-for arrival of the Governor -was about to occur. - -There next appeared, a goodly distance behind, a sedan-chair carried by -four Moors. The occupant of the chair was a man of great size, whose -left leg was bandaged and rested on a pillow. Despite the cool morning -the sweat was rolling off his face, and he groaned. But dusty, warm, -and in pain as he seemed, he had a most comely countenance. The silken -chestnut curls fell on his shoulders, whilst his high and haughty nose -bespoke power in just proportion to the benevolence of his broad brow. -As the slaves bore him along very slowly, for they were much exhausted, -Sir Jonathan Jamieson, making his way through the crowd to join a group -of the gentry, crossed the path directly in front of the sedan-chair. -Here he paused, lingering a moment, to get a glimpse of the Governor, not -turning his head to perceive what was behind him. - -As he thus paused, the stranger was observed to half rise and draw his -sword. But suddenly his face changed colour, his sword arm fell, and he -sank back on his pillows, his hand clutching his side. Those near by -heard him murmur, “As Thou hast forgiven me, even me.” But the rest of -the way to the scaffold not once did he raise his head nor remove his -hand from his side. - -Sir Jonathan passed serenely, swinging his blackthorn stick, all -unwitting how nigh death he had been in that short moment. - -Next there came riding a-horseback, Master Ronald Wentworth, the brother -of the condemned maid. - -His student’s cap was set on the back of his head, his dark locks falling -on either side of his white face, his small-clothes and riding boots -a-colour with the mud. - -But doubtless the most astonishing sight of all to the amazed people was -a small, mud-bespattered maiden, attired in sad-coloured linsey-woolsey, -seated on a pillion behind the Fellow of Harvard, her chin elevated in -the air, her accustomed meekness gone. - -This important personage was the missing Abigail Brewster. - -When these last arrivals had reached the scaffold, Governor Phipps -dismounted, and giving his horse into the care of a soldier ascended -the ladder to the platform. His face was pale and his expression -ill-favoured, as if he relished not the discomfort he had undergone. The -murmurings and whispers had died down. His words were anxiously attended. - -“My good people,” he commenced solemnly, “it hath become my duty to -declare unto you that I came, not to pardon Deliverance Wentworth, but -to declare her innocent of the charge brought against her, for the which -she has been condemned to death. Circumstances have been so cunningly -interwoven by the Evil One as to put upon this young maid, whom I -pronounce wholly free and innocent of blame, the character of a witch. -Lord Christopher Mallett, Physician to his Majesty the King, hath matter -whereof he would speak to you to warn you of the evils attaching to an -o’er hasty judgment. - -“But there is yet another word, which I, your Governor, would impress -with all solemnity upon you. Assisted by that godly minister, Master -Cotton Mather, I have made careful study of the will of the Lord -regarding the sin and punishment of witchery. Better, far better, I say -unto you, that twenty innocent people should be made to suffer than -that one witch should go unhanged when you have catched her. This I -say because we are now in a fair way to clear the land of witches. I -would have you abate not one jot nor tittle of the zeal you have so -far manifested, lest the good work be half done and thereby nothing be -accomplished. For but one witch left in the land is able to accomplish -untold evil. Therefore, while the Lord hath been gracious to so -expediently correct the error of your judgment in sentencing this maid to -be hanged, yet I do not condemn your error, but see rather, within the -shell of wrong, the sweet kernel of virtuous intent, that you spared not -in your obedience to the Lord’s behest, one who, by reason of her tender -years, appealed most artfully to your protection.” - -Thereat the Governor ceased speaking, and seated himself on a stool which -had been carried up on the scaffold for him. - -Eagerly the people speculated as to the cause of this unlooked-for -pardon. As the Governor ceased speaking, the tavern roisterers sent -up shouts and tossed off mugs of sack. One fellow, a merry-andrew of -the town, turned handsprings down the road. This uncouth and ill-timed -merriment was speedily checked by the authorities. - -Meanwhile the Beadle was seen to go up and place a stool on the scaffold. -Then he went half-way down the ladder