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  Chapter 3

  'The sin of witchcraft.' We read about it, we look on it from theoutside; but we can hardly realize the terror it induced. Everyimpulsive or unaccustomed action, every little nervous affection, everyache or pain was noticed, not merely by those around the sufferer, butby the person himself, whoever he might be, that was acting, or beingacted upon, in any but the most simple and ordinary manner. He or she(for it was most frequently a woman or girl that was the supposedsubject) felt a desire for some unusual kind of food--some unusualmotion or rest her hand twitched, her foot was asleep, or her leg hadthe cramp; and the dreadful question immediately suggested itself, 'Isany one possessing an evil power over me, by the help of Satan?' andperhaps they went on to think, 'It is bad enough to feel that my bodycan be made to suffer through the power of some unknown evil-wisher tome, but what if Satan gives them still further power, and they cantouch my soul, and inspire me with loathful thoughts leading me intocrimes which at present I abhor?' and so on, till the very dread ofwhat might happen, and the constant dwelling of the thoughts, even withhorror, upon certain possibilities, or what were esteemed such, reallybrought about the corruption of imagination at least, which at firstthey had shuddered at. Moreover, there was a sort of uncertainty as towho might be infected--not unlike the overpowering dread of the plague,which made some shrink from their best-beloved with irrepressible fear.The brother or sister, who was the dearest friend of their childhoodand youth, might now be bound in some mysterious deadly pact with evilspirits of the most horrible kind--who could tell? And in such a caseit became a duty, a sacred duty, to give up the earthly body which hadbeen once so loved, but which was now the habitation of a soul corruptand horrible in its evil inclinations. Possibly, terror of death mightbring on confession and repentance, and purification. Or if it did not,why away with the evil creature, the witch, out of the world, down tothe kingdom of the master, whose bidding was done on earth in allmanner of corruption and torture of God's creatures! There were otherswho, to these more simple, if more ignorant, feelings of horror atwitches and witchcraft, added the desire, conscious or unconscious, ofrevenge on those whose conduct had been in any way displeasing to them.Where evidence takes a supernatural character, there is no disprovingit. This argument comes up: 'You have only the natural powers; I havesupernatural. You admit the existence of the supernatural by thecondemnation of this very crime of witchcraft. You hardly know thelimits of the natural powers; how then can you define the supernatural?I say that in the dead of night, when my body seemed to all present tobe lying in quiet sleep, I was, in the most complete and wakefulconsciousness, present in my body at an assembly of witches and wizardswith Satan at their head; that I was by them tortured in my body,because my soul would not acknowledge him as its king; and that Iwitnessed such and such deeds. What the nature of the appearance wasthat took the semblance of myself, sleeping quietly in my bed, I knownot; but admitting, as you do, the possibility of witchcraft, youcannot disprove my evidence.' This evidence might be given truly orfalsely, as the person witnessing believed it or not; but every onemust see what immense and terrible power was abroad for revenge. Then,again, the accused themselves ministered to the horrible panic abroad.Some, in dread of death, confessed from cowardice to the imaginarycrimes of which they were accused, and of which they were promised apardon on confession. Some, weak and terrified, came honestly tobelieve in their own guilt, through the diseases of imagination whichwere sure to be engendered at such a time as this.

  Lois sat spinning with Faith. Both were silent, pondering over thestories that were abroad. Lois spoke first.

  'Oh, Faith! this country is worse than ever England was, even in thedays of Master Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder. I grow frightened ofevery one, I think. I even get afeard sometimes of Nattee!'

  Faith coloured a little. Then she asked,

  'Why? What should make you distrust the Indian woman?'

  'Oh! I am ashamed of my fear as soon as it arises in my mind. But, youknow, her look and colour were strange to me when first I came; and sheis not a christened woman; and they tell stories of Indian wizards; andI know not what the mixtures are which she is sometimes stirring overthe fire, nor the meaning of the strange chants she sings to herself.And once I met her in the dusk, just close by Pastor Tappau's house, incompany with Hota, his servant--it was just before we heard of the soredisturbance in his house--and I have wondered if she had aught to dowith it.'

  Faith sat very still, as if thinking. At last she said:

  'If Nattee has powers beyond what you and I have, she will not use themfor evil; at least not evil to those whom she loves.'

  'That comforts me but little,' said Lois. 'If she has powers beyondwhat she ought to have, I dread her, though I have done her no evil;nay, though I could almost say she bore me a kindly feeling. But suchpowers are only given by the Evil One; and the proof thereof is, that,as you imply, Nattee would use them on those who offend her.'

  'And why should she not?' asked Faith, lifting her eyes, and flashingheavy fire out of them at the question.

  'Because,' said Lois, not seeing Faith's glance, 'we are told to prayfor them that despitefully use us, and to do good to them thatpersecute us. But poor Nattee is not a christened woman. I would thatMr. Nolan would baptize her; it would, maybe, take her out of the powerof Satan's temptations.'

  'Are you never tempted?' asked Faith, half scornfully; 'and yet I doubtnot you were well baptized!'

  'True,' said Lois, sadly; 'I often do very wrong, but, perhaps, I mighthave done worse, if the holy form had not been observed.'

  They were again silent for a time.

  'Lois,' said Faith, 'I did not mean any offence. But do you never feelas if you would give up all that future life, of which the parsonstalk, and which seems so vague and so distant, for a few years of real,vivid blessedness to begin to-morrow--this hour, this minute? Oh! Icould think of happiness for which I would willingly give up all thosemisty chances of heaven----'

  'Faith, Faith!' cried Lois, in terror, holding her hand before hercousin's mouth, and looking around in fright. 'Hush! you know not whomay be listening; you are putting yourself in his power.'

  But Faith pushed her hand away, and said, 'Lois, I believe in him nomore than I believe in heaven. Both may exist, but they are so far awaythat I defy them. Why, all this ado about Mr. Tappau's house--promiseme never to tell living creature, and I will tell you a secret.'

  'No!' said Lois, terrified. 'I dread all secrets. I will hear none. Iwill do all that I can for you, cousin Faith, in any way; but just atthis time, I strive to keep my life and thoughts within the strictestbounds of godly simplicity, and I dread pledging myself to aught thatis hidden and secret.'

  'As you will, cowardly girl, full of terrors, which, if you hadlistened to me, might have been lessened, if not entirely done awaywith.' And Faith would not utter another word, though Lois tried meeklyto entice her into conversation on some other subject.

  The rumour of witchcraft was like the echo of thunder among the hills.It had broken out in Mr. Tappau's house, and his two little daughterswere the first supposed to be bewitched; but round about, from everyquarter of the town, came in accounts of sufferers by witchcraft. Therewas hardly a family without one of these supposed victims. Then arose agrowl and menaces of vengeance from many a household--menaces deepened,not daunted by the terror and mystery of the suffering that gave riseto them.

  At length a day was appointed when, after solemn fasting and prayer,Mr. Tappau invited the neighbouring ministers and all godly people toassemble at his house, and unite with him in devoting a day to solemnreligious services, and to supplication for the deliverance of hischildren, and those similarly afflicted, from the power of the EvilOne. All Salem poured out towards the house of the minister. There wasa look of excitement on all their faces; eagerness and horror weredepicted on many, while stern resolution, amounting to determinedcruelty, if the occasion arose, was seen on others.

  In the midst of the prayer, Hester
Tappau, the younger girl, fell intoconvulsions; fit after fit came on, and her screams mingled with theshrieks and cries of the assembled congregation. In the first pause,when the child was partially recovered, when the people stood aroundexhausted and breathless, her father, the Pastor Tappau, lifted hisright hand, and adjured her, in the name of the Trinity, to say whotormented her. There was a dead silence; not a creature stirred of allthose hundreds. Hester turned wearily and uneasily, and moaned out thename of Hota, her father's Indian servant. Hota was present, apparentlyas much interested as any one; indeed, she had been busying herselfmuch in bringing remedies to the suffering child. But now she stoodaghast, transfixed, while her name was caught up and shouted out intones of reprobation and hatred by all the crowd around her. Anothermoment and they would have fallen upon the trembling creature and tornher limb from limb--pale, dusky, shivering Hota, half guilty-lookingfrom her very bewilderment. But Pastor Tappau, that gaunt, grey man,lifting himself to his utmost height, signed to them to go back, tokeep still while he addressed them; and then he told them, that instantvengeance was not just, deliberate punishment; that there would be needof conviction, perchance of confession--he hoped for some redress forhis suffering children from her revelations, if she were brought toconfession. They must leave the culprit in his hands, and in those ofhis brother ministers, that they might wrestle with Satan beforedelivering her up to the civil power. He spoke well, for he spoke fromthe heart of a father seeing his children exposed to dreadful andmysterious suffering, and firmly believing that he now held the clue inhis hand which should ultimately release them and theirfellow-sufferers. And the congregation moaned themselves intounsatisfied submission, and listened to his long, passionate prayer,which he uplifted even while the hapless Hota stood there, guarded andbound by two men, who glared at her like bloodhounds ready to slip,even while the prayer ended in the words of the merciful Saviour.

  Lois sickened and shuddered at the whole scene; and this was nointellectual shuddering at the folly and superstition of the people,but tender moral shuddering at the sight of guilt which she believedin, and at the evidence of men's hatred and abhorrence, which, whenshown even to the guilty, troubled and distressed her merciful heart.She followed her aunt and cousins out into the open air, with downcasteyes and pale face. Grace Hickson was going home with a feeling oftriumphant relief at the detection of the guilty one. Faith aloneseemed uneasy and disturbed beyond her wont, for Manasseh received thewhole transaction as the fulfilment of a prophecy, and Prudence wasexcited by the novel scene into a state of discordant high spirits.

  'I am quite as old as Hester Tappau,' said she; 'her birthday is inSeptember and mine in October.'

  'What has that to do with it?' said Faith, sharply.

