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Stephens</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Silent Struggles, by Ann S. Stephens</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Silent Struggles</p> +<p>Author: Ann S. Stephens</p> +<p>Release Date: May 3, 2011 [eBook #36027]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILENT STRUGGLES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Roberta Staehlin, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/silentstruggles00stepiala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/silentstruggles00stepiala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>SILENT STRUGGLES.</h1> + +<h2>BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "THE WIFE'S SECRET," "THE REJECTED WIFE," "MARY DERWENT," +"FASHION AND FAMINE," "THE HEIRESS," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," ETC., ETC.</h3> + +<p> </p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A woman's heart, though delicate, is strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like virgin-gold it takes the furnace heat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving to history and immortal song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glow of heroism pure and sweet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great men have sought the battle in their pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hewing a path to glory as they fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But women, braver still, have grandly died<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In silent struggles—fame may never tell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>Philadelphia:<br /> +T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,<br /> +306 CHESTNUT STREET.</h3> + +<h3>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by<br /> +MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS,<br /> +In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,<br /> +in and for the Southern District of New York.</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p> </p> + +<blockquote><p>DEDICATION.</p> + +<p>TO MRS. GEORGE H. PENFIELD, OF HARTFORD, CONN.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Lady</span>:—</p> + +<p>One of the sweetest privileges connected with the authorship of +a book is, that it can be made the landmark of such love and +kindly feeling as have united us from the day that we first met +till now. Believe me, it shall not prove my fault if this +dedication fails to link the future with the past, in one +perfect and life-long friendship.</p> + +<p>ANN S. STEPHENS.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">New York, April 8, 1865.</span></p></blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. THE SHIP IN A STORM</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE OLD STONE HOUSE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. THE MINISTER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. EARLY IN THE MORNING</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. SIR WILLIAM AND HIS WIFE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. A GUIDE TO THE FARM-HOUSE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. THE MINISTER AND HIS PUPIL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. THE FORCED SACRAMENT</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. HUNTED DOWN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. DOOMED TO SLAVERY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. ELIZABETH AND HER COUSIN</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. THE BROTHER AND SISTER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. ANNA HUTCHINSON'S CURSE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. GIVEN UP TO REVENGE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. THE ACCEPTED INVITATION</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THE LOVER'S QUARREL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. GATHERING ROSES AND THORNS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. CONVERSATION ON THE PORCH</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. WILD JEALOUSY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. PASSIONATE DENUNCIATIONS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. THE DEATH FIRE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. TITUBA'S STORY CONTINUED</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. AMONG THE SHADOWS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. THE MORNING RIDE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. BACK TO THE HOMESTEAD</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. THE CHIEF AND THE LADY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. WORKING OF THE EVIL SPELL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. ASKING FOR SHELTER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. STRANGE SHADOWS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. NOON IN THE WOODS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. THE BEACON FIRE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. ALL OR NOTHING</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. TOWARD THE SHORE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. UNACCOUNTABLE SYMPATHIES</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. SOUL TORTURES</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. DENUNCIATIONS AND REPROACHES</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. SHELTERED IN THE WOODS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. TAKEN CAPTIVE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. THE ACCUSERS OF BARBARA</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. BARBARA IN HER DUNGEON</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. OLD FRIENDS IN COUNCIL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. THE MINISTER'S EVIDENCE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. PROGRESS OF THE TRIAL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV. CONCLUDING TESTIMONY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI. THE STRANGE ADVOCATE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII. THE WIFE'S APPEAL</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII. THE FOREIGN PACKAGE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX. STRANGE TIDINGS</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L. BARBARA STAFFORD'S STORY</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI. A MOTHER</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII. THE LAST WISH</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">CHAPTER LIII. THE PRISON WEDDING</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">CHAPTER LIV. THE ICE COVE</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LV">CHAPTER LV. CLOSING SCENES</a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">CHAPTER LVI. OVER THE WATER</a><br /><br /> +<a href="#T_B_PETERSON_AND_BROTHERS_PUBLICATIONS">T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SILENT STRUGGLES.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE SHIP IN A STORM.</h3> + + +<p>A storm had been lowering all day over the harbor of Boston, heaping the +horizon with vast leaden embankments of heavy vapor, and shrouding the +hills with dense floating fog that clung around them in waves and masses +like draperies sweeping around some old monastic ruin. As the night +approached, a sharp wind came up from the east, accompanied by a +drifting rain that cut through the fog like a storm of silver shot. The +force of the tempest swept this away only to reveal the harbor in wild +turmoil, its waters heaving shoreward filled with muttering thunders +from the far off ocean, and each hill reverberating hoarsely to their +impetuous charge against its foundations.</p> + +<p>It was a terrible hour for any unfortunate wayfarer who dared to be +abroad. The streets of the town were almost empty, and the wharves +utterly deserted save by a half dozen poor fishermen, who struggled to +keep their boats from being dashed to pieces against the timbers to +which they were chained. But the turbid waves leaped around and over +them, tearing the cables from their hold and beating the little crafts +to atoms or hurling them away like nutshells in the stormy riot.</p> + +<p>As the day wore on, even these poor fishermen retreated in-doors, +leaving their little property to the tempest, and both earth and ocean +were given up to the storm. But on the heights which look seaward stood +two men thrown together even in that tempest into a strange and what +seemed an almost unnatural companionship; for in age, character, and +appearance each was a direct contrast to the other.</p> + +<p>The storm beat heavily on them both, and though one from his age, and +the other from an education which had been almost effeminate, seemed +unlikely to brave a tempest like that without an important motive, it +would have been impossible for either of these men to have told what +brought them on the heights that boisterous day.</p> + +<p>The old man had reached the hill first, and stood with his face to the +storm, looking out upon the turbulent waste of ocean with an anxious, +almost wild gaze, as if he were expecting some object long desired and +watched for to rise out of that leaden distance, and reward his steady +encounter of the elements.</p> + +<p>The young man came up the ascent with a quick, struggling step, for the +storm was in his face, and he was compelled to fight it inch by inch. He +had shaded his eyes from the pelting rain, and cast an earnest gaze into +the distance, as if he, too, expected something, when the old man's +cloak was seized by the wind, and borne out with a rush and flutter like +the wing of a great bird, which made the youth conscious of another +presence. He looked around suddenly, and stepped forward, lifting the +hat from his head, with grave respect.</p> + +<p>"Another man here, so far from town, and in all the tempest? I thought +that no one but a harum-scarum youngster like myself would venture forth +in a storm like this!"</p> + +<p>"And I," answered the person thus addressed, sweeping back the iron gray +locks, that fell wet and scattered over his forehead, with a hand like +withered parchment, "I, too, believed that nothing but an old wanderer, +impelled by the spirit which he can never resist, would dare the wind on +these heights. Look, young man, for the rain blinds me: discern you +nothing in the distance yonder?"</p> + +<p>The young man again sheltered his eyes with one hand, looking earnestly +forth towards the ocean.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he said at last. "I have searched that pile of clouds before, +and find only deeper blackness now."</p> + +<p>"Searched it before! Did you expect something, then?" questioned the old +man, turning a pair of bright, gray eyes upon his companion. "Did you +expect something?"</p> + +<p>As he spoke those eyes grew wild, and the penetrating glance, which he +bent upon the youth from under his heavy brows, struck to the young +heart, which was open to a new impression every moment.</p> + +<p>"Nay, I do not know. It can be nothing but that unaccountable +restlessness which never leaves me in peace when a storm is howling over +the ocean. I could not stay in-doors—indeed, I never can on such +days—and, without knowing why, came up here to look this whirlwind in +the face, which, in return, is almost lifting me from my feet!"</p> + +<p>The old man did not heed him, but stooped forward, looking towards the +ocean, while the rain beat against his face, dripping down in great +drops over his gray eye-brows, and deluging the hand with which he +strove to clear the blinding moisture away.</p> + +<p>"It is coming! the clouds lift—the darkness is cleft—the bosom of the +deep heaves with life! Young man, look again! See you not the faint +outlines of a ship, spars, hull, and sails, reefed close—there—there, +riding in the bosom of the storm?"</p> + +<p>He broke off with this exclamation, and drew his tall figure upright, +pointing towards the sea with a gesture of almost solemn exultation.</p> + +<p>"Is that a ship, I say, or a bleak skeleton of the thing I have been +waiting for?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my life—upon my soul, ten thousand pardons—but I think it really +is a ship, or some evil spirit has pencilled the skeleton of his devil's +craft in the clouds."</p> + +<p>"Ha!" ejaculated the old man with a start, "see, see!"</p> + +<p>The strange being might well cry out with astonishment. As he looked the +great embankment of clouds was torn asunder, and a burst of fire kindled +up its edges till it hung like streamers and tatters of flame around a +vessel of considerable size, which was, for the instant, lifted out of +the cloud into full view. The young man, whose sight was clear, could +even detect persons grouped upon the deck.</p> + +<p>"It is a signal gun. She wants a pilot, or is in distress," he said, +eagerly. "Ha! she blazes out once more—they are casting her anchor. +Heavens, how she plunges! There—there, the cloud swallows her again!"</p> + +<p>The old man had fallen upon his knees, allowing his long, gray cloak to +sweep away with the wind. He locked both hands over his face, and seemed +to be offering up either thanksgiving or entreaties to heaven; for his +voice, sharp and piercing, penetrated the storm too impetuously for the +words to be distinguished.</p> + +<p>The young man stood a moment, reluctant to disturb him. That thin form +was completely exposed to the storm, and he could not refrain from an +attempt to rescue the old man's cloak from the wind, and gather it about +him. Besides, the grass was completely saturated on which he knelt, and +to remain upon it longer might bring a death chill.</p> + +<p>"Sir, forgive me, but this is a dangerous place for prayer. The earth is +deluged where you kneel."</p> + +<p>The old man struggled to his feet, and looked down upon the crushed +grass with humiliation and wonder.</p> + +<p>"Kneel! did I in truth kneel?" he said, anxiously, like one who excuses +himself from a grave crime; "and here, in the open day? I beseech you, +remember, my young friend, that it was the surprise of yon ship and the +tempest which cast me into that unseemly position. When a servant of God +prays, it should be standing upright, face to face with the Being after +whose image he was made."</p> + +<p>"You were, indeed greatly overcome," answered the youth, arranging the +folds of the old man's cloak. "The ship yonder must contain some dear +friend, that its appearance should move you so deeply."</p> + +<p>"Some dear friend! Samuel Parris has no friends to expect from the +mother-land now. It is many years since he and all that is left of his +kin took root in the New World."</p> + +<p>"And yet you were looking for the ship so anxiously?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, young man. I was looking for something which was to come up from +the east through yon gate of clouds; but whether it was a weather-worn +vessel or an archangel sent on some special mission, was not told me."</p> + +<p>"And you come hither expecting nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Expecting every thing, for Jehovah is everywhere," answered the old +man, solemnly.</p> + +<p>The youth was greatly impressed, his eye brightened.</p> + +<p>"I only wish it were in my power to have expectations grounded on so +much faith," he said. "Now I come forth like a storm-bird, because a +strife of wind and water fills me with some grand expectation never +realized, but which seems always on the verge of fulfilment. You may +perchance smile, but it seems to me as if I had been months and years +watching for that very craft yonder, as if my own fate were anchored +with it in the storm. Nay, more, the guns, as they boomed over these +waves, seemed challenging me to meet some new destiny, and grapple with +it to the end, as I will—as I will!"</p> + +<p>The young man stretched his arm towards the shadowy vessel, and his +slight, almost boyish form swelled with excitement, while the dark brown +eyes, usually bright and playful as a child's, darkened and grew larger +with the sudden excitement that had come upon him.</p> + +<p>The minister grasped his outstretched arm, and fixed a steady gaze on +his face.</p> + +<p>"And you also have been on the watch. Like me, you have come blindfold +through the storm, searching into the future for that ghostly ship, +where it spreads its shrouds of dull mist, and rocks upon the moaning +sea. Has the spirit of prophecy touched your young life also, that you +say these things with a shortened breath and white cheek, like one +terrified or inspired?"</p> + +<p>"I know not," said the young man; "but, like you, I have expected that +visit long. In storm and darkness as it comes now have I seen it."</p> + +<p>"How—where?" cried the old man, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"In my dreams or reveries, I know not which, it has floated often, +shrouded as it is now, impalpable, a phantom of spars and fog."</p> + +<p>"And you have seen this?"</p> + +<p>"No, not with my eyes; it comes across my life like a ghost whose +presence fills you with awe, but answers to no sense."</p> + +<p>"Like a ghost which you would fain flee from and cannot. Is it thus the +spirit deals with you also?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I would not flee, it arouses my courage. Even now my heart leaps +toward yon vessel as if some precious thing lay in its hold which no one +but myself may dare to claim."</p> + +<p>"This is strange—marvellously strange," said the minister, forgetting +himself in the enthusiasm of the young man.</p> + +<p>"What is strange?"</p> + +<p>"That we two should meet here for the first time in our lives, haunted +by the same dreams, waiting together for the same revelation. Heaven +forbid that this should prove a device of the evil one urging us on to +perdition. I trust that you have not come forth without fasting and +prayer, my young brother, for of a verity there is great need of both in +these latter days."</p> + +<p>The youth smiled, for solemn thoughts made but brief impressions on him, +and the idea of quenching any one of his bright fancies by fasting or +prayer amused him exceedingly, notwithstanding the earnestness of the +old man's words.</p> + +<p>The minister did not notice this gleam of levity, which would have +shocked him to the soul, for his eyes were fascinated by the strange +vessel, and he could not force them to look steadily on any other +object.</p> + +<p>While the two men stood together the wind had shifted, carrying off the +rain. Through the gray mists left behind came a crimson glow from the +sun, which was that moment sinking behind the heights and shooting its +golden lances after the storm as it rolled slowly back upon the bosom of +the ocean.</p> + +<p>"It is gone," said the old man, mournfully, as the heavy clouds settled +back upon the vessel; "the vapors have swallowed it up as usual. Let us +descend the hill, brother."</p> + +<p>"Not yet—not yet!" cried the youth. "See! the storm is breaking away, +the sunset has drawn it seaward. Look, look how beautifully the vessel +pencils itself against that break of blue in the sky."</p> + +<p>The old man turned again, and clasping his hands, murmured, "It is +neither phantom nor mist, but a ship of sturdy English oak, with masts +and spars standing. Hush!—young man, see you nothing upon the deck?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, surely, a group of persons standing together."</p> + +<p>"No, not that, nearer the bow!"</p> + +<p>"It is the form of a woman alone, with her arms folded and her face +turned this way."</p> + +<p>"Aye, the form of a woman with an outer garment of crimson, beneath +which her arms are crossed as she looks westward, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Truly you have described the woman, for, though I cannot see her +features, they are certainly turned this way."</p> + +<p>"My sight is dim and will not serve me; tell me, stands the lady there +yet?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—clearer and clearer the sunset gathers over the vessel, +turning the angry waves to gold; the clouds are fringed with light, and +grow luminous around her. Sir, I entreat you tell me—who is this +woman?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, I do not know."</p> + +<p>"But the vessel, what is her name, from what port does she come?"</p> + +<p>"How should I answer questions like these—I who never saw either the +vessel or the woman till now, save as shadows drifting through the +night. If yonder ship be, as it seems, of tough oak, and the woman a +living soul, then is the revelation complete and I may seek rest, sure +that the end will come."</p> + +<p>The minister turned away as he spoke, and gathering the cloak around him +prepared to descend toward the town, but the young man lingered.</p> + +<p>"Stay, stay!" he cried; "the people on board that craft are mad! No boat +could live in these waves, and yet they lower one to the water, and men +jump in, flinging themselves over the side of the vessel. Come back, +old man, she is preparing to descend. Her mantle gleams redly against +the black side of the ship; she gathers it around her like the wings +of a tropical bird, and settles down in the boat, which plunges and +rocks like a wild animal tugging at its chains. They loosen the +cable—a wave seizes upon the boat—it quivers upon the topmost +crest—plunges—and—oh! heavens! A man poises himself on the bulwarks +and leaps into the boiling ocean—the boat rocks heavily—turns to save +him—they grasp at his garments and attempt to pull him in—now the boat +is hurled onward and the poor man is lost—no! they fling a cable from +the vessel—he snatches it and they draw him up the sides again. But the +boat—another wave seizes it! Old man, old man, gather up your strength +and follow me. It is for this we have been brought together."</p> + +<p>The youth ran forward as he spoke, taking the nearest path to the shore. +The minister followed after with a degree of energy that belied his +years. Now and then they caught a glimpse of the boat, struggling feebly +with the waves, and this gave them courage.</p> + +<p>It was no slight distance that lay between the crest of that hill and +the broken shore at its foot; but space seemed nothing to the impetuous +young man. He rushed down the steep, calling out cheerfully for his +companion to be careful of the inequalities over which he bounded like a +deer, and at length stood panting on a curve of the beach, with his head +uncovered and his wild, bright eyes roving over the harbor in search of +the boat.</p> + +<p>It was struggling up the harbor, beaten to and fro by the wind, which +seemed to come from every point at once, and tossed fearfully by the +waves that were wrangling together and leaping after it like ravenous +wolves.</p> + +<p>It was evident that the sailors had lost all control of the little +craft, which fairly leaped in the water with a desperate strain, as if +mad to escape from its howling enemies. Suddenly the wind took it on the +crest of a wave, whirled it sheer about, and drove it on with fury +towards the point where Parris and his young companion stood.</p> + +<p>A chain of sunken rocks girded the shore in that place, breaking up the +waves into innumerable whirlpools, and sending sheets of foam back upon +the storm. It scarcely seemed a minute when the boat made a plunge into +the midst of this terrible danger, and for an instant lay still, with +the angry foam boiling around it, and the white faces of its occupants +in full view. One man held the stump of a broken oar in his grasp, and +with its splintered end beat against the waves, as if this frantic +exertion would do them good. Another had lost his oar, and sat with his +arms folded, calmly surveying the land, with his wild eyes sternly +measuring the danger before him. Two other men toiled on with the +strength of giants, but the oars were no better than rushes in their +hands, and all their strength scarcely more than the flutter of dead +tree boughs against a wind like that.</p> + +<p>All this the two men upon the shore took in at a glance. Then the +female, who had fallen forward upon her knees in the stern, absorbed +their whole attention. The face was turned that way, white and +contracted. Her hands were clasped and flung out with imploring anguish. +Her eyes gleamed, her frame quivered and rocked to and fro. The winds +had torn the bonnet from her head, and the waters dashing over the boat +saturated her crimson mantle till it hung heavily around her, and turned +purple under the scattered coils of her hair.</p> + +<p>The boat gave a lurch: she started up, her white lips parted as if +uttering desperate cries; but if any escaped her they were swallowed by +the storm. Still their terrible eloquence broke forth in one wild +gesture, as she flung her locked hands upwards, and sunk down again, +shuddering and cowering into the bottom of the boat.</p> + +<p>"She cannot live! she is lost!" cried the young man upon the beach, +frantic almost as the woman in her peril. "Is there no rope, no help, +nothing?"</p> + +<p>"There is a God above," answered Parris, who stood with his gleaming +eyes fixed upon the boat.</p> + +<p>The youth dashed out his arms against the wind, maddened by these heavy +words. Then, with a sudden cry, he darted forward and seized upon the +old man's cloak.</p> + +<p>"Give it me—give it me!" he cried, rending it from the minister's +shoulders. "God expects his creatures to work when he sends danger—knot +these strips together if you would not see all those souls perish before +our eyes. Work, old man! Save that woman, and I, too, will kneel down +anywhere and give thanks to God honestly as you. Tie them firmly, and +tighten the knots with hand and foot—see—as I do."</p> + +<p>While he spoke, the youth tore the old man's cloak into long strips, +using his delicate hands and white teeth simultaneously in the work; to +these he added his own short cloak, rent into fragments with equal +impetuosity.</p> + +<p>The old man obeyed him, and began to knot the fragments together, while +the youth pressed his foot upon each knot, drew it firmly, and proceeded +to the next. A cable of some length was thus produced, which he tied +around his waist, while he flung the other end to the minister, who, +fired with sudden energy, followed the directions given him in stern +silence.</p> + +<p>"Now come with me into the surf and hold firm, or you will have another +poor wretch to pray over," cried the young man. "Now, while that wave +goes out—ah! she strikes!—she falls apart!—there! there!—that red +heap in the foam!"</p> + +<p>The youth plunged headlong into the waves. The old man stood waist deep, +with the end of the cable grasped firmly and wrapped around his right +arm. The winds dashed in his face and swept around his feet, striving to +uproot them, but he stood firm; the waters might as well have beat +against a pillar of iron. He felt the cable tighten with a jerk; for an +instant he saw the youth upon the crest of a wave, then all was roar and +darkness. A wave had rolled in and out again, straining at the cable +till it almost broke the old man's arm. Another rush of water. The cable +slackened, it was broken, or—wild hope—the waters which came roaring +in might bring the youth in their bosom.</p> + +<p>The old man turned and fled up the shore, shouting a thanksgiving as he +felt the cable tighten in his hold. Like a monster that bears a child on +its bosom, the wave rushed up, and surged back again, leaving two human +beings struggling in its spent foam. A mass of dull crimson broke up +through the white froth, and tresses of long hair floated on the foam +wreaths.</p> + +<p>The old man rushed back, seized upon these two lifeless creatures, and +dragged them to dry land. His iron energies were all aroused now; other +human beings were yet in the waves. He left the strange female and the +youth, helpless as they were, and went back in search of other lives.</p> + +<p>It took time, for the poor boatmen were struggling hard for life, and +the storm fought them inch by inch, sweeping one man into eternity, and +washing over the others every moment.</p> + +<p>While feelings of humanity transformed this dreamer into an activity +that would have astonished any one that knew him, the two persons he had +already saved lay senseless on the bank of ferns where he had cast them +down. It was not yet dark, and a black shadow from the hills rolled over +them, making their white faces ghastly as death. The woman was the first +to move; she struggled a little, clasping and unclasping her hands with +quick spasms of pain. Then the violet tinge grew to a faint flush on her +eyelids, and they quivered open, allowing two large gray eyes yet filled +with dull affright to look upward with vague wonder upon the sky.</p> + +<p>Directly other senses awoke from their lethargy. The boom of the ocean +struck a shudder through all her frame; she began to tremble beneath the +cold sweep of the winds, and felt vaguely about with her hand for +something to fold about her.</p> + +<p>Instead of the garment she sought, her hand fell across the pale face of +the young man, and struck a fresh chill to her heart. She began to +remember where she was, and what had happened. Her first thought was +that one of the dead seamen had been cast to her side, but, for a time, +she had no strength to rise up and look at the cold horror.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE OLD STONE HOUSE.</h3> + + +<p>It must have been a death-chill, indeed, that could long restrain the +warm heart of Barbara Stafford. Her first real impulse was to arise, and +see if the poor man at her side was indeed dead.</p> + +<p>The effort was a painful one, but, to her, will was strength. She lifted +her two hands, parted the wet locks from her face, struggled up to a +rest on one elbow, till her eyes fell on the pale, beautiful face of the +young man. Slowly her lips parted, and her large, wild eyes filled with +holy wonder. She was like a spirit just landed on the shores of +eternity, doubting if her companion were in truth an angel.</p> + +<p>She held the dripping hair back from her cheek with one hand, for the +sight of that young face had arrested it there, and slowly over her +singular features dawned a pale, soft light, that illuminated her +countenance without leaving a tint of color there.</p> + +<p>After a little, Barbara Stafford drew a deep, tremulous breath, that was +long in coming, for the holy depths of her heart could not be broken up +at once. She arose to a sitting posture, and lifted the head of the +young man to her lap.</p> + +<p>That moment Samuel Parris came up followed by the three sailors his +courage had rescued.</p> + +<p>"Ah, me!" said the old man, clasping his hands sorrowfully over the +body. "The youth has gone to his last account; there is no life here."</p> + +<p>The woman looked quickly around; a spasm of pain contracted her features +when she saw the ocean, the dripping sailors, and that singular old man, +stricken with sorrow, and moaning over the cold form in her arms. She +was still of earth; this conviction left her gazing wistfully in the old +man's face; she was trying to comprehend the connection of his words. At +last, understanding them, she dropped her eyes sorrowfully downward +again.</p> + +<p>"He is gone of a verity," said Parris, dropping the hand of the youth +from his fingers, which had been tremulously searching for the beat of a +pulse. "He has gone, and those that have seen him shall see him no +more."</p> + +<p>Again Barbara Stafford lifted a gaze full of mournful intensity upon the +old man's face.</p> + +<p>"Dead," she echoed, in a voice that thrilled even that rough atmosphere +with pathetic sweetness. "Dead! what, does he belong to that shore and I +to this? Oh, would to God I had died also!"</p> + +<p>Her head bent slowly downward as she spoke. With her two hands she began +smoothing the wet hair back from that pale forehead. Then, as if +overcome with unaccountable tenderness, she bent down her mouth and +kissed it slowly, lingeringly, as the first sigh of returning life had +left her bosom.</p> + +<p>Up to that moment the young man had lain frozen lifeless, without a beat +of the pulse or a flutter of the breath. As that woman's lips touched +his forehead, a shudder ran visibly through what seemed marble a moment +before, and a low cry broke from his lips. Life had come back to him +with a pang either of pain or pleasure; no one could tell which.</p> + +<p>"Behold," said Samuel Parris with enthusiasm, "truly our Lord has worked +a miracle in behalf of this youth; for of a verity there was no life in +him when his hand rested in mine a moment since."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford had withdrawn her lips from his forehead; but, as his +quivering eyelids opened, the look of strange tenderness with which she +bent over him penetrated to every fibre of his heart. The same holy +expression that had crept over her features a little time before, came +to his also, bringing warmth and color, almost a smile with it.</p> + +<p>"At last!" he murmured, like one just aroused from a dream, "at last you +have come."</p> + +<p>The words were uttered in a low murmur, but Barbara Stafford gathered +them into her heart unshared by the men about her; they heard a faint +moan, which spoke of returning life, nothing more.</p> + +<p>By this time the whole group began to feel the cold insupportably. The +old man, without cloak or coat, shook in all his limbs, while the +sailors could hardly stand, so fierce had been their struggle with the +waves.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Samuel Parris, addressing one of the sailors, "to whom +were you conveying this lady?—for such I take her to be."</p> + +<p>"We do not know," answered the man; "she gave us a guinea a-piece to set +her upon one of the wharves yonder before sunset; that is all we can +tell you of the matter."</p> + +<p>"Lady," said Parris, addressing Barbara directly, "we must find speedy +shelter or this new-born life will go out again."</p> + +<p>The lady lifted her face; it was cramped and so cold that a violet tinge +shadowed the mouth and lay underneath the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is very cold," she said, gathering her wet mantle over the +youth; "have you nothing else?"</p> + +<p>"Arouse yourself, lady," said the old man after a moment's perplexed +thought; "to remain here would be death to us all. It is impossible for +you or this youth to reach the town to-night. Around this curve of the +hill is a farm-house, where you can have rest. It is but a brief walk."</p> + +<p>"Let us go before this ice touches his heart!" she said, earnestly. "I +can walk; carry him among you. Which way lies the house?"</p> + +<p>Her teeth chattered as she spoke; but even this chill gave way to her +resolution.</p> + +<p>Two of the sailors lifted the young man between them, and moved slowly +forward, following the lady, who leaned on the minister's arm. After the +first few steps the youth planted his feet more firmly on the earth, +and, though staggering from exhaustion, insisted on supporting the lady, +walking on one side while she kept the arm of the minister on the other.</p> + +<p>At last a farm-house of stone, low-roofed and sheltered in a hollow of +the hills, presented itself. Samuel Parris knocked upon the door with +his knuckles two or three times, when a voice bade him "come in." He +pulled a thong which lifted a wooden latch inside, and entered a low +room in which a woman sat alone spinning on one of those small +flax-wheels with which our mothers in the olden time used to fill up the +leisure hours obtained from the general housework.</p> + +<p>She was a spare, not to say gaunt woman, a little on the sunny side of +mid age; not exactly austere of countenance, but with a certain gravity +which was in that epoch considered an outward sign of experimental +religion.</p> + +<p>The woman arose in evident surprise when her strange guests entered. +Pushing back the spinning-wheel with her foot, she stood bolt upright, +waiting to know what had brought them under her roof. Mr. Parris stepped +forward, and told his story in a few terse words, during which the good +wife was unbanding her wheel and removing the checked apron which had +protected her dress while at work.</p> + +<p>"Walk in and make yourself to home, ma'am," said the housewife, opening +the door of an inner room and revealing a fire-place filled with pine +branches which looked drearily cold that heavy day. "The hired man is +out, but if one of these sailor men will bring in some wood from the +yard, I'll get some pitch pine knots and have a fire in no time." +Without more ceremony, the woman went to work, and in less than half an +hour Barbara Stafford was in a warm bed, with a bowl of herb tea smoking +on a little round table by her pillow, while her young preserver lay in +a smaller room equally well provided for.</p> + +<p>For Samuel Parris and the sailors the good wife insisted on providing a +comfortable supper; and gave up her own bed to the minister, while she +found room for the unfortunate seamen in a loft of the house. In order +to accomplish this, she was sadly put about for blue and white yarn +coverlets with which to restore them to warmth, but stripped every bed +in the house, and, when that resource was exhausted, brought out all her +linsey-woolsey skirts and aprons as a substitute.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning Norman Lovel was aroused from a deep slumber by the +hand of Samuel Parris laid gently on his shoulder. The youth started up, +shook back his hair which the dampness had left crisp and curling over +his forehead, and cast an astonished look around, which ended in a long, +half-angry gaze at his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said, sweeping a hand once or twice across his eyes, then +turning his face toward the old man, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"This is no dream, I suppose—though you are here with the roar of +waters too—a minute since I was fighting them like a tiger; but this is +a feather bed, and you stand upon a good oak floor. Is it not so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, thanks to the Holy of holies, we are safe!"</p> + +<p>"But that ship—the boat—the lady—tell me what is real and what was +dreaming."</p> + +<p>"We have had a strange meeting, my young friend, and have struggled +together in behalf of human life, peradventure with success."</p> + +<p>The youth again swept a hand over his face. "Yes, yes. I remember a ship +in the distance—a boat full of people rocking in the foam—a madman +jumping overboard—I—you in the waves. Tell me, old man, was this +real?"</p> + +<p>"Truly it was."</p> + +<p>"And the lady—this house—the woman at her spinning-wheel, who brought +herb tea to my bed. That lady—me, good friend, for I remember all—how +fares the lady?"</p> + +<p>"She is safe—thanks to a merciful Providence—and sleeping profoundly +in the next room, at least such was the report of Goody Brown, in the +kitchen yonder, ten minutes ago. She must not be disturbed. I had not +broken in upon your sleep, either, but the sun is up, and perchance +there is some one in town who may be grieved at your absence. You must +have friends, and I would cheerfully bear them tidings of your safety."</p> + +<p>"Friends!" cried the youth, starting up. "Indeed, there is one who will +have wept her eyes out by this time. I pray you, sir, hand me such +garments as the storm has left. We must start together for the town."</p> + +<p>"Willingly," answered the minister, bringing the desired garments in +from the kitchen fire. "But put on your garments in haste, for the +morning wears; meanwhile I will speak a word with our host."</p> + +<p>Half an hour after, the minister and his young friend quitted the +farm-house, leaving the woman they had saved in the deep slumber of +exhaustion.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>THE MINISTER.</h3> + + +<p>Norman Lovel and the old minister walked on toward the town in company. +The earth was still wet and heavy after the storm, and a sullen moan +came up from the depths of the far-off ocean, which filled the bright +morning as with a wail of sorrow.</p> + +<p>But the old man was strong, and the youth full of that elasticity which +springs more from the soul than the body. If either of them felt any +evil effect from the storm, the vigorous speed at which they walked bore +no evidence of it.</p> + +<p>For some time they moved on in silence. The minister seemed lost in a +reverie; the youth was thinking, with strange interest, on the lady he +had left behind.</p> + +<p>They came down upon the shore where the accident of the previous night +had happened. A fragment of the boat lay where it had ploughed in upon +the sand, burying itself so firmly that the waves had failed to draw it +back again, and so had lost their plaything.</p> + +<p>The two men paused a moment, looking at the broken timbers. The youth +shuddered.</p> + +<p>"To think," he said, looking wistfully at his companion,—"to think that +these treacherous bits of wood alone kept her from the deep, and +I—you—it seems all like a dream."</p> + +<p>"It seems like the great mercy it was," said the minister, lifting his +eyes to heaven; "for of a verity we were but as two rushes in the midst +of the waves, frail like the timbers at our feet, and as easily broken. +Believe me, young man, God has protected this poor lady with his +especial providence."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I believe it," replied the youth, lifting his cap, for a +momentary feeling of devotion came over him; "I most devoutly believe +it; as a token, see how the beautiful morning smiles upon the waters. +The harbor seems scattered with rose leaves. The very sands at our feet +are turning to gold."</p> + +<p>"Truly, God smiles upon us," said the minister, looking abroad with an +enthusiasm deep as that which flashed in the eyes of the youth, and far +more concentrated. "But we linger here unadvisedly; the glory of a +morning like this rests not in one place. Let us move on; the chimneys +over yonder are beginning to vomit forth smoke, soon the town will be +astir."</p> + +<p>The youth did not hear him, but darted down to the edge of the water, +where a strip of ribbon tinted a spent foam wreath with its blue. He +seized upon the ribbon, shook it, scattering the foam like snow-flakes +with the motion, and came back to where the minister stood.</p> + +<p>"It must be hers," he said, revealing a locket of chased gold, with a +broad lock of hair white as snow, knotted with pearls upon the back. "It +must be hers."</p> + +<p>Parris reached forth his hand, as if to take the trinket, but the youth +gathered the ribbon hastily in his palm, and clasped his fingers over +it.</p> + +<p>"We have no right to examine it, knowing, as we do, the owner," he said, +hastily. "The spring is closed. It is evidently some portrait."</p> + +<p>"But the water may have penetrated to the painting and will destroy it."</p> + +<p>"True, true!" The youth, still reluctant to give up the locket, touched +the spring, and with difficulty opened it.</p> + +<p>The water had indeed penetrated the clasp, but a crystal underneath +protected the portrait, which was that of a middle-aged man, evidently +of the highest rank, for his dress was of the most costly material, and +enriched with several jewelled orders which were easily distinguished as +belonging to the English court.</p> + +<p>"It is a strange face," said Parris, bending his head to examine the +portrait, "hard as iron and full of worldly pride. Young man, I have +seen this face before; but where—when?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?" answered the youth, who was gazing wistfully at the +face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, after a moment; "it is hard as iron, but a grand +countenance, nevertheless. That man would have died for an idea."</p> + +<p>"Died for an idea!" repeated the minister; "how many have done that, yet +the idea a false one? But where have I seen that face?"</p> + +<p>The youth covered the portrait with its gold again, and the two walked +on more rapidly for the time they had lost. All at once young Lovel +stopped as if some important idea had flashed upon him.</p> + +<p>"Sir," he said, eagerly, "did I not hear your name yesterday, or have I +dreamed it over night—Samuel Parris—was it in truth from your own lips +I heard the name?"</p> + +<p>"Even so, young man."</p> + +<p>"Samuel Parris, minister of the gospel in Salem?"</p> + +<p>"Even to that honored post the Lord and his people have appointed me."</p> + +<p>"One question more—only one—then forgive me if I am too bold. There is +a young lady at our house—that is, at the house of Governor Phipps—her +name is Parris also, and her father is minister of a congregation in +Salem—tell me if this fair maiden is your child."</p> + +<p>"My child!" cried the old man, lifting up his face to heaven with a look +of exultant thanksgiving; "yes, Elizabeth is my child, the first-born of +that beautiful one who is a leader among God's angels. Ask me if the +heart which lies in my bosom—the brain that thinks—the blood that +beats in these veins are mine, and I will answer, Yea. But not so +closely do these things encompass me as does my love for Elizabeth, the +babe that my young wife left in my embrace as a blessing and a comfort, +before she was enrolled among the just made perfect."</p> + +<p>The young man drew a quick breath; the enthusiasm and energy of the +minister's speech, so uncalled for by the simple question he had put, +startled him not a little. Besides this, other anxieties sprang up in +his mind, and knowing the man with whom he had been cast so strangely by +his true name, he was struck dumb with the rush of emotions which this +knowledge aroused.</p> + +<p>"Her father," he said inly; "her father—and is this our first meeting?"</p> + +<p>"My child, my child!" cried the old man, forgetting his companion, while +his eager eyes were turned towards the town. "Have I not fasted, +watched, prayed, nay, sent her forth from beneath my roof that this +great love may not be as a snare, and stand between me and my +God—between me and the angel that has gone before! Now, when I have +been two whole days within sight of the roof that covers her, holding +down my heart, and fasting with a soul-fast—the very mention of her +name, even by a stranger, sends the breath in quick gushes to my lips, +and I tremble like a little child."</p> + +<p>The old man stood still upon the shore, and the youth paused with him, +gazing up into his face with a look of strange sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I am grieved, I am very sorry!" he said, scarcely knowing that he had +spoken at all.</p> + +<p>"God forgive you, young man, but you have unsealed this heart to its +depths. The weakness is still here; instead of singing, 'Hosannah to the +Lord,' it cries out, 'My child, my child!' Pray as I will—fast as I +will—her name always comes first, and thus I droop before the Lord full +of terror and self-reproach, an unfaithful servant, still keeping back a +portion of my master's treasures."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me!" pleaded the youth, struck with sudden remorse for the +sorrows he had evidently excited.</p> + +<p>"Forgive <i>you</i>," answered the old Christian, for such he undoubtedly +was. "What have you done that I should claim the power to forgive? It is +my own heart, which, strive as I may, will cling to its idol."</p> + +<p>"But I have given you pain."