and took a pillow and another -stool handed up to him, and arranged these in front of the first seat, -after which he descended, for the platform was not strong, and already -accommodated three people besides Deliverance: the Governor, the -minister, and the hangman. - -Now the ladder bent and creaked under a tremendous weight, as Lord -Christopher Mallett, panting for breath, pausing for groans at every -step, ascended by painful degrees and dropped so heavily upon the stool -placed in readiness for him that the frail structure shook dangerously. -Assisted by the hangman, he lifted his gouty leg on the pillowed stool. -Then he saw Deliverance standing near by, and stretched forth his hands, -while a smile lighted with its old-time geniality his worn countenance. - -“Come hither, little mistress,” he said, “and let me feast my eyes on -you, for I swear no more doughty and brave-hearted lass abides in his -Majesty’s kingdom.” - -But Deliverance stood still, regarding him with dull eyes. Something in -the delicate child-mind had been strained beyond endurance. - -The black kitten struggled from her arms and leapt to the floor of the -platform, craning its head with shrinking curiosity over the edge. - -Slowly, something familiar in the kindly face and the outstretched hands -of the great physician made itself apparent to Deliverance’s benumbed -faculties. Troubled, she looked long at him. Over her face broke a sweet -light, the while she plucked daintily at her linsey-woolsey petticoat. -“Ye can feel for yourself, good sir, and ye like,” she said in her sweet, -high treble, “that it be all silk without’n a thread o’ cotton in it.” - -As she spoke she drew nearer him, but before she reached him, put out her -arms with a little fluttering cry and sank at the great physician’s feet. - -When consciousness returned to her, she found herself seated on some -gentleman’s lap. Her temples were wet with a powerful liquid whose -reviving odour she inhaled. Not then did she realize that she was indeed -seated on the lap of that austere dignitary, Governor Phipps. At perfect -peace she sat with her golden head resting against his purple velvet -coat, her eyelids closed from weariness, her confusion gone. Dimly as in -a dream she heard the voice of Lord Christopher addressing the people. - -“In this town of Salem, I had reason to believe, resided one who had -recently come as a stranger among you. This stranger to you, had been my -cherished friend, my confidant in all things, and he betrayed me. Traitor -though he was, I could have forgiven him, perceiving now with clearer -eyes his weakness against a great temptation, but he hath shamefully -persecuted a child, which, of all sins, is the most grievous.” - -The speaker paused and his piercing glance singled out one of the group -of gentry, gathered on the edge of the crowd. The man thus marked by that -gaze was Sir Jonathan Jamieson. A moment he returned that challenging, -scornful look; then as the eyes of all near by turned toward him, his -face whitened and, with a defiant raising of his head, he turned abruptly -and strove to make his way out of the crowd. - -“Let me pass, churls,” he cried fiercely, glancing round, “or I will -crack your pates.” - -So those who stood by, being yeomen, and naturally awed by those of -gentle blood, drew aside at the threat, albeit they muttered and cast -dark looks upon Sir Jonathan as he passed. - -This scene was observed by very few, as the great body of people hung -intent upon Lord Christopher’s words. - -“This man,” he continued, “was, as I telled you, my cherished friend, -my confidant in all things, although he possessed no interest in my -craft. Being of a bookish turn of mind, he treated with friendly derision -and apparent unconcern my experiments in leechcraft and chirurgery, -professing no faith in them. Now it having been my practice to consult -regularly a soothsayer, I learned from him that in two years’ time -England would be visited by the Black Plague. Thereby I was greatly -saddened and sorrowed o’ nights, having visions of good folk dying in the -streets and carted off to the potter’s field. Most of all did I think of -the poor children who have not their elders’ philosophy to bear pain and -are most tender to suffer so. The thought of these poor little ones so -worked upon me that I had no peace. At last an idea of great magnitude -took possession of me. In the two years’ time that was to elapse afore -this terrible visitation would take place, I resolved to discover a -simple which would be both a preventive and a cure for this plague with -which the Lord sees