  'Nothing, only she seemed such a little thing for all those graveministers to be praying for, and so many folk come from adistance--some from Boston they said--all for her sake, as it were.Why, didst thou see, it was godly Mr. Henwick that held her head whenhe wriggled so, and old Madam Holbrook had herself helped upon a chairto see the better. I wonder how long I might wriggle, before great andgodly folk would take so much notice of me? But, I suppose, that comesof being a pastor's daughter. She'll be so set up there'll be nospeaking to her now. Faith! thinkest thou that Hota really hadbewitched her? She gave me corn-cakes, the last time I was at PastorTappau's, just like any other woman, only, perchance, a trifle moregood-natured; and to think of her being a witch after all!'

  But Faith seemed in a hurry to reach home, paid no attention toPrudence's talking. Lois hastened on with Faith, for Manasseh waswalking alongside of his mother, and she kept steady to her plan ofavoiding him, even though she pressed her company upon Faith, who hadseemed of late desirous of avoiding her.

  That evening the news spread through Salem, that Hota had confessed hersin--had acknowledged that she was a witch. Nattee was the first tohear the intelligence. She broke into the room where the girls weresitting with Grace Hickson, solemnly doing nothing, because of thegreat prayer-meeting in the morning, and cried out, 'Mercy, mercy,mistress, everybody! take care of poor Indian Nattee, who never dowrong, but for mistress and the family! Hota one bad wicked witch, shesay so herself; oh, me! oh me!' and stooping over Faith, she saidsomething in a low, miserable tone of voice, of which Lois only heardthe word 'torture.' But Faith heard all, and turning very pale, halfaccompanied, half led Nattee back to her kitchen.

  Presently, Grace Hickson came in. She had been out to see a neighbour;it will not do to say that so godly a woman had been gossiping; and,indeed, the subject of the conversation she had held was of too seriousand momentous a nature for me to employ a light word to designate it.There was all the listening to and repeating of small details andrumours, in which the speakers have no concern, that constitutesgossiping; but in this instance, all trivial facts and speeches mightbe considered to bear such dreadful significance, and might have soghastly an ending, that such whispers were occasionally raised to atragic importance. Every fragment of intelligence that related to Mr.Tappau's household was eagerly snatched at; how his dog howled all onelong night through, and could not be stilled; how his cow suddenlyfailed in her milk only two months after she had calved; how his memoryhad forsaken him one morning, for a minute or two, in repeating theLord's Prayer, and he had even omitted a clause thereof in his suddenperturbation; and how all these forerunners of his children's strangeillness might now be interpreted and understood--this had formed thestaple of the conversation between Grace Hickson and her friends. Therehad arisen a dispute among them at last, as to how far thesesubjections to the power of the Evil One were to be considered as ajudgment upon Pastor Tappau for some sin on his part; and if so, what?It was not an unpleasant discussion, although there was considerabledifference of opinion; for as none of the speakers had had theirfamilies so troubled, it was rather a proof that they had none of themcommitted any sin. In the midst of this talk, one, entering in from thestreet, brought the news that Hota had confessed all--had owned tosigning a certain little red book which Satan had presented to her--hadbeen present at impious sacraments--had ridden through the air toNewbury Falls--and, in fact, had assented to all the questions whichthe elders and magistrates, carefully reading over the confessions ofthe witches who had formerly been tried in England, in order that theymight not omit a single inquiry, had asked of her. More she had ownedto, but things of inferior importance, and partaking more of the natureof earthly tricks than of spiritual power. She had spoken of carefullyadjusted strings, by which all the crockery in Pastor Tappau's housecould be pulled down or disturbed; but of such intelligiblemalpractices the gossips of Salem took little heed. One of them saidthat such an action showed Satan's prompting, but they all preferred tolisten to the grander guilt of the blasphemous sacraments andsupernatural rides. The narrator ended with saying that Hota was to behung the next morning, in spite of her confession, even although herlife had been promised to her if she acknowledged her sin; for it waswell to make an example of the first-discovered witch, and it was alsowell that she was an Indian, a heathen, whose life would be no greatloss to the community. Grace Hickson on this spoke out. It was wellthat witches should perish off the face of the earth, Indian orEnglish, heathen or, worse, a baptized Christian who had betrayed theLord, even as Judas did, and had gone over to Satan. For her part, shewished that the first-discovered witch had been a member of a godlyEnglish household, that it might be seen of all men that religious folkwere willing to cut off the right hand, and pluck out the right eye, iftainted with this devilish sin. She spoke sternly and well. The lastcomer said, that her words might be brought to the proof, for it hadbeen whispered that Hota had named others, and some from the mostreligious families of Salem, whom she had seen among the unholycommunicants at the sacrament of the Evil One. And Grace replied thatshe would answer for it, all godly folk would stand the proof, andquench all natural affection rather than that such a sin should growand spread among them. She herself had a weak bodily dread ofwitnessing the violent death
even of an animal; but she would not letthat deter her from standing amidst those who cast the accursedcreature out from among them on the morrow morning.

  Contrary to her wont, Grace Hickson told her family much of thisconversation. It was a sign of her excitement on the subject that shethus spoke, and the excitement spread in different forms through herfamily. Faith was flushed and restless, wandering between thekeeping-room and the kitchen, and questioning her mother particularlyas to the more extraordinary parts of Hota's confession, as if shewished to satisfy herself that the Indian witch had really done thosehorrible and mysterious deeds.

  Lois shivered and trembled with affright at the narration, and the ideathat such things were possible. Occasionally she found herselfwandering off into sympathetic thought for the woman who was to die,abhorred of all men, and unpardoned by God, to whom she had been sofearful a traitor, and who was now, at this very time--when Lois satamong her kindred by the warm and cheerful firelight, anticipating manypeaceful, perchance happy, morrows--solitary, shivering,panic-stricken, guilty, with none to stand by her and exhort her, shutup in darkness between the cold walls of the town prison. But Loisalmost shrank from sympathising with so loathsome an accomplice ofSatan, and prayed for forgiveness for her charitable thought; and yet,again, she remembered the tender spirit of the Saviour, and allowedherself to fall into pity, till at last her sense of right and wrongbecame so bewildered that she could only leave all to God's disposal,and just ask that He would take all creatures and all events into Hishands.

  Prudence was as bright as if she were listening to some merrystory--curious as to more than her mother would tell her--seeming tohave no particular terror of witches or witchcraft, and yet to beespecially desirous to accompany her mother the next morning to thehanging. Lois shrank from the cruel, eager face of the young girl asshe begged her mother to allow her to go. Even Grace was disturbed andperplexed by her daughter's pertinacity.

  'No!' said she. 'Ask me no more. Thou shalt not go. Such sights are notfor the young. I go, and I sicken at the thoughts of it. But I go toshow that I, a Christian woman, take God's part against the devil's.Thou shalt not go, I tell thee. I could whip thee for thinking of it.'

  'Manasseh says Hota was well whipped by Pastor Tappau ere she wasbrought to confession,' said Prudence, as if anxious to change thesubject of discussion.

  Manasseh lifted up his head from the great folio Bible, brought by hisfather from England, which he was studying. He had not heard whatPrudence said, but he looked up at the sound of his name. All presentwere startled at his wild eyes, his bloodless face. But he wasevidently annoyed at the expression of their countenances.

  'Why look ye at me in that manner?' asked he. And his manner wasanxious and agitated. His mother made haste to speak:

  'It was but that Prudence said something that thou hast told her--thatPastor Tappau defiled his hands by whipping the witch Hota. What evilthought has got hold of thee? Talk to us, and crack not thy skullagainst the learning of man.'

  'It is not the learning of man that I study: it is the word of God. Iwould fain know more of the nature of this sin of witchcraft, andwhether it be, indeed, the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost. Attimes I feel a creeping influence coming over me, prompting all evilthoughts and unheard-of deeds, and I question within myself, "Is notthis the power of witchcraft?" and I sicken, and loathe all that I door say, and yet some evil creature hath the mastery over me, and I mustneeds do and say what I loathe and dread. Why wonder you, mother, thatI, of all men, strive to learn the exact nature of witchcraft, and forthat end study the word of God? Have you not seen me when I was, as itwere, possessed with a devil?'

  He spoke calmly, sadly, but as under deep conviction. His mother roseto comfort him.

  'My son,' she said, 'no one ever saw thee do deeds, or heard thee utterwords, which any one could say were prompted by devils. We have seenthee, poor lad, with thy wits gone astray for a time, but all thythoughts sought rather God's will in forbidden places, than lost theclue to them for one moment in hankering after the powers of darkness.Those days are long past; a future lies before thee. Think not ofwitches or of being subject to the power of witchcraft. I did evil tospeak of it before thee. Let Lois come and sit by thee, and talk tothee.'

  Lois went to her cousin, grieved at heart for his depressed state ofmind, anxious to soothe and comfort him, and yet recoiling more thanever from the idea of ultimately becoming his wife--an idea to whichshe saw her aunt reconciling herself unconsciously day by day, as sheperceived the English girl's power of soothing and comforting hercousin, even by the very tones of her sweet cooing voice.

  He took Lois's hand.

  'Let me hold it. It does me good,' said he. 'Ah, Lois, when I am by youI forget all my troubles--will the day never come when you will listento the voice that speaks to me continually?'

  'I never hear it, Cousin Manasseh,' she said, softly; 'but do not thinkof the voices. Tell me of the land you hope to enclose from theforest--what manner of trees grow on it?'

  Thus, by simple questions on practical affairs, she led him back, inher unconscious wisdom, to the subjects on which he had always shownstrong practical sense. He talked on these with all due discretion tillthe hour for family prayer came round, which was early in those days.It was Manasseh's place to conduct it, as head of the family; a postwhich his mother had always been anxious to assign to him since herhusband's death. He prayed extempore; and to-night his supplicationswandered off into wild, unconnected fragments of prayer, which allthose kneeling around began, each according to her anxiety for thespeaker, to think would never end. Minutes elapsed, and grew toquarters of an hour, and his words only became more emphatic andwilder, praying for himself alone, and laying bare the recesses of hisheart. At length his mother rose, and took Lois by the hand, for shehad faith in Lois's power over her son, as being akin to that which theshepherd David, playing on his harp, had over king Saul sitting on histhrone. She drew her towards him, where he knelt facing into thecircle, with his eyes upturned, and the tranced agony of his facedepicting the struggle of the troubled soul within.