</p> + +<p>The old man bent his eyes on that ingenuous face, and before he lifted +them again they were full of tears; those cold watery tears that come up +like melted ice from the heart.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the youth, "now I see a resemblance, vague, hardened, +but still I should know that Elizabeth Parris was your daughter."</p> + +<p>The minister's face brightened like a lamp suddenly illuminated. He +reached forth his hand, grasped that of the young man, and his features +quivered all over with the gush of feeling that swelled within him.</p> + +<p>"Is she—is the dear child indeed so like her father? And you know +her—you have seen her, perhaps; tell me is she well—does she grieve at +the thoughts of home—does she pine for a sight of her father?"</p> + +<p>He waited for no answer, but heaped question upon question with +breathless eagerness.</p> + +<p>The youth looked at him with amazement. The intense affection which +transfigured those stern features exhibited itself so unexpectedly, that +for the moment he was speechless.</p> + +<p>The old man noticed this with a deprecating movement.</p> + +<p>"She was the daughter of my old age!" he said, with ineffable humility, +while his shoulders drooped, and his face bent towards his breast, "she +looks so like her young mother."</p> + +<p>"She is beautiful as an angel!" exclaimed Lovel with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"She is like her mother!" murmured the minister, clasping his hands and +looking wistfully out into the distance. "Ah, so like her mother!"</p> + +<p>"No wonder you loved her mother, then!" said the youth, drawing close to +the old man with prompt sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Loved her—oh, God forgive me—how I did love her, young man! The very +daisies upon her grave are like the stars of heaven to me, and she has +been dead since Elizabeth was a babe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no wonder you look so old and care-worn; it must be like burying +one's own soul, to see the mother of one's child die."</p> + +<p>The old man did not answer, but his hands interlocked more firmly. The +feelings swelling in his bosom were too painful for utterance. How far +the intense affection, which death could not diminish, had approached +insanity, it would be impossible to say; but all unconsciously, the +young man had made the minister quiver in every nerve by the genuine +sympathy he had given.</p> + +<p>They walked on together, and entered the streets of Boston in company. +When they reached the heart of the town, the old man stopped +reluctantly, reaching forth his hand with a piteous smile.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, young man," he said, "we may never meet again, but—"</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay," cried the youth, blushing scarlet, "not meet again—God +forbid that you speak sooth in this. Indeed, indeed—"</p> + +<p>But the minister wrung his hand, turned suddenly down a cross street, +and disappeared before the sentence was finished.</p> + +<p>Young Lovel looked after him for a moment, made a step to follow the +course he had taken, then returning slowly, walked on.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>EARLY IN THE MORNING.</h3> + + +<p>The town of Boston had little of its present compactness in those days. +True, there existed streets and lanes, and wharves which served as +barriers to the harbor, but green turf lay richly where slabs of granite +form the sidewalk now, the streets wound in and out as they had been +trodden broader and broader from the forest paths, and around the houses +were yards and pleasant gardens, with carpets of green turf in which the +wild flowers still lingered. The dwellings were mostly of wood; low, +broad, and heavy, with cumbrous adornments; coats of arms surmounted the +doors, cut out with the broad-axe and chisel, and heavy wooden cornices +loomed over the front, betraying a surplus of timber and a lamentable +scarcity of architectural art. Among these more imposing buildings, +houses of hewn logs, and even ruder cabins were scattered, but the +trees, the grass, and many a clinging vine, gave to the infant city a +picturesque beauty which can never belong to the brick, granite, and +mortar which have taken so many imposing forms since. But even then +Boston had its fashionable street, and its aristocratic neighborhood.</p> + +<p>To this portion of the town young Lovel bent his steps, and soon came +out upon the green lanes of North Boston, which was in fact a wide area, +where the palaces of the New World loomed proudly among the grand old +forest trees, which softened their stateliness with touches of natural +beauty.</p> + +<p>The most imposing of these mansions, conspicuous for its three stories, +and a certain attempt at architectural beauty, was the residence of Sir +William Phipps, Captain-General and Governor-in-chief of New England. +Those who knew the sheep-tender of Kennebec, the younger brother of +twenty-six children, who even in his boyhood turned haughtily from the +occupation of his father when proposed to him, and predicted of himself +<i>that he was born to greater matters</i>, might have wondered as they stood +before that stately dwelling, and saw in its vastness and its ornaments +a fulfilment of the sheep-boy's prophecy. In all New England there was +not a dwelling like that, or a man so powerful as its owner. Yet Sir +William Phipps, titled, wealthy, and almost a sovereign, had not yet +passed his prime of life; while he was comparatively a young man, all +this great fortune had been wrought out by his own stern energies.</p> + +<p>The youth stood for a moment in front of the mansion, gazing wistfully +at one of the second story windows. It was very early in the morning; +too early for any one in the gubernatorial mansion to be stirring, but +he was disappointed to find the curtains drawn and the shutters +partially closed. Evidently, the youth had expected some one to be +watching for him, rendered miserable by his strange absence over night.</p> + +<p>But every thing was still, even to the great elm-tree that swept its +branches over one end of the house, and the rose bushes that clustered +along the terraces. The youth did not like to claim admittance till some +of the servants were astir, so walked up and down the green lane, always +advancing toward the house, till you would have fancied him studying its +architecture; but his eyes always wandered to one window, and that had +nothing but a stone coping and an arched top to command his admiration. +Still the gubernatorial mansion was well worth examining, if it were +only to see how rudely the arts crept first into the New World from the +mother land. Massive stone pilasters separated the windows to the second +story; two long rows of windows ran between that and the roof, all set +in stone, and slightly arched. The central window, with elaborate blinds +and lateral sashes, carried up the outline of that ponderous wooden +portico to the still more ponderous cornices on the roof. This elaborate +attempt at architecture made the governor's house the show place of all +New England. The very children of Boston held their breath with awe of +its grandeur, and were half afraid to pluck dandelions in the green lane +after it was built.</p> + +<p>But young Lovel had seen the mansion too often for any feeling of this +kind. The window still remained shrouded in its muslin curtains, though +the birds in the elm branches had burst forth into gushes of music that +might have charmed an angel from the brightest nook in paradise, and the +rising sun came smiling over the terraces, turning each dew-drop, +trembling on its blade of grass, into a diamond, rendering every thing +so beautiful that slumber seemed an absolute sin.</p> + +<p>"They take it coolly enough," muttered the youth impatiently, turning +his steps to the broad gravel walk which crossed the terraces and +reached the long, sloping steps that led to the portico. "I might crunch +this white gravel under my feet forever, and she'd sleep on. No matter, +I may as well take it easily as they do; I might be in the bottom of the +harbor for any thing they know, or care either."</p> + +<p>As he muttered these words, Lovel crossed the terrace, and stood between +the fluted pillars of the porticoes which rose proudly over him, crowned +with Corinthian leaves, and garlanded with rudely carved flowers, that +ran up over the massy cornices, supplying the deficiency of family +armorial bearings. But in his waywardness he had lost sight of the +window, and so walked back upon the terrace again, pretending, even to +himself, that he wished to gather a handful of blush roses while the +leaves were wet with that diamond light. But his heart beat unsteadily, +and he looked upward every moment as he broke the blossoms impetuously +from their bushes. This impatience at the stillness broke at last upon +the gentle flowers. He dashed them to the turf, shaking all the dew from +their hearts. Then he rushed back to the portico, raised the ponderous +knocker, and prepared to swing it against the great brass head which +seemed to smile defiance beneath the blows ready to be rained upon it. +But his hand was arrested by a sound within the house, and, softly +relinquishing the knocker, he threw himself upon one of the long seats +that ran down each side of the portico, eagerly watching the door.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of bolts cautiously drawn, as if a person within were +careful of making a noise. Then a leaf of the great oaken door opened, +and with its glittering knocker wheeled inward; while the head and +shoulders of a young girl appeared bending over the other half, with a +wistful, eager look that filled the young man with repentance at a +single glance.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth!"</p> + +<p>She heard and saw him—struggled eagerly with the lower bolts, flung the +last leaf of the door open, and sprang toward him. Then recollecting +herself, she retreated a step, and covering her face with both hands, +burst into a passion of tears that shook her slender form from head to +foot.</p> + +<p>Then the young man's heart smote him afresh, for he saw by the withered +roses in her hair, the fine yellow lace that shaded her arms, and her +dress of flowered silk, that the poor girl had not been in bed that +night. She had been waiting, watching, praying no doubt for him.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth! will you not look on me? Are you not glad +that I am safe?"</p> + +<p>She could not speak, but trembled all over like the leaves of a vine +when the wind shakes it.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth!"</p> + +<p>She took down her hands and turned her eyes on his face—those large +deer-like eyes full of tenderness and shame.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth! is this for me—I am safe, and very, very happy, for this +terror, these blushes. You would not look this way if you cared nothing +about a poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>She began to tremble again, and shrunk back with a red glow burning over +her neck, and up to her temples beneath the dusky shadows of her hair.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, darling, speak to me," said the youth, trembling himself +beneath the sweet joy of the moment, and approaching her with his face +all a-glow.</p> + +<p>"Don't, don't! I am sick with shame. I did not know—I did not +hope—they told us you had gone down to the water, out in a fishing-boat +in the midst of the storm last night, that—that—"</p> + +<p>"And you believed it—you grieved a little?"</p> + +<p>"I feared every thing!"</p> + +<p>"No—not altogether, for you see I am alive. But you have suffered; your +eyes are heavy, your cheek white again. Oh, tell me, was it trouble, was +it anxiety on my account? Do not fear to say yes—I will not presume—I +will not half believe it—only let me have the happiness of thinking so, +for one little moment."</p> + +<p>She lifted her face, and the dusky shame which blushes usually carry to +the eyes, died out, leaving them soft and clear as a mountain spring.</p> + +<p>"Was it for you, Norman, for you that I have wept, and prayed, and +suffered? Ah me, what agonies of fear! Why ask? you know it," here the +little graceful coquetries of her sex would break in, for she began to +get ashamed again—"for are you not a fellow-creature out of the church, +unregenerated and worshipping——"</p> + +<p>"You, and every thing you worship," cried the youth, seizing her hand, +which he devoured with his eyes, but dared not touch with his lips. +"Never mind whether I am fit to be drowned or not; give me something +worth living for; tell me that one day when I am wiser and you a little +older, not much, because a good deal can be done in that way after the +ceremony; but tell me that you will be my wife."</p> + +<p>His face was all a flush of crimson now, but hers grew pale as death; +the last word—that holy, beautiful word—made her shiver from heart to +limb. He had been too impetuous; Elizabeth Parris had never dared to +think of the mystery he brought so broadly before her. Her pure maidenly +thoughts had hovered round it timidly, as a shadow haunts a white lily, +but she was content with the perfume, without daring to touch the +flower.</p> + +<p>"Your wife, your wife!" she murmured, and the words fell from her lips +with silvery slowness, like drops from a fountain. "Your wife, and I not +yet fifteen!"</p> + +<p>"But you will think of it. I am a sad fellow to frighten you so; a sad, +wicked fellow, but you will forgive it, Elizabeth; you know, out of the +abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh."</p> + +<p>He saw her sweet lips quivering into a smile, and forgave himself at +once.</p> + +<p>"There now, you see I can quote Scripture a little, so forgive me this +once. I love you till my heart aches with the joy of it. Think of +this—promise me that you will."</p> + +<p>Promise to think of it! alas, poor child, when would she think of any +thing else!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>SIR WILLIAM AND HIS WIFE.</h3> + + +<p>Probably Elizabeth Parris would not have sat down in the portico, but +the night's watching had made her faint. When Norman Lovel darted off to +gather up the roses he had plucked, and so rudely scattered, she sank +down, watching him dreamily as he cast them away a second time, and +gathered fresh ones, unmindful, poor child, that this might be a type of +his character, and those poor flowers of her own fate.</p> + +<p>He came back, bringing a rich harvest of blush roses—he never gave any +other to Elizabeth—with both hands wet with the dew which rained out of +their hearts.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, heaping them on the seat by her side, "let us gather up +a bouquet for the breakfast-table. Lady Phipps loves flowers fresh from +the thicket."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris started up with a look of sudden dismay.</p> + +<p>"Lady Phipps! and I have known that you are safe all this time without +telling her—how selfish, how cruel! It was almost morning before she +went to her room. I am sure she has not slept."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Elizabeth pushed open the door, and in an instant Norman +saw her gliding up the broad staircase which led to the second story. He +followed her into the vestibule, and began pacing up and down, turning +his eyes now on the floor, tessellated with lozenges of black oak and +red cedar, now upon the staircase, hoping to see the young girl descend +again.</p> + +<p>But, instead of this, an imperious knock sounded from the door which he +had but partially closed; at the same instant it was pushed open, and a +gentleman strode through with a dull, weary step, and walked heavily +up-stairs.</p> + +<p>Norman was in the lower end of the vestibule, and the surprise of this +sudden entrance kept him motionless. Recovering himself, he came +forward, but only in time to catch another glimpse of the governor as he +entered his wife's chamber.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth had found Lady Phipps asleep, and, not daring to wake her, +stole off to her own room; but the heavy step of Sir William possessed +more power than her fairy tread, and the moment it sounded on the floor +Lady Phipps started up and inquired wildly if the young secretary was +found.</p> + +<p>The governor shook his head. Saddened by his gesture Lady Phipps fell +back upon her pillow, and, turning her face to the wall, fell into a +leaden silence.</p> + +<p>A knock, and a sweet, pleading voice asking entrance.</p> + +<p>"It is Elizabeth Parris. Poor child, she has spent a terrible night," +said Lady Phipps. "Have you no comfort to give her?"</p> + +<p>"None!" said the stern man, with a quiver of the voice. "He was seen +going to the shore with another person, directly after a boat was +engulfed in the breakers—nothing could have lived."</p> + +<p>"And who was that other one?" cried the lady, struck by the hesitation +in her husband's voice.</p> + +<p>Sir William arose, and came close to the bed, afraid to speak aloud with +that young creature at the door.</p> + +<p>"It was Samuel Parris."</p> + +<p>The lady uttered a low cry, and buried her face in the pillow. Her noble +heart was shaken as if it had been her own father who was lost.</p> + +<p>Again that knock at the door, and now a low, almost harsh voice, bade +the girl come in.</p> + +<p>Sir William was hardening himself into composure, that he might tell the +young girl of her bereavement, with the firmness that became his +manhood.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth entered timidly, as she always did, but her face beamed with +happiness.</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps looked up shocked to the heart.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth!" The lady sat up in her bed and held forth her arms tenderly +as if the girl had been her own child.</p> + +<p>"He is here—he is safe—he—"</p> + +<p>The young girl fell down upon her knees by the bed, pressing soft kisses +on the lady's hand.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps arose and went out. It was seldom that his face +betrayed any of the deep feelings of his nature, but as he went forth, +that firm mouth quivered, and he turned from one object to another, +searching eagerly for something.</p> + +<p>"Sir William."</p> + +<p>The governor gave an imperceptible start, controlled himself, and +reaching forth his hand—the large, firm hand, which had known much toil +in its day—buried that of the young man in its grasp.</p> + +<p>"I hope that Lady Phipps was not alarmed by my absence," said Norman, a +little chilled by this composure.</p> + +<p>"I cannot quite say that with truth, young man," replied the governor; +"but you will explain all at breakfast. From the state of your garments +I should judge that you had at least been in the water."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but you see I came out safe—and that brave old minister, also, +Samuel Parris. I wish you could have seen him, Sir William: he was a +perfect Neptune."</p> + +<p>"Nay," answered the governor, with a smile that transfigured his face +from its usual grave expression into something that made the heart leap +towards him, "that is a heathenish name for one of God's ministers; but +if your danger, whatever it prove, was shared by Samuel Parris, it must +have been in a good cause. I am glad, boy, that your night has been +spent with this devout man."</p> + +<p>With these words Sir William passed on, and entered his closet, +apparently casting all thought of the youth from his mind. But no sooner +was he alone and the door closed, than he fell upon his knees by the +great oaken chair, which had belonged to his old father on the Kennebec. +There, with bent head, he poured forth the thanksgiving that filled his +soul, so earnestly that his frame shook, and his clasped hands unwove +themselves, covering his face, while the tears that sprang to his eyes +stole softly down the palms.</p> + +<p>It was only when alone with his God that the strong man became like a +little child—alone, with the bolts drawn, and his face bowed over the +oaken seat where his father had prayed with the mother and her score of +children by his side.</p> + +<p>Governor Phipps joined his family at breakfast, sedate, calm, and with +that dignity of manner which may well accompany a sense of high power. +Lady Phipps could not so well conceal the traces of an anxious and +sleepless night. Her eyes were heavy, her cheeks pale, and the usual +exquisite arrangement of her morning toilet was a good deal disturbed. +The robe of dark chintz was looped back, a little unevenly, from the +full dimity underskirt, and the crimson ribbon that bound the snowy +little cap to her head was knotted in a bow, slightly verging towards +the left temple, instead of lying flat upon the glossy black hair over +the forehead as it should have done.</p> + +<p>Besides these little indications of unrest, the lady would draw a deep +breath, now and then, like one who had just recovered from a fright, and +she glanced towards the young secretary from time to time, with a look +of devout thankfulness.</p> + +<p>Dear lady, her life had been so full of happiness, so rich in +prosperity, that the danger of one she loved as if he had been her own +son clung around her yet. She grew paler as he told over his strange +adventure on the shore, and seemed greatly interested in the old man who +had been his companion.</p> + +<p>He did not mention the name of this person, and passed over the +conversation on the beach entirely, dwelling only on that which marked +their encounter on the heights, when the storm was raging. Some +intuition told him that the young girl, whose eyes dwelt so wistfully on +his, would be pained to know that her father had been for two days +within sight of the roof that covered her without attempting to enter +beneath it.</p> + +<p>Governor Phipps seemed unusually interested in the events he described, +and though the youth talked on gayly, a superstitious feeling crept over +the party as he gave a vivid picture of the spectral appearance of the +ship. But when he came to speak of Barbara Stafford, his speech +faltered, a husky feeling clove to his tongue, and it was only by +questions that they gained a knowledge of the strange woman.</p> + +<p>"I will ride over to the farm-house to-morrow," said Lady Phipps, with +prompt hospitality; "if she is a gentlewoman, as you say, Norman, we can +be of service. She must have letters of introduction that will warrant +us in asking her here."</p> + +<p>Governor Phipps looked suddenly up as his wife spoke and his countenance +changed. It was so unusual to see him in the least disturbed that his +lady remarked it with some anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Sir William?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. A strange feeling seized upon me for the moment; a +faintness—a sort of shock—it is nothing."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps looked around for some cause.</p> + +<p>"It may be this plateau of flowers, they are unusually fragrant this +morning," she said, looking around for a servant to carry away the +roses, which Norman had gathered, from the table.</p> + +<p>"Let me—let me!" cried Elizabeth Parris, seizing upon the flowers, and +carrying them off to her room. She would not have had a leaf touched by +one of the servants for the universe.</p> + +<p>Norman followed her with his eyes, smiled with quiet satisfaction, when +he saw her stoop fondly and inhale the breath of the roses as she went +up-stairs, then, leaning towards Lady Phipps, he said, in a low voice,</p> + +<p>"The old man was her father!"</p> + +<p>"What! Samuel Parris? and pass by this house?" exclaimed the lady in +astonishment. "This is a strange thing, Sir William."</p> + +<p>"It is strange—very strange," answered the governor, rising. "I will +seek our old friend and reason with him."</p> + +<p>"And I," said his wife, "will seek out the stranger. Goody Brown is a +kind woman, but the poor lady may not obtain all she needs in the +farm-house. Did you hear her name, Lovel?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered the youth, with unaccountable hesitation; "but you will +find it embroidered on this handkerchief, which I picked up on the beach +in coming along. The cambric is wet and drenched with sand, but you can +perhaps make it out."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps took the handkerchief and examined the embroidery. +"A coronet," she muttered: "this looks well. But the +name—B—Barbara—Barbara Stafford. Stafford—that is a good old English +name. Sir William, I will surely go and see her."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>A GUIDE TO THE FARM-HOUSE.</h3> + + +<p>The next day after her spectral shrouds were first seen in the harbor, +the good ship came up to her wharf. Among the first passengers that +landed was a dark, foreign-looking man, apparently somewhat under thirty +years of age. He stood upon the wharf with a small leathern bag in his +hand, as if uncertain where to go; but his eyes, black as midnight and +splendid as diamonds, turned excitedly from object to object, as if he +took a vivid interest in every thing that surrounded him. At last they +fell on one of the sailors who had helped Barbara Stafford down the side +of the ship that stormy afternoon. With an eager step he approached the +man.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard? did the boatmen bring her safe through the storm?" he +questioned. "The lady—the lady I am speaking of. Did she suffer?—is +she safe and well?"</p> + +<p>The man laughed. "She is safe enough in Goody Brown's farm-house," he +said, "and well, too, if the souse she got in the water didn't give her +a cold. But it was an awful tough piece of work, I tell you. If it +hadn't been for that old man, who didn't seem to have so much in him, +for he was thin as a shad, they would all have gone to Davie's locker, +sure as a gun. You never in your born days saw such a tussel as they had +with the breakers the boatmen say."</p> + +<p>"Then she is safe and well; for that God be thanked," said the stranger, +turning away. "What more have I to ask or do?"</p> + +<p>He spoke sadly, and his fine eyes filled with mist. Then he turned, and +giving the man a piece of money, asked him to show the way to Goody +Brown's farm-house.</p> + +<p>After dropping the crown piece into his pocket, the man turned up the +wharf, and walked on side by side with the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Seems to me you're a stranger in these parts; never was to Boston +afore, I reckon?" he said, dropping into an old habit of asking questions +with unconscious impertinence.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken. I have been here before," answered the stranger, and +a wild fire lighted up his face. "Years ago I left that wharf a—a—but +I have come back. The world shall know that I have come back."</p> + +<p>The sailor looked at him with open astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Why what on earth are you so mad about I should like to know?" he said. +"I hain't done nothing to set you off in a tantrum, have I now?"</p> + +<p>The stranger smiled.</p> + +<p>"You have done nothing," he said, in a voice so gentle that the man +stared again, bewildered by the sudden change. "I was talking to myself +rather than you."</p> + +<p>"That's a queer idea, but I've hearn people do sich things afore; it was +in foreign parts, though. We talk like folks in Boston now I tell you, +straight out and up to the mark. But forriners will be forriners, +there's no helping it. Now what is it you want up to Goody Brown's, if I +may be so bold? Is the lady up there any relation of yourn?"</p> + +<p>Again the stranger smiled.</p> + +<p>"My friend, you are rather bold."</p> + +<p>"Ain't I," answered the man with great self-complacency. "That's the way +we Bosting folks come to know more than other people. Ain't afeared to +ask questions. Every man comes right up to his duty on that pint without +flinching. But you hain't told me yet if the lady is a relation or not?"</p> + +<p>"No, she is not related to me."</p> + +<p>"Only come over in the same ship? I reckoned so, seeing as she was a +cabin passenger and you al'es kept so snug in the steerage. Never saw +you on deck in my life till long after dark. Don't think she ever sot +eyes on you the hull vi'age?"</p> + +<p>"No, she never did."</p> + +<p>"Now that's something like; can answer a fair question when you want to, +can't you? But what do you go and see her now for? Couldn't you a got +acquainted on ship board if you had wanted ter?"</p> + +<p>"Who told you that I did wish to see her?" answered the stranger, a +little impatiently. "Not I, that is certain."</p> + +<p>"Then it ain't her you're going to see?" answered the man, in an injured +tone, as if his time had been cruelly trifled with. "Well, maybe it's +Goody Brown you're related to, arter all. Don't look like it, though, +but stranger things than that has happened. She has a sight of cousins +in the old country."</p> + +<p>The stranger grew impatient. He turned upon the man almost fiercely, his +eyes flashing fire, his teeth gleaming through the lips lifted from them +in a haughty curve.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, man, you offend me."</p> + +<p>"Wheu!" ejaculated the sailor, picking up a bit of shingle from the +ground, and searching for a jackknife which jingled against the silver +crown in his pocket, "getting riley, now, ain't you?"</p> + +<p>The fellow's imperturbability was so comical that no resentment could +withstand it. The stranger's face cleared up, and he watched his +companion with disdainful curiosity, who began whittling his shingle as +he walked along.</p> + +<p>"Goody Brown isn't your nigh relation, then," he persisted, whittling on +with infinite composure; "cousin to your par or mar, mebby?"</p> + +<p>"Goody Brown is nothing to me, understand that!" cried the stranger, at +last harrassed into submission; "but I am weary of salt food, and want a +draught of fresh milk. This is the nearest farm-house, you tell me; so I +ask you to lead me there."</p> + +<p>"And you don't want to see the lady?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"And she ain't nothing particular to you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in any way."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I never did! Why couldn't you say so, to once?" cried the +man, in a tone of plaintive reproach. "What is the use of taking so many +bites of a cherry I want ter know?"</p> + +<p>"Is that the farm-house?" inquired the stranger, pointing to the low +stone dwelling sheltered in noble trees that overlooked the harbor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's Goody Brown's, I reckon."</p> + +<p>The stranger stopped short.</p> + +<p>"You may return now. I can make my way alone."</p> + +<p>The sailor seemed a little disappointed, but he kept on whittling, and +only answered:</p> + +<p>"Wal, jest as you're a mind ter; but I kinder reckon you'll miss it in +the long run."</p> + +<p>"Miss it, how?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean nothing particular, only the streets of Boston are +rather sarpentine for strangers, and I kinder feel as if I hadn't more +'en half arned my money yet."</p> + +<p>The stranger fell into thought a moment and then answered cheerfully:</p> + +<p>"You are right, my good fellow, I shall want a guide. Stay here and take +charge of my bag till I come back; then we will return to the town +together."</p> + +<p>The sailor sat down on a rock, and placing the leathern bag at his feet +kept on whittling with an energy that would have seemed spiteful but for +his unmoved features. The traveller left him and walked forward toward +the farm-house. Goody Brown was in her hand-loom weaving a piece of +linen from the yarn she had spun a year before. Her rather trim feet, +cased in calf-skin shoes and yarn stockings, even as her daily toil +could make them, were rising and falling on the treadles with monotonous +jerks. She leaned over from her seat in front of the huge loom, throwing +her shuttle through the web with such earnest industry that every ten +minutes the sharp click of the turning cloth-beam proclaimed her +progress. Directly the headles—or harness, as she called it—would +groan and struggle from the renewed tread of her feet, while the flight +of the shuttle, the bang of the laith, and the thud of the treadles made +such household music as the women of New England gloried in. She was +busy fitting a quill into her shuttle when a strange form darkened the +open door. But her heart was in her work, and she drew the thread +through the eye of her shuttle with a quick breath and a motion of the +tongue before she looked directly that way. Then she saw a remarkably +handsome young man standing upon the threshold, holding his cap in one +hand as if she had been an empress on her throne.</p> + +<p>"Madam."</p> + +<p>"Did you mean me?" said Dame Brown, laying down her shuttles, and +tightening the strings of her linsey-woolsey apron. "Did you mean me, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you are the mistress of this house."</p> + +<p>"For want of a better," answered the dame, drawing herself up primly.</p> + +<p>"I—I am a stranger. Have just come over in the ship which landed +to-day."</p> + +<p>"What, another!" said Goody Brown, coming slowly out of her loom. "I had +the hull house full last night."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to incommode you, my good lady, only to inquire about +those who set out so rashly in the boat before we came up to the wharf. +They were all brought here, I am told."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I had a houseful of 'em overnight, but this morning they +were well enough to go away."</p> + +<p>"What, all?"</p> + +<p>"All but the lady; she's completely tuckered out, and won't get out of +her bed to-day, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"But she is not seriously hurt?" cried the man, almost gasping for +breath.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not; only kinder worn out. The yarb tea has done her a +sight of good."</p> + +<p>The stranger looked at her eagerly as she spoke. A dozen questions +seemed trembling on his lips; but he restrained them, only saying, in a +voice that would tremble in spite of his efforts,</p> + +<p>"Then you are certain that she is out of danger?"</p> + +<p>"Sartin, of course. She'll be chirk as a bird to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The stranger sat down in the chair which the dame offered while she was +speaking. A bowl of warm bread and milk stood on the kitchen hearth, +close by the fire. Goody Brown took it up.</p> + +<p>"I've got to take this in, for she's getting hungry, but I won't be gone +more'n a minute."</p> + +<p>With this half apology, the good woman opened a side door and went into +Barbara Stafford's room. The man looked after her with eyes full of +impatient yearning. He rose from his chair and stole softly toward the +door, listening; but no sound answered his expectations, and he had +scarcely returned to his seat when Goody Brown came back with the bowl +of bread and milk in her hand. She sat it down in the hearth, and +turning to her visitor, said, in a half whisper,</p> + +<p>"She's sound asleep."</p> + +<p>"Madam," said the traveller, "will you give me a cup of milk? I have +been so long at sea—"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I shouldn't wonder!" cried the dame, interrupting him. "I'll +go right down to the spring-house and get it."</p> + +<p>She took a pitcher from the table and went out. The moment her shadow +left the threshold stone the young man started up and softly opened the +door of Barbara Stafford's room. He paused a moment, with the latch in +his hand, hesitating and breathless, for the lady lay before him in a +profound sleep. The face was turned toward him; one hand rested under +her cheek, the other fell upon the blue and white counterpane. Her thick +golden hair rolled in coils and waves over the pillow.</p> + +<p>The young man's eyes grew misty, the breath broke almost in a sob on his +lips. He crept softly toward the bed, fell upon his knees, and gazed +upon the lady with passionate sorrow that might have disturbed an angel +in its first heavenly rest. But she did not move. The deep slumber of +exhaustion held her faculties locked. A coil of hair, loosened by its +own weight, rolled downward and swept across her arm. Still she did not +move. He gathered the tresses gently between his hands, laid them +against his cheek, and pressed wild kisses upon them. Then he heard a +sound. It was Goody Brown's footsteps coming up from the spring-house. +With rash desperation he took that white hand in his, covered it with +kisses soft as the fall of thistledown, dropped it and glided from the +room.</p> + +<p>Goody Brown found her guest sitting in his old place near the fire, +looking grieved and sad, but with a warm flush on his cheeks. He took +the milk that she offered; drank a little, it seemed with difficulty, +and, laying a piece of money on the table, turned to go.</p> + +<p>"If you'd jest as lieves wait a minit," said the housewife, blushing +like a girl. "I hain't had a chance to ask a single question. They all +went off so sudden; but my old man was aboard the vessel."</p> + +<p>"What, your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Jes so, Jason Brown; mebby you know something about him?"</p> + +<p>The stranger gave a glance at the person he had left whittling in the +far distance and smiled uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know him," he said. "He came safely ashore with the ship."</p> + +<p>"Then she's got to the wharf?" questioned the woman.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then he'll be along by-and-by," said the wife, ashamed of taking so +much interest in the subject. "Much obleeged to you for telling me."</p> + +<p>Thus dismissed the stranger left the house and went back to the place +where he had left Jason Brown.</p> + +<p>"Wal," said that composed personage, "I hope you got a drink of milk +worth having."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but why did you not tell me that the woman was your wife?" +answered the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Cause you didn't ask me. But how is the old woman?"</p> + +<p>"She seems well and was very kind."</p> + +<p>"Wimmen are kind by natur," said the sailor, shutting his jackknife with +a jerk, the only sign of impatience yet visible. "But I reckon I'll jest +step in and see how she gets along, if you don't want me tu go about +Boston streets with you right away."</p> + +<p>"No, no. I shall not remain in Boston, and can find plenty of guides +where I am going."</p> + +<p>"Don't want me to carry this ere bag for you, nor nothin'?" asked the +man a little anxiously, as he gave up the traveller's bag.</p> + +<p>"No, no; I prefer to carry it myself. But you are master of that house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, generally; when my wife ain't to home."</p> + +<p>"In that case I have some boxes on board the ship, and should like to +place them under your care for a few weeks, could they be moved to your +house."</p> + +<p>"Jes so," answered Brown.</p> + +<p>"Then take charge of them. I will leave an order on board the ship."</p> + +<p>"Jes so."</p> + +<p>"And pay you well for the trouble now in advance."</p> + +<p>"Jes so," answered Brown, holding out his hand for the money. "Now, if +you've no objections, I'll go up to the house, for I'm afeared the old +woman will be kinder expecting me."</p> + +<p>The stranger took his leathern bag from the ground and walked one way, +while Jason Brown went to the farm-house; not rapidly, for he, too, was +ashamed of being in a hurry to see his wife; but with a step that would +grow quick and impatient spite of his philosophy.</p> + +<p>"Jason, is that you?" cried Goody Brown, getting out of her loom and +meeting her husband half way to the door. "How have you been?"</p> + +<p>"Tough and hearty; but where's the children? I don't see no cradle nor +trundle bed."</p> + +<p>The wife did not speak, but began twisting the strings of her apron over +her finger. Jason looked at her earnestly. He saw a single tear drop to +her bosom and sink into the cotton kerchief folded over it.</p> + +<p>"Jason, they're both gone. The trundle bed is took down and the cradle +is up in the garret."</p> + +<p>"Gone, Prudence, gone! Where?"</p> + +<p>"Dead, Jason. They both died of fever in one week."</p> + +<p>Another tear came rolling down that still face and fell upon a great +horny hand which was held out to take that of the woman. Those two +hard-working hands shook in each other's clasp a moment, then Jason +Brown drew his gently away and left the house. He wandered down to the +shore, seated himself upon the turf of a broken bank, and took from his +pocket the jackknife and piece of wood that he had stowed away there. He +opened his knife with dismal slowness and gave a whistle which at once +resolved itself into a low wail inexpressibly sad. Then the knife and +the wood dropped from his hands, and he sat still, looking at them +helplessly, while great tears rolled down his cheeks.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR.</h3> + + +<p>For two whole days Barbara Stafford did not leave her bed. She was +exhausted by a long sea-voyage, and saddened by many an anxious day and +night, which had made her passage a wretched one. So she lay still and +tried to rest, that she might gather strength to meet the destiny that +lay before her, whatever that destiny might be.</p> + +<p>Meantime the ship was being unloaded. Trunks and packages, marked by the +stranger's name, somewhat ostentatiously it would seem, were conveyed +from its cabin to the farm-house. With this luggage came half a dozen +great boxes, clamped with iron and securely fastened, which astonished +Jason Brown by their heaviness.</p> + +<p>These boxes, according to his promise given the dark-browed stranger, +whom he had guided to his own house, Jason Brown stowed away in his +barn, covering them carefully with hay; for there was a mystery in their +weight which made him anxious, and he concealed them conscientiously, +marvelling what they contained and who their owner could be.</p> + +<p>At last the strange lady grew restive in the close confinement of that +little room. She arose on the third morning and prepared to dress +herself. She was seized with a desire to go out into the new world, to +learn what it had of good or evil in store for her. Still she dreaded to +look forth and see that great monster ocean which had hurled her to and +fro upon the fearful heave of its waves that terrible night. She had +been here received on that shore with a tempest that had almost +swallowed her up in its angry whirlpools. No wonder that she was filled +with vague dread, and hesitated to look out of the window, which, +curtained with morning-glory vines, framed in a splendid view of the +ocean.</p> + +<p>For a time she stood trembling on the floor, half from weakness, half +from an uncontrollable dread of leaving the quiet pillow on which +supreme fatigue had made her slumber sweet. She glanced at the open +sash, through which the sunshine of a lovely summer morning trembled. +She saw the purple bells of the morning-glory vines swaying to and fro +in the soft wind that came sighing up from the water, while drops of dew +fell in glittering rain from the heart-shaped leaves. Alone and beyond +all this came the gushing song of birds, as it were hailing her with +sweet welcomes.</p> + +<p>Every thing out of doors seemed so bright that Barbara Stafford grew +strong and almost cheerful. She was now eager to go forth and breathe +the fresh air.</p> + +<p>Out of the baggage brought from the vessel she drew forth a dark +brocaded silk, adorned at the neck and sleeves with delicate lace. In +this she proceeded to dress herself, quite unconscious that its richness +was out of keeping with either the scene or her present habitation. It +was the costume of a highly bred gentlewoman of her own country, and +from mere habit she put it on.</p> + +<p>The exertion brought a beautiful color to her cheeks. She leaned from +the window and looked out fearlessly on the great ocean which had so +lately threatened her life. It lay before her now like a vast field of +azure, turning the sunshine into opals. Spite of herself she turned from +its treacherous loveliness with a shudder.</p> + +<p>Blessed or cursed—I know not which to call it—with that exquisite +delicacy of sense which makes the most brilliant mind at times almost a +slave of the material, she detected among all the perfumes of +neighboring woods the faint fragrance of a sweetbriar that had tangled +itself with the morning-glories, and blossomed with them. She recognized +the perfume. Her quick mind seized upon this as an omen.</p> + +<p>Strangely arrayed, it must be confessed, for that simple old homestead, +Barbara Stafford went through the kitchen, which was, for the moment, +empty, and wandered around an angle of the house where the morning +sunshine lay warmly upon an old stone bench half buried in the grass.</p> + +<p>Here she sat down, for the exertion of dressing had wearied her. The air +was sweet and balmy, just brightened with a breeze from the distant sea, +and a pretty little opening of cultivated fields, separated from her by +a rail fence, lay dreamily at her left.</p> + +<p>Barbara longed to go forth into the shade of those mammoth trees, which +filled the distance with their green leafiness, and under their shelter +look out upon the New World; but a gentle lassitude lay upon her, and, +while she desired exertion, her limbs remained passive—they had not yet +shaken off the numbing effects of the storm.</p> + +<p>She sat dreamily looking forth with the sunshine playing among the waves +of her golden hair, and revealing every line and shadow, on a singularly +delicate face, which had carried the complexion of infancy almost into +middle age. The rich scarf, which she had flung over her in coming +forth, fell softly downward, and swept the grass with its gorgeous +folds. She was conscious of nothing but a sensation of pleasure at +seeing the beautiful earth again after a dreary, dreary voyage across +the ocean.</p> + +<p>As she sat there, the noise of hoofs on the broken road, leading from +town, had no power to arrest more than a passing thought. This was +followed by a slight rustle of silks, and directly a lady, dressed +somewhat after her own fashion, came through an opening in the fence, +and walked gracefully forward to where Barbara Stafford was sitting.</p> + +<p>"I beg ten thousand pardons, madam, but Goody Brown is nowhere to be +seen, and I am compelled to introduce myself," she said, with a charming +little laugh. "I know at a glance that you are the lady I am in search +of; and I—really it is awkward—but I am Lady Phipps."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford gave a sudden start. Her large, gray eyes grew wild and +black; slowly and steadily her features shrunk together; and making a +faint movement with one hand, as if to catch at something, she struggled +to arise, but fell senseless at her visitor's feet.</p> + +<p>When Barbara Stafford arose from the stone bench against which she had +fallen, there was pallor on her cheek, and bewilderment in her eyes, +deeper and more painful to behold than is usual after a mere +fainting-fit. Lady Phipps observed the pallor increase, and that she +shrunk back with a shudder from the arm which was striving to support +her.