fit to visit us at sundry times. I took his Majesty -the King into my confidence. The proposed adventure received his gracious -approval. For its furtherance he gave me large monies, and I also used -the greater substance of my house. I travelled to India to consult with -Eastern scholars, wondrously learned in mysterious ways beyond our ken. -Weeks, day and night, I spent in experimenting. At last one morn, just -as the day broke, and its light fell on my two trusty servitors who had -fallen asleep e’en as they stood assisting me, I gave a great shout for -joy. My last experiment had stood the test. I had triumphed. The recipe -was perfected. ‘Wake, wake,’ I cried, ‘and give thanks unto God.’ - -“So powerful was the powder, of such noble strength, that e’en its odour -caused my daughter to swoon lily-white when I would have administered -a dose to her as a preventive against sickness in the future. One man -only besides the King was in my confidence. This was my friend and he -was my undoing. Whilst I was in attendance upon his Majesty who had -been wounded at a boar-hunt, this false friend, having free access to my -house, entered and stole the parchment having the recipe. With a wounded -heart I set to work, again to recall the intricate formula of the recipe. -I was unsuccessful. Papers of value leading to the composing of the cure -were left me, but the amount and proper compounding of the ingredients -had been set down only in the stolen parchment. To add to my trouble -I perceived that the King’s faith in me was shaken, that he regretted -the monies put at my disposal. Moreover, he credited not my tale of my -false friend’s baseness, but professed to think I had failed, and strove -to hide my discomfiture beneath a cloak of lies. I despaired. At last -I learned that my enemy had gone to America and landed at ye Town of -Boston, whither I followed him. I arrived after a favourable voyage and -sought your Governor. To him alone I gave my rightful name and mission. -And here with much secrecy I was obliged to work, having no proof by -which to confirm my accusation. My only hope lay in surprising my enemy -afore he had time to destroy the parchment from fear and malice. My -search led me to your town. It was the close of day. I sent my Indian -guide to a farmhouse for food, and seated myself on a fallen tree for a -resting-minute. I was o’er cautious and determined not to enter the town -afore nightfall, desiring that my enemy should not recognize me, if I -by any inadvertence happed to cross his path. As I waited, there came -tripping along this same little maid whom you would have hanged. - -“I learned from her of the stranger in your town. Thereat I resolved to -go back to Boston Town and obtain assistance to arrest this base traitor. -Now, prompted by an unfortunate desire to annoy him and full of triumph, -I did whisper in the little maid’s ear tormenting words to say when next -she met him, chuckling to myself as I thought of his astonishment that a -fair and innocent child should have an inkling of his guilt. So high did -my spirits rise after the little maid left me that I could not sit still, -but must needs rise and stroll down the path to meet my Indian guide. -There I met an old silly, praying. I dropped a black pellet in one of his -pails of milk as an idle jest. But I have paid dearly for my malicious -chuckling. I have paid well.” The speaker paused to groan and wipe the -sweat from his brow. - -“I have travelled far in uncivilized countries, amidst savage people,” he -continued, “but ne’er have I known such a terrible journey as I endured -last night. The memory of it will last me throughout this world, and who -knows and the Lord forgive not my sins, but that I shall remember it in -the next. I was carried up stream and down stream, terrible insects arose -with a buzzing sound and fastened themselves on my flesh, the howling of -wild beasts smote my ears. Yet am I thankful to have made that journey, -for by it I have saved the life of a brave lass who hath done a doughtier -deed in her King’s service than any of you who have prosecuted her. It -was her nimble wit, working in prison, that obtained the stolen parchment -and sent it to me. Through her messenger I learned of my enemy’s intent -to strike at my very vitals, my high position and favour with the King. -He was having the recipe compounded, to return with it to England and -obtain the honour of its discovery himself. But thanks be to God, the -evil of his ways was his undoing. This little maid whom you would have -hanged hath saved England from the plague, and I am made her