  'Here is Lois,' said Grace, almost tenderly; 'she would fain go to herchamber.' (Down the girl's face the tears were streaming.) 'Rise, andfinish thy prayer in thy closet.'

  But at Lois's approach he sprang to his feet,--sprang aside.

  'Take her away, mother! Lead me not into temptation. She brings me eviland sinful thoughts. She overshadows me, even in the presence of myGod. She is no angel of light, or she would not do this. She troublesme with the sound of a voice bidding me marry her, even when I am at myprayers. Avaunt! Take her away!'

  He would have struck at Lois if she had not shrunk back, dismayed andaffrighted. His mother, although equally dismayed, was not affrighted.She had seen him thus before; and understood the management of hisparoxysm.

  'Go, Lois! the sight of thee irritates him, as once that of Faith did.Leave him to me.'

  And Lois rushed away to her room, and threw herself on her bed, like apanting, hunted creature. Faith came after her slowly and heavily.

  'Lois,' said she, 'wilt thou do me a favour? It is not much to ask.Wilt thou arise before daylight, and bear this letter from me to PastorNolan's lodgings? I would have done it myself, but mother has bidden meto come to her, and I may be detained until the time when Hota is to behung; and the letter tells of matters pertaining to life and death.Seek out Pastor Nolan wherever he may be, and have speech of him afterhe has read the letter.'

  'Cannot Nattee take it?' asked Lois.

  'No!' Faith answered, fiercely. 'Why should she?'

  But Lois did not reply. A quick suspicion darted through Faith's mind,sudden as lightning. It had never entered there before.

  'Speak, Lois. I read thy thoughts. Thou wouldst fain not be the bearerof this letter?'

  'I will take it,' said Lois, meekly. 'It concerns life and death, yousay?'

  'Yes!' said Faith, in quite a different tone of voice. But, after apause of thought, she added: 'T
hen, as soon as the house is still, Iwill write what I have to say, and leave it here, on this chest; andthou wilt promise me to take it before the day is fully up, while thereis yet time for action.'

  'Yes! I promise,' said Lois. And Faith knew enough of her to feel surethat the deed would be done, however reluctantly.

  The letter was written--laid on the chest; and, ere day dawned, Loiswas astir, Faith watching her from between her half-closedeyelids--eyelids that had never been fully closed in sleep the livelongnight. The instant Lois, cloaked and hooded, left the room, Faithsprang up, and prepared to go to her mother, whom she heard alreadystirring. Nearly every one in Salem was awake and up on this awfulmorning, though few were out of doors, as Lois passed along thestreets. Here was the hastily erected gallows, the black shadow ofwhich fell across the street with ghastly significance; now she had topass the iron-barred gaol, through the unglazed windows of which sheheard the fearful cry of a woman, and the sound of many footsteps. Onshe sped, sick almost to faintness, to the widow woman's where Mr.Nolan lodged. He was already up and abroad, gone, his hostess believed,to the gaol. Thither Lois, repeating the words 'for life and fordeath!' was forced to go. Retracing her steps, she was thankful to seehim come out of those dismal portals, rendered more dismal for being inheavy shadow, just as she approached. What his errand had been she knewnot; but he looked grave and sad, as she put Faith's letter into hishands, and stood before him quietly waiting, until he should read it,and deliver the expected answer. But, instead of opening it, he held itin his hand, apparently absorbed in thought. At last he spoke aloud,but more to himself than to her:

  'My God! and is she then to die in this fearful delirium? It mustbe--can be--only delirium, that prompts such wild and horribleconfessions. Mistress Barclay, I come from the presence of the Indianwoman appointed to die. It seems, she considered herself betrayed lastevening by her sentence not being respited, even after she had madeconfession of sin enough to bring down fire from heaven; and, it seemsto me, the passionate, impotent anger of this helpless creature hasturned to madness, for she appalls me by the additional revelations shehas made to the keepers during the night--to me this morning. I couldalmost fancy that she thinks, by deepening the guilt she confesses, toescape this last dread punishment of all, as if, were a tithe of whatshe say true, one could suffer such a sinner to live. Yet to send herto death in such a state of mad terror! What is to be done?'

  'Yet Scripture says that we are not to suffer witches in the land,'said Lois, slowly.

  'True; I would but ask for a respite till the prayers of God's peoplehad gone up for His mercy. Some would pray for her, poor wretch as sheis. You would, Mistress Barclay, I am sure?' But he said it in aquestioning tone.

  'I have been praying for her in the night many a time,' said Lois, in alow voice. 'I pray for her in my heart at this moment; I suppose; theyare bidden to put her out of the land, but I would not have herentirely God-forsaken. But, sir, you have not read my cousin's letter.And she bade me bring back an answer with much urgency.'

  Still he delayed. He was thinking of the dreadful confession he camefrom hearing. If it were true, the beautiful earth was a pollutedplace, and he almost wished to die, to escape from such pollution, intothe white innocence of those who stood in the presence of God.

  Suddenly his eyes fell on Lois's pure, grave face, upturned andwatching his. Faith in earthly goodness came over his soul in thatinstant, 'and he blessed her unaware.'

  He put his hand on her shoulder, with an action half paternal--althoughthe difference in their ages was not above a dozen years--and, bendinga little towards her, whispered, half to himself, 'Mistress Barclay,you have done me good.'

  'I!' said Lois, half affrighted--'I done you good! How?'

  'By being what you are. But, perhaps, I should rather thank God, whosent you at the very moment when my soul was so disquieted.'

  At this instant, they were aware of Faith standing in front of them,with a countenance of thunder. Her angry look made Lois feel guilty.She had not enough urged the pastor to read his letter, she thought;and it was indignation at this delay in what she had been commissionedto do with the urgency of life or death, that made her cousin lower ather so from beneath her straight black brows. Lois explained how shehad not found Mr. Nolan at his lodgings, and had had to follow him tothe door of the gaol. But Faith replied, with obdurate contempt:

  'Spare thy breath, cousin Lois. It is easy seeing on what pleasantmatters thou and the Pastor Nolan were talking. I marvel not at thyforgetfulness. My mind is changed. Give me back my letter, sir; it wasabout a poor matter--an old woman's life. And what is that compared toa young girl's love?'

  Lois heard but for an instant; did not understand that her cousin, inher jealous anger, could suspect the existence of such a feeling aslove between her and Mr. Nolan. No imagination as to its possibilityhad ever entered her mind; she had respected him, almost reveredhim--nay, had liked him as the probable husband of Faith. At thethought that her cousin could believe her guilty of such treachery, hergrave eyes dilated, and fixed themselves on the flaming countenance ofFaith. That serious, unprotesting manner of perfect innocence must havetold on her accuser, had it not been that, at the same instant, thelatter caught sight of the crimsoned and disturbed countenance of thepastor, who felt the veil rent off the unconscious secret of his heart.Faith snatched her letter out of his hands, and said:

  'Let the witch hang! What care I? She has done harm enough with hercharms and her sorcery on Pastor Tappau's girls. Let her die, and letall other witches look to themselves; for there be many kinds ofwitchcraft abroad. Cousin Lois, thou wilt like best to stop with PastorNolan, or I would pray thee to come back with me to breakfast.'

  Lois was not to be daunted by jealous sarcasm. She held out her hand toPastor Nolan, determined to take no heed of her cousin's mad words, butto bid him farewell in her accustomed manner. He hesitated beforetaking it, and when he did, it was with a convulsive squeeze thatalmost made her start. Faith waited and watched all, with set lips andvengeful eyes. She bade no farewell; she spake no word; but graspingLois tightly by the back of the arm, she almost drove her before herdown the street till they reached their home.

  The arrangement for the morning was this: Grace Hickson and her sonManasseh were to be present at the hanging of the first witch executedin Salem, as pious and godly heads of a family. All the other memberswere strictly forbidden to stir out, until such time as the low-tollingbell announced that all was over in this world for Hota, the Indianwitch. When the execution was ended, there was to be a solemnprayer-meeting of all the inhabitants of Salem; ministers had come froma distance to aid by the efficacy of their prayers in these efforts topurge the land of the devil and his servants. There was reason to thinkthat the great old meeting-house would be crowded, and when Faith andLois reached home, Grace Hickson was giving her directions to Prudence,urging her to be ready for an early start to that place. The stern oldwoman was troubled in her mind at the anticipation of the sight she wasto see, before many minutes were over, and spoke in a more hurried andincoherent manner than was her wont. She was dressed in her Sundaybest; but her face was very grey and colourless, and she seemed afraidto cease speaking about household affairs, for fear she should havetime to think. Manasseh stood by her, perfectly, rigidly still; he alsowas in his Sunday clothes. His face, too, was paler than its wont, butit wore a kind of absent, rapt expression, almost like that of a manwho sees a vision. As Faith entered, still holding Lois in her fiercegrasp, Manasseh started and smiled; but still dreamily. His manner wasso peculiar, that even his mother stayed her talking to observe himmore closely; he was in that state of excitement which usually ended inwhat his mother and certain of her friends esteemed a propheticrevelation. He began to speak, at first very low, and then his voiceincreased in power:

  'How beautiful is the land of Beulah, far over the sea, beyond themountains! Thither the angels carry her, lying back in their arms likeone fainting. They shall kiss away the black circle of death, an
d layher down at the feet of the Lamb. I hear her pleading there for thoseon earth who consented to her death. O Lois! pray also for me, pray forme, miserable!'