</p> + +<p>"My dear madam, you are not well; you suffer," said the kind matron, +coloring slightly as she felt the thrill of repulsion. "Let me help you +into the house."</p> + +<p>"No," answered Barbara, sweeping one hand across her forehead three or +four times, while her eyes were fastened on Lady Phipps with a troubled, +wistful look, as if she had not really seen her features before. "I +think—"</p> + +<p>She paused, turned her eyes away from the face she had been searching, +and a spasm of pain swept over her forehead, drawing the brows together +with an unmistakable sign of acute sensibility. She looked up again, +striving to smile.</p> + +<p>"Ah, now I remember. Yes, I am sometimes subject to these turns—it is +very girlish and weak, no doubt, but the long sea-voyage, the storm—do +not mind me, lady, I am well now; quite well and strong. Forgive me, +but"—again she broke off, pressed one hand hard against her side, and +said, with a quick catch of the breath, "Lady Phipps—did you say that +Lady Phipps had done me this honor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I was about to give my name, when you were seized with this +terrible fainting-fit. The governor is so much occupied just now that he +could not come himself, though he was deeply interested in your +condition. I assure you I really could hardly keep from embracing that +dear young Lovel for his bravery in rescuing you from the foundered +boat."</p> + +<p>"Young Lovel!" repeated Barbara, quickly; "young Lovel! Is that his +name?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you could not be expected to know any thing about names; but +you will remember the young man who nearly lost his own life in dragging +you from the water?"</p> + +<p>"Remember him! oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And the dear old minister, brother Parris, with his mild, quiet +ways—to think that he should have been in Boston for the first time in +years, just to help save you; it seems quite like a miracle, or a bit of +the witchcraft that is so fashionable just now."</p> + +<p>"Parris—Parris!" repeated Barbara, with a laboring breath.</p> + +<p>"That," said Lady Phipps, "was the name of the tall gentleman; an old +friend of Sir William's; indeed, the very man whose benediction made me +his wife."</p> + +<p>The hand which Barbara had again lifted to her forehead dropped slowly +down; her lips looked cold and blue, but she stood up firmly, and +excepting one wild glance over her shoulder, as if impelled to flee, +kept her ground, though for an instant she seemed turning into a statue. +After a little, she looked up with one of those gentle smiles, with +which the most refined anguish seeks to clothe itself before the world, +and said:</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, my lady, and I am not ungrateful. But since I came +to this land every thing seems like a dream. Indeed, my voyage itself is +more like a vision than reality; in a little time I can better express +myself. Will you be seated here, in the morning sunshine?—it is very +pleasant, or seemed pleasant a little while ago—or would you prefer to +sit in-doors? My good friends here have given me a tolerably pretty +room, and will make Lady—Lady Phipps very welcome."</p> + +<p>She spoke the lady's title with the same quick gasp that had marked her +utterance before, and again the shudder ran through her form.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; let us go in-doors; then you can lie down quietly, or sit in +an easy-chair, while I do my little errand more ceremoniously, for to +speak the truth you look very pale yet. Take my arm; indeed you can +hardly walk."</p> + +<p>Barbara only bowed; she could not force herself to touch the lady's arm, +but, with a will that was like strength, walked into the house. Lady +Phipps followed her, lifting the skirt of her dress daintily from the +grass, and smiling with a sort of puzzled air, as if she did not quite +understand the scene she was acting in.</p> + +<p>Barbara entered her own room, which was the best apartment in the house, +and according to the usages of the time, furnished with a high bed, +covered with a blue and white yarn coverlet, and pillows like little +snow-drifts. A bureau of cherry-tree wood, with two or three stiff +wooden chairs, an oaken arm-chair with a broad, splint bottom, stood by +the window, with its curtain of sweetbrier and morning-glory vines. +This, Barbara offered to her visitor. But Lady Phipps, with that genial +grace which made every action of hers like a sunbeam, wheeled the chair +around, and motioned that Barbara should occupy it. Then she seated +herself on the bed, burying one elbow in the snow of the pillow, and +drooping her round cheek into the palm of her hand.</p> + +<p>"Now," she said, with a charming smile, "that we are both comfortable, +let me give my invitation in proper form. First, young Lovel, who is my +husband's secretary, you know, or are now informed, has set the whole +gubernatorial mansion wild about you. He will have it—but no matter +about his young fancies—he of course is very anxious that you should +not suffer inconvenience, or remain a stranger in the New World, where +Englishmen and Englishwomen should meet as brothers and sisters. He +could not come himself."</p> + +<p>"I trust—I hope—that the young gentleman has suffered no injury?" said +Barbara, half starting from the chair; while for the first time Lady +Phipps saw the color rush to her face. "I should be grieved."</p> + +<p>"No harm in the world," said Lady Phipps, laughingly interrupting her; +"but to tell you the truth, he was so pleasantly employed, that I had no +heart to bring him away."</p> + +<p>Barbara looked up with a questioning glance; a grave smile stole over +her lips, and she said very quietly—</p> + +<p>"Indeed! You must all have been very anxious about him."</p> + +<p>"Anxious! You never saw such a night! None of us thought of rest. The +governor, whose self-control is the admiration of everybody, wandered +about the town all night long, while I and poor little Elizabeth +Parris—the pretty young creature I hinted at, you know—really fretted +ourselves almost into hysterics. Let me assure you, upon my honor, I +almost knew how people feel when they are unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Almost!" murmured Barbara Stafford, lifting her eyes with a gleam of +mournful astonishment. But Lady Phipps was full of her subject, and went +on.</p> + +<p>"So, after we had welcomed Norman back again, and petted him into +believing himself of the greatest possible consequence, I came off here +to beg that you will leave this lonesome old place, and honor Sir +William's roof, while it shall suit your convenience."</p> + +<p>"But I am a stranger—even a nameless one."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon—not altogether. Sir William has, as you know, lived +a good deal in England, and the Staffords, of Lincolnshire, are among +his most powerful friends."</p> + +<p>"The Staffords, of Lincolnshire?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forget, you have no idea how we found out the name. It was on the +handkerchief you lost in the sand. 'Barbara Stafford,' a fine old name +that my husband loves well."</p> + +<p>A faint smile stole over the strange lady's face, but she only bent her +head in acknowledgment of Lady Phipps's kindness.</p> + +<p>"Your name alone is sufficient introduction, but Sir William is curious +to know to what branch of the family it belongs—the earl?"</p> + +<p>"I am in no way connected with the Earl of Stafford," said Barbara, +quickly; "in fact, have no claim upon the hospitality of your—of Sir +William Phipps. My object in coming to America is perhaps already +accomplished. With many thanks for this kindness, I must, for the +present at least, decline your invitation."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps looked a little disappointed. She was so accustomed to +having her own way, and seeing her very caprices regarded as a law, that +this refusal of the stranger to become her guest brought the color to +her brow.</p> + +<p>"The governor will be greatly disappointed," she said, displacing her +elbow from the pillow with a movement of graceful impatience. "I really +shan't know what to say. Norman, too, will be quite beside himself. They +will think me a miserable ambassadress—in fact, if any thing makes me +ill-natured and awkward, it is a refusal."</p> + +<p>Barbara almost smiled. Notwithstanding her summertime of life, there was +something very attracting in Lady Phipps's sparkling manner, which, +beneath the frank playfulness of a child, betrayed all the dignity of a +proud woman.</p> + +<p>"It is not a refusal," said Barbara, gently; "perhaps only a delay; but +just now I am too—too weary for society, and need time for rest."</p> + +<p>"Then we shall yet have the pleasure?" exclaimed Lady Phipps, +brightening, and holding out her hand; but she became grave in an +instant, for the palm that met hers was cold as snow.</p> + +<p>"You are, indeed, quite unfit for exertion," she said.</p> + +<p>Barbara drew the cold hand from Lady Phipps's clasp, and, standing up, +looked at her with a strained gaze as she left the room. The moment she +was quite alone, wrapped up in the stillness of an empty house, the pale +woman walked forward to the bed, fell upon it without a breath or a sob, +and lay motionless with her face to the pillow.</p> + +<p>That night, after all the family were asleep, except Goody Brown, she +was surprised by the rustle of a silk dress at her elbow, just as she +was raking up the kitchen fire for the night. She turned quickly, and +saw her guest, who stood shivering on the hearth as if it had been the +depth of winter.</p> + +<p>"Goodness me!" exclaimed the housewife, planting her iron shovel with a +plunge into the ashes; "I thought you'd gone to bed long ago. Any thing +the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—nothing!" answered the lady, sinking into one of the +straight-backed chairs that stood near the hearth; "I heard you +stirring, and so came out. Sit down a little while; I would like to ask +a few questions about this new country—about Boston and its people."</p> + +<p>Goody Brown seated herself on the dye-tub, which occupied a corner of +the chimney, and smoothing down her checked apron prepared to listen. +She was no great talker at any time, and though the questions asked by +her guest were low-toned, and uttered at long intervals, she heard them +patiently and answered each in its place, without betraying any of that +curiosity said to be characteristic of the New England matron of later +days.</p> + +<p>During the whole conversation, Barbara sat back in her chair, quite +still, gazing upon the half-smothered embers with a dull, heavy look. +The tallow candle, with its long tow wick, that occupied a little round +stand in a corner, left her face in the shadow, and the good woman +remained quite unconscious how pale it was till her guest arose to say +good-night; then she remembered how husky her voice had been, and how +she seemed to shiver with cold.</p> + +<p>"Do let me rake open the embers and give you a bowl of yarb tea, and put +another coverlet on the bed," she urged, in her stiff, motherly way; +"the teeth e'en a'most chatter in your head; you'll sartinly be took +down agin."</p> + +<p>"No, no! I shall be quieter now that I know—that I know all about the +country, thank you."</p> + +<p>And with a soft, gliding step, noiseless as when she entered, Barbara +went into her room again.</p> + +<p>"That's strange," muttered Goody Brown, as she sat before the buried +fire with a foot planted on each andiron, meditating on the conversation +she had just held. "Now can she be any relative to the governor or his +wife, or the Salem minister, I wonder? She's mighty curious about them. +Well, thank goodness, I'd as lief tell her all I know about 'em as not. +There ain't no witchcraft in the truth."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MINISTER AND HIS PUPIL.</h3> + + +<p>Governor Phipps and Samuel Parris had been neighbors for many years. +They had known each other when Parris was first settled over the church +in Salem—a man in his prime—and the governor was the apprentice of a +ship-builder near by. More than this; when Phipps was an apprentice and +a dreamer, as all men of great capacities are at some period of their +lives, thirsting for knowledge and restive as a wild animal, because all +its sources were closed to him, Samuel Parris received the lad every +night beneath his roof, and spent hours and hours in teaching him those +rudiments of learning which are the key to all knowledge.</p> + +<p>Parris had been an enthusiast, and a visionary man from his youth up. He +was simple, pious, with a vein of rich poetry in his nature which could +never be worked out fully in the pulpit, but was concentrated in his +affections, and sometimes threatened the very foundations of his +understanding.</p> + +<p>The predominance of a vivid imagination over faculties of no ordinary +stamp kept the minister's mind out of balance, and made his life an +unfinished poem. Had all the other faculties of his mind been equal, +Samuel Parris must have been a great poet or powerful statesman. Lacking +so much and possessing so much, he was always good, affectionate, and +most kind. A love of the pure and beautiful possessed him so entirely +that it broke forth in veins of exquisite poetry in his sermons, and at +times gave to his conversation an eloquence which seemed like absolute +inspiration.</p> + +<p>Like the minister, Phipps had much rough poetic ore in his composition; +but underneath it all was a foundation of hard, practical good sense: he +reasoned, while the minister dreamed. The poetry in his nature was +enough to give fire and energy to his actions: it broke out through all +his great after-schemes like veins of gold in a rock.</p> + +<p>But in this man all the faculties came up and mated themselves with this +high mental element, forming a most vigorous mind, and a will which +nothing could conquer when set upon a right object.</p> + +<p>Let no one smile when I speak of imagination as essential to real +greatness. It were better to question fairly if absolute greatness ever +existed without it. This high element of the mind is as necessary to a +superior character as observation. It gives force and coloring to the +other faculties. But with Phipps all the soul traits that make up a +great character rose to a commanding level, urging the imagination to +useful purposes, as machinery turns the beautiful waterfall into a +mighty power.</p> + +<p>Parris was a hoarder of books, rare manuscripts, and even old +newspapers, which, coming from over sea, were not very plentiful in the +colonies in those days, and thus were rendered worthy of preservation. +It was in this store of ancient literature that the lad Phipps took his +first course of reading. In these researches—for the acute lad, in his +thirst for information, devoured every scrap of print that came in his +way—it chanced that the two fell upon an old paper, which gave an +account of some Spanish galley, wrecked years before on the coast of La +Plata. Laden with fabulous wealth, in silver, and jewels, and gold, this +galley still lay in the depths of the ocean. They had talked the matter +over, Parris as he would have dwelt upon a fairy tale, had such things +been permitted to his creed; Phipps with reflection and purposes, for +the first burning thoughts of great enterprise rose in his mind that +night.</p> + +<p>After studying the old newspaper diligently in every word and syllable, +Phipps left Salem and took up his abode in Boston, then went a voyage to +sea, studying navigation with a zeal that equalled his first efforts at +reading.</p> + +<p>He returned to the colonies in the first strength of his youth, taller +in person, and with a dignity of carriage that distinguished him all his +days. But his best friends knew little of his purposes now. The +knowledge which he had acquired with the habit of concentrated thought +had lifted him out of his old life. The very acquirements obtained at so +much cost, while they exalted him in the estimation of his old friends, +only isolated him from their sympathies. Other feelings besides ambition +may have stirred in the young man's heart at this time; if so, but one +human being ever became his confidant.</p> + +<p>Shortly after his return from sea, William Phipps came one night fifteen +miles through the wilderness, which separated Boston from Salem, and +asked an interview with his old friend.</p> + +<p>They went into a little room, the scene of their first studies, and +conversed long and earnestly together. The subject of this conversation +no one knew. The Indian woman in the kitchen heard her master's voice +more than once, rising from entreaty to expostulation, but she took +little heed of the matter, as arguments between the youth and his +teacher often arose over some old book or worn-out manuscript, which +they chanced to be studying together.</p> + +<p>But one thing is certain; the great metaphysical law of life prevailed +here. The strong intellect conquered the weaker; and when William Phipps +rode away in the darkness, it was with a certainty that his iron will +had prevailed over the gentle reasoning, aye, and the conscience, too, +of his kind old friend.</p> + +<p>No human being but the Indian woman knew a word of this mystery, if +mystery there was; but on the very next night she heard the sound of +hoofs coming rapidly through the woods, and knew by the sudden pause +that more than one person had dismounted before her master's house. But +as she left her work to open the door, Mr. Parris, pale and excited, met +her in the passage, and ordered her back to the kitchen in a voice that +she dared not disobey.</p> + +<p>After this she heard the continuous movement of feet in the adjoining +room, the low muttering of voices; then her master came hurriedly out, +asking for the camphor bottle which she found in a corner cupboard, +wondering greatly what he could want of it; but he took the flask from +her hand without a word and went into the room again.</p> + +<p>In less than half an hour she heard the door close, and the softened +tread of horses returning towards the woods along the forest turf. She +looked out of the kitchen window. Two persons on horseback, a man and a +woman, were riding by. The moonlight lay full upon their faces. That of +the man she did not regard, for the loveliness of the young girl, around +whom the moonbeams fell in luminous clearness, absorbed all her +faculties. That was a face to be remembered forever, as we think of +angel forms seen in dreams—a haunting face, never recognized clearly if +seen again perhaps, but always disturbing the memory. Old Tituba was a +woman to ponder over that face when she thought of the great Hunting +Grounds of her people.</p> + +<p>After this she heard her master walking all night long in the little +room, back and forth, back and forth, till daybreak.</p> + +<p>But for the beautiful face Tituba might never have remembered these +things again, though any event became important in that quiet dwelling; +but on the very next night, just at the hour when she had first heard +the sound of hoofs upon the highway, there came from the walnut tree +that overshadowed the minister's dwelling, a low wailing shout that rang +through the house like the scoff of a demon. Tituba went out, for she +had not thought much of the matter and had no reason to be afraid, and +searched among the walnut tree boughs for some owl, or other wild bird +with a hoarse cry, like that she had heard.</p> + +<p>The moon was up, a round harvest moon, with a multitude of bright stars +that looked down into the bosom of the walnut tree; scattering the dense +shadows everywhere behind the branches. But the Indian woman could +discover no living thing—nothing but the soft quiver of leaves and the +starlight kissing away their dew.</p> + +<p>She went in, satisfied that the noise had come from a passing bird, but +the minute the wooden latch fell from her hand closing the door, the +cry, hoarser and louder, ran through the house again. Then Tituba began +to be afraid. She had heard of witchcraft, and believed in it, like her +master, and all the wise men of the colony. From that hour she never +heard a hoof upon the turf, though it were only that of a young fawn, or +the hoot of an owl in the woods, that she did not remember what she +solemnly believed to be the witch-gathering in her master's study, and +tremble in her chimney corner till it had passed away.</p> + +<p>After this time, William Phipps went forth to work out his ambitious +purposes, and Samuel Parris fell back into the quiet of his home, a +little troubled at times, and feeling the need of extra fasting and +prayer, but the same thoughtful, studious Christian that he had always +been.</p> + +<p>But all at once, when he was on the very verge of old age, when the most +intense affections of common men soften into pleasant habits, this man, +of mature years, awoke from the lethargy of a life-time, and took to his +bosom a fair young girl of his church, an orphan, who had been cast upon +its charity, and, as it were, led by heaven into his household. It was a +sudden act, prompted by the buried romance which had so long slept +within him, sure to find utterance at some period of his life, either +through the intellect or the affections.</p> + +<p>For a time he was very happy and forgot every thing, even heaven itself, +in the company of his beautiful young wife, who loved him with that +deep, unselfish love, which partook somewhat of veneration, but more of +child-like gratitude.</p> + +<p>But soon the old man grew afraid of himself, afraid of the love which +centred entirely around that young creature, bringing her like an +unbidden angel between his very prayers and the throne of grace. Thus +his life was spent between fits of wild devotion and paroxysms of +remorse, lest he had become an idolater.</p> + +<p>Time passed; it was more than twice twelve months before the man of +dreams and the man of action met again.</p> + +<p>The one was absorbed by his ambition, the other had become selfish in +his love: save on that one subject he had no sympathy to give.</p> + +<p>But as time glided away, leaving the hair on his temples whiter and +whiter, the old man was seized with an unaccountable dread. When his +young wife in all the bloom of her goodness and beauty had made him the +father of a daughter, her living shadow, vague, dark apprehension seized +upon him, and weeks before that young mother sickened and died, the +blackness of a great sorrow overshadowed his soul. He stood by her grave +and saw the fresh earth heaped upon it, and, shaking his venerable white +head, when his friends would have consoled him, went away into the +desolation of his old age, a broken-hearted man, weary of life, and yet +afraid to die.</p> + +<p>He believed that the Divine Father had cast him off for bestowing the +love which should have been his on the beautiful creature who was gone, +and that for this sin he must wander on through life a mark of divine +displeasure. So he withdrew himself even from his best friends, for they +only reminded him of his meek, beautiful wife and his own idolatrous +sin.</p> + +<p>The very song of the birds, and the sight of the green woods added to +his grief, for she was buried in springtime, when all the trees were in +blossom, and the wild birds had sung sweetly over her grave while they +were filling in the earth upon her coffin.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris retreated into the dreary solitude of his home, and gave +up his life to his daughter, the child of his old age. But for this +child his grief would have been utter despair, for every breath was +drawn in the desolation of a widowed heart. If he went to the fireside, +or the table, or awoke in the dead of night, it was to find the solitude +of the grave about him. His chamber, dark and heavy with the atmosphere +of death, his home, his very heart, which had been occupied with so +blessed and holy a love but a few days before, desolated forever.</p> + +<p>About this time William Phipps sailed for England, became captain of a +royal ship, then, following the great idea of his life, sailed for La +Plata, and returned home years after, rich from the gold and silver +fished up from the wreck which he had discovered almost by a +miracle—with a title of honor, no inconsiderable thing at any time even +in America—and more important still, accredited by King William as +Governor of New England.</p> + +<p>A few months after his old pupil became governor of the province, Samuel +Parris was summoned from his hearth, now the most desolate spot on earth +to him. His presence was required in Boston.</p> + +<p>He set forth with many misgivings, for the letter came from his friend +and pupil, William Phipps.</p> + +<p>The house, to which the letter directed him, had been the residence of a +rich merchant, and was now occupied by his young widow; one of the +wealthiest and most beautiful gentlewomen of the province.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps met his friend at the door of this mansion. The +minister observed, with surprise, that the house was thronged with +company, and that his young friend was dressed richly; like a bridegroom +about to appear at the altar. They sat down together, both pale, and the +minister betraying great anxiety both in his look and manner. Their +conversation was brief and earnest, but they spoke in undertones; and +the lady who sat below, in her bridal garments, wondered, in her +happiness, what the two could find to talk about so long; for that short +interview seemed an age to her.</p> + +<p>They came down at last: the bridegroom pale, but composed; the minister +tremulous, like a man about to undertake some painful duty.</p> + +<p>The marriage ceremony was performed which made the lady we have seen +William Phipps's wife.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris returned home more thoughtful than ever. Indeed, time had +no balm for this old man, and but for his lovely child he must have +withered away in unceasing sorrow for his wife; in remorse for the sin, +as he deemed it, of loving her too well.</p> + +<p>When Sir William Phipps heard of this, his heart was touched with +compassion for the old man, who had unlocked the golden gates of +knowledge to him, and, at the suggestion of his gentle wife, he sent an +urgent request that Elizabeth, the daughter whose education had been the +business and solace of the old man's life, should spend a portion of her +seventeenth year with Lady Phipps, who, childless herself, would become +a second mother to her.</p> + +<p>It was like a new death for the old man to part with his child, but he +saw by the wistful pleading of her eyes, that she longed to see +something of the bright world, and surrendered her to the servant whom +Sir William Phipps had sent to escort her to Boston, with a pang almost +as great as that with which he had consigned her mother to the grave.</p> + +<p>Through all the blossom season of the year, and into midsummer, +Elizabeth remained with her new friends. She was very happy; and while +his heart yearned for her presence, the old minister forbore to press +her return, or to inform her how dreary her absence had rendered his +home. But at last, urged on by some impulse which left him without the +power of resistance, though he prayed and struggled against it for many +days, the old man took his staff and went all the way on foot from Salem +to Boston, perhaps to see his child, certainly to look upon the roof +that covered her, and to breathe the same air that brought bloom and +beauty to her young face.</p> + +<p>But the very joy that filled his being as he came nearer and nearer to +the town, admonished him how completely his love had gone forth, once +more, to a being perishable as the wife he mourned. What if the +displeasure of God for this creature-worship should fall upon the child +also? The old man's soul trembled within him at these thoughts. He dared +not even approach the house where his child lived; yet he wandered with +irresistible fascination on the outskirts of the neighborhood, longing +to ask the passers-by if they had seen her, but never venturing to +unclose his lips.</p> + +<p>Thus the old man, striving against the best feelings of his nature as a +sin had roamed forth into the storm of that terrible day, and he now +wandered about in the sunshine afraid of himself, afraid of the very +sight of his own child, yet hovering around the house where she dwelt, +like a wounded bird that cannot forsake the tree where its young are +nested.</p> + +<p>As he was thus upon the outskirts of the grounds, Elizabeth looked forth +from the window of her room, and, uttering a cry of thrilling joy, that +had so often made the old man tremble, as he thought, with forbidden +happiness—"My father! Oh, my father!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE FORCED SACRAMENT.</h3> + + +<p>It was the Sabbath—that solemn day in the colonies when the voices of +men were hushed, or only uplifted in prayer—when the very children held +their breath with awe, and the good wife scarcely ventured to smooth the +bed she had slept in, or dress the food for her household, lest the holy +time given to the Lord should be encroached upon.</p> + +<p>The very smoke, as it curled up from the chimneys of Boston, seemed to +float off more dreamily than on other days. There was no sound of life +abroad, for men who went forth left the beaten track and walked softly +along the turf on each side of the highway, as if the noise of their own +footsteps was a sacrilege.</p> + +<p>But on this particular Sabbath there was, at least within doors, signs +of unusual commotion. The mother in each household brought forth her +best apparel, as if to grace some great occasion; while the good father, +in his Sabbath-day raiment, read an extra chapter in the Bible before +going forth, and drilled his offspring into deeper seriousness. On that +day the most mischievous urchin would have looked upon a single smile as +among the unforgivable sins of which he had heard so much, but could +never understand.</p> + +<p>But of all the houses in the town, the gubernatorial mansion was the +most silent; and yet important preparations were going on in its stately +rooms. The servants spoke in whispers as they moved up and down the +broad staircase; and even Norman Lovel, whose gay spirits were not +easily tamed, looked grave as he seated himself by the window to wait.</p> + +<p>At last, an open carriage, drawn by four gray horses, swept slowly +around the gravelled path, and drew up on one side of the steps.</p> + +<p>Then the front door swung open, both heavy leaves at once, and Governor +Phipps appeared, followed by four attendants, bearing halberts.</p> + +<p>It is hardly possible to imagine a more imposing presence than this +extraordinary man presented. His self-made greatness seemed like an +inheritance, so completely did his air and sumptuous habiliments +harmonize with each other. The broad, firm forehead, the deep-set eyes, +proud and steady in their glances, the firm mouth, grave without +severity, the thick hair, so slightly powdered that a few gray threads +were still to be detected in the wavy masses, the upright figure, tall +and robust, all possessed the power of command, had no other signs of +state been lidded to them. But no outward effect was wanting.</p> + +<p>The slight gold embroidery on his undervest of snowy satin, gleamed in +faint ripples through the delicate Flanders lace that edged his linen, +and shed its misty richness over the white facings of a purple velvet +coat, which fell back from his chest, and, with broad gold buttons +gleaming down the front, descended within an inch or two of his knees. +The garters, which united his small clothes and white silk stockings, +were buckled up with diamonds, and the crimson straps of his Spanish +leather shoes were fastened in like manner. From the plush hat, turned +up at the sides, which crowned that lofty head, to the yellow lace that +fell over his doeskin gloves, every thing bespoke the man of strength +and refinement.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps descended the steps of his mansion with a grave, +almost sad, countenance, and, followed by his attendants, walked away, +bending his steps towards North Boston.</p> + +<p>As he turned into the open street, a faint hum, like the slow swarming +of innumerable bees, came up from the town; and directly the streets +were alive with neatly dressed people, all tending in the same +direction, with their governor.</p> + +<p>Sir William had hardly gone out of sight when the carriage took its +station before the entrance of his dwelling, and Lady Phipps, +accompanied by Elizabeth Parris and Norman Lovel, descended the steps +and entered it.</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps had evidently been weeping, for there was a flush around her +eyes; and Elizabeth Parris seemed even more solemnly impressed than her +friend. Young Norman, too, looked serious; and, as if each had been +possessed with an inward prayer, they remained silent, like persons +about to join a funeral train.</p> + +<p>They were seated. Two attendants, bearing halberts, mounted behind; and +the equipage swept slowly away, following the governor at a given +distance, till it drew up before the North Boston meeting-house.</p> + +<p>A crowd was before the entrance—a silent, reverential crowd—composed +of devout men, who spoke in whispers if they addressed each other; and +scarcely allowed the excitement natural to the occasion to appear even +in their eyes. This crowd parted to the right and left, first that the +minister, with Samuel Parris at his side, might pass through; and again +to make a passage for the governor and his train.</p> + +<p>Sir William passed on, without recognizing a friend among many that +gazed upon him from the throng, for such worldly courtesies were not for +the holy Sabbath day in those times.</p> + +<p>Before the crowd closed in, Lady Phipps drove slowly up. The party +descended at a respectful distance from the door, to which the ladies +moved with downcast eyes, and disappeared in the meeting-house.</p> + +<p>Right and left, through the broad aisles that crossed each other in the +centre of the building, the congregation poured in, till that heavy, +wooden edifice was full.</p> + +<p>The two ministers mounted one of the curving staircases leading to the +broad box pulpit, which lifted them to a level with the heavy galleries. +The deacons ranged themselves in a long pew, which ran across the front, +far below. On a narrow platform stood a table of cherry-wood, on which +was a silver trencher of unleaven bread, cut in small fragments; a +tankard and a goblet, over which a snowy napkin had been reverently +cast: and, a little apart from these, stood a large china bowl filled +with pure water.</p> + +<p>These preparations, simple as they were, seemed to strike that primitive +congregation with unusual awe. Each member cast a solemn glance at the +table before he seated himself, and the funereal silence that reigned +through the house before the service commenced became almost painful.</p> + +<p>That was a long, labored sermon, full of quaint wisdom and ponderous +theology. But the congregation listened to its innumerable divisions +with intense interest, while the governor sat wrapped in thought, much +paler than usual, and with a holy sadness creeping over his face.</p> + +<p>The gentle lady by his side raised her eyes now and then to his, with a +look of wistful sympathy.</p> + +<p>The sermon was over; the long prayer said; then Samuel Parris arose from +a back seat in the pulpit, and came down the steps; his gray hair +streaming over his temples, his eyes full of strange light, and his hand +pressed hard on the banisters to help his descent.</p> + +<p>The old man stood up on the platform in front of the deacons, and turned +his gaze upon the governor's seat.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps arose, followed by a faint sob from that +crimson-lined pew, and with a firm, slow tread, advanced in front of the +communion-table. Perhaps in his whole life that strong man had never +been more intensely agitated. Danger he had endured without +flinching—sorrow, deep, deep sorrow, he had suffered in profound +silence, seeking neither counsel nor sympathy; but to the very depths of +his soul Sir William was a proud man, and it was with a great struggle +that he stepped down from his high estate, and consented to become as a +little child in the presence of so many people, mentally inferior to +himself, and who could never comprehend the sublime strength which +possessed his soul.</p> + +<p>He stood up before the people, and in a firm but very gentle voice +addressed them. He touched briefly on the salient points of a most +eventful life; spoke with great humility of his own shortcomings, and +with solemn and touching dignity laid his heart in genuine faith on the +altar of God.</p> + +<p>It was an eloquent address, full of sincerity and earnestness. In his +whole life, perhaps, Sir William Phipps had never appeared so great +before his people, or had so completely taken possession of their +respect.</p> + +<p>As he commenced speaking, there glided through the door, which had been +left open for a free circulation of air, a strange lady, dressed more +richly than was common in those days, except in the very highest +classes. She stood for a moment looking around, bewildered to find +herself among so many people; and then, as if arrested and held in +thrall by the deep-toned voice which filled the edifice, she stood +perfectly motionless, pale and still as marble.</p> + +<p>The general attention was so completely absorbed by the speaker, that no +one observed this singular entrance, and the lady stood alone among all +that human life unconscious of its presence as if she had been in the +depths of a forest.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps ceased speaking, and, turning to his old friend, who +stood by the table with tears in his eyes, bent his stately head for the +baptismal rites.</p> + +<p>Then the lady came slowly forward, moving like a ghost up the broad +aisle, not as it were by her own volition, but impelled by some +all-absorbing power of which she was herself unconscious. The +congregation, occupied by the ceremony, saw nothing of this till she +came up almost to the pulpit, and turning aside, stood mute and still as +before, with her woeful eyes turning first upon the governor, then on +Samuel Parris.</p> + +<p>It did not seem that either of these men saw the intruder, for they +looked each upon the other with glances of solemn affection, such as men +of kindred sympathies alone can understand. But as if that singular +presence would make itself felt in spite of any preoccupation, a shadow +fell upon the face of the governor, and those who looked closely saw the +thin hand of Samuel Parris tremble as he laved up the crystal drops that +were to purify his brother's soul. His voice, too, faltered as he spoke +the few words necessary to the baptismal ceremony, and yet he had not +turned his face or raised his eyes from the bowed head before him.</p> + +<p>Then, with the holy water drops still trembling on his forehead, Sir +William lifted his face, and encountered the gaze of that strange woman. +What were those intensely mournful eyes to him, that he should feel +their glance trembling through his soul? Why did that wild sight come +into the calm depths of his eyes? With a great effort he turned away, +and bethought himself of the still more sacred rites which were to +complete his acceptance among the people of God. But the fervor of +devotion had passed; he could no longer concentrate every thought upon +the God whom he had promised to serve. The sacred bread touched his +lips, and the sacramental wine laved them, but, even as he returned the +goblet to the trembling hold of his friend, the fascination of those +eyes drew his soul away. He turned from the communion-table, and went to +the pew where his wife and her young friends were sitting; there, bowing +his face between his hands, he strove to pray, but could only shrink and +shudder as if some terrible calamity were upon him.</p> + +<p>There was a brief benediction, and the congregation, held motionless +till the governor and his family passed out, broke up and departed +through the various doors, leaving the meeting-house empty. No, not +quite; for Samuel Parris still lingered behind, and busied himself in +covering the consecrated wine and bread; for he could not endure that +other hands should touch the symbols our Lord has made holy. He was +reverently placing the napkin over them when Barbara Stafford came from +her station in the shadow of the pulpit, and, kneeling at his feet, +besought him that she too might partake of the holy bread and wine.</p> + +<p>Parris was an old man, and his eyes were dim with tears, for to his +gentle heart there had been something peculiarly touching in the rites +he had just administered to his friend. Besides, the lady was so changed +by her toilet, that he had no suspicion that she was the person whose +life he had saved a few days before. Thus he stood for a moment lost in +astonishment at the strangeness of the request.</p> + +<p>"Sister," he said very kindly—for with thoughts of the Saviour's +suffering so close to his heart, how could he do otherwise?—"this is a +singular request. Know you not that the sacrament of to-day was special +to one purpose? The congregation was not expected to join in it."</p> + +<p>"I know that it may seem out of place to ask so much, even of a servant +of God, and in a house given up to his worship. But if there is a holy +virtue in this bread and wine, give it to me that I may be strong; for I +declare to you, old man, there is not a soul on the broad earth that +needs it as mine does now."</p> + +<p>How mournfully those eyes implored him, how deep and pathetic were the +pleadings of that sweet voice!</p> + +<p>Imperceptibly the old minister began to tremble as he had done a few +minutes before, with his hand in the baptismal water.</p> + +<p>She laid one hand on her heart: "Old man, if you are a true servant of +God, listen; I am afraid of myself, for humanity is very frail—here +with that voice still ringing through my brain, with—but no matter, I +am a woman, and weak—alone, and oh how desolate! While the power is +strong upon me, I would breathe a vow which no one but the Holy of +holies shall hear; I would seal that vow with the bread and wine he has +tasted."</p> + +<p>"But sister!"</p> + +<p>"Do not refuse me: it is a little thing for you, all the future to me. +Give me to taste of the cup while I have strength; for I say unto you, +old man, the spirit that impels me will not suffice to struggle against +a great temptation, without help from heaven."</p> + +<p>The face of that woman was eloquent with noble resolves, the pathos of +her voice would have touched a heart of ice.</p> + +<p>The old man slowly removed the napkin, and laid his hand upon the wine +cup. Barbara's eyes turned wistfully upon it.</p> + +<p>"Remember," said the minister, taking a morsel of the bread between his +fingers—"remember, he that eateth of this bread or drinketh of this cup +unworthily—"</p> + +<p>"I know, I know—I do remember," she urged, interrupting him; then +bowing herself and placing the bread between her lips, she continued +solemnly, "before the most Holy, I do not eat or drink unworthily." +Then, with a spirit of self-abnegation in her soul which amounted almost +to martyrdom, Barbara Stafford put her lips to the goblet which another +mouth had just touched, and drank of the sacred wine.</p> + +<p>After that covenant with her God, a calm, sweet peace composed her +features, and settled on her whole being. For a moment she seemed to +have no sorrow, but rising from her knees took the minister's hand, +pressed her lips upon it, and went away.</p> + +<p>It was not till she had gone, and he found himself in the empty +building, that Samuel Parris fully realized what he had done. By the +rules of his church no person, not an admitted member, had the privilege +of sacrament. How did he know if this woman was spiritually qualified? +By what right had he, standing at the foot of another man's pulpit, to +break bread and wine, perhaps to an unbeliever? Who was this woman who +had exercised an influence so potent upon him, and, as it were, wrested +the holy bread and wine from his hand? Surely the evil one could not +have tempted him in a form like that.</p> + +<p>These thoughts troubled the minister greatly, and he left the +meeting-house saddened by the waywardness of his own heart, which would +be constantly following its kind impulses, in spite of the strict rules +laid down by his creed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>HUNTED DOWN.</h3> + + +<p>Samuel Parris had gone up from Salem to Boston impelled only by an +unconquerable wish to breathe the same air with his only child; but when +Governor Phipps found that he was in the same place with himself, +wandering about the streets, and crucifying his heart, because of his +great love for the daughter of his old age, he went in search of him; +and, after much persuasion and reasoning, induced a more wholesome frame +of mind, and, for a little time, the minister was able to receive the +glad welcome of his child without self-reproach.</p> + +<p>The healthy good sense of his friend had a wonderful effect on the old +man, who had become morbid from constant loneliness and much sorrow. The +tone of his fine mind grew stronger under a roof where the affections +had full scope, and where a fresh, breezy atmosphere always prevailed. +At times, the good old man was seen almost to smile, this little sojourn +from home gave such zest to his life.</p> + +<p>He had provided for his pulpit in Salem before leaving home, and +therefore, without undue persuasion, consented to remain and take a +share in the baptism of his friend, a thing which the governor, and his +whole family, had much at heart.</p> + +<p>But all this time his own home was left in loneliness, or what was +almost the same thing, under the charge of a young girl, the niece of +his wife, who had been adopted in her infancy, and brought up side by +side with his own child.</p> + +<p>This girl was a little older than Elizabeth Parris, and had shared the +same love, the same bed, and the same table with her from childhood up. +She was an orphan and the child of an orphan.</p> + +<p>It was said in whispers, by the old gossips of the place, that her +mother came from some remote Indian settlement, where she and her little +sister—afterwards the wife of Samuel Parris—had been left like wild +animals, to live or die, probably by some unfortunate or unnatural +parent. But these two helpless creatures had escaped the wilderness and +sought shelter among the inhabitants of Salem. The elder girl gave no +account of herself save that she had escaped great danger, and fled from +the woods where her mother had perished. The little one only clung to +her sister with fond love in her deep blue eyes, and a timid struggle if +any one attempted to draw her from that singular protection. She was +quite too young for any knowledge of her own history.</p> + +<p>For a time this brave girl and her sister were received and kindly +treated by the inhabitants, but after a year or two it came out that, +even in the wilderness, she had imbibed, no one could tell how, those +Quaker heresies so obnoxious to the prevailing religionists. Becoming +more and more bold in declaring them, she had been driven forth into the +wilderness again, cruelly scourged by the law, and hunted down by her +fellow-men like a she-wolf caught at her prey.