debtor for -life.” - -A shout broke from the stern, repressed Puritans. - -“Let us behold the little maid who hath saved England. Let the child -stand forth.” - -Governor Phipps put Deliverance upon her feet, and holding her hand -walked to the edge of the platform. When the people saw her in her -sad-coloured gown, her hair a golden glory around her face, they were -silent from awe and self-reproach. Only when the kitten leapt upon her -petticoat and climbed to her shoulder, there seating itself with rightful -pride, the sober Puritans broke into wild shoutings and laughter. -Laughter mingled with tears, that in all the town of Salem, so brave a -maid had found in her extremity but two loyal friends, Mistress Abigail -Brewster and a little kitten. - -Deliverance, frightened by the cries and unwonted animation of the -upturned faces, began to weep and put out her arms pitifully to Lord -Christopher. - -“Oh, might it pleasure ye to take me home, good sir?” - -Before he could reply, a young man bounded up the ladder and caught the -little maid in his arms. - -“I could keep from you no longer, sweetheart,” he cried. - -Deliverance’s arms tightened around his neck. “I be o’er glad to see ye, -dear Ronald,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder, “and, oh, let it -pleasure ye not to dilly-dally, but to take me to father, for I be fair -weary to see him?” - -So the Fellow of Harvard, with a word to his Excellency for permission, -slowly descended the ladder with his precious burden in his arms. - -Thus Deliverance returned to her father. - - - - -Chapter XX - -The Great Physician - - -When the excitement had subsided somewhat, Lord Christopher was seen to -lean forward with renewed earnestness, raising his hand impressively. - -“My dear people,” he said, and the great physician’s voice was tender -as if speaking to sick and fretful children, “my dear people, God hath -afflicted you more sorely with this plague of witchery than with the -Black Plague itself. Yet it lies with you to check this foul disease. -The Bible says, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’ But it also -commands, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’ Abide by the latter -injunction, that you save your souls from sin and let not your land run -red with innocent blood. Let each one of you be so exalted in goodness -that evil cannot enter into you. But, and my words on witchery impress -you not, let me at least beseech you who are of man’s estate and have -catched a child in sin, to remember that it but does as those around it, -and is therefore to be dealt by tenderly. - -“And yet another subject am I driven to speak to you upon. - -“Mightily does it distress me that you do bring your children up in -woeful ignorance of the Christmas-tide as we celebrate it in Merry -England. ’Tis very dolorous that you should be so blinded as to think -the proper observance of that Holy day bewrayeth a Popish tendency. -Methinks it be a lack of good red blood that makes you all so sour -and mealy-mouthed. Your Governor informs me that on that blessed day, -sadly you wend your way to church, with downcast eyes as though you -were sinners catched in naughtiness. There is great droning of psalms -through your noses, which is in itself a sorry thing, and I doubt not, an -unpleasant sound in the Lord’s ear. Whereas, in green old England, the -little children carol all day long. But here not even your babes have -sugar-plums. My stomach turns against you and your ways. How different -is it in my castle across the seas! To the mantel above the blazing -yule-log, my sweetest daughter pins her stocking. Outside, the snow snaps -with the cold and the frost flowers whiten the window-pane. Then come the -village lads and lassies singing, that we may open the window and fling -out siller pieces, sometimes a bit of bright gold. - -“Lastly, at the chiming of the midnight bells, troop in my servant-men -and wenches. One and all we drink the hot-spiced glee-wine my sweet -Elizabeth makes in the silver wassail bowl. And to every man and maid I -give a piece of gold. - -“I do beseech you, good people, to have remembrance after this, that -Christmas is children’s day, and that to keep it with sadness and dolour, -is an offence unto the Lord Christ, whose birth made that day, and who -was said by those versed in wisdom, to have been when a child tender, -holy, and gay, as it becometh all children to be. Therefore I would have -you bestow these delights upon your children, for they are bowed by -responsibilities beyond their years, and joy is checked in them, so that -I oft catch