  When he uttered his cousin's name all their eyes turned towards her. Itwas to her that his vision related! She stood among them, amazed,awe-stricken, but not like one affrighted or dismayed. She was thefirst to speak:

  'Dear friends, do not think of me; his words may or may not be true. Iam in God's hands all the same, whether he have the gift of prophecy ornot. Besides, hear you not that I end where all would fain end? Thinkof him, and of his needs. Such times as these always leave himexhausted and weary, when he comes out of them.'

  And she busied herself in cares for his refreshment, aiding her aunt'strembling hands to set before him the requisite food, as he now sattired and bewildered, gathering together with difficulty his scatteredsenses.

  Prudence did all she could to assist and speed their departure. ButFaith stood apart, watching in silence with her passionate, angry eyes.

  As soon as they had set out on their solemn, fatal errand, Faith leftthe room. She had not tasted food or touched drink. Indeed, they allfelt sick at heart. The moment her sister had gone up stairs, Prudencesprang to the settle on which Lois had thrown down her cloak and hood:

  'Lend me your muffles and mantle, Cousin Lois. I never yet saw a womanhanged, and I see not why I should not go. I will stand on the edge ofthe crowd; no one will know me, and I will be home long before mymother.'

  'No!' said Lois, 'that may not be. My aunt would be sore displeased. Iwonder at you, Prudence, seeking to witness such a sight.' And as shespoke she held fast her cloak, which Prudence vehemently struggled for.

  Faith returned, brought back possibly by the sound of the struggle. Shesmiled--a deadly smile.

  'Give it up, Prudence. Strive no more with her. She has bought successin this world, and we are but her slaves.'

  'Oh, Faith!' said Lois, relinquishing her hold of the cloak, andturning round with passionate reproach in her look and voice, 'whathave I done that you should speak so of me; you, that have loved as Ithink one love a sister?'

  Prudence did not lose her opportunity, but hastily arrayed herself inthe mantle, which was too large for her, and which she had, therefore,considered as well adapted for concealment; but, as she went towardsthe door, her feet became entangled in the unusual length, and shefell, bruising her arm pretty sharply.

  'Take care, another time, how you meddle with a witch's things,' saidFaith, as one scarcely believing her own words, but at enmity with allthe world in her bitter jealousy of heart. Prudence rubbed her arm andlooked stealthily at Lois.

  'Witch Lois! Witch Lois!' said she at last, softly, pulling a childishface of spite at her.

  'Oh, hush, Prudence! Do not bandy such terrible words. Let me look atthine arm. I am sorry for thy hurt, only glad that it has kept theefrom disobeying thy mother.'

  'Away, away!' said Prudence, springing from her. 'I am afeard of her invery truth, Faith. Keep between me and the witch, or I will throw astool at her.'

  Faith smiled--it was a bad and wicked smile--but she did not stir tocalm the fears she had called up in her young sister. Just at thismoment, the bell began to toll. Hota, the Indian witch, was dead. Loiscovered her face with her hands. Even Faith went a deadlier pale thanshe had been, and said, sighing, 'Poor Hota! But death is best.'

  Prudence alone seemed unmoved by any thoughts connected with thesolemn, monotonous sound. Her only consideration was, that now shemight go out into the street and see the sights, and hear the news, andescape from the terror which she felt at the presence of her cousin.She flew up stairs to find her own mantle, ran down again, and pastLois, before the English girl had finished her prayer, and was speedilymingled among the crowd going to the meetinghouse. There also Faith andLois came in due course of time, but separately, not together. Faith soevidently avoided Lois, that she, humbled and grieved, could not forceher company upon her cousin, but loitered a little behind,--the quiettears stealing down her face, shed for the many causes that hadoccurred this morning.

  The meeting-house was full to suffocation; and, as it sometimes happenson such occasions, the greatest crowd was close about the doors, fromthe fact that few saw, on their first entrance, where there might bepossible spaces into which they could wedge themselves. Yet they wereimpatient of any arrivals from the outside, and pushed and hustledFaith, and after her Lois, till the two were forced on to a conspicuousplace in the very centre of the building, where there was no chance ofa seat, but still space to stand in. Several stood around, the pulpitbeing in the middle, and already occupied by two ministers in Genevabands and gowns, while other ministers, similarly attired, stoodholding on to it, almost as if they were giving support instead ofreceiving it. Grace Hickson and her son sat decorously in their ownpew, thereby showing that they had arrived early from the execution.You might almost have traced out the number of those who had been atthe hanging of the Indian witch, by the expression of theircountenances. They were awestricken into terrible repose; while thecrowd pouring in, still pouring in, of those who had not attended theexecution, looked all restless, and excited, and fierce. A buzz wentround the meeting, that the stranger minister who stood along withPastor Tappau in the pulpit was no other than Dr. Cotton Matherhimself, come all the way from Boston to assist in purging Salem ofwitches.

  And now Pastor Tappau began his prayer, extempore, as was the custom.His words were wild and incoherent, as might be expected from a man whohad just been consenting to the bloody death of one who was, but a fewdays ago, a member of his own family; violent and passionate, as was tobe looked for in the father of children, whom he believed to suffer sofearfully from the crime he would denounce before the Lord. He sat downat length from pure exhaustion. Then Dr. Cotton Mather stood forward:he did not utter more than a few words of prayer, calm in comparisonwith what had gone before, and then he went on to address the greatcrowd before him in a quiet, argumentative way, but arranging what hehad to say with something of the same kind of skill which Antony usedin his speech to the Romans after Caesar's murder. Some of Dr. Mather'swords have been preserved to us, as he afterwards wrote them down inone of his works. Speaking of those 'unbelieving Sadducees' who doubtedthe existence of such a crime, he said: 'Instead of their apish shoutsand jeers at blessed Scripture, and histories which have such undoubtedconfirmation as that no man that has breeding enough to regard thecommon laws of human society will offer to doubt of them, it becomes usrather to adore the goodness of God, who from the mouths of babes andsucklings has ordained truth, and by the means of the sore-afflictedchildren of your godly pastor, has revealed the fact that the devilshave with most horrid operations broken in upon your neighbourhood. Letus beseech Him that their power may be restrained, and that they go notso far in their evil machinations as they did but four years ago in thecity of Boston, where I was the humble means, under God, of loosingfrom the power of Satan the four children of that religious and blessedman, Mr. Goodwin. These four babes of grace were bewitched by an Irishwitch; there is no end to the narration of the torments they had tosubmit to. At one time they would bark like dogs, at another purr likecats; yea, they would fly like geese, and be carried with an incredibleswiftness, having but just their toes now and then upon the ground,sometimes not once in twenty feet, and their arms waved like those of abird. Yet at other times, by the hellish devices of the woman who hadbewitched them, they could not stir without limping, for, by means ofan invisible chain, she hampered their limbs, or, sometimes, by meansof a noose, almost choked them. One in especial was subjected by thiswoman of Satan to such heat as of an oven, that I myself have seen thesweat drop from off her, while all around were moderately cold and wellat ease. But not to trouble you with more of my stories, I will go onto prove that it was Satan himself that held power over her. For a veryremarkable thing it was, that she was not permitted by that evil spiritto read any godly or religious book, speaking the truth as it is inJesus. She could read Popish books we
ll enough, while both sight andspeech seemed to fail her when I gave her the Assembly's Catechism.Again, she was fond of that prelatical Book of Common Prayer, which isbut the Roman mass-book in an English and ungodly shape. In the midstof her sufferings, if one put the Prayer-book into her hands itrelieved her. Yet mark you, she could never be brought to read theLord's Prayer, whatever book she met with it in, proving therebydistinctly that she was in league with the devil. I took her into myown house, that I, even as Dr. Martin Luther did, might wrestle withthe devil and have my fling at him. But when I called my household toprayer, the devils that possessed her caused her to whistle, and sing,and yell in a discordant and hellish fashion.'

  At this very instant, a shrill, clear whistle pierced all ears. Dr.Mather stopped for a moment:

  'Satan is among you!' he cried. 'Look to yourselves!' And he prayedwith fervour, as if against a present and threatening enemy; but no oneheeded him. Whence came that ominous, unearthly whistle? Every manwatched his neighbour. Again the whistle, out of their very midst! Andthen a bustle in a corner of the building, three or four peoplestirring, without any cause immediately perceptible to those at adistance, the movement spread, and, directly after, a passage even inthat dense mass of people was cleared for two men, who bore forwardsPrudence Hickson, lying rigid as a log of wood, in the convulsiveposition of one who suffered from an epileptic fit. They laid her downamong the ministers who were gathered round the pulpit. Her mother cameto her, sending up a wailing cry at the sight of her distorted child.Dr. Mather came down from the pulpit and stood over her, exorcising thedevil in possession, as one accustomed to such scenes. The crowdpressed forward in mute horror. At length, her rigidity of form andfeature gave way, and she was terribly convulsed--torn by the devil, asthey called it. By-and-by the violence of the attack was over, and thespectators began to breathe once more, though still the former horrorbrooded over them, and they listened as if for the sudden ominouswhistle again, and glanced fearfully around, as if Satan were at theirbacks picking out his next victim.

  Meanwhile, Dr. Mather, Pastor Tappau, and one or two others wereexhorting Prudence to reveal, if she could, the name of the person, thewitch, who, by influence over Satan, had subjected the child to suchtorture as that which they had just witnessed. They bade her speak inthe name of the Lord. She whispered a name in the low voice ofexhaustion. None of the congregation could hear what it was. But thePastor Tappau, when he heard it, drew back in dismay, while Dr. Mather,knowing not to whom the name belonged, cried out, in a clear, coldvoice,

  'Know ye one Lois Barclay; for it is she who hath bewitched this poorchild?'