</p> + +<p>The younger child, to whom all religious creeds remained a blessed +mystery, was forcibly torn from the arms of her sister, whose very touch +was considered contagious by the regenerated, and adopted into the +church. She was too young at the time of her sister's martyrdom, for +such in spirit it was, to resist either this cruelty or kindness, and +the very people who had hunted her sister out of civilized life were the +most eager for her welfare, and strove most diligently to render her +happy and comfortable. Indeed, she was in reality the ewe lamb of the +church, and, being of a peaceful, gentle nature, soon learned to look +upon the troubles of her first childhood as a dream, and think of the +brave sister, who had been ready to perish for her, as one of the +characters that she loved to read about in the Bible.</p> + +<p>Thus she surrounded the past with a sort of religious mystery, which +threw a shade of sadness over her whole life, but never, till the very +last, embittered it as a knowledge of the whole truth would have done.</p> + +<p>This young girl became to the church a lamb of atonement for her +sister's heresy. She grew up beautiful as an angel, both in soul and +body; became the wife of Samuel Parris, the mother of his child, and +then, in truth, an angel.</p> + +<p>But a thing happened on the very day before her death, which no human +being ever understood save the young wife, whose death-blow came with +the knowledge it brought.</p> + +<p>She was sitting alone, this young wife, in the spare room of her log +house, singing a quiet, sweet psalm-tune to herself, as she sewed on a +little garment which was to clothe her first-born child. The minister +had gone forth to hold a prayer-meeting, and she was thus pleasantly +whiling the time of his absence away, thinking of him with a gentle +satisfaction that more passionate love might not have known, between the +pauses of her work and the breaks in her sweet music.</p> + +<p>It was in the spring; the little window of her room was curtained with +wild honeysuckles and sweetbriar brought down from the woods, and rooted +by the house. The sash was up, and the wind, as it sighed through the +leaves, gave a melodious accompaniment to her voice. But all at once, +there was a quick rustling of the branches, as if they were torn apart +by force, and, looking up suddenly, the young wife saw a thin brown hand +clutching the thorny foliage, and a ghastly face, fired by two burning +eyes, looking in upon her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parris started up in great terror, for in her whole nature she was +timid, and would have fled to the kitchen; but while she stood trembling +and doubtful, the face disappeared, the outer door flew open, and a +woman leading a child by the hand came hastily into the room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parris gazed at the intruder with renewed affright. Though clad as +a savage, with moccasins on her feet, leggins of crimson cloth, and a +dress of deer skin, gorgeous with embroidery in beads, porcupine quills, +and stained grasses, she had nothing of the Indian in her countenance or +complexion. The hair that fell down from a broken coronet of feathers, +which had once been gorgeous, was of a rich golden tint, and curled in +heavy masses, though the woman had reached mid-age in fact, and was much +older in appearance.</p> + +<p>The eyes which she fixed on the young wife, though wild with the fires +of death, had once been blue as a summer sky.</p> + +<p>She could not speak—this strange wild woman—but gazed at the innocent +wife standing there in her sweet motherly hopes, till great tears fell +down her cheeks, and sobs rose and swelled in her throat, almost choking +her.</p> + +<p>"Who are you—what can I do for you?" said Mrs. Parris, gathering up all +her courage to speak. "The minister is away; I am all alone; if more of +your tribe are here, and wish me harm, I am helpless enough."</p> + +<p>The woman put her hand up, and strove to force back the sobs that held +her speechless, then she drew close to the young wife, and her voice +broke forth in a gush of tender anguish, that thrilled her listener +through and through.</p> + +<p>"Rachael!"</p> + +<p>That had been the orphan's name, forgotten long ago, for when they +baptized her in the church she was called Elizabeth. But the anguish, +the pathos with which it was uttered, made her pulses swell and her +heart beat.</p> + +<p>"<i>Rachael!</i>" The sound grew familiar, the voice came to her from the +depths of the past, as a ghost glides out from the darkness that +surrounds it. The knowledge that she had once known a sister came back.</p> + +<p>"Rachael, my sister Rachael!"</p> + +<p>Her soul gave up its past at the cry. She stretched forth her arms as +she had done a thousand times in her helpless infancy, and fell into the +embrace that gathered her up to the very heart of that dying woman.</p> + +<p>"Rachael!"</p> + +<p>"Sister!"</p> + +<p>Language was mute then, and silence became eloquent; the blood in those +two hearts throbbed with kindred fire, those arms clung together like +vines rooted in the same soil.</p> + +<p>At last the woman began to stagger.</p> + +<p>"Let me sit down, Rachael." She fell into the easy-chair, gasping for +breath.</p> + +<p>"Lay thy head here close—close, sister—sister!"</p> + +<p>"You are ill—dying!"</p> + +<p>"Not yet—there—there—it is well; thee will try and remember how dear +the little Rachael was to her sister, thee will know how true this heart +is by its beating—its last beat, for I am about to die."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember, as in a dream; but still I know who you are, spite of +this dress, spite of time."</p> + +<p>"And now, sister, dear sister, I have come to ask, for my little one, +the care which thee received at my hands; for as our mother took thee +from her bosom when she came to her death in the wilderness, I charge +thee, sister Rachael, with my only daughter, Abigail Williams, for thus +thee must call my child. She has another name, but that would bring +fierce enemies upon her."</p> + +<p>"God so deal with me as I deal with this little one!" was the reply, and +reaching forth her arm, Mrs. Parris drew the child from the feet of her +mother, kissing her softly amid her tears.</p> + +<p>"Rachael!"</p> + +<p>"Sister!"</p> + +<p>"When thee was a little child like her, I suffered them to drive me away +like a sinner and a slave; I suffered them to tear thee from my bosom, +and went into the wilderness alone, never attempting to come back lest +thee too might suffer, and perchance perish of want. It was like tearing +my life away when thee was given up."</p> + +<p>"Alas, alas! that I should have known so little of this!"</p> + +<p>"It was a merciful forgetfulness; thy pure life has been all the happier +for it, but I was not unmindful; many a week's journey have I taken +through the woods to hear of thy welfare."</p> + +<p>"But yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I have been even as God wills it. Look up, Rachael: do not weep or +droop thine eyes to the earth: thee has no cause. Even as thee, I have +been the wife of one husband."</p> + +<p>"I did not think otherwise; it is for myself that I am troubled. Surely +this heart should have told me that you lived."</p> + +<p>"Once more, my sister, it was a merciful forgetfulness; not till I knew +by sure signs that my last moment was at hand, would I claim even this +hour of thy life. Now I have come a long way alone and on foot, to give +up my child, that she may dwell with the people of her mother."</p> + +<p>"But her father?"</p> + +<p>"He was a brave man—my benefactor and lord. His son, the first-born, +was torn from me as I fled from the white fiends that murdered his +father. They will make him a slave—he a king's son! The chief of his +tribe a slave! a slave!"</p> + +<p>The woman reeled on her feet as she stood, and fell into the chair +again, panting for breath. With an effort she spoke on.</p> + +<p>"Thee shall be mother to this little one, sister Rachael."</p> + +<p>"Even as my husband shall be its father," said Mrs. Parris, laying her +hand upon the child's head.</p> + +<p>"That husband—presently—when I have more breath, thee shall tell me +about him, for I know nothing. It is long, very long, since I have been +able to gain tidings from the settlements. Even now I came upon this +house at the last moment, and feeling about to fall to the earth, looked +in, seeking for help, and saw thee."</p> + +<p>"Thank God that it was my house. Alas, how haggard and worn you look, my +sister! I read years of suffering in your face, and I so happy, so +unconscious all the time. But no one ever talked of my childhood."</p> + +<p>"They would not thus accuse themselves; they who lashed thy sister with +stripes, and drove her into the woods like a dog. How could such men +look into thy pure face, and tell this unholy truth?"</p> + +<p>"But my husband; surely he must have heard of this cruelty, for he was +minister here before I was born. Yet when I question him of my +childhood, he always puts the subject aside."</p> + +<p>A wild light came into the woman's eye. She sat upright in the chair, +and looked down into the face of her sister.</p> + +<p>"A minister, Rachael! what is thy husband's name?"</p> + +<p>The name faltered on the young wife's lips, not as usual from reverence, +but fear.</p> + +<p>"Parris—his name is Parris."</p> + +<p>The woman gathered herself slowly up.</p> + +<p>"Samuel Parris?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the wife, in a timid whisper.</p> + +<p>"An old man now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The woman stood upright, struggling to walk, but without the power to +move. Her chest heaved, her throat swelled, she groped about blindly +with her hand, searching for her child.</p> + +<p>"Sister, sister, what troubles you?" cried Mrs. Parris, trembling +violently.</p> + +<p>"<i>Rachael, that man was one of my judges!</i>"</p> + +<p>The words came out hoarsely, rattling in her throat. She fell back, +struggled with awful force for a moment, and then a cold, gray corpse +settled down in the chair, terribly in contrast with the savage dress. +The child, who had been growing paler and paler, went softly up to the +chair, and burying its face in the gorgeous vestments that clung about +the corpse, remained motionless and mute as the dead. She neither wept +nor moaned like an ordinary child, but a dull pallor stole over her neck +and her little hands, which proved how terrible that still grief was. +Ah, who shall tell how much of the iron that rusted through her +after-life, entered that human soul during those moments of silent +agony!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Parris stood looking at them both, then, struck with a pang of +terrible anguish, she crept out of the room, moaning as she went.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>DOOMED TO SLAVERY.</h3> + + +<p>While Mrs. Parris was in her chamber, faint with pain and driven wild by +the fearful developments just made to her, the dead woman lay in the +great easy-chair, wrapped in her gorgeous forest-dress and with the +bright hair falling in masses down her cheek, concealing the death +shadows that lay upon it.</p> + +<p>All was still as midnight in the house. Save for a faint sob that came +once or twice from the chamber above, the pretty cabin might have been +taken for a tomb. Old Tituba had been very busy at the great stone oven, +back of the house, baking bread, and that fearful scene had passed in +the parlor without her knowledge. Though a soul had gone into eternity, +and a heart had been broken, in those few minutes, the poor old savage +was ignorant of it all. With her long iron shovel she was launching +great loaves of rye bread into the depths of an enormous oven, and at +last blocked up its yawning mouth with an earthen milk-pan full of +beans, crested with a crisp mass of pork cut in square blocks across the +rind. She had put the great wooden door up, and was stuffing tufts of +grass about the edges to keep the air out, when a lad rushed wildly by +her, leaping over the ground like a deer, and, turning a corner of the +house, disappeared. The lad was dressed in a deer-skin tunic, trimmed so +richly with wampum that it rattled like a hail storm as he fled. She +caught one glimpse of a mass of glossy hair floating on the wind, and +scarlet leggins hanging in shreds around those flying feet.</p> + +<p>"It is an Indian child. It is one of our people," cried Tituba, casting +her heavy iron fire-shovel to the ground. "The white men are on his +track; they swarm like snakes in the forest."</p> + +<p>But, quickly as the old woman moved, that wild Indian boy entered the +house before she came up. He halted one moment on the threshold, +hesitating and wild. A glance at the great easy-chair, a cry that rang +through and through the house, a leap that seemed rather that of some +wild animal than a human being, and the boy lay prostrate at the dead +woman's feet, with both hands pulling at her dress, while he cried out, +in a voice that made the very air tremble with its pathos,</p> + +<p>"Mother! mother! I am here! I am here! They could not hold me! I tore +their bonds asunder like tow. I shot one through the heart, outran the +others. All night long have I been on your trail. Look at me, mother. +Wake up or the enemy will be upon us again."</p> + +<p>A stir in the woman's garments that shook all its wampum fringes, +deceived the boy, or he would have known that she was dead.</p> + +<p>"Mother! mother! there is no time for rest. They were crowding in the +outskirts of the woods when I came through. Come with me. I know of a +cave in the rocks where you can be safe with my little sister. Did you +know they will sell us for slaves—these white men that talk of a God +higher than Mineto? Mother! mother! I hear a step. They are on us! +They—" he paused suddenly, his hands, clasped and uplifted, seemed +freezing together. He did not breathe. His wild eyes had caught the +deadly pallor of that face, scattered as it were with ashes beneath the +shadowy hair. He shuddered fearfully as the dead woman's garments +rustled around her. A little form, half concealed by the chair, half +buried in the garments, crept to his feet. A tiny hand, cold as snow, +grasped at his dress.</p> + +<p>"Brother!"</p> + +<p>The little girl spoke in the Indian tongue, and looked into his face +with those dark, piteous eyes.</p> + +<p>"Brother!"</p> + +<p>The boy snatched her up, and folding her close in his arms, looked in +terrible woe on the dead face resting against the high back of the +chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother! mother! have they killed you as well as my father?" he +cried, drooping toward her. "Will you never speak again? Oh, Mineto! +Mineto! what has your people done, that they are chased to death like +wolves and foxes? What had she done that they could not spare her?"</p> + +<p>Tituba stood motionless in the doorway. The wail of grief in that young +voice held her there dumb and sorrowful. She understood the Indian +tongue, and knew that this boy was the dead woman's son. A death-chant +rose to her lips; she began to rock to and fro on the threshold. But a +sound on the edge of the wood frightened the impulse away. She turned +and saw a body of armed men coming around the meeting-house. The danger +was close upon them. Tituba darted into the room, snatched the little +girl from her brother's arms, and cried out in the Indian tongue: "Go! +go! leap through the back window. There is a hollow floor under the +oven: creep in. They will not look for you there." She ran into the +kitchen as she spoke, mounted a ladder, and hid the child in a corner of +the garret, heaping strings of dried apples and bunches of herbs upon +her. The little girl lay in her concealment, passive and mute, holding +her breath. Poor thing, she had become used to scenes of peril like +that.</p> + +<p>But the lad, that brave Indian boy, scorned to flee for his own safety +alone. There he stood, close to his dead mother, pale as death, but with +a terrible fire in his eyes. He had not distinctly understood old +Tituba, and only knew that danger was near.</p> + +<p>The heavy tramp of feet on the gravel path drew his eyes from that cold +form to the window. It was blocked up with iron faces crowned with tall +sugar-loaf hats, which shut out the very sight of heaven.</p> + +<p>The savage instincts of a warlike race impelled the boy to resistance. +Tituba had spoken of a back window. He glanced that way, knowing well +that the forest stretched darkly beyond. But there a terrible sight met +him. A dozen or more young warriors, the bravest of those who had +followed King Philip on his last war-path, lay upon the sod, bound hand +and foot with strong withes, shorn of their forest splendor, and with +the eagle feathers, which had been to them a crown of glory, broken in +the tangled hair from which they could not be altogether wrested. There +they lay, those brave, grand savages, like a flock of sheep bound and +ready for the butcher. They had fought valiantly for the land that was +undoubtedly their own, and for that crime were deemed unworthy of +Christian mercy.</p> + +<p>The brave boy saw that all avenues of escape were closed to him. +Instinctively, he felt for his bow. It was gone. When first taken a +prisoner, those iron-faced men now glaring at him through the window had +broken it under their feet. But bristling up from behind his mother's +shoulder was a bow and quiver, in which were a half dozen arrows, the +last love-gift of King Philip. Quick as lightning he snatched the bow, +and an arrow flashed through the window.</p> + +<p>A howl of pain followed, and a rush at the door, but the lad wheeled +half round, and arrow after arrow leaped from his bow, till the quiver +on that marble woman's back was empty. Then a band of soldiers pressed +in upon him with levelled halberts. Hands that seemed cased in iron +gauntlets seized him by the shoulders, and he was dragged farther over +the threshold stone, struggling against them to the last. There he was +hurled to the earth and bound limb to limb with tough withes. Then two +of the soldiers carried him around a corner of the house and cast him +down as if he had been a dog, among the young warriors, destined to be +sold into slavery.</p> + +<p>The lad struggled to a sitting posture, and looked out on the ocean. A +ship, old and weather beaten, lay within the harbor, with her anchor up, +ready for sea. That ship was bound for Bermuda with a cargo of slaves, +all gathered from the glorious forests of New England.</p> + +<p>The men destined to fill her hold were chiefs and warriors of as brave a +nation as ever baptized a free soil with blood—men taken in valiant +fight, while contesting for their native woods, and the wigwams which +were to them sacred homes. These unfortunate men were prisoners of war, +helpless, and at the mercy of a victorious foe. The Puritan fathers +being Christians and God-fearing men, would not put their captives to +death: that would have been to sink themselves to a level with savages; +so, after grave deliberation, some fasting, and much prayer, they +resolved to stow away these brave men into the hold of a sea-going +vessel, and let the winds of a benign heaven waft them into perpetual +slavery. The returning ship would bring back heaps of glittering gold in +exchange for this cargo of war prisoners; for the men who fought under +King Philip were powerful and capable of severe toil. They had not +yielded readily to the rifle, but peradventure the lash might prove a +more effective instrument of civilization.</p> + +<p>On this ship the son of King Philip looked with burning eyes, while the +bonds with which they had lashed his limbs together cut purple hollows +into his flesh. He knew that the sails which were now unfurling would +bear him far away from the forest where his father had perished, and +where hundreds of his tribe were now sheltering themselves from the +white man's wrath.</p> + +<p>There the lad sat, or rather knelt; every nerve in his body +strained—every drop of his savage blood burning—every thought a +denunciation. But no one of those iron-faced men heeded him.</p> + +<p>The two soldiers who had cast the boy down amid his father's warriors, +turned toward the sea.</p> + +<p>"Lo," said one, extending his hand, "the wind is fresh from the east. +Yonder, half-way to the shore, comes a boat. Take these sinful creatures +to the beach, brethren, while I go in and bring forth the woman and her +pappoose."</p> + +<p>The boy uttered a sharp cry, and turned his glance on the man, who +strode toward the house. He went rudely up to the great chair, and laid +his hand on the woman's shoulder, giving it a slight shake. The fringes +on her dress rattled like hail upon crusted snow. The man took his hand +suddenly away, hesitated an instant, and then swept back the hair from +that still face. The certain presence of death touched even his granite +heart. He bent down, and was folding the deer-skin robe more composedly +about the form, when a little creature came gliding through the door, +and stole close up to the chair before he saw that it was the child he +sought. She was a fearless little thing at all times; now, some vague +idea that the man was about to harm her mother made her eyes wildly +luminous, as she lifted them to his face.</p> + +<p>"Go away," she said, in broken English, pushing him with all her tiny +strength. "Go!" The fire in those beautiful eyes enkindled the stern +cruelty of the man. He snatched her up in his arms and bore her forth +with a grim smile on his bearded lip.</p> + +<p>Then old Tituba saw what had happened and followed him, uttering wild +cries of distress. The man took no heed, but carried his captive around +the house in sight of her brother.</p> + +<p>A yell of mingled rage and despair broke from that young heart. The lad +tore and strained at his bonds like a trapped panther—fiery tears +leaped to his eyes, specks of foam flew from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Not her, not her!" he shrieked, in English. "She is only a little baby. +Let them whip me, sell me, kill me. I will work and suffer for both."</p> + +<p>The anguish in that young voice reached Mrs. Parris, where she lay with +her face buried in the pillows of her bed. Like a beautiful white nun +she came out of her chamber, down the stairs, and into the midst of +those Puritan soldiers. Terrible suffering had cast its ashes over her; +but there was resolution in her eyes, pain on her forehead.</p> + +<p>She went up to the man, who still held the little savage and took her +gently from his arms.</p> + +<p>"She is mine. The minister will care for her. Little children are not +our enemies. Christians do not make slaves of them."</p> + +<p>There was something in the very gentleness of her words that almost +conquered the man, who muttered a gloomy protest. The little creature +clung to her with thrilling tenacity.</p> + +<p>"Leave the child with me. I will answer for its safety to your leader. +I, the wife of Samuel Parris, whom you all know."</p> + +<p>There was something in the face of this gentle young matron that +enforced respect even from the men who had so rudely invaded her +dwelling—a depth and intensity of suffering that prevailed more surely +than command.</p> + +<p>"Nay, if you will take charge of the little heathen we have nothing to +say. In the minister's house she may find a gate of salvation open."</p> + +<p>A spasm of pain swept the fair face of the matron; but her soul was +strong enough for the moment to put this physical anguish aside. She +took the infant in her arms, folded it close to her aching bosom, and +went with it into the house. Old Tituba stood in the door.</p> + +<p>"Take her, take her! and God have mercy on us all!" cried Elizabeth, +tottering forward and giving up the child. Then she went feebly up the +stairs and entered her chamber again.</p> + +<p>The princely Indian boy, true to the reticent instincts of his father's +race, became silent as marble when he saw that his little sister would +not be harmed. Even the cry of joy that rose to his lips when the child +was given up he bravely suppressed. He would not, by one action, let his +persecutors know how dear the little wanderer was to him. Had he spoken +a word, or challenged attention by a gesture, the minister's wife would +have learned that her sister's son was in peril, and might perhaps have +saved him also. But he was too brave for complaint, and she went on, +ignorant of his danger to the hour of her death.</p> + +<p>The tide rose, the winds blew favorably, that old ship unfurled its +canvas and sent out signals that its human crew was waited for. Down to +the beach those brave young savages were forced, into the boats and away +forever more.</p> + +<p>Before night-fall that craft was far off on her horrible errand, +plunging along that vast desert of waters, with oh! what terrible agony +shut down under her closed hatches.</p> + +<p>There in her hold, dark as the bottomless pit, with every breath of the +stifled air foul with the scent of bilge water, lay those children of +the great forest; which, broad, and green, and noble as it was, had +hardly afforded scope for their heroic energies a month before. Down in +impenetrable blackness, beneath the roaring waters that beat against +that creaking hull, like wild animals, riotous with hunger, they had +been cast in heaps, with less mercy than would have been yielded to mad +dogs or trapped tigers. Not one glimpse of the glorious old woods from +which they had been torn—not even a fragment of the blue sky was given +to those bloodshot eyes; but, lashed onward by the waves, stifled, +hungry, and broken-hearted, they were swept into slavery.</p> + +<p>When Samuel Parris reached home that night, he found in place of the +gentle wife whom he had left singing at her work, the dead woman of the +forest, lying in her gorgeous habiliments, and the little child, whose +stillness was more appalling than that of the corpse, crouching at her +feet.</p> + +<p>Shocked at the sight, but thinking first of his wife, the minister, +after a vain attempt to question the child, followed the sound of broken +voices that came faintly to his ear, and entered his own chamber. A +moment after he went hurriedly from the house, returned with another +person, and stood all night long holding his breath by the chamber door. +At last he came away, moving like a ghost through the dim morning, and +entered the little sitting-room where his angel had been seated so +tranquilly when he went out, not yet twenty-four hours agone. The little +girl, who had stayed by her mother all night, arose, and stood looking +him in the eyes with a steady gaze that might have made any man shrink, +for it was unearthly in its earnestness.</p> + +<p>While that weird glance was upon him, a low cry rang through the house, +a cry that made every drop in the old man's veins leap, and every nerve +tremble.</p> + +<p>"Thank God! Oh, my God, my God, how <i>can</i> I thank thee enough!" and the +old man wept tenderly.</p> + +<p>As if mocking the ecstasy of his tears, the little girl smiled in his +face—but oh, such a wintry smile—and went back to her mother. The old +man shuddered.</p> + +<p>After a time, he went up to the chamber of his wife. She lay upon the +bed with the babe he was to look upon for the first time, not folded to +her bosom, but lying apart, while she gazed wistfully at its little +features, with a weary look full of dull anguish, that never would +change to the lovelight which should brighten a mother's face.</p> + +<p>The minister, with tears in his eyes, leaned over her, and would have +pressed his lips upon her forehead, but she shrunk down in the bed with +a low moan, as a wounded fawn shudders at the touch of its captor, and +when he sought to comfort her, and speak out the exquisite joy that +filled his whole being, she looked up with those piteous eyes, and +muttered:</p> + +<p>"She was my sister—my sister!"</p> + +<p>These were all the words she ever uttered. The shock of his sudden +presence had exhausted the last remnants of her strength. She only +breathed fainter and fainter, till her child, like the little one below, +was motherless.</p> + +<p>The two sisters were buried side by side, the same tree overshadowed +them, and in the course of time the flowers that blossomed on one grave +crept over the other. Many tears were shed over the minister's wife as +they lowered her into the earth, but not one—not one—over the +grand-hearted forest-woman. For her Samuel Parris could not weep. He +looked upon her very coffin with terror. The Nemesis of his life was +there, and would haunt him forever and ever. He stood by the open grave, +bowed down with something more awful than grief. In the happiness of his +married life he had grown vigorous and upright; but now his shoulders +stooped, and his limbs shook like the branches of a dead tree. Poor old +man! who can wonder that Samuel Parris never held up his head again!</p> + +<p>As for the child, Abigail Williams, she came of a race to whom revenge +stands in the place of religion—a race even to whose women and children +tears are a reproach. At her mother's grave she did not forget the proud +lessons of the kingly savage who taught even his women to suffer +bravely.</p> + +<p>They had taken off her Indian dress, it is true, but what power could +quench the fire in that young heart! She did not comprehend the meaning +of those black garments, only that she was alone, utterly alone, among +all those people, who had been cruel enough to let her mother die.</p> + +<p>From that double grave the young savage went back to old Tituba, the +Indian woman, never in her whole life to know one hour of careless +childhood.</p> + +<p>Thus it was that Abigail Williams became the adopted child of Samuel +Parris, and this was the girl who, far advanced towards womanhood now, +was left in charge of the minister's house when he made his eventful +visit to Boston.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>ELIZABETH AND HER COUSIN.</h3> + + +<p>From the cradle up, Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams had been as +sisters—nay, more, for while the same blood flowed in their veins and +the same household words had been breathed into their ears, there +existed that strong bond of contrast which is sure to give some degree +of excitement to the quietest life. Abigail was the elder by about three +years. She had come to a rapid growth, and her beauty possessed all the +roundness and depth of tint which belongs to a full-statured woman. Her +mind was like her person, and both were remarkable. Apt, bright, full of +intelligence, yet gentle, and troubled with a shy bashfulness at times, +which sprang from pride rather than timidity, she was a wonder to +everybody that saw her. She was so unlike other children, her manner of +doing things was so firm and gentle, that few even of the gravest +church-members ever thought of rebuking her as they did other offenders, +or of petting her in the same way.</p> + +<p>She was greatly given to study, but sometimes would sit with her book in +one hand, or her slate in her lap, gazing wistfully into the distance +through the window of the log school-house, as if her life like her +thoughts lay afar off, and having escaped her lesson, could not be +brought back again.</p> + +<p>The school-house commanded a broad, beautiful approach to the sea, and +behind it was a dense forest of hemlocks, oaks, and beech, which kept +the earth forever in shadow, and covered the old sodden logs and decayed +stumps with thick fleeces of moss that gleamed out like velvet and gold +when a sunbeam chanced to strike downward and touch the earth. Vast as +the ocean itself stretched the shadows of that forest, and Abigail's +face took a deeper and more earnest expression when she looked that way, +deeper and more earnest even than when she gazed upon the far-off waters +and saw the distant sky bend down and cover their retreat with silvery +mists. You would have thought the child was searching for something that +was very, very long in coming, as she fell into these long musing fits. +Sometimes she would remain motionless, leaning both elbows on her little +pine-desk, and dropping her chin between her hands, for half an hour +together without turning her eyes from the shadows that darkened the +forest, and seeming to hold her breath lest it should frighten some one +back that she had been waiting and hoping for. She seemed to be +conscious herself that there was someone weird and strange about these +fits of concentrated thought, for at every sound of your voice, at every +step that drew near, she would catch her breath, start and look up, as +if she expected something dreadful to happen.</p> + +<p>Speak softly to Abigail Williams at such times, or look at her with a +glance of love, and her quiet eyes would fill and her childish heart +would heave, it was impossible to say why. But if you spoke sharply to +her when her head was at the little window and her thoughts far away, no +one knew where, the poor thing would grow pale, and turn upon you with +such a sorrowful look, then go away and do as she was bidden with a +gravity that touched you to the heart. Sometimes it would require a +whole day after a rebuke like this to restore the dye of her sweet lips +or to persuade her that you were not half so angry as you might have +appeared. But with all this, the quickness of her intellect, and the +alacrity with which she took to study, was remarkable as her +thoughtfulness.</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth Parris was in every respect a very different child. If you +chided her even to the lifting of a finger, ten to one, she laughed in +your face, and made you laugh with her, in spite of yourself. Scold her, +and you got an answer back that made you love the creature for her very +sauciness. She would mimic your step with her little naked feet, or the +motion of your head, or the curve of your mouth, while you were +expecting to terrify her. Everybody was tired of her in half an hour, +and yet everybody was glad to see her again, for, with all her mischief, +she crossed your threshold like a sunbeam.</p> + +<p>She was a careless little romp, too. Loved above all things to run +barefoot, and was forever losing her shoes in the long grass.</p> + +<p>She had a hundred different ways of combing her bright hair; and, in the +winter time, if there was an ice-pond or a snow-drift within a mile of +the village, she was sure to be sliding on the one or wading knee-deep +in the other. Still Elizabeth grew very fond of her book, and had fits +of hard study that kept her ahead of her class in spite of her wild +ways.</p> + +<p>Out of school, the two girls were always together; they required no +other playmates. Mornings, evenings, and Saturdays, especially, they +were always creeping about under the great beech trees, with their story +books, which Abby would pore over, and Elizabeth would listen to, with +fun on her lips or water in her eyes as the case might be—though she +was always ready for a tumble in the wet grass, a plunge in the surf, or +a slide from the very top of the hay mow, at a moment's warning.</p> + +<p>Sometimes they would spend a whole day hunting for early apples in the +thick grass, picking hazel-nuts, or feeding the fish in the clear sea. +Then they would ramble about in the great solemn woods together, holding +their breath, and ready to say their prayers with very awe, not of the +wild beasts whose track they were on, but from the vast shadows that +fell over them from the trees that were spread out, over the sky, and +the expanse of shrubbery, that seemed to cover the whole earth.</p> + +<p>The sublimity of all these things hushed them into silence, and if they +heard a noise in the forest, a howl or a war-whoop, they would creep in +among the flowers of some solitary thicket, and were safe.</p> + +<p>Directly the danger had passed they might be found where the scarlet +barberries glittered among the sharp green leaves, like threaded bunches +of coral; where the glowing purple plums, or clustered bunch berries +rustled among the foliage and rolled about their feet in over ripeness.</p> + +<p>Into these wild places they delighted to go, even while they were afraid +to speak above a whisper, and kept close hold of each other's hands +every step of the way, till a sort of fascination crept over them, and +they grew strangely in love with the vast solitude of the woods.</p> + +<p>Such was the love, and such the companionship of these two girls. In +school or out, all day and all night, sleeping, waking, talking or +dreaming, they were always together—never apart for a single day, up to +the time of our story.</p> + +<p>The two sisters who had been carried together out of the minister's +dwelling, and laid side by side behind that old meeting-house, whose +slender wooden spire could be seen from the school-house window, with +the figure of Death on the top for a weathercock, were scarcely more +inseparable than these children had been, since their hands were linked +in sisterhood by those new-made graves.</p> + +<p>And now Abigail Williams was approaching her nineteenth birthday; but +she looked at least five years older than the sweet, blue-eyed +Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>She was stately beyond her age, and altogether her beauty was so +remarkable that the people of the town could not choose but turn and +look upon it as she passed by on her way to school or meeting.</p> + +<p>But she had left off school now and took to reading every thing she +could lay her hands on, even to the pamphlets and old newspapers hoarded +away in the minister's garret; indeed her attainments were something +wonderful—she was almost as learned as the minister himself.</p> + +<p>Such was Abby Williams, at the period when our story commenced. For the +first time in her life, she was separated from Elizabeth Parris; then, +while the loneliness was upon her, she was left in solitude, with no +human creature in the house but the old Indian servant Tituba.</p> + +<p>The day after the minister left his home, Abby was sitting in the room +where her aunt Parris had sung at her work that night when the forest +woman found her sewing so quietly. The young girl sat by the open +window, in the very chair where her mother died. She was busy knitting +on one of those long seamed stockings, which were an important portion +of the male dress in those times. Two balls of yarn lay in her lap, gray +and white, with which she striped the stocking, seaming it every three +stitches. She was expert with her needles, and did not look at them, but +sat gazing out into the calm summer day, peacefully as her aunt had +done, but with a touch of sadness in her face; for, as her aunt had +thought of her unborn babe years before, she was thinking of Elizabeth +now.</p> + +<p>In those tender thoughts, and in the monotony of her work alone, Abby +Williams resembled her aunt. The tropical bird and the wood pigeon had +as much likeness in every thing else. The young girl was singular and +picturesque. In her person was blended all the beauty of two distinct +races, but in every thing the grace of civilization predominated. The +delicacy and lustre of her mother's beauty were all present, moulding +the features into exquisite grace, lending a soft, purplish blue to +those bright eyes, and scattering gloss and bloom among the folds of +those heavy tresses. The contrast of her eyes with the black brows and +lashes gave a beauty to the face even more attractive than the rich tint +of her complexion or the peachy richness of her cheek. The refinement of +civilization and the lithe grace of the panther were blended in her +person. Her very repose was eloquent of deep tenderness, and of fierce, +slumbering passion. When these antagonisms came in contact, that young +girl's character would break forth in all its powers of good and evil; +at present, she was only an humble maiden at her work, lonely and a +little sad, but at peace with all mankind.</p> + +<p>As she worked, Tituba, the Indian woman, came in and out from the +kitchen, making vague pretences, as it seemed, only to look on the young +girl at her work. She did not speak once, for Abby was gazing afar off +into the shadows of the forest as if her fate lay there, and she was +striving to unravel it with her glances.</p> + +<p>At last the sun went down, and old Tituba came into the room again, +chanting an Indian death-song inexpressibly mournful and sweet, which +mingled so sorrowfully with the girl's thoughts that she dropped her +knitting and leaned back in the great-chair, sighing heavily.</p> + +<p>Tituba kept on with her chant; it was the lament of a child over the +grave of its mother, given in the Indian tongue, every word of which +went to the young girl's heart, like a reproach. The meeting-house, +which stood upon the edge of the forest, lent force to the old woman's +voice, as it died away on her slow retreat to the kitchen. The full moon +threw its pale, ghastly light on the figure of Death which surmounted +its spire, and she knew that its shadow was that moment creeping over +her mother's grave.</p> + +<p>Unconscious of the influence that sent her forth, Abby arose, and, +throwing a shawl over her head, went quietly out into the moonlight, +taking a straight line for the meeting-house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE BROTHER AND SISTER.</h3> + + +<p>In the night-time Abigail had never before visited her mother's grave. +Indeed, she had seldom been there alone, in her whole life. Now the +grave-yard was very dim and shadowy, for it lay on the verge of the +forest, and a few stray moonbeams only pierced through the pine boughs +that drooped over it. She was almost afraid to advance close, for the +periwinkles that crept over the two graves had grown luxuriantly thick, +spreading over them like a torn pall. Even their flowers, so exquisitely +blue in the day-time, seemed black among the darkness of their leaves. +Beyond the two graves—now linked into one by those dusky creepers—the +forest was black as midnight. Here and there a fire-fly shone out in the +depths of the wood; here and there a branch caught the moonlight, that +fringed the edges of its dewy leaves with silver; but this only made the +darkness beyond more complete. She crept towards the graves, holding her +breath, afraid of the solitude and darkness, afraid and yet fascinated. +All at once she stretched forth her hand, and seized hold of a pine +branch which shivered in all its slender leaves, and gave forth those +low, melancholy sighs, which sound so like human grief.</p> + +<p>The young girl held on to the branch and, stooping forward with gleaming +eyes and parted lips, peered into the gloom of the forest, looking +straight over her mother's grave.</p> + +<p>All at once she drew a sharp breath and let go of the pine bough, that +fell back to its place with a rustle that shook all the neighboring +branches, and covered the grave below with a storm of dew. Then, with +her head turned back and her eyes bright with new terror, she attempted +to flee. A crash—a rush amid the forest boughs, and a voice coming out +of the darkness!</p> + +<p>Her lifted foot fell like lead upon the grass, a cry broke from her +lips, and, still maintaining the first attitude of flight, she seemed +frozen into stone.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>Out from the dim forest stole that name. When she had heard it the young +girl could not think, nor why it fell with such sweet mournfulness on +her ear. But she knew that the name had been hers; in some previous +existence perhaps, for she never remembered hearing it before with +mortal ears. It thrilled through and through her.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>"Who speaks?"</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>As the name was uttered a third time, a figure came out from the +blackness, rustling through the foliage as it passed, and stood in the +moonlight.</p> + +<p>Abigail was no longer afraid, but, dropping into her old position, stood +with one hand leaning on the gray stone at the head of her mother's +grave.</p> + +<p>It was a savage, and yet a white man, who stood before her—a savage, in +all the pomp of his war garments, with hostile weapons at his girdle, +and a rifle in his right hand. The crest of feathers, with which his +hair was knotted, fluttered in the night wind proudly as if it had +surmounted a helmet. The warm crimson, that lined his robe of dressed +deer-skin, and the many colored wampum that bordered and fringed it, +glowed richly in the moonlight. It was a noble figure, and the young +girl's face kindled as she measured him with her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Whom do you seek, with a tomahawk at your girdle, and a scalping-knife +within reach of your hand? I am alone, and there is only an old woman at +the house—no help within reach of my voice—but you see I stand +still—I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>"No—not afraid," answered the savage, with a proud motion of the hand. +"Even the women of your race should be brave. Mahaska, step forth, that +the moon may look upon your face."</p> + +<p>Fearlessly, as if she had obeyed that voice all her life, Abigail +stepped out of the pine shadow, and stood face to face with the savage.</p> + +<p>"Your hand does not shake—you look into my face—your lip keeps its +red—the blood starts to your cheek like sunset upon the snow +mountains—you are not afraid of the Indian?"</p> + +<p>"No, not afraid."</p> + +<p>"The grasp of my hand does not make you tremble?"</p> + +<p>"No, it sends the fire back to my heart."</p> + +<p>"What brought you to the forest—to this grave?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know—stay, the old woman Tituba was muttering a death-chant. +It must have been that."</p> + +<p>"A death-chant in the Indian tongue—a chant of the Wampanoags?"</p> + +<p>"A chant in the Indian tongue—but I cannot tell of what tribe."</p> + +<p>"And you understand it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"How—who taught you the meaning of our death-chants?"</p> + +<p>Abigail was astonished. She had never thought of this before. How, +indeed, had she learned the meaning of these words? Not from the +minister, nor at school; nor, so far as she could remember, from the old +Indian woman. How then had that strange language become so familiar to +her ear and her tongue? This thought, so suddenly aroused, bewildered +her. She had no answer to give.</p> + +<p>The young savage grasped her hand in his, and she felt that his limbs +quivered; slowly, very slowly, he drew her to the grave, and, pointing +downward, said—</p> + +<p>"It was of her you learned the tongue of the Wampanoags!"</p> + +<p>"My mother," said Abigail, mournfully, "my poor mother, who lies here so +still—how could she teach me a savage language? She, the sister of my +uncle's wife?"</p> + +<p>"How did she know—how could she teach you the language of our tribe? +Ask how deep the wrongs must be which made her forswear her own tongue +as if it had been a curse?"</p> + +<p>"Hold, hold!" cried Abigail, shaking off his clasp and gazing wildly +into his face. "Your speech is like my own—English is native to you, +rather than the savage tongue—your cheek is without paint—your +forehead too white—your air proud like an Indian, but gentle withal. +Who are you? Why is it that you lay wait for me in this holy place, +talking of my mother as if you knew her?"