myself sighing, for I have great pain not to see all children -joyful and full of the vigour of life. - -“Thus I would make an example of the little maid whom you have -persecuted, that you may deal gently with children, remembering how near -you were to shedding her innocent blood. I beseech you, by the grievous -sin that you and your learned judges so nearly committed, to be tender -with the poor children, knowing they speak the truth, unless you do -so fright them that in bewilderment they seek to save themselves by a -falsehood and know not into what evil they fall thereby. When you are -tempted to severity, inquire well into the merits of the case, lest you -do an injustice, keeping in mind the persecution of the little maid who -hath saved England.” - -Thus Lord Christopher ceased speaking. - -In the years to come it was related that his speech was so affecting as -to draw tears to the eyes of all, and that many a parent in Salem was -known thereafter to refrain from harsh reproof of a child, because of the -great physician’s words and the love that all learned to bear him during -the weeks his illness forced him to remain in Salem. - -Regarding his earnest request that Christmas be observed by them -after his irreverend fashion, they did not condemn him for his Popish -tendency, but winked at it, as it were, knowing he had other virtues -to counterbalance this weakness. Being altogether charmed by him, they -earnestly trusted that for his own good he might come round to their way -of thinking. - -During those few weeks his presence shed the only brightness in the -panic-stricken town. While he was powerless to avert the awful condition, -there were nevertheless many sad hearts which were made lighter, merely -to visit him in his sick-room at the tavern. And the goodwives, finding -their dainties did not please him as much as the sight of their little -children, ceased not to send the former, but instead sent both. - -When at last he was able to leave his room, Lord Christopher went one -afternoon to Deliverance’s home. - -Gladly he entered the forest road, thankful to leave the town behind him. -The terrible trials still continued. Only that morning he had seen two -persons hanged, and there was a rumour that a ship infected with smallpox -had entered the harbour. - -He walked slowly, leaning on his stick, for he was yet very lame. The -greenness and peace of the majestic forest were grateful to him. Soon -he came in sight of Master Wentworth’s home. In the open doorway he saw -Deliverance seated at her spinning-wheel, singing as she guided the -thread. - -Already the roses bloomed again in the little maid’s face, and never -was heart so free from sorrow as hers, save for that touch of yearning -which came to her whenever her glance rested on her father, who, since -his illness, was gentler and quieter than ever, seldom entering the -still-room, and devoting many hours to sitting on the stoop, dreaming in -the sunshine. - -Master Ronald had not yet returned to Boston Town, loath to leave his -little sister, still fearful for her safety, not knowing in which -direction the wind of public opinion might veer. - -Glancing up from his book this afternoon, as he lay on the grass, under -the shade of a tree, he saw Lord Christopher approaching. So he rose -quickly, and went down to the gate to greet the great physician. - -And the two, Lord Christopher leaning heavily on the student’s arm, for -he was wearied by his walk, went up the path to where little Deliverance -sat spinning. - -Lord Christopher had a long talk with Master Wentworth this afternoon and -at the end of their conversation, the latter called his children to him. - -“Ronald,” he said, “and you, my little Deliverance, Lord Christopher -urges me to return to England where he promises me, my lad, that you -shall have all advantage in the way of scholarly pursuits, and that you, -Deliverance, shall be brought up to be his daughter’s companion. What say -you both? The question is one which you must decide. I,” he added sadly, -yet with a wondrous sweetness in his face, “will not abide many years -longer with you; and my future is not in England, but in a fairer land, -and the sea I must cross greater than the one you know, so I would fain -leave you with a protector in this harsh world.” - -A long silence followed his words. Then Ronald spoke. “Sir, I have none -other wish than to continue in this country in which I was born and -which has ever been my home. Surely I know the constant toil, the perils -from savages and wild beasts, the stern laws we Puritans have made for -each little