  The answer was given rather by action than by word, although a lowmurmur went up from many. But all fell back, as far as falling back insuch a crowd was possible, from Lois Barclay, where she stood,--andlooked on her with surprise and horror. A space of some feet, where nopossibility of space had seemed to be not a minute before, left Loisstanding alone, with every eye fixed upon her in hatred and dread. Shestood like one speechless, tongue-tied, as if in a dream. She a witch!accursed as witches were in the sight of God and man! Her smooth,healthy face became contracted into shrivel and pallor, but she utterednot a word, only looked at Dr. Mather with her dilated, terrified eyes.

  Some one said, 'She is of the household of Grace Hickson, a God-fearingwoman.' Lois did not know if the words were in her favour or not. Shedid not think about them, even; they told less on her than on anyperson present. She a witch! and the silver glittering Avon, and thedrowning woman she had seen in her childhood at Barford,--at home inEngland,--were before her, and her eyes fell before her doom. There wassome commotion--some rustling of papers; the magistrates of the townwere drawing near the pulpit and consulting with the ministers. Dr.Mather spoke again:

  'The Indian woman, who was hung this morning, named certain people,whom she deposed to having seen at the horrible meetings for theworship of Satan; but there is no name of Lois Barclay down upon thepaper, although we are stricken at the sight of the names of some----'

  An interruption--a consultation. Again Dr. Mather spoke:

  'Bring the accused witch, Lois Barclay, near to this poor sufferingchild of Christ.'

  They rushed forward to force Lois to the place where Prudence lay. ButLois walked forward of herself.

  'Prudence,' she said, in such a sweet, touching voice, that, longafterwards, those who heard it that day, spoke of it to their children,'have I ever said an unkind word to you, much less done you an illturn? Speak, dear child. You did not know what you said just now, didyou?'

  But Prudence writhed away from her approach, and screamed out, as ifstricken with fresh agony.

  'Take her away! take her away! Witch Lois, witch Lois, who threw medown only this morning, and turned my arm black and blue.' And shebared her arm, as if in confirmation of her words. It was sorelybruised.

  'I was not near you, Prudence!' said Lois, sadly. But that was onlyreckoned fresh evidence of her diabolical power.

  Lois's brain began to get bewildered. Witch Lois! she a witch, abhorredof all men! Yet she would try to think, and make one more effort.

  'Aunt Hickson,' she said, and Grace came forwards--'am I a witch, AuntHickson?' she asked; for her aunt, stern, harsh, unloving as she mightbe, was truth itself, and Lois thought--so near to delirium had shecome--if her aunt condemned her, it was possible she might indeed be awitch.

  Grace Hickson faced her unwillingly.

  'It is a stain upon our family for ever,' was the thought in her mind.

  'It is for God to judge whether thou art a witch, or not. Not for me.'

  'Alas, alas!' moaned Lois; for she had looked at Faith, and learnt thatno good word was to be expected from her gloomy face and averted eyes.The meeting-house was full of eager voices, repressed, out of reverencefor the place, into tones of earnest murmuring that seemed to fill theair with gathering sounds of anger, and those who had at first fallenback from the place where Lois stood were now pressing forwards andround about her, ready to seize the young friendless girl, and bear heroff to prison. Those who might have been, who ought to have been, herfriends, were either averse or indifferent to her; though only Prudencemade any open outcry upon her. That evil child cried out perpetuallythat Lois had cast a devilish spell upon her, and bade them keep thewitch away from her; and, indeed, Prudence was strangely convulsed whenonce or twice Lois's perplexed and wistful eyes were turned in herdirection. Here and there girls, women uttering strange cries, andapparently suffering from the same kind of convulsive fit as that whichhad attacked Prudence, were centres of a group of agitated friends, whomuttered much and savagely of witchcraft, and the list which had beentaken down only the night before from Hota's own lips. They demanded tohave it made public, and objected to the slow forms of the law. Others,not so much or so immediately interested in the sufferers, werekneeling around, and praying aloud for themselves and their own safety,until the excitement should be so much quelled as to enable Dr. CottonMather to be again heard in prayer and exhortation.

  And where was Manasseh? What said he? You must remember, that the stirof the outcry, the accusation, the appeals of the accused, all seemedto go on at once amid the buzz and din of the people who had come toworship God, but remained to judge and upbraid their fellow-creature.Till now Lois had only caught a glimpse of Manasseh, who was apparentlytrying to push forwards, but whom his mother was holding back with wordand action, as Lois knew she would hold him back; for it was not forthe first time that she was made aware how carefully her aunt hadalways shrouded his decent reputation among his fellow-citizens fromthe least suspicion of his seasons of excitement and incipientinsanity. On such days, when he himself imagined that he heardprophetic voices, and saw prophetic visions, his mother would do muchto prevent any besides his own family from seeing him; and now Lois, bya process swifter than reasoning, felt certain, from her one look athis face, when she saw it, colourless and deformed by intensity ofexpression, among a number of others all simply ruddy and angry, thathe was
in such a state that his mother would in vain do her utmost toprevent his making himself conspicuous. Whatever force or argumentGrace used, it was of no avail. In another moment he was by Lois'sside, stammering with excitement, and giving vague testimony, whichwould have been of little value in a calm court of justice, and wasonly oil to the smouldering fire of that audience.

  'Away with her to gaol!' 'Seek out the witches!' 'The sin has spreadinto all households!' 'Satan is in the very midst of us!' 'Strike andspare not!' In vain Dr. Cotton Mather raised his voice in loud prayers,in which he assumed the guilt of the accused girl; no one listened, allwere anxious to secure Lois, as if they feared she would vanish frombefore their very eyes; she, white, trembling, standing quite still inthe tight grasp of strange, fierce men, her dilated eyes only wanderinga little now and then in search of some pitiful face--some pitiful facethat among all those hundreds was not to be found. While some fetchedcords to bind her, and others, by low questions, suggested newaccusations to the distempered brain of Prudence, Manasseh obtained ahearing once more. Addressing Dr. Cotton Mather, he said, evidentlyanxious to make clear some new argument that had just suggested itselfto him: 'Sir, in this matter, be she witch or not, the end has beenforeshown to me by the spirit of prophecy. Now, reverend sir, if theevent be known to the spirit, it must have been foredoomed in thecouncils of God. If so, why punish her for doing that in which she hadno free will?'

  'Young man,' said Dr. Mather, bending down from the pulpit and lookingvery severely upon Manasseh, 'take care! you are trenching onblasphemy.'

  'I do not care. I say it again. Either Lois Barclay is a witch, or sheis not. If she is, it has been foredoomed for her, for I have seen avision of her death as a condemned witch for many months past--and thevoice has told me there was but one escape for her, Lois--the voice youknow--' In his excitement he began to wander a little, but it wastouching to see how conscious he was that by giving way he would losethe thread of the logical argument by which he hoped to prove that Loisought not to be punished, and with what an effort he wrenched hisimagination away from the old ideas, and strove to concentrate all hismind upon the plea that, if Lois was a witch, it had been shown him byprophecy; and if there was prophecy there must be foreknowledge; ifforeknowledge, foredoom; if foredoom, no exercise of free will, and,therefore, that Lois was not justly amenable to punishment.

  On he went, plunging into heresy, caring not--growing more and morepassionate every instant, but directing his passion into keen argument,desperate sarcasm, instead of allowing it to excite his imagination.Even Dr. Mather felt himself on the point of being worsted in the verypresence of this congregation, who, but a short half-hour ago, lookedupon him as all but infallible. Keep a good heart, Cotton Mather! youropponent's eye begins to glare and flicker with a terrible yetuncertain light--his speech grows less coherent, and his arguments aremixed up with wild glimpses at wilder revelations made to himselfalone. He has touched on the limits,--he has entered the borders ofblasphemy, and with an awful cry of horror and reprobation thecongregation rise up, as one man, against the blasphemer. Dr. Mathersmiled a grim smile, and the people were ready to stone Manasseh, whowent on, regardless, talking and raving.

  'Stay, stay!' said Grace Hickson--all the decent family shame whichprompted her to conceal the mysterious misfortune of her only son frompublic knowledge done away with by the sense of the immediate danger tohis life. 'Touch him not. He knows not what he is saying. The fit isupon him. I tell you the truth before God. My son, my only son, ismad.'

  They stood aghast at the intelligence. The grave young citizen, who hadsilently taken his part in life close by them in their daily lives--notmixing much with them, it was true, but looked up to, perhaps, all themore--the student of abstruse books on theology, fit to converse withthe most learned ministers that ever came about those parts--was he thesame with the man now pouring out wild words to Lois the witch, as ifhe and she were the only two present! A solution of it all occurred tothem. He was another victim. Great was the power of Satan! Through thearts of the devil, that white statue of a girl had mastered the soul ofManasseh Hickson. So the word spread from mouth to mouth. And Graceheard it. It seemed a healing balsam for her shame. With wilful,dishonest blindness, she would not see--not even in her secret heartwould she acknowledge, that Manasseh had been strange, and moody, andviolent long before the English girl had reached Salem. She even foundsome specious reason for his attempt at suicide long ago. He wasrecovering from a fever--and though tolerably well in health, thedelirium had not finally left him. But since Lois came, how headstronghe had been at times! how unreasonable! how moody! What a strangedelusion was that which he was under, of being bidden by some voice tomarry her! How he followed her about, and clung to her, as under somecompulsion of affection! And over all reigned the idea that, if he wereindeed suffering from being bewitched, he was not mad, and might againassume the honourable position he had held in the congregation and inthe town, when the spell by which he was held was destroyed. So Graceyielded to the notion herself, and encouraged it in others, that LoisBarclay had bewitched both Manasseh and Prudence. And the consequenceof this belief was, that Lois was to be tried, with little chance inher favour, to see whether she was a witch or no; and if a witch,whether she would confess, implicate others, repent, and live a life ofbitter shame, avoided by all men, and cruelly treated by most; or dieimpenitent, hardened, denying her crime upon the gallows.