</p> + +<p>"Knew her, Mahaska? The Great Spirit knows how well! Knew her?"</p> + +<p>"My mother—you—"</p> + +<p>The young man fell on his knees, and, leaning his head upon the grave +stone, remained silent a while, subduing the emotion that seemed to +sweep away his strength. At last he looked up; the fire had left his +eyes; deep, solemn resolution filled its place.</p> + +<p>Abigail could not speak. Bewilderment and awe kept her dumb. For a +moment the young Indian gazed upon her, then his voice broke forth in a +gush of tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you call me by that name?" cried the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Because your mother—your beautiful, unhappy mother—whispered it +faintly as a dying wind in the pine branches, when her lord and your +father bent thankfully over her couch of fern leaves, in the deep +forest, to look upon his last-born child. Because his brave kiss pressed +your forehead in baptism, as that name left her pale lips. Because the +word has a terrible significance."</p> + +<p>"What significance?" asked Abigail, beginning to tremble beneath those +burning glances.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska, the Avenger."</p> + +<p>"The avenger! Alas! alas! it is a fearful name; but what signifies that? +The consecrated waters of baptism have washed it away."</p> + +<p>The young Indian sprang to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Washed it away? Washed the name of our fathers from your forehead? I +tell you, girl, it is burning there in the red blood of a kingly +sire—in the flames which devoured the old men and little children of +our tribe—rusted in by the iron that held a king's son in bondage under +the hot sky of the tropics. Look, maiden, look where the ocean heaves +and rolls beneath the moon: there is not enough water in all that to +wash the name from your brow. Look upward, where the Great Spirit hath +kindled his camp-fires in the sky: you will not find flame enough to +burn it out. Look yonder, where the thick forest covers the earth—roll +all its shadows together, and through their blackness all the world +would read that name!"</p> + +<p>Abigail covered her affrighted face with both hands. Her brain was +confused—the heart quaked in her bosom—all the traditions of her life +were uprooted in a moment. Who was she? Who was the man, garbed like a +savage, but who spoke the English tongue as if it were his own? Was the +grave at her feet really that of her mother? What did the young savage +mean by that haughty air—those proud words?</p> + +<p>The Indian came closer to her, withdrew the hands from her face very +gently, and held them with a tender clasp.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>Abigail looked at him steadily, till the tears rose to her wild eyes; +then, as his hand grasped hers faster and tighter, she made an effort to +wrench herself away.</p> + +<p>His hands dropped, his face bent downward.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>"I listen."</p> + +<p>"Surely as the Great Spirit looks down upon us through his stars, the +woman who sleeps beneath these dark leaves commands you to listen when I +speak, and believe what I shall say!"</p> + +<p>"But you are an enemy—a savage from the woods; what could you know of +my mother?"</p> + +<p>"Every thing; it is she who charges you to believe this."</p> + +<p>"But if she had a knowledge of you or your people, why did my uncle +never mention it?"</p> + +<p>"Why did he never mention it?" rejoined the Indian—and now the +tenderness left his eyes, and the words came hissing through his shut +teeth—"because he was the enemy of your race. Father and mother alike, +suffered at his hands."</p> + +<p>"What, my uncle, my good, pious uncle, the father of Elizabeth! I do not +believe it!" cried Abigail indignantly, "he was never the enemy of any +human being."</p> + +<p>"Silence!" whispered the savage, "your words trouble the ashes in that +grave!"</p> + +<p>That instant a gust of wind came sobbing through the pine leaves, and +the dusky creepers on the two graves shivered audibly.</p> + +<p>Abigail drew close to the savage, and laid her hand on his arm. They +bent their heads, and listened till the wind swept by.</p> + +<p>"Is it my mother's voice?" whispered the young girl.</p> + +<p>"Have you never heard it before, sobbing and wailing among the trees, or +whispering softly when the leaves talk to the night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! oh, yes!"</p> + +<p>"Have you never felt it in the night, or here at mid-day in the +forest—felt it all around you, till the heart quaked in your bosom, and +your limbs refused to move?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, me! this also—this also!"</p> + +<p>"And yet you ask, is it the voice of my mother?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, how should I know? I who never, till this moment, dreamed that +she who rests there had wrongs to complain of."</p> + +<p>"<i>Rests</i> there—<i>rests</i>! why, girl, it is because she cannot rest that +the wind brings her sobs to your ear—cannot rest while her +youngest-born finds shelter with the most cruel of her enemies."</p> + +<p>"The most cruel of her enemies!"</p> + +<p>"He who sat in judgment upon a weak, helpless woman, when she came out +from the wilderness with her baby sister strapped to her back, +beseeching shelter among the people of her mother's race—the very +people who had driven that mother forth to die among her enemies, +because she was of a different faith, and believed in a God more +merciful than the one they worshipped—this man was Samuel Parris."</p> + +<p>"And the woman, who was she?" cried Abigail, wringing her hands; for so +many painful thoughts rushing together almost drove her mad.</p> + +<p>"That woman was Anna Hutchinson, the martyr, who was driven from +settlement to settlement, with her children—like a mad dog fleeing with +her young. Here chained to a cart, and lashed till her white shoulders +ran blood, while the strange man's God was piously called on to sanctify +the deed—there driven onward with taunts and jeers, starved, beaten, +trampled upon everywhere. At last she fled with her husband and her +young children into the wilderness, trusting rather to enemies +embittered against her race by wrongs deeper than hers, than to the men +who hunted her down like a beast of prey."</p> + +<p>"But they killed her—they killed her—the Indians whom she would have +trusted—her and her little ones," cried Abigail, interrupting him. "I +have heard the story again and again. Her children were all +murdered—she left nothing but a dread curse, a curse that makes the old +men whom it was levelled against tremble even yet."</p> + +<p>"A curse, yes, the terrible curse of a human being tortured to death—a +curse that wails through the woods and stalks around your houses forever +unappeased, unfulfilled, but which grows deeper and louder every year."</p> + +<p>Abigail shuddered.</p> + +<p>"But the judges, who sentenced this unhappy woman, were wise and +God-fearing men. Among them was old Mr. Parris, the father of Samuel +Parris, my uncle; the old man died blessing God, and at peace with all +his creatures."</p> + +<p>"He persecuted Anna Hutchinson unto death. She was a beautiful, brave +woman, whose courage and truth won the hearts of liberal men to her +cause. This was her fault; her smiles, her prayers, her powerful +reasoning, overwhelmed their sermons, and shook the foundation of their +strength. She had disciples—followers—believers—was a woman of great +mind; her thoughts were like maple blossoms in spring, bright and +pleasant, giving out sunshine; but those of her persecutors always crept +along in shadows. This woman was driven upon the knife that stabbed her, +by her own brethren. The curse which she uttered in her desperation +calls louder and louder upon her children."</p> + +<p>"But her children were all slain; she left no human soul to mourn or +avenge her—I have heard the story too often; it is written on my memory +as with fire; why bring it up here—what has that to do with me, or +her?"</p> + +<p>Abigail pointed to the grave with her trembling finger—for now she was +shivering from head to foot. The story of Anna Hutchinson always +affected her thus; from her infancy she had never heard the name without +a cold chill.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>ANNA HUTCHINSON'S CURSE.</h3> + + +<p>The savage lifted Abigail from the earth where she had fallen, and went +on with kindling excitement.</p> + +<p>"No, her children were not all slain. Two escaped—one, a young girl +pale as the first cherry blossoms, with hair like the sunshine in +August. The other was a babe, four weeks old, which this brave woman +took from her bosom just before the tomahawk cleft her brain. These +children were carried into the forest, passed from tribe to tribe, till +the eldest grew to womanhood. But she remembered her mother, and the +horrible scene of her murder, while she knew nothing of the persecutions +that drove that mother among the Indians, when the chiefs were on the +war-path. So she never took kindly to the tribe, but always pined for a +sight of her own people. At last she fled, carrying the child with her, +and came here to the village of Salem."</p> + +<p>"Here, here—great heavens, can this be!"</p> + +<p>"But they would not let the child of Anna Hutchinson rest; she also +dared to think for herself. She was also arraigned before the magnates +of the church. Like Anna Hutchinson, her fair shoulders were reddened +with stripes. The little child, whom she loved better than her own life, +was torn from her arms. Like a wounded deer, they sent her into the +wilderness, alone, alone—bleeding at every step, uttering moans with +every breath."</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is terrible!" cried Abigail, pressing both hands to her heart.</p> + +<p>The Indian took no heed of her anguish, but went on:</p> + +<p>"All day and all night long she wandered through the tangled +undergrowth, feeding upon the honeysuckle, apples, and wild plums, that +grew in her path, calling in despair on the name of her little sister, +and praying to her God that she might be so happy as to die. For days +and nights she toiled on with only one object—to get farther and +farther from the people of her race. As a wounded deer pants for +spring-water, she longed for the wigwams and the savage love from which +she had fled less than a year before.</p> + +<p>"But she was in the deep wilderness now, with no track to guide her +way—no hope, nothing but her despair. She could not even cry aloud to +the Great Spirit, for his face was hidden. Pale and hungry, with the +shoes dropping from her feet, her poor hands torn with the thorns that +sought her out as human hate had done, this poor girl wandered on and +on, growing fainter and paler each moment. At last she sank down, +breathless and exhausted, with great tears rolling slowly from beneath +her closed lashes, and the blue of hunger settling around her mouth."</p> + +<p>Here Abigail's sobs broke in upon the narrative. The Indian waved his +hand with a gesture that silenced this outbreak, and went on:</p> + +<p>"The place where she fell was a deep ravine; mountains towered on either +side, and rocks, covered with thick mosses, choked it up.</p> + +<p>"Upon a shelf of these rocks, where the buck-horn moss crackled and +broke beneath her, she lay panting for life. Hemlock and pine branches +stooped together and shut out the sun—not a glimpse of the blue sky, +not a gleam of the golden light that deluged the tree-tops, came to that +dark ravine.</p> + +<p>"There the young girl laid herself down to die—hopeless, speechless, +alone! A wolf, half-way up the ravine, gave out a howl. She did not move +or open her eyes. It might have torn at her garments and found no +resistance. A glittering snake lay coiled on the flat of a rock close +by, with its tail erect and its crest in the air, but, more merciful +than the men who had driven her forth, it shook the rattles of ten years +in gentle warning, uncoiled itself lazily, and, gliding over the moss +within half a yard of her feet, crept into its hole. She saw the serpent +through her half-shut eyes, without a wish to stir. Why not death in +that shape as well as another?</p> + +<p>"Then the thoughts died in her brain, and the breath sank to a quiver on +her blue lips. A stillness like the grave crept over her. She did not +hear it, but a footstep sounded on the side of the ravine. A leap from +rock to rock—and an Indian in his war garments stood twenty feet above +the young girl, looking down upon her. He turned aside, seized a sapling +which bent to his weight like a bow, and swung himself downward upon the +rock.</p> + +<p>"She did not stir. The lashes lay motionless on her cold cheeks. There +was no breath on those lips. The young Indian gathered the pale creature +in his arms, and strove to warm her against his own brave heart. But it +was of no avail. Then he thought of the flask of fire-water in his +bosom, and forced a few drops through those pale lips—a shiver and a +deep sigh—the lashes unclose, and the deathly eyes look into his.</p> + +<p>"The chief laid her softly down, took a corn-cake from the pouch at his +side, and fed her with the crumbs, as if she had been a bird. After the +first morsel she grew eager and craving, but the chief was no common +savage. He knew that enough would be death, and kept the food in his own +grasp, pacifying her with gentle words.</p> + +<p>"The daughter of Anna Hutchinson understood his language; her great +mournful eyes had opened upon him like those of a wounded doe; now they +brightened with gratitude, and tears came stealing up, one by one, till +they overflowed.</p> + +<p>"That day the maiden rested in the ravine, for the spot seemed like +heaven to her then. The chief gathered green moss fleeces from the other +rocks and heaped a couch, softer than velvet, upon which she slept +sweetly, beneath the shelter of his blanket. All night long the chief +sat guarding her slumbers. To him she was a gift from the Great Spirit, +who had wrought the sunlight in her golden hair.</p> + +<p>"When the morning broke, he took his rifle and shot a bird for her +breakfast; for the danger was over, and she might fare sumptuously now. +Striking sparks from his flint, he built a fire in the ravine, and +roasted the game, serving it up daintily on the last corn-cake left in +his pouch. Then he found a spring gushing from under a rock, and brought +her a draught of sparkling water, in a cup formed of leaves which he +made with a single twist of the hand. The maiden smiled upon him in her +sweet thankfulness, and, though a brave chief, he forgot the war-path +which his tribe was pursuing without a leader. It was a pleasant +exchange for the maiden, from the cart wheel and the white man's lash."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was paradise!" murmured Abigail, with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was paradise. But a true brave turns resolutely from the wigwam +to the council. The young chief could not remain forever in the ravine, +for he was the head of a great nation, and the warriors waited for him +on the war-path. The next moon, Philip, the young king of the +Pomperoags, had given the maiden a name that he loved well—which +signified wounded bird, and, with this name, he led her to the royal +lodge, with her embroidered robes sweeping the earth, and crowned like a +princess."</p> + +<p>"And he loved her always, this savage king?" said Abigail, smiling +through her tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he loved her, and her only, all the days of his life. It was a +regal marriage, royally fulfilled. For a time Anna Hutchinson's curse +slept."</p> + +<p>"Oh, me! I grow cold again—that curse!" cried Abigail.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>GIVEN UP TO REVENGE.</h3> + + +<p>"Anna Hutchinson had charged her daughter, that golden-haired young +girl, with the consummation of her curse. But where love is, vengeance +sleeps. Her husband's tribe was at peace with the whites, and the +'wounded bird' had a child in her lodge; so she put the wrongs of her +mother on one side, and lived contentedly in her forest kingdom. Why +should she urge her husband's warriors to the red path while they could +plant corn and hunt venison unmolested? She did not yet fully understand +the persecutions which had driven her mother to death. The tribe that +massacred her family had been long ago chastised and driven from their +hunting-grounds by the valor of her husband—was not this enough?</p> + +<p>"No, no; the wail of that curse still troubled the air around her lodge, +and its spirit worked slowly but surely in the white settlements. Years +wore on; another little child laughed and clapped its hands in the +doorway of King Philip; and now, when the kingly husband and wife were +in their prime, the whites, who had grown powerful, began to cast +rapacious eyes on the hunting-grounds of the Pomperoags. It was the old +story of the wolf and the lamb—causes of offence were soon found. The +colonies arose and armed themselves. King Philip of Mount Hope was a +formidable enemy. It took brave men to cope with him. He was a statesman +as well as a warrior, wise as a serpent and brave as steel. The most +powerful tribes flocked to his alliance, some won to his aid by the +eloquence of his wife, others by sympathy and common danger. You have +read in your school books how the war against King Philip was conducted. +You have heard old men and women call him a fiend, and speak of him as +the companion of fiends."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, the old women tell us stories of his cruelty."</p> + +<p>"And of his wrongs, of his courage, his wonderful magnanimity, his noble +statesmanship—do they tell you nothing of this?"</p> + +<p>"No; only of his cruelties."</p> + +<p>"And your heart, how does that receive the lie? calmly, or bursting with +indignation?"</p> + +<p>"My heart aches within me when I hear these legends—aches and burns as +if a wound at its core were rudely touched."</p> + +<p>"Ah! and there is a wound, a cruel wound, deep in your life. It shall +spread and burn through your whole being. Listen: These Englishmen voted +themselves munitions of war, raised regiments, linked colony to colony, +and made each settlement the rivet of a chain which swept the coast. +Their bravest men took the field—the whole country was astir. These +very preparations were a tribute to the heroism they were intended to +crush—all this force was brought against the kingly savage. He met it +bravely where courage was most likely to prevail; cautiously where +prudence promised to husband human life. He seized upon their own +tactics, and turned them in his favor; marched, countermarched, and +manœuvred as no general of Europe has ever done. This queen went side +by side with him upon the war-path. She was his council, the companion +of his danger. There was not a warrior in the tribe who would have +refused to lay down his life for her. But why tell you this history? You +know how the strong man was betrayed by a traitor, murdered in cold +blood, hacked limb from limb. Oh, Great Spirit, hear me, and kindle in +her breast the rage that consumes mine! Listen, girl: His wife and son +were taken prisoners; the wife of King Philip was dragged out of the +forest with her son at her side and the last-born in her arms!</p> + +<p>"Again the magnates of the church sat in judgment upon her. A ship lay +on the coast, a battered old vessel bound for Bermuda. This brave woman +could not be trusted in the country—the ship would bear her and her +children into slavery. The wife and children of a king were taken from +the broad forest, with its fresh winds and sumptuous leafiness, and +condemned to herd with negroes and slaves under a tropic sun. That +night, no one could ever tell how, the wife of Philip escaped from her +captors, and fled with her youngest child, a little girl scarcely yet +three years old. That child inherited its mother's beauty, its father's +lofty pride, and the solemn obligations of Anna Hutchinson's curse."</p> + +<p>Again Abigail felt the cold chills creeping over her.</p> + +<p>"Ah me!" she muttered, "that terrible inheritance—better that the child +had died."</p> + +<p>"Better that the child had died than avenge such wrongs—a grandmother's +butchery, a father's murder, stripes and slavery for the mother, chains, +hard labor, brutal blows for the young boy—better that she had died! +Wretched girl, unsay these words!"</p> + +<p>The anger in his face was terrible, his hand sprung upwards as if to +smite her. She shrunk away into the shadow of the pine, thinking thus to +escape his fiery glances.</p> + +<p>"Step into the light again, that your face may unsay the cowardly words +of your tongue!"</p> + +<p>"I dare not—you terrify me. Why tell this horrible story here? I am +young, helpless, afraid sometimes, and talk like this takes away my +strength. I cannot think of this dying woman's curse without dread. The +judgment of God must follow it, and the helpless child, with whom its +power was left—but perhaps she died."</p> + +<p>"And if she had, was not the son left, the Bermuda slave, with King +Philip's blood burning beneath the lash, to remind him of the legacy of +hate left against her people by his martyred ancestress?"</p> + +<p>"It was an evil inheritance from a woman who wrought much trouble in the +church, though the atonement was enough to wring one's heart. This Anna +Hutchinson, who died under the tomahawk, was a heretic—a free thinker, +who would not forgive her enemies as Christ did, but died hurling curses +back upon the people who perhaps only sought to win her once more to the +true faith."</p> + +<p>"Hold!" shouted the chief, seizing her by the arm and dragging her into +the moonlight; "hold, before the word withers your tongue—Anna +Hutchinson was your <i>grandmother</i>."</p> + +<p>Abigail Williams cried out like a doe when the arrow pierces it.</p> + +<p>"The woman who sleeps there is her eldest daughter, the wife of King +Philip!"</p> + +<p>"And I—I," whispered the poor creature—writhing as if in pain.</p> + +<p>"You are the child."</p> + +<p>"The child to whom the power of her curse descends! oh, my God, have +mercy—have mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Mahaska."</p> + +<p>"I hear, oh heavens, I feel that the name was mine!"</p> + +<p>"Mahaska, listen: The blood of that brave woman—of that most kingly of +kings—both betrayed, both murdered—beats in our veins."</p> + +<p>Abigail was cowering upon the ground at his feet; she had no strength to +stand, but as he spoke she lifted her face with a dull, hopeless look, +which contracted her features into ice.</p> + +<p>"Who is it that speaks? who is it that hurls this terrible birthright at +me?"</p> + +<p>"It is the son of King Philip, the runaway slave, the man whose boyhood +has been crucified beneath the driver's lash, while his people were +scattered abroad—sold, shot, plundered like mad dogs and wolves. +Mahaska, it is your brother!"</p> + +<p>Up to this time the girl had been palsied; now a flash of fire kindled +through and through her, an intolerable weight seemed flung from her +brain, she stood up and held forth her arms.</p> + +<p>The young savage took her hands with a grasp of iron, but he did not +embrace her.</p> + +<p>"Is it the hand of a king's daughter that I hold?" he questioned, with a +sort of stern tenderness, but keeping her at arm's length.</p> + +<p>"It is King Philip's daughter—try me, brother: lead the way into the +wilderness: I will follow: see if I cannot trample down all love for my +mother's enemies!"</p> + +<p>The chief opened his arms, and drew the young girl to his bosom, as he +had done years before, when his mother, striving to introduce some of +the amenities of life into the Indian lodge, had given the infant sister +up to his caresses.</p> + +<p>Then the blood spoke out, her air was proud and firm as his own, she +began to realize that she was indeed the daughter of martyrs and kings, +that their wrongs were her wrongs—their people her people.</p> + +<p>"Take me with you to our people, before my heart softens, or memory +comes back. Here I fling away the love of a life-time—uncle, cousin, +home."</p> + +<p>She spoke wildly, her eye burned, her cheek was like flame; she left her +brother's arms, and fell upon her knees between the two graves.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she whispered—"mother, hear me; check those sobs on the wind, +they break my heart. I am giving myself up to you body and soul; mother, +teach me the vow that will content you; I will take it here, while the +last of our race looks on!"</p> + +<p>The wind swept over her, sighing like a soul relieved from pain—swept +over her in sweet, warm gushes, as if it had been asleep in the +blossoming trees. Abigail covered her face and wept; when she looked up +again the young chief had gone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE ACCEPTED INVITATION.</h3> + + +<p>Barbara Stafford became the guest of Governor Phipps. It was a singular +arrangement on both sides, for the strange lady had from the first +retreated from the idea with evident repulsion, and Sir William was the +last man in the world to receive a person under his roof about whose +history the slightest doubt existed.</p> + +<p>Barbara offered no credentials of respectability—she submitted no +letters—made no explanation; yet on the bare recommendation of +unmistakable refinement, and a charm of manner that had all the power of +fascination, she became more than a welcome inmate of the proud man's +mansion.</p> + +<p>The governor was absent when Barbara first arrived at his house. Perhaps +it was for this reason she came so readily.</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel took the second invitation. He had seen Barbara in the +church on the day of the baptism, and strove in vain to get near enough +to address her. The rigid etiquette of the place forbade that, and all +night long he was haunted with regrets for this seeming neglect of a +person who had all the claims upon his courtesy which great hearts +always concede to the receiver of an important favor.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful, bright day, when Norman reached the farm-house; +pleasant sounds filled the air—pleasant light fell on the old stone +house, the clustering trees, and the far-off waters—light broken up +with those transparent shadows which float along with the soft clouds, +that sleep so quietly in the summer sky.</p> + +<p>Goody Brown was busy with her spinning-wheel, treading it vigorously +with one foot, and drawing out the finest and evenest thread from a hank +of flax that formed her distaff, into a tall, gray cone. A pleasant +bee-like hum came from the active flyers, and there was something kindly +and good in the prim woman, which was better than a welcome to one who +understood her.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford sat near the door, watching the old woman draw out her +thread, with a calm, steady look, inexpressibly mournful. Her thoughts +were far away; she was following back the thread of her own life, which +seemed interminable as that which glided through the old woman's +fingers. So Barbara thought, and the old woman's wheel droned on. They +were both very quiet, and one was—oh, how sad!</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel appeared in the door like a sunbeam; his cheek was red with +walking; the wind, which came moist and cool from the ocean, had left +its freshness on his face. His fine eyes were bright as diamonds. When +he caught Barbara's look, and saw that a gleam of pleasure stole through +its sadness, he smiled, and two dimples fluttered about the corners of +his mouth. Barbara received him kindly; her heart warmed to the youth, +he was so like a child in the cheerfulness of his presence.</p> + +<p>A throb of strange satisfaction beat in her bosom at the sight of that +young face. He, too, was conscious of a swell of contentment as he stood +before the woman he had saved. It seemed as if he had known her from +childhood up. The atmosphere of her presence was natural to him as the +breath of roses. He sat down on the threshold of the door, with his feet +upon the stepping stone, and, while the calm, beautiful day glowed all +around him, began to talk.</p> + +<p>Barbara spoke of the danger from which she had been rescued, very simply +and without effort, but her face beamed with gratitude, and her lips +quivered as she smiled upon him. Norman had scarcely counted his efforts +that day as an act of heroism, but now he began to value the deed. +Surely it was something to have saved a woman like that. He watched the +changes of her countenance as she spoke with singular interest, and +began to wish in the depths of his heart that she might be in danger +again—not such terrible peril of course as he had witnessed in the +boat, but enough to justify some grand action in her behalf.</p> + +<p>He did not say these things; indeed there was little real conversation +between them, yet there was no absolute constraint such as might +naturally fall upon the first meeting of persons so far removed from +each other in years, and in the scenes of their lives. On the contrary, +the broken sentences and pauses of silence were filled up with a world +of pleasant sensations; the youth wondered at his own happiness, and the +lady forgot her sorrow. Within the last half-hour she seemed no longer +alone in the world. All this time the wheel went droning on, and the +thread lengthened; a human hand was spinning at one end of the room, and +destiny at the other.</p> + +<p>At last, Norman remembered his errand, and repeated Lady Phipps's +invitation; coupled with a message from the governor, who, on leaving +home for a few days, had delegated to the young secretary the pleasant +task of urging his hospitality upon the lady who had interested them all +so much.</p> + +<p>Norman thought that the lady grew more reserved and pale as he delivered +the first portion of this message; but when he mentioned the absence of +the governor, she brightened up and accepted the invitation with +something like excitement.</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps had sent a carriage for her guest, but Barbara refused the +accommodation. She would walk along the beach: the day was so bright, +the sea breeze so invigorating, and the distance by no means too great +for a well-educated Englishwoman. The carriage might take such portions +of her wardrobe as were necessary, but she preferred to walk. So the two +went away together, depressed a little, no one could tell why; but +Barbara's first excitement had something restive in it, and the sadness +that followed made her thoughtful, and kept the youth silent.</p> + +<p>They came upon the shore, opposite the breakers in which she had been so +nearly wrecked. Some fragments of the broken boat were visible, ploughed +deeply in the sand. By these alone she recognized the spot again. The +harbor was serene as a mountain lake, one sheet of glittering silver +swelling gently to the rising tide. She looked wistfully seaward a +while, and turned away, sighing heavily, and murmured, with downcast +eyes, "Oh, if they had not been so kind!"</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said Norman, "I shall never forget your looks that day, as the +boat made the fatal plunge; were I to live a thousand years, those eyes +would haunt me: they seemed black as night; yet are so blue now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was afraid," said Barbara. "To die was to lose a great hope. It +would not be so now."</p> + +<p>She said this very quietly, but with a depth of sorrow in her voice that +touched the young man.</p> + +<p>"The shock has made you nervous, dear lady. I have often heard it said +that terror does its most cruel work on the system after the occasion +that called it forth is passed. You are a stranger in the country, too, +and that counts for something."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am indeed a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Not when you have known Lady Phipps."</p> + +<p>Barbara stooped down and gathered a pebble from the strand; her voice +was husky when she spoke again:</p> + +<p>"Then you admire, you like Lady Phipps?"</p> + +<p>"Admire her—oh, lady, that is a faint word. Lady Phipps is almost +worshipped; so beautiful, so generous and kind hearted."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes. I saw that she was beautiful; I believe the rest," answered +Barbara, speaking quickly and out of breath, though she was walking at a +slow pace.</p> + +<p>"And she thinks so highly of the governor—she loves him so devotedly!"</p> + +<p>"And he?"</p> + +<p>Barbara scarcely spoke above a whisper; and her eyes grew bright, almost +fierce, as she waited for his answer.</p> + +<p>"And he," repeated Norman, hesitating a little, as if to reflect upon a +subject which had presented itself clearly before him for the first +time. "Indeed I never thought of that. Of course, he loves the lady very +much—who could help it! But the governor is not a demonstrative man; +most people think him cold—a man of iron."</p> + +<p>"Cold, undemonstrative, a man of iron!"</p> + +<p>The words fell from Barbara Stafford's lips like drops of lead. She +seemed to examine every syllable that she might ascertain its exact +meaning. A strange expression, half doubt, half satisfaction, stole over +her features at last, and she walked on in silence.</p> + +<p>The youth spoke again.</p> + +<p>"You must not let my words give you a false opinion of Sir William. He +is one of the bravest, wisest and most generous men on earth."</p> + +<p>Barbara looked up and a glorious smile broke upon the youth.</p> + +<p>"You speak warmly, sir."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I feel warmly. Sir William has been a benefactor, almost a +father, to me. His own son could not—"</p> + +<p>"His own son? has—has Sir William Phipps a—I thought he had no son."</p> + +<p>"Nor has he, lady," answered Norman, surprised by the sudden energy of +her manner. "I was about to say that his own son, had he possessed one, +could not have been treated more kindly than I have been."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford drew a quick breath, and walked on rapidly, making this +an excuse for the long silence that followed.</p> + +<p>"You have lived with—with the governor some time I believe," she said, +at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But you are not a native of this new land?"</p> + +<p>"No; I was born in England."</p> + +<p>"And your parents?"</p> + +<p>Norman blushed crimson. "I never knew my parents," he said.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford blushed also: she had given pain, yet that very fact +deepened her interest in the youth.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, but you have not been reared without care; some one must +have taken great interest in you."</p> + +<p>"It may be so, but I never have been able to find that person out; my +education went on as a matter of course; a lawyer of London paid the +bills, gave me lots of advice, but refused me the least information +regarding myself. When I had gone through the different grades of study +thought requisite for a gentleman, the old barrister deposited a couple +of thousand pounds in the hands of Sir William Phipps, which he told me +was my entire patrimony, and sent me out here as secretary to the +governor. In Sir William Phipps's house, I have known for the first time +in my life what the word home meant."</p> + +<p>Barbara looked earnestly at the youth as he gave this brief account of +himself, but she made no further observation, for they had reached the +streets of Boston, and from the novelty of the scene, or some deeper +cause, she grew silent and walked forward with a reluctant, heavy step, +apparently forgetful of the questions she had been asking.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>A LOVERS' QUARREL.</h3> + + +<p>Lady Phipps met her guest in the hall bright, cheerful, and full of +hospitable gladness. Elizabeth Parris followed her, but hung back a +little, shy of the strange lady, who moved like a princess, and smiled +so strangely as she uttered the common-places expected of a courteous +guest. Lady Phipps went chatting and smiling up the staircase a little +in advance of her visitor, for she would not allow a servant to attend +her to the spacious guest chamber. Lovel and Elizabeth stayed below, +watching the two ladies as they mounted the stairs together. When +Elizabeth turned her eyes on Lovel, there was something in his face that +troubled her.</p> + +<p>"Isn't she a noble-looking woman?" he asked, in an eager undertone.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—no, indeed I don't think her in the least beautiful," answered +the spoiled child, with a pout of the red lips and a pretty toss of the +head; "besides—"</p> + +<p>"Why, Elizabeth, you are in a pet about something—I don't like that way +of speaking about my friends."</p> + +<p>"You never saw her but once in your life!" said Elizabeth, with a flush +of the whole face, "still you look, you—I declare one would think there +was not another person in the wide world, from the way you look after +her."</p> + +<p>"Ah, do I—you see it, I really cannot keep my eyes from her face."</p> + +<p>"At any rate it is not a handsome face!" cried Elizabeth, flushing more +and more redly.</p> + +<p>"You have never seen her when she was talking, when she was really +pleased—then her face changes so brightly—so—so—"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear her talk—I don't care whether she is pleased or +not—I only know this—she is not in the least beautiful, and is old +enough to be your mother—there!"</p> + +<p>"Old enough to be my mother, my mother!" A sudden thrill shot through +the youth at the word mother. It sounded so strangely sweet. Had +Elizabeth searched the language through, she could not have found two +syllables so likely to form a golden link between him and the woman they +were talking of.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I say it again, she is not pretty, and she's old enough to be your +mother—yet you must let the carriage come home with nothing but a trunk +in it, while you and the lady take a long, long walk together on the +shore, after you had promised to ride with me, too."</p> + +<p>"Did I promise? forgive me, Bessie; I quite forgot it."</p> + +<p>"Forgot it—while I was waiting and watching with my habit on, and the +horses stamping down the gravel in front of the house," cried the +aggrieved maiden, and a few spirited tears flashed up to her eyes, and +trembled there like dew in a periwinkle. "You may believe it, I was +quite ashamed to let the groom see how often I ran out into the porch to +look up and down the road. I declare I've almost worn my riding-skirt +threadbare with my whip, trying to make the fellows think I only came +out to dust my habit."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I'm very sorry!"</p> + +<p>"And you all the time promenading along the beach with a strange lady, +talking, smiling—oh, I wish I were at home again. It was very cruel of +you teasing the governor to consent to our marriage one of these days, +if you intended to neglect me in this way."</p> + +<p>The youth, whose endowment of patience was by no means marvellous, began +to be a little restive under all these reproaches; they disturbed the +pleasurable emotions which had predominated with him all the morning. +Worse, they impaired the angelic perfection with which his imagination +had invested the young girl; the contrast between her childish petulance +and the sweet dignity of the woman forced itself upon him. To be +lectured and reproached by a mere child so directly after the +companionship and sympathy of that lady, struck him with a sense of +humiliation. He looked at the young girl gravely till the tears swelled +in her eyes, then turned away, angry and hurt.</p> + +<p>Lovers' quarrels are mere April showers, giving life to a thousand wild +blossoms of the affection when both are in fault, and both angry; but +when they end in silence and constraint, the November rain has not a +more chilling influence.</p> + +<p>While these impulsive young creatures were so busy planting their first +thorns, Barbara Stafford had entered her chamber—a large, airy room, +with four windows, all draped with filmy muslin, and a large +tent-bedstead, shrouded in white till it looked like a snow-drift.</p> + +<p>When the carriage first started to bring Barbara Stafford, Elizabeth had +been, like the whole household, eager to honor a guest whom the governor +had invited. She had gathered up all the unoccupied vases, and filled +them with flowers; they blushed upon the toilet and the chest of +drawers, and took the wind as it swept over the broad window-seats, +filling the room with brightness and fragrance.</p> + +<p>In order to indulge her own wild caprices, she had gathered all the +blush-roses in bloom, and looped them among the snow of the curtains. It +was strange; but while she stood, angry and flushed, at the foot of the +stairs, longing to run up and destroy her own beautiful work, Barbara +grew faint as death upon the threshold of the chamber. She turned an +imploring look on Lady Phipps, and said—"Oh, take me away—I entreat +you, take me to some other room."</p> + +<p>"What, the flowers—the roses?" said Lady Phipps, surprised; "I will +have them removed. How pale you are! how your hands quiver! I would not +have believed that the scent of a few flowers could make one so ill."</p> + +<p>Barbara was not a woman to give way to caprices of the nerves; she sat +down in the great easy-chair, draped with white dimity, to which Lady +Phipps led her, swept a hand across her forehead once or twice, and +lifting her pale face, looked upward at a portrait of Governor Phipps, +which hung in a massive frame upon the wall. This was the first object +that had met her eyes on entering the room. The portrait had been taken +years before, and was that of a young man, spirited and full of power. +There was a smile upon the mouth, a consciousness of strength in the +glance, that bespoke innate greatness.</p> + +<p>When Barbara lifted her face to the picture, it was hard and pale; the +rigidity of a stern resolution locked it like a vice; but as she gazed, +the snow melted from her features. The lips began to tremble, the white +lids drooped quivering over the eyes, and she shivered all over.</p> + +<p>"No, no! do not remove the flowers," she said gently to Lady Phipps, who +had taken a vase from the toilet. "I am better now. The walk was too +much for me. Indeed, I have been subject to these turns ever since that +terrible day. Do not blame the roses for my weakness; you see how much +better I am."</p> + +<p>She sat up in the easy-chair and looked around, evidently with great +effort, but striving to smile and to subdue her weakness in every way.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you are better," said Lady Phipps, kindly bending over the +chair, at which Barbara shrunk back like one who fears some hurt, "and +glad also that the poor flowers can remain as Elizabeth left them; she +took such pains to gather and arrange them, dear child."</p> + +<p>Barbara lifted her head suddenly, and grasped the arm of her chair.</p> + +<p>"Dear child—your daughter, madam?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am childless—we have always been childless."</p> + +<p>Barbara sunk back into the chair again.</p> + +<p>"I spoke," continued Lady Phipps, smiling, "of Elizabeth Parris, the +daughter of a very dear friend. She was in the hall as you entered. A +charming bit of mischief, who has turned the head of our young +secretary. We shall have some ado to persuade Samuel Parris into a +consent to the engagement. But he must give way at last—dear old soul: +he is sure to yield when Sir William takes a thing earnestly in hand. I +remember, he made all sorts of objections to officiating when we were +married."</p> + +<p>"Then this old man—this Samuel Parris performed that ceremony?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Sir William would have no other minister. They were old friends. +Indeed, Mr. Parris was a sort of benefactor to my husband when he was a +poor boy."</p> + +<p>"And they have no secrets from each other—these two men?"</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps exhibited a little astonishment at this abrupt question, but +after a moment she answered, with a smile:</p> + +<p>"Nay, that I cannot tell. My husband loves the old man. Indeed, with the +exception perhaps of Norman Lovel, I know hardly any one to whom he is +so much attached; but as for secrets, I fancy Sir William shares them +with no one."</p> + +<p>"Then he is greatly attached to this youth?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed he is, or nothing would have induced him to interfere about this +engagement. Elizabeth is like our own daughter, and as for Lovel—but +you have seen him."</p> + +<p>"Yes: I can readily understand your affection for him," answered +Barbara, with a little weariness in her manner.</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps, who seldom dwelt on any subject long, arranged the toilet +ornaments over again, and left the room, advising her visitor to lie +down and rest a little after her long walk.</p> + +<p>Did Barbara Stafford rest? Could she rest? Why had she come to that +house? Not by her own wish; a sort of fatality had dragged her there. +The evident desire of young Lovel might have influenced her somewhat, +little as the thing seemed possible. She went there as a bird flutters +into the open jaws of a serpent, and remained, restless, unhappy, and +watchful, without the wish or power to change.</p> + +<p>The kindness of Lady Phipps oppressed her terribly; she rather preferred +the reserve, and almost evident dislike of Elizabeth Parris. Like most +persons who cannot be entirely frank, she shrunk as much from affection +as curiosity.</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps, with all her warm-heartedness, was a proud woman, and felt +the hidden repulsion with which her hospitality was met, without really +understanding it. Yet, strange to say, this only increased her desire to +win the confidence of her guest.</p> + +<p>From the very moment she first saw the foreign lady sitting in the +sunshine by the old stone farm-house, this desire had risen in her +heart, and grew upon her like a fascination.</p> + +<p>She would have given any thing for one down-right, cordial beam of +affection from those downcast eyes, which seemed forever to look beyond, +or glance aside from her face in the most friendly moments.</p> + +<p>Yet a third party would have seen nothing strange in this visit. The +etiquette of life went on quietly and with high-bred elegance. Nothing +but soft words and gentle courtesies passed from morning till night, yet +there was not a happy, or even contented, heart in the house.</p> + +<p>But the most remarkable change fell upon young Lovel. He became dreamy, +almost sad, the brilliancy of his youth seemed to have withered up +suddenly. Instead of the dashing gayety, for which he was so remarkable, +a pleasant sadness crept over him; he smiled now where he had laughed +before. He forgot to perpetuate or renew the little quarrel which had +sprung up between himself and Elizabeth on the first day of Barbara +Stafford's visit, and though the poor girl went about the house with +heavy eyes and flushed cheeks all that day, he did not seem conscious of +it. Alas for the woman who is doomed to bring such discord into a +household where love has been almost perfect before!