sin, alas! the hardships too often known, and the gloom of -our serious thought which o’ershadows all. Yet through this sombre sky, -the sun will shine at last as brightly as it shines in England. In the -University that has nourished in me patriotism and liberty of thought, -I have grown to believe that here in this wilderness is the basis for a -greater England than the England across the seas.” - -The student’s face glowed with ardour, his eyes were brilliant as if he -saw visions the others comprehended not. - -“And you, Deliverance,” asked her father, tenderly. - -Now the little maid’s fancy had woven a picture of herself in a court -dress of crimson velvet, her hair worn high, a lace collar falling on her -shoulders, a rose in her hand such as was carried by the little court -lady of the miniature. But her imagination, which had soared so high, -sank at Ronald’s words. - -“What say you, little mistress?” asked Lord Christopher; “and your -brother will not go, being such a young prig as to prefer this -uncomfortable country in which to air his grand notions. Will you not go -with me?” - -Deliverance sighed and sighed again. She glanced at her father’s -delicate hands, so transparent in the sunlight, and a prophetic sadness -reminded her of the time when she and Ronald would be left alone in the -world. Her glance travelled to her brother’s rapt, almost transfigured, -countenance. Although she felt no sympathy with his over-strange -university views, yet the thought of leaving him alone in this country -while she abided in luxury in England, smote her heart with a sense of -guilt, so that she moved over to him and slipped her hand in his and -rested her head against his shoulder. - -“Good sir,” she said, “I will remain with Ronald and with father, but -with all my heart I thank you for your kindness and desire that I might -be the companion of your sweetest daughter.” - -And none of the three knew that through a blinding mist of tears she saw -vanish forever the dream of a velvet gown with immoderate slashed sleeves. - -So Lord Christopher went far away, but he did not go alone. He bore with -him a hunchback of Ipswich whose mother had been hanged as a witch on -Gallows’ Hill. Thus it sometimes happens that they who have had least to -do with a brave deed do, by some happy chance, reap the richest benefit -of another’s nobility. And thus it was with this little Hate-Evil. He -found himself no longer alone in the world. There in London he developed -into a scholar, becoming a poet of much fame, one who, honoured in the -court, was not less revered by the common people, that so poor and -deformed a body carried so great a soul. And at last he ceased to be -known by his stern New England appellation of Hate-Evil and was called by -the sweeter name of Content. - -Yearly from England came a gift to Deliverance from Lord Christopher’s -fair daughter Elizabeth, in memory of the loyal service she had rendered -England in regaining the precious powder. - -Within a few months, Abigail received a small package containing a -string of gold beads and a rare and valuable book entitled: “The Queen’s -Closet Opened: having Physical and Chirurgical Receipts: the Art of -Preserving Conserving and Candying & also a Right Knowledge of Perfuming -& Distilling: the Compleat Cook Expertly Prescribing the most ready wayes -whether French, Italian or Spanish, for the dressing of Flesh and Fish & -the ordering of Sauces & making of PASTRY.” - -On the fly-leaf was written a recipe for pumpkin-pie, which the great -physician had himself compounded while in America, and which to this day -is handed down by the descendants of Abigail Brewster. Also, he wrote a -letter to the little girl who had so bravely journeyed to Boston Town to -save her friend. - -“For,” he wrote, “fame is a fickle jade, & as often passes over as -she rewards those who are brave & so while some of us serve but as -instruments to further others’ brave actions yet, than loyal friendship, -there is no truer virtue & I speak with authority on the subject, having -had sad experience.” - -Those who read the letter knew he referred to Sir Jonathan Jamieson, who -on the day of Lord Christopher’s speech disappeared from Salem. For many -years he was not heard of, until at last news came that he lived in -great opulence among the Cavaliers of Virginia, and had written a most -convincing book upon “Ye Black Art & Ye Ready Wayes of Witches.” - - -THE END. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of -Witchcraft, by Pauline Bradford Mackie Hopkins and E. W. D. 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