  And so they dragged Lois away from the congregation of Christians tothe gaol, to await her trial. I say 'dragged her,' because, althoughshe was docile enough to have followed them whither they would, she wasnow so faint as to require extraneous force--poor Lois! who should havebeen carried and tended lovingly in her state of exhaustion, but,instead, was so detested by the multitude, who looked upon her as anaccomplice of Satan in all his evil doings, that they cared no more howthey treated her than a careless boy minds how he handles the toad thathe is going to throw over the wall.

  When Lois came to her full senses, she found herself lying on a shorthard bed in a dark square room, which she at once knew must be a partof the city gaol. It was about eight feet square, it had stone walls onevery side, and a grated opening high above her head, letting in allthe light and air that could enter through about a square foot ofaperture. It was so lonely, so dark to that poor girl, when she cameslowly and painfully out of her long faint. She did so want human helpin that struggle which always supervenes after a swoon; when the effortis to clutch at life, and the effort seems too much for the will. Shedid not at first understand where she was; did not understand how shecame to be there, nor did she care to understand. Her physical instinctwas to lie still and let the hurrying pulses have time to calm. So sheshut her eyes once more. Slowly, slowly the recollection of the scenein the meeting-house shaped itself into a kind of picture before her.She saw within her eyelids, as it were, that sea of loathing faces allturned towards her, as towards something unclean and hateful. And youmust remember, you who in the nineteenth century read this account,that witchcraft was a real terrible sin to her, Lois Barclay, twohundred years ago. The look on their faces, stamped on heart and brain,excited in her a sort of strange sympathy. Could it, oh God!--could itbe true, that Satan had obtained the terrific power over her and herwill, of which she had heard and read? Could she indeed be possessed bya demon and be indeed a witch, and yet till now have been unconsciousof it? And her excited imagination recalled, with singular vividness,all she had ever heard on the subject--the horrible midnight sacrament,the very presence and power of Satan. Then remembering every angrythought against her neighbour, against the impertinences of Prudence,against the overbearing authority of her aunt, against the perseveringcrazy suit of Manasseh, the indignation--only that morning, but suchages off in real time--at Faith's injustice; oh, could such evilthoughts have had devilish power given to them by the father of evil,and, all unconsciously to herself, have gone forth as active cursesinto the world? And so, on the ideas went careering wildly through thepoor girl's b
rain--the girl thrown inward upon herself. At length, thesting of her imagination forced her to start up impatiently. What wasthis? A weight of iron on her legs--a weight stated afterwards, by thegaoler of Salem prison, to have been 'not more than eight pounds.' Itwas well for Lois it was a tangible ill, bringing her back from thewild illimitable desert in which her imagination was wandering. Shetook hold of the iron, and saw her torn stocking,--her bruised ankle,and began to cry pitifully, out of strange compassion with herself.They feared, then, that even in that cell she would find a way toescape. Why, the utter, ridiculous impossibility of the thing convincedher of her own innocence, and ignorance of all supernatural power; andthe heavy iron brought her strangely round from the delusions thatseemed to be gathering about her.

  No! she never could fly out of that deep dungeon; there was no escape,natural or supernatural, for her, unless by man's mercy. And what wasman's mercy in such times of panic? Lois knew that it was nothing;instinct more than reason taught her, that panic calls out cowardice,and cowardice cruelty. Yet she cried, cried freely, and for the firsttime, when she found herself ironed and chained. It seemed so cruel, somuch as if her fellow-creatures had really learnt to hate and dreadher--her, who had had a few angry thoughts, which God forgive! butwhose thoughts had never gone into words, far less into actions. Why,even now she could love all the household at home, if they would butlet her; yes, even yet, though she felt that it was the open accusationof Prudence and the withheld justifications of her aunt and Faith thathad brought her to her present strait. Would they ever come and seeher? Would kinder thoughts of her,--who had shared their daily breadfor months and months,--bring them to see her, and ask her whether itwere really she who had brought on the illness of Prudence, thederangement of Manasseh's mind?

  No one came. Bread and water were pushed in by some one, who hastilylocked and unlocked the door, and cared not to see if he put themwithin his prisoner's reach, or perhaps thought that physical factmattered little to a witch. It was long before Lois could reach them;and she had something of the natural hunger of youth left in her still,which prompted her, lying her length on the floor, to weary herselfwith efforts to obtain the bread. After she had eaten some of it, theday began to wane, and she thought she would lay her down and try tosleep. But before she did so, the gaoler heard her singing the EveningHymn:

  Glory to thee, my God, this night, For all the blessings of the light.

  And a dull thought came into his dull mind, that she was thankful forfew blessings, if she could tune up her voice to sing praises afterthis day of what, if she were a witch, was shameful detection inabominable practices, and if not--. Well, his mind stopped short atthis point in his wondering contemplation. Lois knelt down and said theLord's Prayer, pausing just a little before one clause, that she mightbe sure that in her heart of hearts she did forgive. Then she looked ather ankle, and the tears came into her eyes once again, but not so muchbecause she was hurt, as because men must have hated her so bitterlybefore they could have treated her thus. Then she lay down, and fellasleep.

  The next day, she was led before Mr. Hathorn and Mr. Curwin, justicesof Salem, to be accused legally and publicly of witchcraft. Others werewith her, under the same charge. And when the prisoners were broughtin, they were cried out at by the abhorrent crowd. The two Tappaus,Prudence, and one or two other girls of the same age were there, in thecharacter of victims of the spells of the accused. The prisoners wereplaced about seven or eight feet from the justices and the accusersbetween the justices and them; the former were then ordered to standright before the justices. All this Lois did at their bidding, withsomething of the wondering docility of a child, but not with any hopeof softening the hard, stony look of detestation that was on all thecountenances around her, save those that were distorted by morepassionate anger. Then an officer was bidden to hold each of her hands,and Justice Hathorn bade her keep her eyes continually fixed on him,for this reason--which, however, was not told to her--lest, if shelooked on Prudence, the girl might either fall into a fit, or cry outthat she was suddenly and violently hurt. If any heart could have beentouched of that cruel multitude, they would have felt some compassionfor the sweet young face of the English girl, trying so meekly to doall that she was ordered, her face quite white, yet so full of sadgentleness, her grey eyes, a little dilated by the very solemnity ofher position, fixed with the intent look of innocent maidenhood on thestern face of Justice Hathorn. And thus they stood in silence, onebreathless minute. Then they were bidden to say the Lord's Prayer. Loiswent through it as if alone in her cell; but, as she had done alone inher cell the night before, she made a little pause, before the prayerto be forgiven as she forgave. And at this instant of hesitation--as ifthey had been on the watch for it--they all cried out upon her for awitch, and when the clamour ended the justices bade Prudence Hicksoncome forwards. Then Lois turned a little to one side, wishing to see atleast one familiar face; but when her eyes fell upon Prudence, the girlstood stock-still, and answered no questions, nor spoke a word, and thejustices declared that she was struck dumb by witchcraft. Then somebehind took Prudence under the arms, and would have forced her forwardsto touch Lois, possibly esteeming that as a cure for her beingbewitched. But Prudence had hardly been made to take three steps beforeshe struggled out of their arms, and fell down writhing as in a fit,calling out with shrieks, and entreating Lois to help her, and save herfrom her torment. Then all the girls began 'to tumble down like swine'(to use the words of an eye-witness) and to cry out upon Lois and herfellow-prisoners. These last were now ordered to stand with their handsstretched out, it being imagined that if the bodies of the witches werearranged in the form of a cross they would lose their evil power.By-and-by Lois felt her strength going, from the unwonted fatigue ofsuch a position, which she had borne patiently until the pain andweariness had forced both tears and sweat down her face, and she askedin a low, plaintive voice, if she might not rest her head for a fewmoments against the wooden partition. But Justice Hathorn told her shehad strength enough to torment others, and should have strength enoughto stand. She sighed a little, and bore on, the clamour against her andthe other accused increasing every moment; the only way she could keepherself from utterly losing consciousness was by distracting herselffrom present pain and danger, and saying to herself verses of thePsalms as she could remember them, expressive of trust in God. Atlength she was ordered back to gaol, and dimly understood that she andothers were sentenced to be hanged for witchcraft. Many people nowlooked eagerly at Lois, to see if she would weep at this doom. If shehad had strength to cry, it might--it was just possible that itmight--have been considered a plea in her favour, for witches could notshed tears, but she was too exhausted and dead. All she wanted was tolie down once more on her prison-bed, out of the reach of men's criesof abhorrence, and out of shot of their cruel eyes. So they led herback to prison, speechless and tearless.

  But rest gave her back her power of thought and suffering. Was it,indeed, true that she was to die? She, Lois Barclay, only eighteen, sowell, so young, so full of love and hope as she had been, till butthese little days past! What would they think of it at home--real, dearhome at Barford, in England? There they had loved her; there she hadgone about, singing and rejoicing all the day long in the pleasantmeadows by the Avon side. Oh, why did father and mother die, and leaveher their bidding to come here to this cruel New England shore, whereno one had wanted her, no one had cared for her, and where now theywere going to put her to a shameful death as a witch? And there wouldbe no one to send kindly messages by to those she should never seemore. Never more! Young Lucy was living, and joyful--probably thinkingof her, and of his declared intention of coming to fetch her home to behis wife this very spring. Possibly he had forgotten her; no one knew.A week before, she would have been indignant at her own distrust inthinking for a minute that he could forget. Now, she doubted all men'sgoodness for a time; for those around her were deadly, and cruel, andrelentless.

  Then she turned round, and beat herself with a
ngry blows (to speak inimages), for ever doubting her lover. Oh! if she were but with him! Oh!if she might but be with him! He would not let her die; but would hideher in his bosom from the wrath of this people, and carry her back tothe old home at Barford. And he might even now be sailing on the wideblue sea, coming nearer, nearer every moment, and yet be too late afterall.

  So the thoughts chased each other through her head all that feverishnight, till she clung almost deliriously to life, and wildly prayedthat she might not die; at least, not just yet, and she so young!