</p> + +<p>Elizabeth was a bright, single-hearted young creature, proud, impulsive, +and full of generous qualities. Before night-fall that evening she had +repented of her petulance, and pined for a reconciliation with her young +lover; still he did not seek her, did not even seem to know that she was +suffering, but went away into the garden by himself, and walked moodily +up and down the gravel walks.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth had grown very humble by this time. Quarrels may be pleasant +in flirtations, but where real love is, they trouble a good heart as sin +would torment an angel. After a little struggle, in which pride leaped +in fire to her cheeks, while regret filled her eyes with tears, and set +her sweet lips trembling like rosebuds in a fall of summer rain, she +went down the walk, holding out her pretty hand, like a naughty child, +seized with sudden awkwardness, anxious to confess herself in the wrong, +but not knowing how to begin.</p> + +<p>"Norman," she said, and the little hand fell softly upon his arm, +"Norman, I am so sorry!"</p> + +<p>The young man started and looked up, as if he had been half asleep till +then.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, Elizabeth; and for what?"</p> + +<p>He spoke naturally, and looked surprised. Anger, even rage, would have +been far less cruel than this forgetfulness of words that had wrung her +heart to the core. She could not speak, but drew her hand back, looking +at him with those large blue eyes slowly filling with anguish.</p> + +<p>That look must have aroused him had it really fixed his glance; but on +the instant, Barbara Stafford came into the garden alone. A white scarf +was wound over her head, in double folds, and there was a look in her +face, as she turned it with a bend towards the sunset, which reminded +the youth of the features of Beatrice Cenci, which he had once seen and +almost wept before, in Rome. He forgot the young girl who hovered like a +wounded bird in his path, and went towards the woman.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth followed him with her eyes; she saw the smile—that luminous, +eloquent smile, with which Barbara greeted the youth: a smile that no +human being ever saw to question the woman's beauty afterwards. The +tears trembling in her eyes, fired up like diamonds. She dashed them +upon the air with a sweep of her hand, and turned away humbled, haughty, +and almost heart-broken.</p> + +<p>It will be a long time, Norman Lovel, before that girl asks pardon of +you again; she is almost ready to scoff at herself for loving you; her +foot presses the tessellated floor of that hall with the tread of a +queen.</p> + +<p>She looked forth from the window of her chamber, and saw them walking +together; Norman, her lover, and the strange lady. He was evidently +listening to her as she conversed, for his face was turned upon her with +a look of absorbing attention, and it brightened eloquently, though he +did not smile—the talk seemed too earnest and serious for that. She +could not remember the time when he had looked at <i>her</i> with such +devotion. Poor child! her heart was sick with jealousy—and of whom?</p> + +<p>They walked together till the new moon rose, and hung like a golden +sickle over the trees; then they moved quietly towards the house, and +Elizabeth heard the lady retreat to her own room, while Lovel wandered +off into the grounds, without once glancing up at the window where she +stood. How bitterly she began to hate the woman who, without youth or a +tithe of her own rare beauty, had taken possession of a heart which had +been so completely hers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>GATHERING ROSES AND THORNS.</h3> + + +<p>Thus it went on day after day. Barbara lost something of her gloom; a +new feeling, strange and inexpressibly sweet, brought back freshness to +the life that had become almost a burden. Strong concentration was a +vital portion of her nature; her thoughts fixed on one object, clung to +it like ivy to a ruin; force itself could not tear them away. She asked +herself again and again, what it was that centred the best portion of +her nature around that youth—love! the blush of a haughty shame heated +her cheek as the word presented itself, disturbing the august repose of +her womanhood; besides, was not that heart closed and locked over one +image? In all those years had she kept it sacred to turn the golden key +at last, that a mere youth might jostle her idol in its sanctuary? +Barbara laughed at the thought, she dashed it aside with a strong will, +and contented herself with the remembrance that Norman had saved her +life, and that gratitude with her was stronger than the love of most +women. As for Norman, he never thought deeply in those years; he did not +even attempt to understand his own feelings; he had saved the life of a +woman whose presence and character filled him with the most profound +admiration; her society had opened a new phase of existence to him; he +did not quite know whether he had ceased to love Elizabeth or not; there +was no room in his thoughts for the question. In his passionate nature +the last sensation was sure to overwhelm all others, at least for the +time.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth was young, and had not learned that most important lesson of +life, <i>how to wait</i>. To her this interest in another seemed an +infatuation that must last forever. The bitterness and grief of this +thought developed her character as a storm beats the flowers open. She +was no longer the childish creature who unlocked the door that eventful +morning for Norman Lovel; pride, resentment, a haughty power of +self-torture, had rendered her womanly like the rest.</p> + +<p>At first Barbara made some effort to win the confidence of this young +girl, but the reserve with which her advances were met, soon chilled the +wish into indifference. Thus the two fell wider and wider apart, +stretching the thread of destiny which was sure to connect them at last, +till it grew small as the film of a spider's web, but never broke.</p> + +<p>One day Elizabeth went into the chamber where Lady Phipps sat alone, +busy with some fine needle-work. She drew a stool, and seating herself +upon it, laid her head in the lady's lap, and looked up in her face with +a long, mournful gaze, that made that kind heart swell beneath its +lace-kerchief.</p> + +<p>"Why, Bessy child, what is it troubles you? these heavy, heavy eyes +frighten me; is any thing the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother!" A warm color rushed into Lady Phipps's cheek at the word +mother; it was the first time that most sacred term had ever been +addressed to her.</p> + +<p>"Well, my child—my child!" the kind woman repeated the word twice, with +a sort of bashful pleasure, for they sprung to her lips like honey-dew.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish so much that you were indeed my mother, for then I could +tell you how—how very unhappy I am."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps bent down, removed the bright hair from the young girl's +forehead, and kissed it tenderly.</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> your mother, darling; she who is dead could scarcely have loved +you more; now tell me what this trouble is."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth turned her face, and buried it in the lady's robe.</p> + +<p>"This lady—this strange woman—this Barbara Stafford—oh, send her +away!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what of her, my child?—remember she is our invited guest, a +stranger, and—"</p> + +<p>"I know—I know all that, but she is killing me—she drinks up my life +like a vampire."</p> + +<p>"Like a vampire—that pleasant, noble woman! Why Bessy child, you must +be ill!"</p> + +<p>"There, there! she has fascinated you like the rest; I have nobody left +to care about or pity me; she has dried up every little spring of love +that I used to drink at, and nobody sees it."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth rose to her feet, flinging back the curls from her face with +both hands, and casting glances of reproach upon the lady.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> against me—<i>you</i> her friend—I hope you will never live to +repent of it!"</p> + +<p>"My dear child!"</p> + +<p>"Don't call me that; I won't be the child of <i>her</i> friend! You have seen +it all: how she came with her smiles and her bright words to steal the +heart that belonged to me—you have seen them together half the time in +the garden—in the portico—wherever the place was shady, and no one +likely to intrude. Then you ask me with that kind voice, just as ever, +'Elizabeth, what is it troubles you?'"</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps could not help smiling a little, for, occupied with her own +pleasant duties, she had scarcely noticed the things of which Elizabeth +complained, and this outbreak of jealousy amused, while it distressed +her.</p> + +<p>"Bessie, this is childish—it is absurd—of course Norman would do every +thing in his power to amuse our guest—it is his duty; besides, you know +he saved her life, and that counts for a great deal. We always like +those we have served; nothing is more natural!"</p> + +<p>"But we do not forget our old friends—we do not abandon all the world +for them!"</p> + +<p>"Nor has Lovel. Be patient till the novelty of this visit is worn away."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps held out her hand with a pleading tenderness that brought +the wayward girl to her feet again.</p> + +<p>"Foolish child!" she said, taking the fair young face between both hands +and kissing it. "Foolish, foolish child!"</p> + +<p>"You would not think it foolish if she had snared Sir William, and shut +his heart against you!"</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps dropped her hands slowly, and a strange look came to her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"You talk wildly, Elizabeth," she said, in a faltering voice.</p> + +<p>"She came between him and heaven when he stood by the altar to be +baptized. You did not see her; no one saw her, I think, except myself; +but the cup of wine trembled in his hand, he grew pale as death. It was +her shadow touching him as she passed up the aisle."</p> + +<p>"I remember this. He did grow pale; I never saw my husband tremble +before. But it was a solemn occasion, and Sir William felt it deeply. If +this lady was present, I am sure he did not know it."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps spoke half to her own thoughts, half to the young girl, who +lay sobbing in her lap; seized with regret for the words she had spoken +the moment their effect became visible in the features and voice of her +benefactress.</p> + +<p>"I think no one saw her but myself and Norman," sobbed the girl. "She +stood back from the altar, and did not come out with the rest. It seemed +to me as if the house grew darker when she entered it. Oh, Lady +Phipps—Lady Phipps, she is a terrible woman!"</p> + +<p>The lady was too just and generous for these wild denunciations to +influence her; but she grew watchful of her guest, and the distrust +floating in her mind after this conversation deepened almost to dislike +before her husband returned.</p> + +<p>Keenly, almost as Elizabeth herself, she watched the intimacy which had +sprung up between Barbara and the young secretary—an intimacy that +seemed to have shut her out from the young man's regard almost as +completely as it had separated him from Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford was unconscious of the bitter feelings which her +presence in that house had brought to life. Preoccupied by many painful +thoughts, she gave herself no opportunities for observation. She did not +remark that every hour threw her more and more into the society of the +youth; and that her intercourse with the ladies contracted itself almost +to the commonest courtesies of life.</p> + +<p>One evening Barbara and Norman came up from the garden as usual, when +the dusk had closed in upon them, and seated themselves in the front +portico. Elizabeth was alone on one of the side seats when they came up. +She had become used to this kind of solitude now, and rather sought it +than otherwise. The young are always ready to convert sorrow into +martyrdom.</p> + +<p>She arose as they mounted the steps, and prepared to retreat into the +house; but Barbara, whose old nature came out of its sadness whenever +she had been long with Norman, spoke to her with that gentle +empressement which few persons could resist.</p> + +<p>"Do not leave us, Miss Parris," she said; "the evening is so lovely."</p> + +<p>It was not the words; they were nothing; but there was a spell in +Barbara Stafford's voice that even hatred could not resist. Elizabeth +sat down, holding her breath.</p> + +<p>Barbara carried a quantity of red roses in her hand, which Norman had +gathered from a plant in the garden. Some memory was aroused by the +flowers, which caused her to receive them with reluctance. She had held +the roses for a moment, as if doubtful whether to place them on her +bosom or dash them to the earth; but seeing that her hesitation annoyed +the youth, carried them in her hand.</p> + +<p>"You are young," she said, laying the roses in Elizabeth's lap; "flowers +should whisper only cheerful things. To you they will speak of the +present, and that should be gladsome. When they bring back the past to +any one, it is always a pain. Young gentleman, hereafter you shall +gather roses only for ladies who have hopes, like yourself!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth's first impulse was to take up the flowers from her lap, and +throw them over the railing behind the seat; but the very sound of +Barbara's voice drove this bitter pride from her heart. She allowed them +to remain in her lap—thought of the blush roses he had given to her so +little time before in that very place, and bent her head lower and lower +that Norman might not see the tears which gathered in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Barbara did not observe these tears, for Elizabeth sat so much in the +shadow that the drooping outline of her figure alone was visible; but +this was enough to enlist the quick sympathy of a woman who never looked +unmoved on human sorrow. She sat down at once, and with a movement of +tender interest took the little hand which had fallen among the flowers. +Elizabeth started as if a serpent had crept out from among the roses and +stung her palm. But scarcely had Barbara's fingers closed on hers, when +she was seized with an irresistible impulse to return their clasp; and, +in her sorrow, she leaned towards the woman, whom she had hated so +bitterly a few moments before, as a sun-flower bends towards the sun.</p> + +<p>Barbara felt the change, without understanding it. This gift of winning +affection with a look, and of turning hate into love, was the great +power of her character. She did not herself comprehend it, but the very +magnetism of her presence was a prerogative richer than that of royalty, +and as dangerous. Something kindred to this power existed in the youth; +it was perhaps this subtle feeling that drew these persons into their +present companionship.</p> + +<p>When her heart was full of either joy or sadness, Barbara Stafford +conversed beautifully. Her voice, as I have said, was full of tenderness +and pathos; it came from the heart like a gush of spring water. She was +depressed that evening; a little thing suffices to draw out the low +tones of a nature like hers. Some angel had come out from the past, and +troubled the waters of her soul; no matter upon what her conversation +turned, the melody of these waters was certain to ripple through.</p> + +<p>She dropped into conversation as they all sat together, pursuing no +particular subject, but wandering from thought to thought, as a +forest-bird touches this branch and then another, in its flight upward. +Elizabeth leaned towards her, and listened; she saw the eyes of her +young lover kindle under the influence of those words, till their +brightness was visible in the gathering mist. She felt no resentment +then. With her hand clasped in those caressing fingers, to love that +woman seemed the most natural thing in life. She began even to join in +the conversation, to call Lovel by his given name, and, for the time, +turn back pleasantly to her old friendly ways. After a little, Norman +came over from his place opposite the two ladies, and sat down on the +other side of Elizabeth. His hand stole in among the roses, and Barbara +left that of Elizabeth in its clasp. The heart of the young girl began +to swell: she leaned her head upon Norman's shoulder, and wept silently.</p> + +<p>A little time more, and those two young souls would have been reconciled +again. A human heart-throb must sometimes unweave that chain of passing +events which men call destiny; but here it was not to be.</p> + +<p>The sound of horses' feet came along the road, slowly and heavily, as if +the tired animals were returning from a long journey. The little group +in front of Governor Phipps's house ceased speaking, and listened.</p> + +<p>"It is—it is my father," cried Elizabeth, starting up; "see, they turn +this way! It is the governor, and my father!"</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford gathered the shawl around her, shivering, till the +teeth chattered in her head; but she sat still, with her features lost +in the shadow of the porch; she seemed chilled through by the night air.</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel descended the steps, and stood waiting for the horses to +come up. A week before, Elizabeth would have sprung to his side; now, +she stood alone a moment, then ran into the house to inform Lady Phipps +of her husband's coming.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford arose, looked through the gathering darkness, and saw +three horsemen moving towards the house; they dismounted; one paused on +the terrace, struggling against his own eager wishes. The other came +hurriedly up the steps. The third, who was a servant, wheeled around, +and rode towards the stables, leading the two weary horses by their +bridles.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford turned from the terrace as the man came up; the +twilight clung around her like a veil; there she stood motionless—she +had been searching in vain for the door latch. He came up the steps, saw +a female figure in the gloom, and held out his arms.</p> + +<p>"My wife!"</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford had no power to move; she felt his arms around her, she +felt herself strained to his bosom, and his lips pressed upon hers. That +instant the door opened, and Lady Phipps stood upon the threshold in a +river of light, which flowed out from the hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>CONVERSATION ON THE PORCH.</h3> + + +<p>As the opening door revealed that unexpected scene, Lady Phipps started +forward with a smothered exclamation, half surprise, half horror. Then +she as suddenly drew back, leaned against the wall for support, and +looked full in her husband's face, outwardly still and calm from the +very agitation of her feelings.</p> + +<p>Sir William raised his eyes and met the fixed gaze of his wife. His +perplexed glance wandered to the bending form clasped to his bosom, the +white hands folded upon his shoulder, and the head, with its weight of +dimly revealed hair, lying against his heart. With a quick motion of his +hand he pushed Barbara Stafford away, and stood upright, though a +tremor, for which he could not account, ran through his whole frame. He +was, in truth, strangely agitated, and the sudden pallor which changed +his face, so little accustomed to any exhibition of emotion, would have +sent a thrill of doubt to the most faithful and trusting heart.</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel was standing by Elizabeth, and both gazed from one to the +other with a sort of chilled astonishment, which left them no power to +break the painful spell of the moment as observers of mature years and +worldly experience would have been able to do.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford sank slowly back as Sir William repulsed her in his +astonishment; shrinking into herself like a flower drooping upon its +stalk, her arms falling idly to her side, and her eyes fastened upon his +face with a magnetic power which forced him to return her glance, in +spite of his strong will.</p> + +<p>That instant of bewilderment had seemed like an eternity to the little +group. Lady Phipps was first to break the spell. Mastering the tremor +which took away her strength, she stepped towards her husband, and said, +in a courteous, but somewhat constrained manner—</p> + +<p>"I believe we have all been making confusion in this darkness; Sir +William has claimed a privilege scarcely his own, and my eyes were so +blinded by the gloom that I supposed him a stranger."</p> + +<p>Those jesting words in a measure dispelled the painful embarrassment of +the moment.</p> + +<p>Sir William moved towards his wife with the grave dignity which +characterized him, and pressed his lips to her forehead.</p> + +<p>"At least I must not lose my greeting now," he said, "and our fair +guest, I trust, will pardon my unintentional rudeness."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford did not reply, and, without looking again at that pale +face, the governor passed into the house, holding his wife's hand in his +own. When they had disappeared from view, and before either of the young +persons, who were looking at her in wonder, could move, the wretched +lady sank back without a sound, or even a motion of her arms to break +her fall, and lay prostrate upon the porch, her loosened hair sweeping +the garments of Elizabeth Parris as she fell. The girl shrunk away, as +if those shining tresses had been viper coils, and made no movement to +assist her.</p> + +<p>"She is dead!" exclaimed Norman, springing forward to raise the +motionless form; "call help, Elizabeth."</p> + +<p>"Don't touch her!" expostulated the girl, seizing his arm; "I would +rather see you pick up a snake—I will call the domestics."</p> + +<p>"For shame, Bess!" returned Norman, with indignation; "how can you be so +cruel?"</p> + +<p>"You shall not touch her, I say you shall not!" she repeated, with +unwonted vehemence; "I cannot bear it, indeed I cannot."</p> + +<p>"Get me some water, and be silent!" he said, sternly, shaking off her +hand and raising the prostrate form.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris looked on for a moment in silence, while he swept back +the hair from that white face, and threw off the scarf which covered her +head; then, before he could repeat his request, she rushed into the +house, and closed the door violently behind her.</p> + +<p>Norman uttered an exclamation of passionate reproach, and raised Barbara +in his arms. He placed her on a bench at the end of the porch, where the +roses and honeysuckles hung down in luxuriant profusion. He tore off the +blossoms with reckless haste, and scattered the dew over her forehead, +raising her head upon his shoulder again with the fondness of a brother, +while the touch of those rich masses of hair sent a thrill to his heart +almost painful from its intensity.</p> + +<p>Many moments elapsed ere Barbara Stafford revived. She opened her eyes +at length, and looked around in the starlit gloom.</p> + +<p>"Am I dreaming?" she whispered; "what has happened?—where am I now?"</p> + +<p>"You fainted, Madam," said Norman, soothingly; "you have not been well +since your shipwreck, I think."</p> + +<p>"Fainted—did I—and wherefore? Who was here? I feel as if I had been in +a dream—that man—surely I was in his arms—he kissed my forehead—my +lips—"</p> + +<p>"Sir William mistook you in the darkness for Lady Phipps," said Norman, +in explanation.</p> + +<p>"I remember, and they looked so strangely at me—all of them—that young +girl—"</p> + +<p>"You must excuse Elizabeth, Madam; she is a mere child—capricious and +spoiled."</p> + +<p>"Where are they all? Why did they leave me here alone with you? Could +they not deign me even a moment's pity and assistance?"</p> + +<p>"Sir William and Lady Phipps knew nothing of your illness—they had gone +into the house—are you well enough now to follow them?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet—not yet. I will not intrude upon them—I am better here."</p> + +<p>"I will bring you some water—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing—only let me be quiet for a few moments, and I shall be well. +These flowers are oppressive—help me away."</p> + +<p>He supported her to a seat at a little distance, and resumed his +position by her side. Barbara sat leaning her forehead upon her hand, +lost in thought, and shivering slightly, as if with cold.</p> + +<p>"The night air is chill," said Norman; "I will get your cloak."</p> + +<p>He took up the rich mantle and folded it about her; she offered no +resistance, looking down at him as he bent forward, and smiling with her +patient, resigned smile, in sign of thankfulness for his care.</p> + +<p>"Are you better now?" he asked, inexpressibly moved by the beautiful +resignation of her look.</p> + +<p>"Much better. You are very kind to me—very, I have always something new +to thank you for."</p> + +<p>"I wish it were indeed in my power to render you any service."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are young, and it is great happiness for the young to feel that +they can be of service to those around them! But I have no claim upon +your kindness. I am a stranger to you and all about you."</p> + +<p>"A stranger—oh, lady, how can you say this? I could never feel that you +were indeed a stranger—there are persons with whom one, at the first +sight, seems to have been acquainted for years—for a whole life-time."</p> + +<p>"Have you felt that, too?" said Barbara, mournfully. "Poor boy! that +feeling comes with a rare and peculiar organization, which causes the +possessor much suffering."</p> + +<p>"And am I to know much suffering, do you think?" the youth questioned +eagerly, with a half-defiant look, as if ready to dare the worst that +fate could heap upon him. "Shall I suffer, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Is it not the fate of humanity? Endurance is the great lesson of life! +But it is very hard to learn how to suffer with patience—the pain is +not so much as the struggle for resignation. Oh, that is hard to bear!"</p> + +<p>Barbara's head drooped forward again, and a mist stole over her eyes, +till they shone like the reflection of star-beams through dark waters.</p> + +<p>"Endurance—I don't like the word! I should never learn to be patient, +never!" exclaimed Lovel, with his quick impetuosity. "I could bear any +suffering that came to me, but I would not be resigned. I would battle +with adversity as if it were an enemy who had assailed me unawares."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy—poor fleeting spring of life!" murmured Barbara. "No, no—you +think this now, while the elasticity of your spirits is unimpaired, but +that will not outlast a great sorrow, one which crushes out all hope! +You must learn to accept life as it is—press the crown of thorns +courageously down upon your heart, and pray to God for comfort and +strength—in His good time and method they would come to you."</p> + +<p>"I could not pray if I were wretched," returned Lovel; "I should not +believe that God heard while it pleased Him to chastise me."</p> + +<p>"That is not the language of this Puritan land," said Barbara, with +sorrowful severity; "the teachings of your boyhood should have prevented +the birth of such thoughts. Whence come they?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know—they torment me much. Often in church they haunt me, +drowning the voice of prayer and thanksgiving."</p> + +<p>"Pray to God!" said Barbara; "He alone can aid you."</p> + +<p>"But he seems so far off—I cannot feel that I am heard! The religion +that our ministers teach is so hard and stern—so unforgiving and +unpitying. Surely, if God be a just and perfect being, He cannot so +harshly regard our errors!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, child, He judges not as man does—He sees the motive, and +oftentimes pardons that which poor, weak mortals, in their +short-sightedness, condemn with relentless severity."</p> + +<p>"But what right have they to judge others thus, those cold, iron +preachers? Piety does not consist in smothering all the natural and +beautiful impulses of the heart—"</p> + +<p>"These impulses are the soul's best religion," interrupted Barbara, +gently.</p> + +<p>"These men have frozen every feeling in their natures, and if they do no +wrong it is only because their hearts are so icy that they have few +weaknesses left. There is little merit in passive goodness when no +temptation to error exists."</p> + +<p>"Are you not falling into the same fault for which you blame them?" said +Barbara, smiling more cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"It may be," replied Lovel; "but I lose all patience with their +superstitious observances. My heart has turned almost with loathing from +their creed since this nightmare of witchcraft has desolated so many +happy hearths, and murdered so many innocent creatures."</p> + +<p>"It is horrible, indeed," said Barbara, with a shudder; "I have read +strange accounts, but they seemed too terrible for reality."</p> + +<p>"Lady, they were true—terribly true! The barbarity of these +persecutions is beyond the power of words to describe."</p> + +<p>"Can human beings thus be led astray by superstitious fears?" said +Barbara, shuddering anew beneath the horror of the thought.</p> + +<p>"I saw an execution once," continued Lovel, growing pale at the +recollection, "and it has haunted me ever since, sleeping and waking. +Two women were the victims—one a withered old crone, and the other a +girl, as young and fair as Elizabeth Parris. They brought them out of +the jail, where they had lain for weeks—out before that hooting mob, +which hailed them with shouts and curses. The old woman, bent and +wrinkled, cowered and shrieked, but she might as well have pleaded for +mercy from a herd of wild beasts. She struggled and writhed when they +bound her hands, but what was her feeble strength in the clutch of those +infuriated men? The girl walked out alone—very pale, but calm as a +bride on her way to the altar. A Bible was in her hand. Her eyes were +raised, and her smiling lips parted in fervent prayer, as if the angels, +whom she was so soon to join, were giving her strength in that terrible +hour. They cursed her, they reviled her—but she did not heed. They +caught hold of her arm to drag her on, but she waved them aside and +walked forward to the gallows. It was her own sister who had accused her +from jealousy. The fiend stood by and watched the consummation of her +work! They tied her hands—the noose was adjusted—the word given; with +a shriek the old woman rushed into eternity. Then the pure spirit of +that girl followed, her lips moving in prayer to the last."</p> + +<p>Lovel broke off, and passed his hands before his eyes to drive away the +fearful images which his description had aroused. Barbara had fallen +back upon her seat, hiding her face in her hands, shivering with horror +and pain.</p> + +<p>"Terrible! terrible! God pardon them!" she gasped, "for they know not +what they do!"</p> + +<p>"I tell you he will curse them for it—oh yes, I do believe there is an +eternity of suffering, and it is men like those who must endure it. +There stood the ministers and the judges in solemn array looking on—the +selectmen of the church and town—and enormities like these they call +religion—"</p> + +<p>"No more, say no more!" pleaded Barbara. "I feel it all—I cannot +breathe—I seem to have the hangman's cord on my throat—his rough grasp +on my arm—do not speak of it again."</p> + +<p>She was writhing with strange anguish—it seemed to her as if his words +had been a premonition of doom!</p> + +<p>"I must go and walk in the garden," she said, arising; "this has driven +me wild."</p> + +<p>She passed down the steps, and the young man turned to follow; but at +that moment, through the oaken door, came an imperious summons, twice +repeated—</p> + +<p>"Norman Lovel! Norman Lovel!"</p> + +<p>It was the governor's voice, in a tone of command that he never used +unless greatly excited. Norman uttered an apology, which Barbara did not +heed, and rushed into the hall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>WILD JEALOUSY.</h3> + + +<p>When she entered the house so abruptly, Elizabeth Parris went to her +chamber, and sitting down upon her bed, remained there in the gloom, +brooding over the passion and sorrow to which the scene below had given +rise. She wept bitterly with mingled anger and grief, striking her hands +down upon the counterpane, and sobbing aloud in unwonted excitement.</p> + +<p>She believed that Barbara Stafford had lured her young lover from his +allegiance, and that she was left to stand quietly by and see this +stranger woman usurp and claim the affection which, almost up to that +hour, she had deemed wholly her own.</p> + +<p>There she sat while the moments crept on, seeming to her like hours. At +intervals, through the open casements, came the murmur of voices from +the porch, mingling at times with the deeper tones of Sir William +Phipps, from where he sat in earnest conversation with his wife in the +apartment below.</p> + +<p>At length Elizabeth rose and approached the window, flung back the +muslin draperies with an impatient movement, and looked out into the +night. Those two forms were dimly perceptible, seated side by side on +the carved seat, and a pang of jealousy, more acute than she had yet +felt, wrung her girlish heart. She leaned over the sill, striving to +catch those low tones, then, startled by the meanness of which she had +not believed herself capable, drew back, and began to walk up and down +the room, weeping with quick, convulsive sobs, which seemed suffocating +her.</p> + +<p>Still the murmur of those voices was borne up to her tortured ear, +rising and falling unequally as if the subject of conversation were of +deep interest. This was only an added pain to the poor girl, who kept +that gloomy vigil with such unquiet thoughts for her companions.</p> + +<p>At last the suspense and wretchedness became too great for her young +heart to bear. With it all, there started up in her mind the wilful +pride and determination of a petted child accustomed to being treated as +the idol of all about her.</p> + +<p>"She has stolen him from me—bad, designing woman!" she exclaimed. "But +this shall not last—she shall not stay here—I will not be braved by +her and set aside that she may be worshipped! She shall see, and Norman +Lovel, too; they are laughing at me, I dare say, at this very +moment—but they shall not laugh long."</p> + +<p>She approached the window once more and looked out. Barbara and Norman +Lovel stood side by side, as before; her hand rested on his arm, he was +looking into her face. Elizabeth could not clearly distinguish his +features, but her jealous fancy required no aid to help her paint that +glance. Her own eyes had drooped so often beneath its passionate fervor, +her girlish heart, ever tremulous, had responded so fully to the tones +of that thrilling voice—yes, she could imagine it all!</p> + +<p>She flung down the draperies again, and, forcing back the tears which +had fairly pained her cheeks as they poured over them, she left the +chamber and hurried down-stairs to put in force a resolve formed during +her unquiet vigil.</p> + +<p>When Sir William Phipps conducted his wife into the house, at the +conclusion of that embarrassing scene, they passed through the long +passage and entered an apartment which the governor occupied as his +study.</p> + +<p>"I was hardly expecting your arrival to-night," Lady Phipps said, as he +placed a chair and sat down near her.</p> + +<p>"I made all haste, for I was anxious to return—"</p> + +<p>"Be careful how you arrive again in the dark," she said, interrupting +him in a playful tone, through which some faint annoyance that her +husband's mistake had occasioned might have been detected.</p> + +<p>"I regret that," replied Sir William, gravely; "but supposing the lady +could be no other than my own fair wife, I did not hesitate to greet +her."</p> + +<p>"Let us say no more about it—we will leave the lady to herself for a +little, when she will have recovered from her agitation."</p> + +<p>"Is she your friend from the farm house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—it is Mistress Barbara Stafford; you remember the name, and the +shipwreck."</p> + +<p>"I remember; and you have persuaded her to become our guest at last?"</p> + +<p>"I have. You do not disapprove? I thought you desired it."</p> + +<p>"Whatever you do, fair lady, must be well done—any arrangement that +affords you pleasure always meets with my approval."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps made some laughing remark concerning his habitual courtesy, +but Sir William scarcely heard her words. He had fallen into deep +thought, so vague and singular that he was himself at a loss to trace +its source. He remembered how the presence of that woman had affected +him during the holy services of the church, causing his hand to tremble +when he raised the sacramental wine to his lips, and rousing emotions +which carried his mind far from the solemn interest of the occasion. +Then again that very night—the touch of that head seemed yet upon his +heart—the trace of the kiss he had pressed upon her mouth lingered +still upon his lips, even the pure embrace of his wife had failed to +obliterate it—the entrancing magic of those eyes followed him and +burned into his very soul, starting up like some Circean enchantment +even between himself and the faithful woman by his side.</p> + +<p>With a strong effort he banished those wild reflections, and roused +himself to return an answer to the idle question his wife had asked, +appearing calm and unconcerned.</p> + +<p>"And you are pleased with the lady?" he said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"She is charming," returned Lady Phipps; "her manner is perfect, she is +a woman of great natural gifts, heightened by cultivation. There is an +irresistible grace in her slightest word and movement, an inexplicable +charm in every smile and glance, yet—"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sir William, as she paused, "go on, and yet?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell! I feel drawn toward her by some unaccountable spell; it +is as if she attracted me at will, biased my thoughts by her judgment, +and held me, during our conversations, completely under her sway."</p> + +<p>"She might easily be a very dangerous companion, were this not a mere +fancy."</p> + +<p>"It is no fancy, Sir William—you will yourself remark it. There is +little Bessie, who dislikes her extremely, and yet, at Mistress +Stafford's bidding, she will sit down at her feet and listen for hours +to her conversation, like one entranced."</p> + +<p>"Is not this hypocrisy in our little Bess?"</p> + +<p>"No—oh, no. The child is truth and sincerity itself! I have seen her +strive to resist the spell, hovering restlessly about like a +half-charmed bird; but Mistress Stafford would follow her continually +with those wonderful eyes, and in the end, by her power, whatever it may +be, she is certain to conquer."</p> + +<p>"But why does Elizabeth Parris dislike her?"</p> + +<p>"The girl is jealous; Norman Lovel, she tells me, has neglected her of +late; she complains that this stranger lures him away, and fears that +she will in the end wholly alienate his affection."</p> + +<p>"And is this true, or but the suspicion of a foolish girl?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell; certain it is that since Mistress Stafford's arrival +here Norman has been thrown much in her society, but I cannot believe +that she would exercise any undue influence over him, or seek to create +a coldness between those two young hearts whose mutual affection has +been so beautiful to look upon."</p> + +<p>Sir William was silent again for a moment; his wife's description of the +influence which the stranger exerted over them all accorded so entirely +with the impression she had created upon his own feelings, that he was +startled and perplexed.</p> + +<p>"And what account does she give of herself—who is she, and what has +brought her here to this new world, alone and unprotected?"</p> + +<p>"She speaks vaguely of her past or of her future plans. She told me that +she might perhaps soon return to England; then, as we were talking, she +fainted suddenly away, and fell senseless in my arms, just as she had +done during my visit to her at Goody Brown's."</p> + +<p>"It is very strange," said Sir William. "These are wayward times in +which we live, and it behoves us all to be well upon our guard; we know +not in what way the great adversary of souls may weave his snares for +us."</p> + +<p>"It grieves me to think ill of her, my husband, and yet, when out of her +sight, evil forebodings rise in my mind, which the first glance of her +eyes is sure to dispel. To-night her manner was so wayward—another +would have explained—would have called out—no word, no sign. She +neither moved nor seemed to note the presence of any human being."</p> + +<p>"I must converse with this stranger; after receiving her as our friend +and guest, it is meet that we should know somewhat more concerning her."</p> + +<p>"She will set every doubt at rest in your mind, of that I am certain. I +know not what to advise, but I am glad that you are returned, for I was +sorely puzzled how to act."</p> + +<p>"Where are our friends? I fear we left them somewhat unceremoniously."</p> + +<p>"Let us go back to them," returned Lady Phipps. "I believe, in truth, we +should offer some apology for our abrupt departure."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>PASSIONATE DENUNCIATIONS.</h3> + + +<p>When Governor Phipps and his wife entered the library they found Samuel +Parris standing in the midst of the room, waiting, with suppressed +impatience, for the appearance of his daughter. He strode forward a pace +or two, with eager fire in his eyes, when Lady Phipps crossed the +threshold; but seeing that the form he so longed for did not follow, +drew back with nervous shyness, shrinking within himself as if the +impulsive affection warming his heart were a sin to hide away and be +ashamed of.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Parris, welcome back again," said Lady Phipps, holding out her +plump little hand. "We have been rude to keep you in solitude so long."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my lady, it matters not. But the child—my Elizabeth—surely +nothing is amiss that she delays coming to greet her father?"</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps became thoughtful in an instant, and looked around, +wondering where Elizabeth had bestowed herself.</p> + +<p>The old man grew white and began to shiver.</p> + +<p>"Is the child ill? What malady has found her out? You may tell me, lady, +without fear; with God's help I—I can bear it."</p> + +<p>The poor, self-tortured old man sat down on the edge of a chair and +lifted his large, wild eyes to the lady's face, waiting for the expected +blow with piteous trepidation.</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps drew close to him, with both hands extended, and a world of +gentle sympathy beaming in her face.</p> + +<p>"My friend, my dear, good friend, there is nothing wrong; Elizabeth is +well."</p> + +<p>"Thank God," broke from the old man, while his clasped hands unlocked +themselves and fell gently downward.</p> + +<p>"I was only wondering where she had hid herself," continued the lady. +"Surely, when her father was waiting, she should have been here."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I can tarry for the child without weariness, so that she is but +well," answered the old man, heaving a deep sigh of relief. +"Nevertheless, if she is near at hand—"</p> + +<p>"I will inquire, I will inquire," said the lady, turning to leave the +apartment, but at that moment the door was thrown hurriedly open, and +Elizabeth Parris advanced toward them, her face pale, her eyes red and +swollen with weeping.</p> + +<p>"Why Bessie, child, what is this?" exclaimed Lady Phipps, "are you ill?"</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris arose to his feet, holding out both arms with more +passionate affection than had ever broken the iron bands of his reason +before.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"</p> + +<p>The young girl flung herself into those outstretched arms, and clung to +her father's neck, sobbing violently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father! father! take me home! take me home! I am wretched here—oh, +so wretched!"</p> + +<p>The old man smoothed her hair with his hand, and kissed her hot forehead +with more than feminine tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Hush thee—hush thee, my child," he murmured. Then, turning his face to +Lady Phipps, he added:</p> + +<p>"Forgive her, lady, she is but a child."</p> + +<p>"She is ill, I fear," answered the governor, looking at his wife. The +lady shook her head and smiled. Elizabeth lifted her face from the +minister's bosom, and tossed the golden hair away from it in childish +defiance.</p> + +<p>"No, no, I am not ill," she sobbed, "but I can bear this no longer: send +me away—let me go back to my father's house—I will not remain under +the same roof with her."</p> + +<p>"With whom?" asked Sir William; "what means this agitation, little one?"</p> + +<p>"With this Mistress Stafford; I will not live another day in the same +house with her—I believe that she is a witch."</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris suddenly unclasped the wild girl from his embrace, and +held her at arm's length, with horror in his face. The other listeners +started at her passionate utterance of a word which had already grown so +terrible throughout New England. Sir William spoke first; but even his +usually firm voice was husky.</p> + +<p>"What has she done, my daughter, that you should speak thus?"</p> + +<p>"She has made me wretched; nobody loves me, nobody cares for me now, and +it is all her work!"</p> + +<p>"Shame, child, shame!" expostulated Lady Phipps.</p> + +<p>"Where is Mistress Stafford now?"</p> + +<p>"Where?" exclaimed Elizabeth, with increased violence; "go into the +garden, and you will find her seated by Master Norman, looking into his +face with her wicked eyes, and charming him with her serpent tongue."</p> + +<p>"Is this true?" cried Sir William; "girl, is this true? Why did you +leave them?"</p> + +<p>"She fainted after you came in, and he blamed me harshly; then I left +them—it is a full half hour since, and they are together still."</p> + +<p>The girl threw herself out of her father's arms and clung to Lady +Phipps, with a new burst of weeping that her friend strove in vain to +check. Sir William strode into the passage, and called in a voice which +penetrated like a trumpet through the whole mansion—</p> + +<p>"Norman Lovel! Norman Lovel!"</p> + +<p>The youth heard the summons as he was following Barbara Stafford down +the steps, and startled by its sternness hastened into the house. The +governor met him in the hall, and seizing his hand drew him into the +apartment where the weeping Elizabeth still clung to Lady Phipps.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of this?" he said, sternly; "what have you done to +this poor child, Norman Lovel?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, sir; I have not seen her for some time. Mistress Stafford +fainted, Elizabeth came in for some water, and did not return."</p> + +<p>"How long ago was that?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen minutes, mayhap."</p> + +<p>"You see," whispered Lady Phipps; "he has lost all note of time. +William, it frightens me—what can be done?"</p> + +<p>"Are you angered with this maiden, Norman?" pursued Sir William.</p> + +<p>"Angered—with Bessie?" repeated the young man; "how can you think it? +She knows that I am not."</p> + +<p>He took her hand and pressed it to his lips with earnest affection; Lady +Phipps gently unlocked the young girl's arm from her neck, placed both +hands in Norman's, and left the startled pair standing side by side, in +front of the old man, who stood in the midst of the scene lost in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>A gleam of joy came back to Elizabeth's face, and she stood half +terrified, half abashed, like a fawn ready to flee at the slightest +sound. She cast one shy glance at her father from under the silken +lashes that instantly drooped to her hot cheeks, and then drew away from +her lover, ashamed of her own exquisite happiness.</p> + +<p>"Let no new trouble come between your hearts," said Sir William, +solemnly. Then turning to Samuel Parris, he added with deep feeling—</p> + +<p>"My dear old friend, these two persons love each other deeply, truly, I +think; as you and I have loved before this. Need I ask you to bless an +attachment which has every promise of happiness?"</p> + +<p>"But she is a child. My Elizabeth is a babe as yet. It was but yesterday +that she sat on my knee learning her alphabet. Why talk of love between +any one and a young creature like that? It is sacrilege; cruel, cruel. I +have not deserved this at your hands, William Phipps!"</p> + +<p>"Nay," answered the governor, deeply moved, but firm in his own idea; +"her mother was but one little year older than Elizabeth when she became +your wife."</p> + +<p>"What! what!" cried the old man, looking upon his child with a sort of +terror. "Has the babe advanced so close upon her womanhood? She loves +another, and the old man will be left alone. God help us all, for this +is a heavy blow."</p> + +<p>"Nay, my friend," urged the governor. "The young man is well worthy of +any maiden's love. Be content that I regard him almost as my own son. It +is but gaining another child, Samuel Parris; a son who will support the +declining years of your life with his strong arm."</p> + +<p>Parris cast a long, half-reluctant look at the young man, who met his +scrutiny with a frank, honest return, that half drove the look of dismay +from that anxious old face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, are you angry with us?" pleaded Elizabeth, creeping to the +minister's side.</p> + +<p>"Angry! and with thee, Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"Nor with him? Oh, father, if you are angry with him it will break my +heart!"</p> + +<p>"Break <i>thy</i> heart, child! What! another? No, no; I have seen hearts +break before now, and it was I that did it—I, a minister of God's +merciful religion. Love the young man, girl; love him heart and soul. I +will make no protest—give no sign."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth, smiling through the vague terror produced by the old man's +emotion, drew back to Lovel's side. Parris looked at them with a +strange, bewildered air.</p> + +<p>"They are waiting for something," he said, looking wistfully at Sir +William. "Is it the old man's blessing? I must not withhold it, you say. +They are young and fair, and love each other dearly. Ah, me! what +anguish may lie buried in that word love! Yes, I will bless them. God +helping me, I will bless them. Kneel down, young man—kneel, Elizabeth. +When human hearts are consecrated to each other, it is a sacrament of +which marriage is but the seal. Norman Lovel, take her hand—and God so +deal with you as you deal with my child—Elizabeth—" Here the old man's +voice filled with tears. He struggled a moment, fell upon his knees +before the young couple, bowed his head earthward, and covering his face +with both hands cried like a child.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps went up to the minister, and bent over him, +whispering words in his ear which no one else heard. After a little, +Parris arose from his knees, laid two trembling hands on those young +heads, and spoke to them with such gentle and loving pathos that even +Lady Phipps wept. There was silence in the room for some moments after +the young people arose to their feet. That solemn benediction had +impressed all present too profoundly for the prompt reaction which is +possible to lighter feelings. But, after a little, Lady Phipps spoke, +smiling through the tears that still lingered pleasantly in her eyes. +"Now, Elizabeth, I fancy you will be able to meet our guest with some +placidity," she said, kissing the now pale cheek of the almost bride. +"Oh, that little, jealous heart, it beats to another tune now. Sweet +one, God's blessing be with you, and make you happy as I am." With the +quick impulse of a warm-hearted woman the lady began to sob again. It +was but the dying out of an excitement which best exhausted itself in +such April weeping as a heart unknown to sorrow loves to indulge in. But +Sir William always linked tears with grief. As he heard the tender sobs +rising in her bosom, he reached out his arm and drew her close to him, +soothing her with caresses.</p> + +<p>While they stood thus, a white face appeared at the window which opened +into the garden, and, unregarded, a pair of wild eyes followed each +movement of the features so touchingly grouped together.</p> + +<p>Wandering like an unquiet-spirit through the garden, Barbara Stafford +had fallen suddenly upon the scene. She saw it all: the young people +upon their knees; the old man drooping before them; and Sir William +Phipps stooping down to caress his wife.</p> + +<p>She drew the scarf, which was trailing to the ground, closely around +her, and fleeing through the garden walks like one in fear of pursuit, +disappeared in the darkness of the street beyond.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>THE DEATH FIRE.</h3> + + +<p>The house of Samuel Parris, the minister of the church of Salem, stood +in a solitary place, a little out of the village, which lay between it +and the sea, whose interminable beat could be heard throbbing like a +pulse along the beach.</p> + +<p>When every thing was still, and the hum of insects asleep in the forest, +which, boundless as the blue ocean, stretched in an opposite direction, +dark and teeming with mysterious shadows, the repose was almost +appalling. Then, especially, the sweep of these waves, coming with +distinctness to the minister's house, and blending with the shiver of +the forest leaves, and the cry of such birds as sing to the darkness, +rendered the night-time one of peculiar mournfulness in that +out-of-the-way dwelling.</p> + +<p>But the young girl who sat in the little family-room, late one quiet +evening, had learned to love the dark hours, and so listened to the +mighty and interminable throb of those waves with strange sympathy. The +dull tick of an old oak clock, whose coffin-like frame was heavy with +carvings, seemed answering the eternal anthem with its small noise, like +a human voice striving to answer the hymns of universal nature; and the +petty sound irritated her nerves, while the everlasting sweep, afar off, +made her heart swell and her eye kindle.</p> + +<p>As Abigail Williams sat thus restlessly listening, Tituba, the old +Indian woman, came into the room, and sat down on the floor at her feet. +The woman did not speak, but lifted her face, wrinkled like a dried +plum, to that of the young girl, and waited to be addressed. The large, +earnest eyes of Abby Williams looked down upon the Indian.</p> + +<p>"It is late, Tituba," she said, "the clock has struck eleven, and no +sign of his coming!"</p> + +<p>"He will be here—Wahpee would have been home long ago, if any thing had +kept the young chief away. Are you sleepy, Abigail?"</p> + +<p>"Sleepy! no. I shall never be sleepy again. The knowledge of who I am, +and what they are in whose bosom I have slept all my life, keeps rest +away from me—I know well how Judas felt when he sold his Lord."</p> + +<p>Tituba shook her head. She had no Bible, and could not be made to +comprehend what one meant, though she had lived with the minister at +Salem since Abigail was an infant. Hers was a wilder and more romantic +religion—the Manitou of the Indians was her God, and she read his word +in the leaves of the forest and the rush of the mountain stream. With +her, treachery to the whites was faith to the Indian. Had Judas betrayed +his enemy, she would have considered him a hero: but to betray his +Master—old Tituba could not have understood that!</p> + +<p>"You look like her now," whispered the woman, folding her hands over her +knees, and rocking back and forth on the floor, as she always did when +about to talk of the past.</p> + +<p>"My mother—do I look like her?" said Abigail.</p> + +<p>"About the eyes, when there is trouble in them; but hers were blue, like +a periwinkle in the morning, while yours are darker, and change so."</p> + +<p>"And her—that other woman—that grand, sweet-spoken woman, whose spirit +will not rest—Anna Hutchinson—my grandmother? Have you seen her, +Tituba?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, when the warriors brought her into the forest for sacrifice. I was +there. I watched the women, while they gathered pitch pine-knots, and +scattered turpentine over the wood which the braves heaped on her death +fire!"</p> + +<p>"Did they torture her?"</p> + +<p>"No. The wood was piled high; the Pequod women had brought heaps of +pitch pine; the warriors, who held her and her little ones, came +forward, ready to throw them on the flames together; they only waited +for the chief!"</p> + +<p>"And she stood ready for this terrible death?" broke in Abigail. "Was +she brave, or was it only in speech that she proved valiant?"</p> + +<p>"Brave! The warriors grew proud of their victim, she looked death so +grandly in the face. The chief came, and his eye flamed brightly when he +saw her. She was worthy of the death fire kindled in his honor."</p> + +<p>"And he, a king, stood by and saw this brave woman tortured?"</p> + +<p>"Why, would you have them offer a meaner victim before the sachem?"</p> + +<p>"It was a fearful cruelty," said Abigail, shuddering.</p> + +<p>"She was brave for herself, but not for her children," continued Tituba. +"When her little ones clung around her, holding to her garments, pale +and terror-struck, she flung up her arms, and called aloud for some one +to take them away and save them from torture. She asked the warriors to +think of all their powers, and heap the pain on her; she would bear +every thing; they might be days killing her; only take her children +away, and keep them out of sight and hearing, while she died!"</p> + +<p>"And did no one take compassion on her—even those fiends incarnate?"</p> + +<p>"The same blood that burned in their veins beats in yours," answered the +Indian woman, severely. "Who took compassion on her, when she was tied +to a cart and whipped by constables from village to village, like a +vicious hound? Ask yourself if the death fire was not mercy compared to +that! The warriors knew how to respect her courage; but her own people +mocked her shame while they tortured her."</p> + +<p>"Both were horrible. But her little children? My mother was one of those +helpless creatures!"</p> + +<p>"There was a law in our tribe, maiden, by which a bereaved mother might +adopt a captive, if she wished, in place of the child she had buried. By +the side of the sachem stood a woman, who had lost a child, bright as +the May blossom; and her heart was heavy with grief when she saw a +little girl, with hair like sunbeams, clinging to that wretched woman, +with its eyes, large like those of a young fawn, turned on the fire. +Maiden, Manitou sometimes sends the soul of a dead child home again in +another form, when its mother's heart is breaking. The woman knew that +her child had wandered back from the great hunting-ground, with its hair +turned golden, and its eyes blue like the sky in summer. So she went to +the chief with many words, and asked for her child. The same mother bore +the Pequod sachem and the woman who claimed the little girl, so he gave +her leave to take, not only the golden-haired child, but both Anna +Hutchinson's children; for the other was a brave girl, who stood between +her little sister and the flames, till her hands and clothes were +scorched by them."</p> + +<p>"And the Indian woman took them both?"</p> + +<p>"They would not be torn apart. When Anna Hutchinson saw this, she +beckoned the Indian woman, and besought her to take the two sisters deep +into the forest, away from the sound of her death cries. The sight of +that little child made the woman's heart soft. She could have cried, but +that the females of her race are ashamed of tears. When your grandmother +saw this, she stooped and whispered, 'Take them away, and you shall fire +the pile; you shall kill me with your own hands, and feast on my agony +if it will please you.'</p> + +<p>"So the Pequod woman took the two children, one a young girl, the other +a little thing so high, and led them away to her own lodge. When she +went back to the death fire it was flaming high. The warriors had drawn +close around it; the trees above were heavy with smoke, and crisping in +the hot wind. Anna Hutchinson was chained to the death pyre. Her arms +were tied with thongs of bark, and her hair, thick with silver threads, +shone gloomily in the death light; for the flames had already seized +upon her garments and were creeping up the folds, hissing as they went. +She stood firm, looking toward the path where her little ones had +disappeared. When the woman came back she called out, with a great sob, +'My children, my children!'</p> + +<p>"'They are safe in my lodge,' answered the Pequod woman.</p> + +<p>"Then the warriors saw a smile break over Anna Hutchinson's face, which +rested there till the flames surged up and veiled her form in a cloud of +fire.</p> + +<p>"Then the smoke rose blackly, and hot flashes of fire writhed in and out +like serpents in torment. A great gust of wind rushed through the forest +boughs and, sweeping the smoke away, drove the slumbering flames into +fury. Then an awful cry broke from that poor woman. The thongs that +bound her wrists snapped asunder—her arms were flung wildly outward +through the hot flames and surging smoke, and her cry burst into words +of awful entreaty that some one would be merciful and kill her.</p> + +<p>"The Pequod woman had a soft heart. That cry ran through her like an +arrow. She could not bear to see the woman who had brought back her +child from the great hunting-ground, more beautiful than ever, writhing +in the hot fire which hissed, and leaped, and clung around her like +fiery snakes. The Indian woman took an arrow from her quiver, and aimed +at the white bosom that the flames were licking with a thousand hot +tongues. The arrow lost itself in the death fire, missing its aim. Then +the Indian woman took the tomahawk from her belt and poised it. Blinded +with smoke and mad with pain, Anna Hutchinson saw the act, and struggled +fiercely to step forth and meet the blow. But the thongs that bound her +to the stake were green and defied the flames. So with one bound the +Indian woman sprang into the fire and cleft that broad, white forehead +open with her tomahawk."</p> + +<p>"It was a brave, a kind act," cried Abby, while the tears that had stood +in her eyes, flashed downward like broken diamonds. "And was this the +woman who died uttering curses, and denouncing her persecutors—whose +terrible maledictions cling to my own life? Tituba, tell me! Did you +hear Anna Hutchinson's curse come out from those death flames?"</p> + +<p>"No, maiden—that was wrung from her when her family were butchered at +Aquiday, to which place she had been driven by the people of Boston. +Then she grew mad, and words fell from her lips like hot coals; for the +sight of her mangled children made her a prophetess; but afterward, at +the stake, when the two youngest of her children were safe, she broke +into smiles amid the flames."</p> + +<p>The old woman spoke in the Indian language, and her narrative took a +depth and force which no modern tongue can reach. Abby Williams sat +trembling under the influence of the fearful picture she had drawn, for +the blood of Anna Hutchinson beat loud in her heart.</p> + +<p>"And the Pequod woman—where did she go with the children?"</p> + +<p>"She took them to her lodge, and loved them both as her own children. +But when her tribe was broken up, and Uncas dead, she wandered with them +among such fragments of the Pequods as still dwelt in the old +hunting-grounds. But the elder maiden never took kindly to the woods; +her heart turned to her mother's people; and she pined for a sight of +them. The Indian woman had a soft heart; so she came with the maiden and +her little sister to the sea-shore, to find a home for them among the +whites."</p> + +<p>"Ah me! I know it all," cried Abby. "They came here into this very town. +She, my mother, was forced into the wilderness, as her mother had been, +driven with the constable's scourge. She was found almost dying in the +woods by King Philip, who made her his wife. I know how he fought and +died, leaving that woman a widow with two children. One, a noble boy, +was sold into slavery, under the hot sun of Bermuda, from which he was +rescued to be a fugitive and an outcast in the woods where his father +once reigned. The other was brought by the dying widow to this dwelling, +and left with the golden-haired daughter of Anna Hutchinson, who had +become the wife of her sister's judge, Samuel Parris. The fair +minister's wife, and King Philip's widow, met in this very room. The +widow was dying from exposure, grief, and starvation; and fled to find +shelter for her child before she joined her husband. From her cold lips +the minister's wife heard, for the first time, that she was Anna +Hutchinson's child; that her only sister had been scourged by the orders +of her husband. The truth killed her. That night her child, Elizabeth +Parris, was born. Two days after, King Philip's widow and the minister's +wife were laid in the burying-ground back of that meeting-house. The two +children were left together, and grew up lovingly, as sisters should, +till all the mournful details of this story were told to King Philip's +daughter by her fugitive brother, the Bermuda slave.</p> + +<p>"You see I have forgotten nothing of this terrible story; how could I? +it is graven on my heart, and every mark has left a wound. But let me +tell you more, old woman; more of the poor forest-girl your love has +tended so long. When this story first reached her ear, she stood by the +double grave of these two sisters, and learned how they had been +wronged. Then all the sweet love of her nature was turned to gall; she +dreaded the sight of that fair being who had slept with her in the same +trundle-bed, who had been her second life. She trembled with constant +fear that her heart would fall back to its old love again. The sight of +these rude walls reminded her no longer of domestic peace, but of her +mother's wrongs. She was embittered by her grandmother's curse. Oh, +Tituba, Tituba, this fearful thing have I become, I, Abigail Williams!"</p> + +<p>"No, not Abigail Williams. That name was given in the meeting-house, out +there, and does not belong to King Philip's daughter. He called her +Mahaska."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Abby; and her head fell forward upon her bosom in deep +despondency; "that is my name; it is burned upon my heart! All the +waters of the ocean would not wash it out."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>TITUBA'S STORY CONTINUED.</h3> + + +<p>Abigail looked up again, after a little, with something of animation.</p> + +<p>"But the Pequod Indian—what became of her? If the saviour of my mother +is alive, I must see her!"</p> + +<p>Tituba cowered down to the floor again, and clasped both hands over her +knees, as she answered:</p> + +<p>"She could not help it. They tore the two children apart. One was driven +into the forest; the other was carried into the meeting-house, and +baptized with a new name, by the very hands that had driven her sister +to the woods. In this golden-haired child, the soul of her own offspring +had entered. How could she leave it to follow the other? Were not the +wolves and panthers more merciful than the men who kept her little one?</p> + +<p>"The Indian woman went into the edge of the woods, and built herself a +bark wigwam; she gathered shells from the beach and strung them into +wampum, which was money, as gold is now. She gathered willows from the +brook, and made baskets which she carried on her back to the village, +thus gaining a sight of the little one. Sometimes she would go into the +meeting-house, that she might catch a glimpse of the beautiful girl who +was possessed of her own child's soul, from the dark corner where these +godly people allowed the Indians and negroes to creep and watch them as +they worshipped God. They saw the Indian woman come Sunday after Sunday +with her sorrowful face; so in time they began to regard her as a +praying Indian, and one who might attain the salvation of her heathen +soul, by looking at them from afar off. She was a harmless, humble +creature, who asked but to follow the steps of the child she loved so +much, without making it known that the little girl was any thing to her; +like a dog they let her pass from dwelling to dwelling on week days, and +in the meeting-house on Sundays, without hindrance. Sometimes she got a +chance to speak to her child, to give her a bit of wampum, or a tiny +basket to pick whortleberries in; and this was all the happiness she +asked.</p> + +<p>"One Sunday the Indian woman went into the meeting-house as usual. From +her dark corner she peered out, looking for her child in the old place. +The girl was not there, but down, close by the pulpit, she found her +clothed in white, like a spirit from the far hunting-grounds. By her +side was the minister, Samuel Parris, the man who had sat in judgment on +her sister. Another minister preached in the pulpit; the people looked +around restlessly, during the long sermon, and when it closed there was +a rustling of dresses all over the house, like the stir of leaves in the +forest.</p> + +<p>"The Indian woman turned cold in her seat. For a little time she could +not see; but when her eyes grew clear, her child, her beautiful child, +whom she had worshipped afar off like a slave, that child stood in her +white garments before the communion-table, with her hand in that of the +old minister; and before them stood the man who had come down from the +pulpit, muttering words that could not reach the dark corner where the +poor Indian stood. But she knew that they were giving the young +girl—her child—to that stern old man for his wife. Filled with horror, +she strove to cry out and protest against it; but the tongue clove to +the roof of her mouth, and she was dumb. When she struggled to get down +from her high place in the gallery, and make her way to the pulpit, the +beadle stopped her rudely. 'Indians were not permitted,' he said, 'to +enter there.'</p> + +<p>"While this poor Indian was struggling to pass him, the meeting broke +up. The crowd came down the aisles, almost sweeping her away; but she +stood firm, till that old man came forward, leading her child by the +hand. His bride saw the Indian mother, of whom she had but a knowledge +of vague kindnesses, and smiled softly as she drew near. Then the poor +creature knew that it was too late; that her white enemies had bound the +young one to them forever. So she forgot her own people, and followed +the old man and his bride sorrowfully home to his house. There was no +servant in the kitchen. She crept in through the back door and went to +work. Her heart was full of bitterness and love: hate for him, love for +her, the gentle one, who came in her meek beauty and settled down like a +dove in his home.</p> + +<p>"At first the Indian watched for an opportunity to tell the young wife +that she had married the son of her mother's persecutor; that the father +of Parris had been one of Anna Hutchinson's judges; and that he, her +bridegroom, had been among the worst enemies of her own noble sister; +but when she saw the young wife settling down in her new home, so serene +and contented, the Indian's heart failed her, and she drudged on from +day to day, putting the cruel duty off, till at last one night—"</p> + +<p>Abby, who had been greatly excited during this recital, suddenly threw +out her hand, laying it heavily on the old woman's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of that. I cannot bear to hear in words what is in my own +remembrance like a vague, wild dream. Enough! My mother died in that +chair; her sister, Elizabeth Parris, expired the next day, with a +new-born infant slumbering in her arms. That infant is my cousin +Elizabeth. The meek, old man, whose heart began to break that night, was +my mother's cruel, cruel judge. But the Indian woman—what became of +her?"</p> + +<p>The old woman folded her arms more tightly about her knees, and looked +up with the glance of a faithful dog.</p> + +<p>"Her children were dead, but their little ones had no mother, so she +stayed in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>"And died there?"</p> + +<p>"Is Tituba dead that you ask this question of her?"</p> + +<p>Abby stooped down, trembling all over, and drew the old woman up to her +bosom. She kissed her withered face and her swarthy hands, with a burst +of passionate feeling.</p> + +<p>"And is it so? God forgive me that I did not guess this before! And you +have been our slave, our drudge! The meanest work of the house has +always been put upon Tituba—poor old Tituba, who saved our mothers from +the flames, who followed us from wilderness to settlement, who left her +own people for our sakes. And you are so old too! How many years, +Tituba, has it taken to make this hair so gray?"</p> + +<p>"Tituba is almost a hundred years old; but she can see like a +night-hawk, and hear like a fox. When her children want help, they will +find her thought keen and her feet swift!"</p> + +<p>"But you shall work no more. I will save you from drudgery at least."</p> + +<p>"No, no. Let Tituba alone. She is used to it. Work—work—work. What +would Tituba be without work? Let her plod on in the old way, Mahaska. +The tree thrives best in its own soil. Dig honeysuckles and wild +strawberries from the wood—plant them in your garden, and they grow. +But when an old hemlock begins to die like this, let it stand—stir not +the earth about its roots."</p> + +<p>The old woman touched her gray hair as she spoke, and drooped into her +old position. Abby sat looking at her in tender astonishment. She could +understand the great love which had brought that noble savage from the +wilderness to be a drudge in her uncle's kitchen; it exalted the old, +withered creature at her feet into a heroine.</p> + +<p>"And for our sakes you gave up your people, your free life, all that +makes the happiness of a forest child; and came here to be a slave!"</p> + +<p>"Tituba only followed her child!" was the simple answer.</p> + +<p>"But Elizabeth Parris knew nothing of all this! To her you are only—"</p> + +<p>Abby broke off, for she felt that the truths she was about to speak were +cruel.</p> + +<p>"I am only old Tituba to her, but she is all the world to me."</p> + +<p>"And yet you hate her father—her stern, kind-hearted father, for that +the minister is."</p> + +<p>"He was your mother's judge before he became her father!"</p> + +<p>"And she is the grandchild of Anna Hutchinson, equally with myself!" +said Abigail, musing.</p> + +<p>"But not the child of King Philip. Not the sister of the last chief of +the Wampanoags, who now wanders like a wild beast through the lands his +people once owned. She, my golden-haired child, is not the one who must +avenge her grandmother's wrongs. From the beginning, she and her mother +were like singing birds to be fed and cared for. You and your mother +were eagles, with strength to swoop on their enemies and your own. +Elizabeth must never know the events that are making your face so dark."</p> + +<p>"But why, why is the sunshine all for her, the darkness for me?" +answered Abigail, with sorrowful bitterness.</p> + +<p>The old woman began to weave her hands together, and rock to and fro +with a troubled look.</p> + +<p>"The eagle soars; the mocking-bird sings. One seeks her nest in the +leaves, the other sits on the crags."</p> + +<p>"The bleak, bare crags for me—flowery hollows for her," said Abigail, +despondingly. "It was so with our mothers; it must be so with us."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, the outer door of the house opened, and Wahpee, an old +Indian, who, like Tituba, had been for years a hanger-on of the +minister's kitchen, entered the sitting-room. He had been absent some +days, and it was in expectation of his return that the young girl and +Tituba were sitting up so late.</p> + +<p>The Indian seemed tired with travel. His dress of homespun linen was +torn in places, and the rents pinned up with thorns just plucked from +their trees. The lank hair was moist, and a rain of perspiration +glistened on his tawny forehead. Abby rose from her seat, and went +eagerly toward him.</p> + +<p>"Wahpee—Wahpee, have you seen him?—where is he now? Have any number of +his people joined him yet?"</p> + +<p>Wahpee shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Ask Wahpee nothing; he has no words. Give him bread and dried-beef. The +Wampanoags planted no corn, and they have no muskets to shoot down the +deer that look in their eyes without moving as they file one by one +through the woods. Even the young fawns grow bold, now that the warriors +have given up their guns."</p> + +<p>"And is he near and hungry?" cried Abby, hastening to the kitchen, where +old Tituba was dragging forth bread from a huge oven, in which it had +been left after the week's baking; and crowding loaf after loaf into a +flour sack, she helped to lift it on Wahpee's back.</p> + +<p>Both Abigail Williams and Tituba would have followed the old Indian into +the forest; but he curtly ordered them back, and went on himself, +carrying the bag of bread. They stole after him at a distance, +notwithstanding his interdict, till they came to the meeting-house. Here +they paused. The shadows upon the brink of the woods were black as +death; and as the old man entered them he was lost in an instant.</p> + +<p>"Let us wait," said Tituba, "they will come out together. Metacomet will +come to his mother's grave; and then we shall know what he is doing."</p> + +<p>Abigail went silently after the old woman, and sat down on a flat stone, +half buried in moss and ferns, at the foot of a huge pine tree, which +sheltered two graves. There she seemed covered by a vast pall, the +shadows fell so heavily upon her.</p> + +<p>Tituba dropped down at Abby's feet, and gathering her limbs together, +began a low chant, that mingled in the shiver of the pine leaves with +inexpressible mournfulness.</p> + +<p>Abby leaned her head against the trunk of the pine and listened. Strange +to say, that chant, instead of depressing, kindled her spirit. She never +came to that spot, and heard the mysterious whispering of the leaves, +without a wish for action, an unaccountable desire to plunge into the +wilderness and remain there forever. Only one week before, she had +wandered to the same spot, and there, for the first time, learned from +his own lips that she had a brother; that the blood of King Philip +mingled with that of Anna Hutchinson, the martyr, in her veins; and that +on both sides the most terrible wrongs had been done to her ancestors by +the very people with whom she had unconsciously worshipped; nay! by the +man whose roof had given her a loving shelter, from the cradle up.</p> + +<p>On that spot she had seen her kingly brother, in all the grandeur of a +noble presence inherited from his father, blended with the softened +grace of a mother, whose pure white blood softened the eagle glances of +his eyes and gave a glow to his face, kindling that which would +otherwise have been saturnine into the poetry of an ever changing +expression.</p> + +<p>The slave chief had been rescued from his chains in Bermuda; and after +wandering over many countries, studying things that were far beyond the +grasp of a mere savage, had come back to his native forests, to gather +up the fragments of his people, and win back their rights, or avenge +their wrongs. Night after night he had waited by those graves, under the +pine tree, hoping that his sister would come and meet him.</p> + +<p>She came at last, a thoughtful, innocent girl. The gentle romance of +affection, for there could be little more in a child who remembered her +mother only as she thought of her in dreams, led her to the edge of the +wilderness. She went away again, wounded by a terrible knowledge—a +sybil in her imagination, the pledged avenger of her mother's wrongs, +and of her father's and her grandmother's murder.</p> + +<p>Thus the son and daughter of King Philip had met, for the first time +since their childhood. The boy knew that he still possessed a sister, +and this thought inspired him to greater struggles. Then Abby Williams +learned, from her brother's own lips, how it chanced that her brow was +darker than the sunny forehead of her cousin Elizabeth; that wrong and +death had scattered her family abroad, leaving her a dependent, where +she should have been an avenger.</p> + +<p>All that week the hopeless girl brooded on the terrors of her birth, and +the wrongs her family had suffered; her days were one long, vague +dream—her nights restless with tossing thought. Never again would she +know what tranquil peace was under that roof! A journey of fifteen miles +only separated her from her uncle Parris and Elizabeth, so far as space +was concerned; but there was no means of measuring the interminable +distance that had grown up between their souls and hers in one single +week.</p> + +<p>That night she had again spoken of her parents, and expected to see her +brother. During the hours that she waited, old Tituba had crept to her +feet, with new revelations and more startling surprises. The young girl +listened, seated in the very chair that had been her mother's +death-couch. She was a creature of sensitive feeling and keen +imagination, a thoughtful, ardent girl, to whom such knowledge came like +fire to steel, melting and hardening at the same time.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>AMONG THE SHADOWS.</h3> + + +<p>Now Abigail Williams sat waiting for her brother, in vague expectation, +for Wahpee had given no account of his chief's movements, and Abby could +only listen for the sound of his footsteps on the forest turf.</p> + +<p>All at once, as her eyes wandered toward the woods, she heard a +movement, but not in that direction. The meeting-house stood close on +the verge of the forest, and the arched window, back of its pulpit, was +almost touched by the swinging tree-branches. Between them and the +building Abby saw a human figure moving swiftly through the gloom.</p> + +<p>"Tituba, Tituba—look up," she whispered, hushing her very breath, for +the figure came out into the starlight, and glided toward them like a +ghost.</p> + +<p>Tituba lifted her face, and held the chant trembling on her lips; they +were both in the deep darkness of the pines; but the woman who came +forward had the starlight on her face.</p> + +<p>"Is it—is it my mother?" whispered Abby, prompt to believe any thing +strange in the excitement of the moment. "See how sad, how beautiful she +is."</p> + +<p>Tituba pressed back against her young mistress, striving to bury herself +more deeply in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Is it my mother—or the one you loved so much?"</p> + +<p>Tituba drew a long breath, but did not answer; for the figure came close +up to the two graves, and stooping down, tried to make out the +moss-grown letters on the stone, tracing the outline with her +fore-finger when the light proved insufficient.</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>The word died on Abby's lips, and was carried off in the whisper of the +pine leaves.</p> + +<p>Tituba lifted her hand, grasping that in Abby's lap with a warning +force.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth—yes! it is Elizabeth—Elizabeth Pa-r-ris! The moss chokes up +the name, but it is here. Poor girl—poor young wife!" murmured a low, +sweet voice from out of the shadows. "And this grave, so close, with the +vines creeping over both. Who can this be? Elizabeth Parris was an +orphan, a beautiful charity child of the church—who can be lying so +close?"</p> + +<p>The woman knelt down, as she uttered these disjointed words, and touched +the foliage on the two graves lightly with her hands.</p> + +<p>"Here it was they buried the old man's heart. I almost feel the blossoms +springing out of it!" murmured the voice. "Oh, if there were only a +place for another here—surely this spot would be quiet and roomy enough +for us all!"</p> + +<p>The strange woman took a ribbon slowly from her waist, as she spoke, and +held it in the starlight.</p> + +<p>"I have but to tighten this about my throat, and lie down—a pang or +two—a struggle, and when the light drives these shadows back into the +woods, some one would find me here—in charity they would dig through +the turf a little, and lay me down by sweet Elizabeth Parris. Who would +know of it? Who, on the broad earth, would care? It would only be a +poor, lone woman, dropping into death before her time—a wanderer, worn +out with travel through a weary, weary world, who asked only to lie down +and be still."</p> + +<p>The tender sadness of these words—the despondency in that face, touched +Abby Williams to the heart. She was about to rise, but Tituba held her +back.</p> + +<p>The woman's hand dropped, trailing the ribbon on the grass. She seemed +to fall into thought. Her eyes were uplifted towards the stars, and with +solemn mournfulness she spoke again:</p> + +<p>"A little while, and this soul would be yonder, standing before those +bright gates, and asking for that love in heaven which earth has denied; +asking this of God, who has not summoned me, but who will look first on +the crimson mark around my neck. No, no; even death is not mine to +take—I must wander on and on, till God is merciful and calls me!"</p> + +<p>With a slow, weary movement of the hands, she tied the ribbon around her +waist again, and, sitting down on the grave of Elizabeth Parris, folded +her arms, with a gesture of unutterable despondency, as if she were +waiting for the death she dared not take.</p> + +<p>That moment there was a movement in the forest. Abby and the Indian +woman looked that way, but it was only a young fawn, which came leaping +through the brushwood, and basked a moment in the starlight before she +returned to the thicket, from which some stronger animal had frightened +her.</p> + +<p>When Abby looked toward the grave again, nothing was there. The cool, +green leaves twinkled in the starlight, as if no human thing had touched +them. She arose and searched the grass. Not a footprint could be found, +and the open space, which lay between them and the meeting-house, was +vacant. She looked at the Indian woman in vague alarm.</p> + +<p>"Who was this woman? and where has she gone?"</p> + +<p>Tituba shook her head. She was a firm believer in ghosts and witchcraft. +The apparition had filled her with terrible awe. Once before, in her +life, she had seen the same face gleaming before her in the starlight of +a summer's evening; and after that came sore trouble on the household.</p> + +<p>"Was it my mother searching for rest? Will she wander forever and ever, +unless I avenge her?"</p> + +<p>"Come into the house, child, it is near morning: the chief will not be +here to-night."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," cried Abigail, solemnly, "for I must know: was it my mother?"</p> + +<p>"I did not see her face. Something came across my eyes and blinded them; +but she was tall and stately like your mother."</p> + +<p>"She need not come again, I will not falter," said Abigail, with +sorrowful earnestness.</p> + +<p>They went together into the house, full of vague dread. Tituba followed +the young girl up-stairs, and forcing her to lie down, coiled herself up +at the foot of the bed, and lay with her bright, black eyes wide open, +till the morning broke. Then she arose softly, and going down to the +kitchen, began to prepare breakfast. Wahpee had not yet returned from +the woods, and there was no one to provide for but the young girl +up-stairs; but the old woman mixed her corn bread, stamped the pats of +golden butter, and set her rye coffee down to boil in its conical tin +pot, with as much bustle of preparation as if the whole family were to +partake of the meal she was preparing.</p> + +<p>When all was ready, when the round, cherry-wood table was turned down +from its place in a corner of the sitting-room, and drawn up to the +window, through which the sweet summer air came rippling among the wild +roses and bitter-sweet vines, Tituba went up to the room where Abby was +sleeping. It was a singular face upon which the old woman gazed. The +masses of raven hair, the long, inky lashes, and the mouth, so +beautifully red, possessed a rare loveliness, which the agitation of +other features could not altogether destroy. But the forehead was +contracted with a frown, the lips writhed with a troubled expression, +and her billowy hair rippled to and fro on the pillow from the constant +change of position, sought for in her restless sleep.</p> + +<p>"Abby—Abby!" whispered the old woman, "come, wake up; it is most seven +o'clock, and the breakfast all ready."</p> + +<p>Abby turned on the pillow, and her forehead gathered into a heavy frown.</p> + +<p>"Do not call me, mother. Why will you wander on—on—on forever and +ever, so restlessly, as if your child would not keep her oath? Wait a +little, while I look on your face. The wave of your white garments +troubles me. The starlight is dim. I cannot hold you in my look, or +grasp you with my hand—oh—"</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes with a groan, and sat up in bed. The gentle shake +which Tituba had given her seemed to wrench the garments, she had seized +upon in her dreams, rudely from her grasp.</p> + +<p>"Breakfast is ready, child."</p> + +<p>"Breakfast!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, breakfast; warm Johnny cake, and a nice little bit of ham. +Don't think any more about it. If the Great Spirit sends witches, he +knows how to keep 'em under."</p> + +<p>"I will come down," said Abby, wearily, holding one hand to her +forehead.</p> + +<p>"That's a good child—and do try and look a little like old times. What +if the minister and our Lizzy should come back to-day?—who knows?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" cried the young girl, in pale affright. "I am not ready +yet. How can I tell what the woman wants till she speaks to me? If Anna +Hutchinson must be avenged, explain how the evil thing is to be done. +Dear Tituba, tell me truly. You don't expect the minister home to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Why, how can I tell for certain? He ought to have been home weeks ago."</p> + +<p>"Am I changed, Tituba? Hold up the looking-glass, and let me see for +myself."</p> + +<p>Tituba raised the little looking-glass, in its carved cherry-wood frame, +and held it before the girl's face.</p> + +<p>Abby shook her head mournfully.</p> + +<p>"How old I look! What a strange glitter comes and goes in these eyes. It +is the Indian blood, I suppose. That, and the things I have been told, +Tituba. Don't it seem a great deal more than three weeks since the +minister went away?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—yes! I shouldn't wonder if it seems so; but Tituba counts +time from the week when Miss Elizabeth went off to visit Lady Phipps in +her grand, new house at Boston. Oh, it will be like a bird getting back +to its nest when she comes home."</p> + +<p>"A bird getting back to its nest—old Tituba? Well, why not? She will +sleep quietly, and dream sweetly as ever. It is only I—I. Come, old +Tituba, let's go down to breakfast; at least we have twelve hours of day +before us: who knows what another night will bring?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—come to breakfast; it's unhealthy talking on an empty +stomach."</p> + +<p>As they went through the little entry way below stairs, a soft knock +came to the outer door. Abby went forward and sat down at the +breakfast-table, while Tituba lifted the wooden latch and opened the +door.</p> + +<p>A lady stood on the step, wrapped in a scarlet mantle, with the hood +drawn over her face. She was pale, and seemed to have walked a great +distance, for her light boots of foreign make were torn at the sides, +and soiled with moist earth, while the edge of a light gray silk dress, +which fell below her mantle, was frayed and spotted, as if it had been +dragged over wet grass.</p> + +<p>The woman lifted her eyes to Tituba an instant before she spoke; then, +in a voice singularly low and gentle, she inquired if Mr. Parris had +reached home yet.</p> + +<p>Old Tituba replied, with a little unaccountable hesitation, that the +minister had gone to Boston; that he intended to bring Miss Elizabeth +home with him; but that there was no saying, for a certainty, when they +would come.</p> + +<p>"You may expect them within an hour or two," said the stranger, gently, +"so I will step in and wait."</p> + +<p>She glided softly into the hall while speaking, opened the sitting-room +door like one used to the house, and went in.</p> + +<p>Abby had seated herself at the table, but she arose as the stranger +entered, naturally looking that way. The thrill that passed through her +frame amounted almost to a shock. Two contending wishes seized upon her. +She longed to dash through the window and flee; yet was impelled toward +the stranger by a power she could neither understand nor resist.</p> + +<p>With this conflict of the nerves visible on her face, she came forward +and laid her hand in that of the stranger. Again the thrill passed over +her, but as those soft fingers closed upon her hand, this singular +agitation went off in a pleasant shiver, and the two females smiled +sadly on each other, like persons who had met for the first time after +some severe bereavement.</p> + +<p>"Your old servant tells me that the minister is not at home yet," said +the lady, "so I have ventured to come in and wait. Do not let me disturb +you at breakfast though; I will walk toward the meeting-house yonder; it +seems a quaint, old building."</p> + +<p>She turned as if to go, but Abby could not give up the hand in hers +without a feeling of emotion amounting almost to pain.</p> + +<p>"No, lady, stay and take breakfast with me. I am alone, you see; old +Tituba never sits at a table, but eats her meals as she goes about her +work. You look tired, and as if a warm cup of coffee would refresh you. +Take off your mantle and sit down in this chair."