  Pastor Tappau and certain elders roused her up from a heavy sleep, lateon the morning of the following day. All night long she had trembledand cried, till morning had come peering in through the square gratingup above. It soothed her, and she fell asleep, to be awakened, as Ihave said, by Pastor Tappau.

  'Arise!' said he, scrupling to touch her, from his superstitious ideaof her evil powers. 'It is noonday.'

  'Where am I?' said she, bewildered at this unusual wakening, and thearray of severe faces all gazing upon her with reprobation.

  'You are in Salem gaol, condemned for a witch.'

  'Alas! I had forgotten for an instant,' said she, dropping her headupon her breast.

  'She has been out on a devilish ride all night long, doubtless, and isweary and perplexed this morning,' whispered one, in so low a voicethat he did not think she could hear; but she lifted up her eyes, andlooked at him, with mute reproach.

  'We are come' said Pastor Tappau, 'to exhort you to confess your greatand manifold sin.'

  'My great and manifold sin!' repeated Lois to herself, shaking herhead.

  'Yea, your sin of witchcraft. If you will confess, there may yet bebalm in Gilead.'

  One of the elders, struck with pity at the young girl's wan, shrunkenlook, said, that if she confessed, and repented, and did penance,possibly her life might yet be spared.

  A sudden flash of light came into her sunk, dulled eye. Might she yetlive? Was it yet in her power?

  Why, no one knew how soon Ralph Lucy might be here, to take her awayfor ever into the peace of a new home! Life! Oh, then, all hope was notover--perhaps she might still live, and not die. Yet the truth cameonce more out of her lips, almost without any exercise of her will.

  'I am not a witch,' she said.

  Then Pastor Tappau blindfolded her, all unresisting, but with languidwonder in her heart as to what was to come next. She heard people enterthe dungeon softly, and heard whispering voices; then her hands werelifted up and made to touch some one near, and in an instant she hearda noise of struggling, and the well-known voice of Prudence shriekingout in one of her hysterical fits, and screaming to be taken away andout of that place. It seemed to Lois as if some of her judges must havedoubted of her guilt, and demanded yet another test. She sat downheavily on her bed, thinking she must be in a horrible dream, socompassed about with dangers and enemies did she seem. Those in thedungeon--and by the oppression of the air she perceived that they weremany--kept on eager talking in low voices. She did not try to make outthe sense of the fragments of sentences that reached her dulled brain,till, all at once, a word or two made her understand they werediscussing the desirableness of applying the whip or the torture tomake her confess, and reveal by what means the spell she had cast uponthose whom she had bewitched could be dissolved. A thrill of affrightran through her; and she cried out, beseechingly:

  'I beg you, sirs, for God's mercy sake, that you do not use such awfulmeans. I may say anything--nay, I may accuse any one if I am subjectedto such torment as I have heard tell about. For I am but a young girl,and not very brave, or very good, as some are.'

  It touched the hearts of one or two to see her standing there; thetears streaming down from below the coarse handkerchief tightly boundover her eyes; the clanking chain fastening the heavy weight to theslight ankle; the two hands held together as if to keep down aconvulsive motion.

  'Look!' said one of these. 'She is weeping. They say no witch can weeptears.'

  But another scoffed at this test, and bade the first remember how thoseof her own family, the Hicksons even, bore witness against her.

  Once more she was bidden to confess. The charges, esteemed by all men(as they said) to have been proven against her, were read over to her,with all the testimony borne against her in proof thereof. They toldher that, considering the godly family to which she belonged, it hadbeen decided by the magistrates and ministers of Salem that he shouldhave her life spared, if she would own her guilt, make reparation, andsubmit to penance; but that if not, she, and others convicted ofwitchcraft along with her, were to be hung in Salem market-place on thenext Thursday morning (Thursday being market day). And when they hadthus spoken, they waited silently for her answer. It was a minute ortwo before she spoke. She had sat down again upon the bed meanwhile,for indeed she was very weak. She asked, 'May I have this handkerchiefunbound from my eyes, for indeed, sirs, it hurts me?'

  The occasion for which she was blindfolded being over, the bandage wastaken off, and she was allowed to see. She looked pitifully at thestern faces around her, in grim suspense as to what her answer wouldbe. Then she spoke:

  'Sirs, I must choose death with a quiet conscience, rather than life tobe gained by a lie. I am not a witch. I know not hardly what you meanwhen you say I am. I have done many, many things very wrong in my life;but I think God will forgive me them for my Saviour's sake.'

  'Take not His name on your wicked lips,' said Pastor Tappau, enraged ather resolution of not confessing, and scarcely able to keep himselffrom striking her. She saw the desire he had, and shrank away in timidfear. Then Justice Hathorn solemnly read the legal condemnation of LoisBarclay to death by hanging, as a convicted witch. She murmuredsomething which nobody heard fully, but which sounded like a prayer forpity and compassion on her tender years and friendless estate. Thenthey left her to all the horrors of that solitary, loathsome dungeon,and the strange terror of approaching death.

  Outside the prison walls, the dread of the witches, and the excitementagainst witchcraft, grew with fearful rapidity. Numbers of women, andmen, too, were accused, no matter what their station of life and theirformer character had been. On the other side, it is alleged thatupwards of fifty persons were grievously vexed by the devil, and thoseto whom he had imparted of his power for vile and wickedconsiderations. How much of malice, distinct, unmistakable personalmalice, was mixed up with these accusations, no one can now tell. Thedire statistics of this time tell us, that fifty-five escaped death byconfessing themselves guilty, one hundred and fifty were in prison,more than two hundred accused, and upwards of twenty suffered death,among whom was the minister I have called Nolan, who was traditionallyesteemed to have suffered through hatred of his co-pastor. One old man,scorning the accusation, and refusing to plead at his trial, was,according to the law, pressed to death for his contumacy. Nay, evendogs were accused of witchcraft, suffered the legal penalties, and arerecorded among the subjects of capital punishment. One young man foundmeans to effect his mother's escape from confinement, fled with her onhorseback, and secreted her in the Blueberry Swamp, not far fromTaplay's Brook, in the Great Pasture; he concealed her here in a wigwamwhich he built for her shelter, provided her with food and clothing,and comforted and sustained her until after the delusion had passedaway. The poor creature must, however, have suffered dreadfully, forone of her arms was fractured in the all but desperate effort ofgetting her out of prison.

  But there was no one to try and save Lois. Grace Hickson would fainhave ignored her altogether. Such a taint did witchcraft bring upon awhole family, that generations of blameless life were not at that dayesteemed sufficient to wash it out. Besides, you must remember thatGrace, along with most people of her time, believed most firmly in thereality of the crime of witchcraft. Poor, forsaken Lois, believed in itherself, and it added to her terror, for the gaoler, in an unusuallycommunicative mood, told her that nearly every cell was now full ofwitches; and it was possible he might have to put one, if more came, inwith her.
Lois knew that she was no witch herself; but not the less didshe believe that the crime was abroad, and largely shared in byevil-minded persons who had chosen to give up their souls to Satan; andshe shuddered with terror at what the gaoler said, and would have askedhim to spare her this companionship if it were possible. But, somehow,her senses were leaving her, and she could not remember the right wordsin which to form her request, until he had left the place.

  The only person who yearned after Lois--who would have befriended herif he could--was Manasseh: poor, mad Manasseh. But he was so wild andoutrageous in his talk, that it was all his mother could do to keep hisstate concealed from public observation. She had for this purpose givenhim a sleeping potion; and, while he lay heavy and inert under theinfluence of the poppy-tea, his mother bound him with cords to theponderous, antique bed in which he slept. She looked broken-heartedwhile she did this office, and thus acknowledged the degradation of herfirst-born--him of whom she had ever been so proud.

  Late that evening, Grace Hickson stood in Lois's cell, hooded andcloaked up to her eyes. Lois was sitting quite still, playing idly witha bit of string which one of the magistrates had dropped out of hispocket that morning. Her aunt was standing by her for an instant or twoin silence, before Lois seemed aware of her presence. Suddenly shelooked up, and uttered a little cry, shrinking away from the darkfigure. Then, as if her cry had loosened Grace's tongue, she began:

  'Lois Barclay, did I ever do you any harm?' Grace did not know howoften her want of loving-kindness had pierced the tender heart of thestranger under her roof; nor did Lois remember it against her now.Instead, Lois's memory was filled with grateful thoughts of how muchthat might have been left undone, by a less conscientious person, heraunt had done for her, and she half stretched out her arms as to afriend in that desolate place, while she answered:

  'Oh no, no you were very good! very kind!'

  But Grace stood immovable.

  'I did you no harm, although I never rightly knew why you came to us.'

  'I was sent by my mother on her death-bed,' moaned Lois, covering herface. It grew darker every instant. Her aunt stood, still and silent.

  'Did any of mine ever wrong you?' she asked, after a time.

  'No, no; never, till Prudence said--Oh, aunt, do you think I am awitch?' And now Lois was standing up, holding by Grace's cloak, andtrying to read her face. Grace drew herself, ever so little, away fromthe girl, whom she dreaded, and yet sought to propitiate.

  'Wiser than I, godlier than I, have said it. But oh, Lois, Lois! he wasmy first-born. Loose him from the demon, for the sake of Him whose nameI dare not name in this terrible building, filled with them who haverenounced the hopes of their baptism; loose Manasseh from his awfulstate, if ever I or mine did you a kindness!'

  'You ask me for Christ's sake,' said Lois. 'I can name that holyname--for oh, aunt! indeed, and in holy truth, I am no witch; and yet Iam to die--to be hanged! Aunt, do not let them kill me! I am so young,and I never did any one any harm that I know of.'

  'Hush! for very shame! This afternoon I have bound my first-born withstrong cords, to keep him from doing himself or us a mischief--he is sofrenzied. Lois Barclay, look here!' and Grace knelt down at her niece'sfeet, and joined her hands as if in prayer--'I am a proud woman, Godforgive me! and I never thought to kneel to any save to Him. And now Ikneel at your feet, to pray you to release my children, more especiallymy son Manasseh, from the spells you have put upon them. Lois, hearkento me, and I will pray to the Almighty for you, if yet there may bemercy.'

  'I cannot do it; I never did you or yours any wrong. How can I undo it?How can I?' And she wrung her hands in intensity of conviction of theinutility of aught she could do.

  Here Grace got up, slowly, stiffly, and sternly. She stood aloof fromthe chained girl, in the remote corner of the prison cell near thedoor, ready to make her escape as soon as she had cursed the witch, whowould not, or could not, undo the evil she had wrought. Grace lifted upher right hand, and held it up on high, as she doomed Lois to beaccursed for ever, for her deadly sin, and her want of mercy even atthis final hour. And, lastly, she summoned her to meet her at thejudgment-seat, and answer for this deadly injury done to both souls andbodies of those who had taken her in, and received her when she came tothem an orphan and a stranger.

  Until this last summons, Lois had stood as one who hears her sentenceand can say nothing against it, for she knows all would be in vain. Butshe raised her head when she heard her aunt speak of the judgment-seat,and at the end of Grace's speech she, too, lifted up her right hand, asif solemnly pledging herself by that action, and replied:

  'Aunt! I will meet you there. And there you will know my innocence ofthis deadly thing. God have mercy on you and yours!'

  Her calm voice maddened Grace, and making a gesture as if she pluckedup a handful of dust of the floor, and threw it at Lois, she cried:

  'Witch! witch! ask mercy for thyself--I need not your prayers. Witches'prayers are read backwards. I spit at thee, and defy thee!' And so shewent away.

  Lois sat moaning that whole night through. 'God comfort me! Godstrengthen me!' was all she could remember to say. She just felt thatwant, nothing more,--all other fears and wants seemed dead within her.And when the gaoler brought in her breakfast the next morning, hereported her as 'gone silly;' for, indeed, she did not seem to knowhim, but kept rocking herself to and fro, and whispering softly toherself, smiling a little from time to time.

  But God did comfort her, and strengthen her too late on that Wednesdayafternoon, they thrust another 'witch' into her cell, bidding the two,with opprobrious words, keep company together. The new comer fellprostrate with the push given her from without; and Lois, notrecognizing anything but an old ragged woman lying helpless on her faceon the ground, lifted her up; and lo! it was Nattee--dirty, filthyindeed, mud-pelted, stone-bruised, beaten, and all astray in her witswith the treatment she had received from the mob outside. Lois held herin her arms, and softly wiped the old brown wrinkled face with herapron, crying over it, as she had hardly yet cried over her ownsorrows. For hours she tended the old Indian woman--tended her bodilywoes; and as the poor scattered senses of the savage creature cameslowly back, Lois gathered her infinite dread of the morrow, when shetoo, as well as Lois, was to be led out to die, in face of all thatinfuriated crowd. Lois sought in her own mind for some source ofcomfort for the old woman, who shook like one in the shaking palsy atthe dread of death--and such a death.

  When all was quiet through the prison, in the deep dead midnight, thegaoler outside the door heard Lois telling, as if to a young child, themarvellous and sorrowful story of one who died on the cross for us andfor our sakes. As long as she spoke, the Indian woman's terror seemedlulled; but the instant she paused, for weariness, Nattee cried outafresh, as if some wild beast were following her close through thedense forests in which she had dwelt in her youth. And then Lois wenton, saying all the blessed words she could remember, and comforting thehelpless Indian woman with the sense of the presence of a HeavenlyFriend. And in comforting her, Lois was comforted; in strengtheningher, Lois was strengthened.

  The morning came, and the summons to come forth and die came. They whoentered the cell found Lois asleep, her face resting on the slumberingold woman, whose head she still held in her lap. She did not seemclearly to recognize where she was, when she awakened; the 'silly' lookhad returned to her wan face; all she appeared to know was, thatsomehow or another, through some peril or another, she had to protectthe poor Indian woman. She smiled faintly when she saw the bright lightof the April day; and put her arm round Nattee, and tried to keep theIndian quiet with hushing, soothing words of broken meaning, and holyfragments of the Psalms. Nattee tightened her hold upon Lois as theydrew near the gallows, and the outrageous crowd below began to hoot andyell. Lois redoubled her efforts to calm and encourage Nattee,apparently unconscious that any of the opprobrium, the hootings, thestones, the mud, was directed towards her herself. But when they tookNattee from her arms, and led her out to suf
fer first, Lois seemed allat once to recover her sense of the present terror. She gazed wildlyaround, stretched out her arms as if to some person in the distance,who was yet visible to her, and cried out once with a voice thatthrilled through all who heard it, 'Mother!' Directly afterwards, thebody of Lois the Witch swung in the air, and every one stood, withhushed breath, with a sudden wonder, like a fear of deadly crime,fallen upon them.

  The stillness and the silence were broken by one crazed and mad, whocame rushing up the steps of the ladder, and caught Lois's body in hisarms, and kissed her lips with wild passion. And then, as if it weretrue what the people believed, that he was possessed by a demon, hesprang down, and rushed through the crowd, out of the bounds of thecity, and into the dark dense forest, and Manasseh Hickson was no moreseen of Christian man.

  The people of Salem had awakened from their frightful delusion beforethe autumn, when Captain Holdernesse and Ralph Lucy came to find outLois, and bring her home to peaceful Barford, in the pleasant countryof England. Instead, they led them to the grassy grave where she lay atrest, done to death by mistaken men. Ralph Lucy shook the dust off hisfeet in quitting Salem, with a heavy, heavy heart; and lived a bachelorall his life long for her sake.

  Long years afterwards, Captain Holdernesse sought him out, to tell himsome news that he thought might interest the grave miller of theAvonside. Captain Holdernesse told him that in the previous year, itwas then 1713, the sentence of excommunication against the witches ofSalem was ordered, in godly sacramental meeting of the church, to beerased and blotted out, and that those who met together for thispurpose 'humbly requested the merciful God would pardon whatsoever sin,error, or mistake was in the application of justice, through ourmerciful High Priest, who knoweth how to have compassion on theignorant, and those that are out of the way.' He also said thatPrudence Hickson--now woman grown--had made a most touching and pungentdeclaration of sorrow and repentance before the whole church, for thefalse and mistaken testimony she had given in several instances, amongwhich she particularly mentioned that of her cousin Lois Barclay. Toall which Ralph Lucy only answered:

  'No repentance of theirs can bring her back to life.'

  Then Captain Holdernesse took out a paper, and read the followinghumble and solemn declaration of regret on the part of those who signedit, among whom Grace Hickson was one:

  'We, whose names are undersigned, being, in the year 1692, called to serve as jurors in court of Salem, on trial of many who were by some suspected guilty of doing acts of witchcraft upon the bodies of sundry persons; we confess that we ourselves were not capable to understand, nor able to withstand, the mysterious delusions of the powers of darkness, and prince of the air, but were, for want of knowledge in ourselves, and better information from others, prevailed with to take up with such evidence against the accused, as, on further consideration, and better information, we justly fear was insufficient for the touching the lives of any (Deut. xvii. 6), whereby we fear we have been instrumental, with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon ourselves and this people of the Lord the guilt of innocent blood; which sin, the Lord saith in Scripture, he would not pardon (2 Kings, xxiv. 4), that is, we suppose, in regard of his temporal judgments. We do, therefore, signify to all in general (and to the surviving sufferers in special) our deep sense of, and sorrow for, our errors, in acting on such evidence to the condemning of any person; and do hereby declare, that we justly fear that we were sadly deluded and mistaken, for which we are much disquieted and distressed in our minds, and do therefore humbly beg forgiveness, first of God for Christ's sake, for this our error; and pray that God would not impute the guilt of it to ourselves nor others; and we also pray that we may be considered candidly and aright by the living sufferers, as being then under the power of a strong and general delusion, utterly unacquainted with, and not experienced in, matters of that nature.

  'We do heartily ask forgiveness of you all, whom we have justly offended; and do declare, according to our present minds, we would none of us do such things again on such grounds for the whole world; praying you to accept of this in way of satisfaction for our offence, and that you would bless the inheritance of the Lord, that he may be entreated for the land.

  'FOREMAN, THOMAS FISK, &C.'

  To the reading of this paper Ralph Lucy made no reply save this, evenmore gloomily than before:

  'All their repentance will avail nothing to my Lois, nor will it bringback her life.'

  Then Captain Holdernesse spoke once more, and said that on the day ofthe general fast, appointed to be held all through New England, whenthe meeting-houses were crowded, an old, old man with white hair hadstood up in the place in which he was accustomed to worship, and hadhanded up into the pulpit a written confession, which he had once ortwice essayed to read for himself, acknowledging his great and grievouserror in the matter of the witches of Salem, and praying for theforgiveness of God and of his people, ending with an entreaty that allthen present would join with him in prayer that his past conduct mightnot bring down the displeasure of the Most High upon his country, hisfamily, or himself. That old man, who was no other than Justice Sewall,remained standing all the time that his confession was read; and at theend he said, 'The good and gracious God be pleased to save New Englandand me and my family.' And then it came out that, for years past, JudgeSewall had set apart a day for humiliation and prayer, to keep fresh inhis mind a sense of repentance and sorrow for the part he had borne inthese trials, and that this solemn anniversary he was pledged to keepas long as he lived, to show his feeling of deep humiliation.

  Ralph Lucy's voice trembled as he spoke:

  'All this will not bring my Lois to life again, or give me back thehope of my youth.'

  But--as Captain Holdernesse shook his head (for what word could he say,or how dispute what was so evidently true?)--Ralph added, 'What is theday, know you, that this justice has set apart?'

  'The twenty-ninth of April.'

  'Then on that day will I, here at Barford in England, join my prayer aslong as I live with the repentant judge, that his sin may be blottedout and no more had in remembrance. She would have willed it so.'