</p> + +<p>Abby drew the great oak chair up to the table, and stood with one hand +on the back, waiting for her guest to throw off her mantle. But the lady +only pushed the hood back to her shoulders, revealing a quantity of +splendid hair, that was swept from her white temples in heavy waves. The +face thus exhibited was not young, nor would a common-place observer +have called it beautiful; but it was a grand face, nevertheless, and one +which no great-hearted man or woman could have looked upon without a +glow of enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>She sat down in the oak chair, took the earthen coffee-cup which Abby +had filled for her, and began slowly and wearily to drink the contents. +She broke off a morsel of the corn bread now and then, with the +indifferent air of one whose appetite is forced, but did not fail to say +a few gentle words to her hostess, with that delicate self-abnegation +which makes a well-bred woman forget her own weariness or suffering, at +all times, where the feelings of others are concerned.</p> + +<p>The reaction of a strong excitement was on Abigail. But the fascination +which surrounded this woman was so irresistible that she forgot every +thing but the charm of her presence.</p> + +<p>Old Tituba came in and out of the room, clearing away the breakfast +things as the two females drew back from their meal. At last, eying the +stranger with keen interest, the old woman drew close up to the oak +chair, and, peering over the lady's shoulder, said, in her curt way,</p> + +<p>"You forgot to tell me what your name was when you asked for the +minister."</p> + +<p>"My name," said the lady, with a faint smile. "Yes! I did forget it. My +name is Barbara Stafford."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>THE MORNING RIDE.</h3> + + +<p>An old man and a young girl, followed at a little distance by a staid +looking man-servant, in the gubernatorial livery, all mounted on fine +horses, moved briskly through the forest road that ran between Boston +and Salem, on the morning when Barbara Stafford presented herself at the +minister's house. They had been abroad since the dawn, had watched the +sunrise shed its first gold on the pine tops and budding hemlock +branches, with the exhilaration which springs from a bright day. It was +with difficulty that the young girl could keep from giving her horse the +bit and dashing forward, she was so buoyant with animal life, so gay +with the sweet joy that filled her heart.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris could never do wrong in her father's eyes. When she now +and then gave her horse the rein and dashed under the forest boughs, +scattering the turf with a storm of diamonds as she passed, the old man +could only follow her with an anxious smile, till she wheeled again and +made her steed come dancing toward him on the sward. Then she would join +him, laughing so gayly in her saddle that the very robins sang louder as +they heard her, as if some mocking-bird had challenged them to a musical +rivalry.</p> + +<p>"Look, father, look how beautiful the morning is," she cried, wheeling +her horse around the trunk of a great elm tree, that stood out on the +highway, and caracoling up to his side again; "every footpath which +leads to the forest seems paved with gold, all the branches overhead +quiver again as the dew that wets them begins to burn in the sun. You +are right, father—I feel it in the depths of my heart—you are right in +the pulpit and out, when you tell us to bless God forever and ever, that +he has made us this grand, beautiful world. Oh, I could sing like a +bird, but with a new tune, father; nothing that I have ever learned is +joyous enough for this heavenly morning."</p> + +<p>"Heavenly! my child," said the minister, with a gentle effort at rebuke. +"Remember that the holy place, where our Lord rests, is sacred, and must +not be compared to things of earth."</p> + +<p>"Why not, father? The same God created the heavens and the earth, and +all that in them is. So when every thing here seems like heaven, why not +say so in sweet thankfulness?"</p> + +<p>The minister shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I can't help it!" continued the girl, dashing up to a thicket +where a red-winged black-bird had settled, and frightening the pretty +creature deep into the woods with her impetuous admiration. "It's a +beautiful morning. I'm going home. Every minute brings me nearer—I +shall see cousin Abby. Oh, how her heart will leap for joy when we come +up! and old Tituba, bless the precious old soul, and Wahpee; upon my +word, father, I think, I am sure that is Wahpee yonder, with that young +man in the hunting-frock. Indeed, I'm quite certain it is: he's coming +to meet us perhaps. Wahpee, Wahpee, you blessed old Indian, how are you? +how are they all at home?"</p> + +<p>She rode forward at a gallop, dashing through the shadow, over patches +of sunshine, and calling out for her father not to be afraid, she only +wanted to speak first to dear old Wahpee; but just as she came up to the +spot where he had seemed to be standing, she saw only a young man in a +hunter's frock of dressed deer-skin, with leggins of crimson cloth, and +a cap striped with blue and red velvet, which fell in a point to the +left shoulder, where it terminated in a tassel of silk and glittering +beads. He held a slender gun in his hand, which he planted on the turf +as Elizabeth rode up, leaning upon it with the grace of an Apollo.</p> + +<p>The young girl drew in her horse, and looked around, amazed to find the +young man alone, and expecting to see Wahpee spring out from behind some +bush to frighten her with a whoop, as he had done a hundred times +before.</p> + +<p>But the morning wind, whispering through the woods, was all the sound +she heard. Where was Wahpee? What could have become of him? Surely it +was his form she had seen a moment before standing by that singular man!</p> + +<p>All this passed through her mind while the strange young man was +preparing to move on; but when she saw that he was absolutely alone, the +color mounted hotly to her face, and with a light laugh at herself she +drew her horse on one side, saying, with that exquisite grace which +renders the very boldness of youth sometimes very attractive,</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, sir, for cantering up in this wild way; but in fact I +thought some one was with you whom I love dearly and haven't seen for a +long time; pray tell me, where he is hiding."</p> + +<p>The young man had been regarding her with a half smile. His fine black +eyes sparkled with a sort of mocking merriment, mingled with an +expression of such admiration as kept the blushes warm on the young +girl's face.</p> + +<p>"You have seen the shadow, which a bright morning sun keeps close to my +side, and mistake it for a warrior, I dare say, young lady; for +certainly no one could be more alone than I am."</p> + +<p>He said this in accents so foreign that Elizabeth looked on him with new +interest, wondering greatly from what part of the earth he had come.</p> + +<p>His face was dark, certainly, but more from exposure to the sun than any +thing else, and the cluster of raven hair that fell from under his cap, +waving almost into full curl around his temples, had that purplish bloom +which is so beautiful, but seldom found even when black hair is most +glossy. Who could this man be, with those exquisitely cut features, that +form at once so proud and so wildly graceful, above all with a voice +whose broken sweetness went to the soul at once, even when its words +were imperfectly understood?</p> + +<p>"Was I, indeed, so miserably cheated?" said Elizabeth, at last, striving +to laugh away her confusion. "Well, well, I ain't the first girl, by +many, that has been caught by shadows. Pray forgive me, sir. I have no +excuse but that Wahpee is a dear, old fellow, who carried me pick-a-back +before I could walk; and I haven't seen him for months; besides, I am +half crazy at getting home again. Perhaps you don't know what it is to +return home, after a long absence, and, and—I beg pardon, sir—what +have I said to offend you?" she cried, suddenly, startled by the look +that shot athwart that handsome face.</p> + +<p>"Offend me? Nothing," he answered, with a strange smile.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but I am sure you looked either angry or pained," cried the young +girl, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Shadows again. It was but the waving of that tree bough across my face. +Why should any one feel either anger or pain, because a young lady is +rejoiced to get back to her friends, after a long absence?"</p> + +<p>"Truly—why should they?" replied Elizabeth, drawing her horse slowly +back, beginning to be conscious that this conversation with a total +stranger was a little out of the ordinary course of her strict, social +life. "So, now that there are no more shadows to distract me, I will +ride back and keep near my father."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said the young man, drawing close to her horse, "tell +me—who is your father, and, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, here he is to speak for himself," cried Elizabeth, drawing a deep +breath, for the young man's approach and earnest manner had startled +her.</p> + +<p>The stranger dropped his hand from the neck of her horse, where it had +slightly rested, took up his gun, and with a sharp glance at the +minister, took a footpath which led into the woods.</p> + +<p>"What is this, Elizabeth? My dear child, what does it mean?" cried the +minister, riding up with an anxious face; "a stranger with his hand on +your bridle."</p> + +<p>"No, no, father: only on my horse's neck. He was asking about +you—nothing else—but did you see his face?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, it was a dark, beautiful face. Like those we find in that +book of poems by John Milton, where Lucifer shames all the angels with +the majesty of his presence. Be careful, daughter, how you look on such +faces, save with averted eyes, for they are dangerous to the soul."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, father, his smile—I wish you could have seen that—it was +like—yes, father, as I live, it was like cousin Abby's. I declare this +was why it brought the heart into my mouth—oh, father! if you had only +seen him smile, you would never talk of Lucifer and the angels again. +Who can he be?"</p> + +<p>"Some loitering Indian, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"No, father, no. His hair curls; his eyes are full of fire, not grave +and sullen; he smiles often, and his forehead is white as—yes, as my +cousin's—he is only dressed a little Indian fashion; but I like that +best of all."</p> + +<p>"And you heard him speak—that might have guided you a little. Was his +language prompt and clear?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite: it had a strange accent."</p> + +<p>"Indian?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; but something that made his broken speech sweet as music."</p> + +<p>"Strange, very strange!" muttered the minister, with a heaviness at the +heart which he could not account for. "It is but a man passing like a +shadow across my path, and yet I am saddened by it."</p> + +<p>"Strange," thought Elizabeth, from whom all the surplus life had +departed, leaving her subdued and thoughtful by the minister's +side—"strange! it was but a hunter resting upon his gun; yet I am +terrified by the very beauty of his face. What would Norman Lovel say, I +wonder? What will cousin Abby say? Shall I tell this among the other +wonderful things that have happened during my visit to Lady Phipps's? +Ah, me! if I had never left home, how much happier I might have been! +But then should I have rode so lightly, looked so pretty, or learned to +dance minuets, and dress like a lady? Then would Norman ever have +fancied me but for these things? I hope I shan't be sick of home, and +pining to go back again, the minute I've seen the dear old room and +kissed them all round; that would break poor father's heart. Well, after +all, I should like to know who this stranger is—an Indian indeed—he +looks more like a king."</p> + +<p>But all these thoughts were soon driven out of the young girl's head by +the sight of objects that grew more and more familiar, as they neared +home. Now an orchard, heavy with green fruit, crowded up to the wayside, +where she had gathered harvest apples: then a gnarled old peach tree, +with the moss of age creeping over its trunk, hung over the crook of a +fence, and drooped a healthy limb or two over the turf that lined the +highway on either side. Here was a thicket of blackberry bushes, where +she had torn her dress a hundred times; then came a huge old stump, +whose decay had given birth to clusters of red raspberry vines, which +she had plundered time out of mind. Then came a young elm, bending over +the wayside, from which frost grape-vines fell in garlands, that +fluttered out into the sunshine and challenged the wind at every breath, +its leaves singing, and its clusters of unripe fruit quivering over the +wild flowers that slept dreamily below.</p> + +<p>At last the house came in sight, with its great sheltering trees, its +little square windows, and its rough logs, overrun with honeysuckles and +morning-glory vines, the most picturesque little bird's-nest of a place +you ever set eyes upon. She began to hear the far-off sweep of the sea, +and feel an invigorating saltness in the air, which brought life back to +her with a glow of pleasure in it.</p> + +<p>"Father, father, ride on, ride on—do strike into a canter. Let's have a +run for it. I want wings to get over this little bit of road with. Oh, +father, do strike out of that irritating trot for once!"</p> + +<p>No. Samuel Parris loved his child to dotage, but even she could not +induce him to bring scandal on the church by an undignified movement. +Who ever saw a minister of the Presbyterian church cantering toward home +in front of his own meeting-house door, and in sight of the +burying-ground where he had laid half his parishioners down to sleep? +Notwithstanding all her impatience, the minister kept on at his old +measured pace. With all that he most loved at his side, he felt no haste +to get home which might compare with the breathless eagerness that gave +wings to the heart of his daughter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>BACK TO THE HOMESTEAD.</h3> + + +<p>Elizabeth broke loose at last, and darted off, leaving the man-servant +far behind. Across the greenwood in front of the meeting-house, over +hillocks and between frowning stumps, littered around with new-made +chips, which flew beneath the spurning hoofs of her horse, she rode, her +eyes kindling, and her heart on fire with the joy of a first return +home.</p> + +<p>Up she came to the door-yard fence, cast one eager glance around, +expecting some one to rush forth and welcome her; then, seeing that all +was still, she sprang from her saddle and ran into the house, calling +out,</p> + +<p>"Cousin Abby! Abby Williams, I say, where are you? Don't you know that +I've got home? Abby! Abby!—Tituba! Tituba! Dear me! where has everybody +gone?"</p> + +<p>She stood in the little sitting-room, looking around in breathless +expectation. She ran into the kitchen: old Tituba was there, kindling +the fire.</p> + +<p>"Tituba, mammy dear, dear old mammy!" cried the young girl, springing +forward, dropping upon her knees, and hugging the old woman with all her +might.</p> + +<p>"Oh! did I surprise you, mammy? Caught you napping, ha? How glad I am to +see you, dear, blessed old soul! Why don't you speak? Why don't you kiss +me to death? There, that seems something like. Now, where is cousin +Abby? And how have you all got along without me? And where is the fawn? +I've got a new bell for him—and—and—"</p> + +<p>Here the warm-hearted young creature burst into an April storm of smiles +and tears, while old Tituba untied her stylish bonnet, and took off her +riding-cape with a sort of shy humility, for the entire love of nurse +and child had been broken up, on the old woman's part, by the confidence +which she had reposed in Abby Williams, during the absence of her young +mistress. Somehow the old creature felt as if she had been wronging the +young girl who came back so frankly and kindly to her arms, by her +conversation that night with her cousin.</p> + +<p>"What ails you, mammy Tituba? What on earth makes you look everywhere +except in my face? Indeed you don't seem half glad enough to see me!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, how can the child talk so!" cried the old woman, with a great +effort at self-control. "But with all these fine clothes on, and that +bonnet; dear me, one hardly knows one's own child. Then, my dear, you've +grown so proud and so handsome, it's enough to make an old Indian think +twice before she dares to kiss you, rough and hearty, in the old way."</p> + +<p>"Poh—poh. I'm always the same old penny, brightened up a little, that's +all," said Elizabeth, blushing crimson. "So you think I am +changed—improved a little," she added, glancing down at herself with +graceful vanity. "What will cousin Abby think, I wonder? Oh! there she +is."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth darted forward, and threw her arms around the neck of Abigail +Williams, so blinded by the joy of meeting her old playmate again that +she did not observe the restraint with which all her enthusiasm was met.</p> + +<p>At the time of their first parting, three months before, these two girls +had never possessed an unshared thought; but now the hearts that beat +against each other, in that close embrace, were swelling with secrets +which could never be thoroughly understood. In that little time +childhood had been left behind, and each had learned to tread alone the +path, which, at this point, began, with them, to diverge into the +wilderness of life.</p> + +<p>But the old love would come swelling back, spite of the thoughts that +lay in its channel, like rocks cast into the bed of a stream, which +sparkles all the more from the obstruction.</p> + +<p>"Abby—Elizabeth."</p> + +<p>How different were the voices that uttered these words! Elizabeth's was +loving and brimful of affection; that of Abby Williams answered it +almost with pathos; both wept, one bitterly, the other with quick gushes +of joy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Abby, Abby, I have so much to tell you," cried Elizabeth, blushing +crimson under the tears that trembled on her cheek. "Don't ask me what +it is yet, only wait a little, till we get into the woods together. Come +along, here is father just getting off his horse at the door, with Gov. +Phipps's servant doing the pompous in his new livery. Step into the +entry way, or he will feel disappointed, as I did, at not seeing your +face peeping out through the morning-glory vines."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth felt the heart, which had been beating strongly against her +own, recoil with a sudden shock, as she mentioned her father; and it was +almost by force that she drew her cousin into the doorway in time to +meet the minister, who came through the gate with his usual hesitating +slowness, and held out his hand, gravely smiling as he approached his +niece.</p> + +<p>Her hand shook like an aspen, as she held it out, and the touch was cold +as ice. But the minister simply said,</p> + +<p>"Is any thing ailing you, Abigail?" and passing on, he hung his hat on a +peg in the wall, and placed his riding-whip behind the door.</p> + +<p>With a sudden impulse, Abby drew her cousin out on the stepping-stone, +leaving the passage open.</p> + +<p>"Come, come into the woods," whispered Elizabeth, clasping her cousin +round the waist, and drawing her gently along. "I want to get into the +shadows, where we can talk together."</p> + +<p>Abby drew a deep breath, and hurried on, more eager to leave the house +than her companion; for she was faint from the recoil of her whole +nature against the old man, who had been more than a father to her. +Ready to flee anywhere to avoid the touch of that hand again, she +hurried with her cousin to the woods.</p> + +<p>So the two sped on, across the meeting-house green, by the tomb-stones +rising from the tall grass behind it, and past those twin graves over +which the old trees bent their whispering boughs. Elizabeth would have +turned that way, for the vines were quivering with dew-drops, and the +periwinkles trembled like cerulean stars among them, so deeply did the +shadows lie there almost till noonday. But Abby hurried on, turning her +eyes resolutely from the spot, and almost forcing her cousin into the +gloom of the woods.</p> + +<p>There was a ledge of rocks piled along the side of a ravine, choked up +by dogwood trees, sassafras, and wild honeysuckles, on which the girls +had loved to play from childhood up. A lofty tulip tree sheltered it, +and above that towered a hill-side, clothed with great hemlocks, through +which the sun never penetrated, save in golden gleams that lost +themselves in the topmost boughs. The different ledges of this little +precipice were not only lined, but absolutely piled, with moss, which +lay beautifully thick all around. On one shelf it lay in cushions, green +as emerald, and soft as Genoa velvet; then another species, bright and +feathery as the plumage of a bird, crept over a huge old log that lay in +a parallel line with the edge, embroidering it with green lace-work, +till there was a wild wood sofa erected by this simple freak of nature, +more luxurious than the couch of an empress.</p> + +<p>"See, see, how far the moss has crept since we were here before," cried +Elizabeth, throwing herself on the sofa. "When I went away, that end of +the log was bare; now every inch is green. See, all along the ledge at +our feet, the buckthorn moss has spread into a crisp carpet; and the +wild columbines have grown in a border all around it. Why, Lady Phipps's +drawing-room is not prettier."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Abby, looking vaguely around. "Every thing has grown and +thrives since you went away, Elizabeth; but the place does not look so +beautiful to me, as it did once; the loneliness seems dreary."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, of course; then I was away. But now the woods will be +cheerful as spring time again. Sit down, cousin. Why will you stand +there, tall and still, like a ghost, when the moss fleeces are so soft +and the shadows so cool? It is pleasant as sunset here. One almost gets +sleepy, with the hum of the bees and blue flies. Come, sit close by me: +I feel lonesome without your arm around my neck, cousin Abby."</p> + +<p>Those tones, and that dear old name, brought quick tears into Abigail's +eyes. She drew gently to the side of her cousin, and sat down. As +Elizabeth clasped her waist, the bosom beneath her arm began to heave; +and all at once Abby burst into a great fit of crying: the first +absolute storm of passion that Elizabeth had ever seen her yield to.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Abby dear? What are you crying for? How you +tremble! What have they been doing to you, while I was away? Don't, +pray, don't cry so!"</p> + +<p>Abigail checked her tears as suddenly as they had commenced; and +clasping her hands hard for a single instant, seemed to control her +nerves by stern, mental force.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind me," she said, hoarsely. "I have been alone so much—but you +had something to tell me—about Lady Phipps, perhaps, or the governor; +of course they were delighted to have you with them; come, tell me all +about it; one gets so little real information from letters."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I could not write, at least what I wished to tell you, any more +than I could talk it all over in broad daylight. Besides, one must see a +rainbow to judge how its colors rise out of each other; there is no +describing it; and some things, that one knows and feels, are the same. +The best friend you have must guess at them."</p> + +<p>"What is it you speak of?" questioned Abby, gradually withdrawing +herself from the clasp of her cousin's arm. "I do not understand. In +this visit to Lady Phipps, have you been crushed down with secrets that +must not be talked of? Has the memory of your mother stalked forth like +a curse to haunt you?"</p> + +<p>"The memory of my mother, the young creature who died when I was first +laid in her bosom like a poor little flower broken by a sudden weight of +dew, as I have often heard my father say!—What should there be in the +memory of my mother which you and I cannot talk about?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Abigail, vaguely. "Were we talking of—our mothers? It +is a dreary subject; let us think of something else. God help +us!—something else, Elizabeth—the woods are too lonesome for talk +about the dead. You were about to tell me something."</p> + +<p>"Yes! but I cannot tell it; your voice is so strange! You look afar off, +as if talking to some one in the distance. I can neither catch your +eyes, nor feel the old touch of your hand. Abigail Williams, I am afraid +of you!"</p> + +<p>The low laugh, which broke from Abigail's lips, was mournful as a wail.</p> + +<p>"There it is. I knew it, I expected it: not an hour together, and she +fears me already."</p> + +<p>She turned abruptly, drew close to her cousin's side, and stealing both +arms around her, murmured in a voice of ineffable sadness,</p> + +<p>"Don't, Bessy—dear, dear Bessy, don't be afraid of me. Is it not enough +that I am afraid of myself? Now, tell me what this thing is! So that it +is not about the dead, I can listen and be pleased."</p> + +<p>"About the dead? Why, Abby, how strangely you talk! What have you and I +in common with the dead? The sunshine is not pleasanter than life is to +me since, since—"</p> + +<p>"Since when, Bessie?"</p> + +<p>"Since he loved me."</p> + +<p>A strange sort of wonder crept over Abigail Williams. She looked upon +her cousin with vague apprehension. The word love was a new thing to +her; it had scarcely yet entered into her dreamy life. Elizabeth smiled +at first amid her blushes, but as Abby kept gazing upon her with parted +lips and that wonder in her eyes, her lips began to tremble, and the +warm color ebbed away from her face.</p> + +<p>"I forget," she said, deprecatingly, "you have not heard any thing about +him. I could not write, and even my father knew nothing till he came to +Boston after me. But oh! if you could see him, Abby! If you could hear +him speak; or read his beautiful poetry that he writes; it would not +seem strange that I love him so much."</p> + +<p>"Then you have been treacherous also? You love some one more than me?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, forgive me," pleaded Elizabeth, "I could not help it. We +were in the same house—he was like a son to Lady Phipps."</p> + +<p>"Better than your father, perhaps," continued Abby, pondering over this +new subject in her mind, heedless of the tears and blushes with which +she was regarded. "I have heard of such things, but never expected them +to come so close. So you love some one better than us all, Elizabeth +Parris?"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, dear cousin! Why are you so angry?"</p> + +<p>"Angry? Oh! nothing of the kind. I only wonder how any one can look +forward, when the dead will not rest—how it is the privilege of one +human being to love, and the duty of another to hate!"</p> + +<p>"The duty of another to hate!—why, cousin, there is—there can be no +such duty. God is love, the Bible tells us so; and oh! when the heart is +full of this blessed, blessed feeling, one sees him everywhere. Don't +talk of hate, it is a new word between us two."</p> + +<p>Abigail Williams attempted to smile, but only a quiver of the pale lips +followed the effort. Still she grew more composed, and gently won her +warm-hearted cousin back to bright thoughts again, by a few questions.</p> + +<p>"His name? Oh, yes—his name is Norman—Norman Lovel—he is the private +secretary of Gov. Phipps, who treats him like a son. He lives in the +house, and but for his name you would never believe that he was in no +way related to the governor. Still he is only a stranger, recommended by +some friend in London, and singular enough don't know his own parents. +Never saw them, or anybody that he knew was related to him in his whole +life. But what difference does that make, when everybody else almost +worships him?"</p> + +<p>"And you among the rest?"</p> + +<p>"I most of all," answered Elizabeth, bathed in a glow of crimson, from +the white forehead to the heaving bosom.</p> + +<p>"And this is happiness, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Happiness? That is what seems strange to me, when life is full of glow, +and I can hardly breathe from the rich swell of a heart that seems ready +to break with joy, an exquisite pain creeps in, and I know by it that +happiness can mount no farther!"</p> + +<p>"But there must be a cause for this pain!"</p> + +<p>"A cause? Yes! every thing must have a cause, I dare say, if one could +but find it out. I only know that the joy was perfect till that storm +arose, and the ship came in with a woman on board, who seemed to disturb +every thing she looked upon. Even Lady Phipps never seemed to draw a +deep breath while she was in the house. As for me! Abby, Abby, you don't +know what torment is, till you have given your whole heart to one +person, and see another stealing him away from you!"</p> + +<p>"This," said Abby, who had listened with thoughtful interest, "this is +the feeling they call jealousy, I suppose. Is it so painful?"</p> + +<p>"For a time," answered Elizabeth, turning pale with the very +recollection of her suffering, "it seemed as if I must die. Shame, +anger, a keen fear of losing him, kept me silent. But when I was alone, +with the door shut, and the curtains of my bed drawn close, all this +pride and strength gave way; my brain grew hot; the very breath choked +me as it rose; I could neither sleep nor rest, but walked the room all +night, wondering if she thought of him too, if he were watching the +light in her window, or if both were asleep and dreaming of each other. +Sometimes I saw them in the garden, conversing together with the deepest +interest; sometimes they sat in the great portico till the dark crept +around them like a veil; and all this time I was overlooked and +forgotten. Once in a while Norman would seem to remember me with a +start, and force himself to say a few kind words; but there was neither +depth nor earnestness in what he said: the woman had bewitched him, I am +sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Bewitched? That is a fearful word," said Abby, looking around with a +wild stare, as if the very foundations of her life had been disturbed by +the word her cousin used.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Abby, I solemnly believe she was a witch; for the moment she was +gone all the beauty of my life came back; Norman was himself again; he +seemed to wake up from a dream and wonder what he had been about; at +first, he would not believe how much I suffered, and wondered that I had +grown thin, and that blue shadows were creeping under my eyes, as if his +own neglect had not been the cause; but when Lady Phipps told him how it +was—I would have died fifty times rather than let him know—nothing +could be more generous than his sorrow. He begged my pardon almost on +his knees. There was no kind look or sweet word that he did not coin +into a more loving expression, to win me back to our old happiness."</p> + +<p>"And you were happy then?—you are happy now?" said Abby, looking +wistfully into the bright face, over which smiles and blushes came and +went like gleams of sunset on a summer cloud.</p> + +<p>"Happy? yes, he parted with me so kindly—he was so earnest to make me +forget that dangerous woman, who had disappeared from among us like a +ghost—he seemed to love me again so much more than ever, that I could +not help being happy. Besides, he is coming down to see us. I have told +him all about you, darling cousin. Father has consented that in a year +or two, if we do not change our minds, that is—"</p> + +<p>"He will take you away altogether; and this has happened while I was +ignorant of it all. Oh, Elizabeth! how many things can grow up to divide +two souls, while one of the little wild-flowers yonder buds, blossoms, +and fades away!"</p> + +<p>"But no souls are divided here, Abby!" cried the young girl, earnestly. +"The love that I feel for you and father only grows broader and deeper +since I have known him. We are not parted, cousin."</p> + +<p>"Not by love. I know that!"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Look at me, cousin Abby! how strangely you are peering into +the distance, as if something in the gloom drew your eyes from my face! +What is it you see, cousin?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth bent forward, and looked keenly in the direction her cousin's +eyes had taken. Far down the hollow she saw the young hunter whose +presence had surprised her on the road a few hours before.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Abby! Don't speak yet; but look and tell me who he is?"</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Elizabeth leaned forward till her golden curls took the +wind and fluttered out like sunbeams on the air. The man saw her, turned +and disappeared among the undergrowth of the hollow.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see him before?" questioned Elizabeth of her cousin, as +she shrunk back with a sort of superstitious dread, for the man had +vanished like a phantom; "or have the woods become haunted since I went +away?"</p> + +<p>Abby Williams started up with nervous haste. "Come, come, you must be +hungry by this time: it is almost noon; old Tituba will be waiting, and +you know nothing makes her so angry as leaving her Johnny-cake to be +eaten cold. She will never forgive us."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth sighed. A pang of disappointment came across her sunny nature. +Why was Abby so changed? How had it happened that a confession, which +she had shrunk from and dreamed over, should have been told in that +hard, common-place fashion? Why were the sweet tidings which had cost +her so much agitation received so coldly by the only creature who had +never till then felt a thought or feeling unshared with her?</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, and her bright eyes filled as she spoke, while a laugh +that had bitter tones in it rose to her lip, "I did not think you would +have taken all this so coldly. But never mind; as you say, Tituba's +Johnny-cake must not get cold."</p> + +<p>With a slight bound she reached the shelf of rock below her, and hurried +away, followed by Abigail Williams, who stopped every other moment to +look anxiously around, but still kept near her cousin.</p> + +<p>"There he is—I say, Abby—there he is again, moving through that +dogwood thicket," said Elizabeth, holding her breath, and speaking in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet; it is only a hunter searching for deer or wild turkeys."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Abigail made a quick signal with her hand, which sent the +young woodranger into covert again.</p> + +<p>"Who is he? What is the reason we never saw him before?" thought +Elizabeth, as she moved homeward; but the silence of her cousin +encouraged no questions, and the two girls reached the house without +speaking of the stranger again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE CHIEF AND THE LADY.</h3> + + +<p>Scarcely had the two cousins left the woods, when, upon the very path +they had trod, appeared Barbara Stafford, the woman who had inquired for +the minister at his house that morning. Immediately after breakfast she +had wandered into the open air, and, after lingering around the +meeting-house a while, went into the forest. The hum of insects, and the +rustle of leaves, fell soothingly upon her, and with a dreamy +listlessness she moved on, sitting down at times when she came to some +flower or shrub which seemed strange or curious; but frequently leaving +it half examined, and moving on again restlessly searching for something +else.</p> + +<p>At last she came out on the ledge, which the cousins had just left, and +sighing softly as she crossed the carpet of gray moss, sat down upon the +rock sofa and fell into thought. The place seemed to have some peculiar +fascination for her, for she grew paler and paler in that dim religious +light, giving way to feelings that could only rise unchecked in the +profoundest solitude. At last, her agitation became so great, that she +fell forward upon the cushions and began to moan faintly, as those who +have lost the power to weep express pain, when it becomes insupportable.</p> + +<p>As she remained thus, the young hunter, who had twice appeared before +the cousins, came out upon the lower shelf of the rock, and, without +seeing her, threw himself on the edge, and lay still, as if waiting for +some one.</p> + +<p>The sound of Barbara Stafford's voice arrested his attention. He arose, +clambered softly to the higher shelf of rock, and stood a moment, +leaning on his gun, regarding her with vague thrills of agitation. +Though he could not see her face, the mysterious atmosphere that +surrounds a familiar person made its impression upon him, and he +recognized her at once.</p> + +<p>At last, oppressed by a human presence, which, even unseen and unheard, +will make itself felt to a delicately organized person, Barbara lifted +her head. She did not speak, but her lips parted, her eyes grew large, +and a flash of wild astonishment rushed over her face.</p> + +<p>"In the name of Heaven what is this?" she cried at last, reaching forth +her hand, as if she doubted that the presence was real.</p> + +<p>A convulsion of feeling swept over the young man's face; the gun dropped +from his hold, and, forced to his knees, as it were against his will, he +seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips wildly, madly, then cast it +away, with a gesture of rage at himself, for a weakness of which his +manhood was ashamed.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford had no power to repulse this frantic homage. She had +but just begun to realize that he was alive and before her—that it was +his hot lips that touched her, and his flashing eyes that poured their +fire into hers. The hand he had dropped fell listlessly by her side. She +sat up, regarding him haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Philip!"</p> + +<p>The voice was stern with rebuke. The whiteness of anger settled on her +features.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the young man. "It is Philip, the slave to whom you opened +the avenues of knowledge, and whose soul you tempted from its strength +by the dainty refinements of civilization. It is the Bermuda serf, whom +you made free and enslaved again. But still the son of a king, and the +chief of a brave people. Woman, you dashed the shackles from these limbs +only to gird them around my soul; and then left me to writhe myself to +death, a double serf, and a double slave!"</p> + +<p>"Philip, you are mad—nay, worse—you are ungrateful. Am I to suffer +forever for those impulses of compassion that took you from under the +lash of a slave-driver, and helped you to the key of all +greatness—knowledge? Am I blamable if that too fiery nature would not +be content with gratitude, but, having gained liberty, and all the +privileges of free manhood, asked that which his benefactress could not +give—which it was presumption to seek?"</p> + +<p>"I was the son of a king," said the hunter, proudly, "the only son of a +brave man, and a woman beautiful as yourself, a woman who had blood in +her veins as white and pure as that which my presence has just +frightened from your own cheek. Look around: from the ocean to the +mountains every thing was my father's till the people of your race came, +like a pestilence, across the sea, and, more by cunning and hypocrisy +than power, wrested his dominion away, and drove his people to death or +slavery. Lady, there was no presumption in the thought, when the wronged +heir of Philip of Mount Hope offered the love of a free, brave man, who +had learned both how to think, and how to act, to the daughter of—"</p> + +<p>"Hush! I charge you, hush!" cried Barbara, starting to her feet, "not +even here must you pronounce that name—I thought myself utterly +unknown. If I have ever been good to you—if it was a kindness when I +won you from slavery, by tears and entreaties, that would not be +refused—if the friendship of years, sacrifices, efforts, and that pure +affection which a childless mother may bestow on the young man whom she +would gladly have regarded as a son, gives me any claim on your +forbearance, let my secrecy be respected! I am weary, wretched, +broken-hearted enough already: do not add to the misery of my condition +by a reckless word, or an unguarded look!"</p> + +<p>Barbara clasped her hands, and was about to sink to her knees in pure +agitation as she made this appeal.</p> + +<p>The young hunter prevented the action by a prompt movement, and fell at +her feet with an impulse of generous humility.</p> + +<p>"Lady, command me! Do not entreat! What have I done that you should +rebuke me by a request?"</p> + +<p>Barbara smiled, and touched his forehead lightly with her hand. +Instantly, a soft mist dulled the fire of those splendid eyes, and the +young man bowed his head, thrilled to the heart by the proud magnetism +of her look.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Philip," she said, very gently, "tell me how it is that I find +you here, in a place so full of danger. Why come again to the lands that +have passed from the possession of your people forever—lands that are +swept away, and held securely in the grasp of civilization? What can you +hope—what can you expect, by this mad return?"</p> + +<p>"What can I hope, lady? That the soil upon which I stand will still be +mine. What do I expect? That my father's people may be gathered together +from the swamps of the lowlands, and the caves of the mountains, and, +united in the midst of their old hunting-grounds, meet their enemies +face to face, and fight them as my father did—conquer them, as he would +have done, but for the traitors in his bosom; or failing, perish like +him!"</p> + +<p>"My poor, brave Philip!" said Barbara, regarding the youth with +unutterable compassion, "what men could do your father and his chiefs +essayed, and in vain. It is not fighting man to man here. There is no +fair combat of human strength or manly intellect; but you combat with +destiny—that grand, cruel thing, which comes in the form of +civilization. Ah, Philip, there is no contending against that."</p> + +<p>"Then let me die with the people who call me king; but die avenging the +wrongs that have driven our chiefs into slavery, and left our tribes +nothing but basket-makers and hunters of musk rats!" cried the youth, +desperately.</p> + +<p>"Lady, do not counsel or thwart me here; the blood of two races, fiery +and hot with a sense of wrong, urges me on. My brain aches with thought, +my heart beats loudly in its hope for vengeance on the men who slew my +father, and sought to starve my soul down to contented servitude. +Neither heart nor brain will be argued or persuaded into submission. +Beyond this, and inspiring it all, I wait for the sad scornfulness of +that smile to disappear. When his people are once more a nation, you +cannot say that the son of Philip of Mount Hope was presumptuous in +loving you."</p> + +<p>"And is this wild feeling at the bottom of it all?" said Barbara, in a +voice full of regret.</p> + +<p>"It has brought me across the ocean, lurking like a hound in the hold of +the same vessel with yourself—it has filled me with ambition to rebuild +the fortunes of a down-trodden people. When these brave men they call +savages are linked in one common band and common cause—like the +chieftains of Scotland, each a sovereign lord in himself—we shall meet +these wily white men, and conquer back the forests they have wrested +from us. Hitherto their brain-craft has more than overmatched our strong +arms; but I have learned something of their coward wisdom in the lands +to which you have sent me. If I studied law and military science in +England, it was that I might learn the art by which men rule their +fellow-men. I have used the means you gave me to learn that power of +mind which sways multitudes more surely than the stout arm or certain +eye. Lady, I have, in my search for the great secret by which your +people stole away the Indian birthright, learned to despise our +conquerors. But not you! not you! My gratitude lifted you out from among +them all. It was because my soul thanked you so tenderly that it lost +itself in love."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Philip," said the lady, "but for this madness how great you might +become!"</p> + +<p>"Say not so. All the thirst for greatness that I have springs out of the +mighty love that you will not listen to," answered the young man.</p> + +<p>"Because it is madness—insanity. I say nothing of the barriers which +rank and civilization build up like a wall between us two; but nature +herself should chill such feelings in their birth. Why, young man, I had +learned to hope and suffer, as woman can alone hope and suffer, before +you were born."</p> + +<p>"Be it so—I care not. Souls made for eternity are neither brightened +nor dulled by a few years of time. I see only what is grand and +beautiful in the only woman of her race that this heart ever deemed +worthy of a warrior's love."</p> + +<p>The young man towered proudly upward as he spoke. The gorgeous robe +which he had assumed with his savage state, shook and rattled as he +gathered it over his chest. The lady gazed upon him with irresistible +admiration. She might rebuke his love, and shrink with womanly delicacy +from any fulfilment of his hopes, which, in truth, seemed to outrage the +august dignity of her years. But there was a grandeur in the young man +that forced her to respect him—a truthfulness which enlisted all her +sympathies.</p> + +<p>"Philip," she said, extending her hand, which he kissed reverently, as +if she had been an empress, and that moss couch her throne, "I will not +bid you God-speed in the grand, but I think hopeless, task you have +undertaken, much as I deem you wronged; because my judgment, calmer than +yours, tells me how surely civilization must sweep the darkness of +barbarism before it. The virgin soil of this new world is required for +the growth of food for the surplus population which is now sweeping +across the Atlantic in a slow but steady tide from the old world. That +which civilization demands it will attain. Hope not to match the bravery +of your warriors against the keen energy of the Anglo-Saxon. Where he +treads, opposition, nay, justice itself, sways backward. Cool, resolute, +sometimes unscrupulous, he never recedes, but swiftly as time advances +so does he. Look along the coast already has he hewn down the mighty +forest, and let the sunshine in to ripen the grain planted within sight +of your very wigwams. Already are cities and towns sending up their +spires to heaven. Every courthouse, and every place of worship thus +marked in the landscape, is a barrier stronger than any military +fortress, against the idea of Indian sovereignty that now heaves that +chest, and kindles those eyes."</p> + +<p>The young man's lip curved, and his eyes shone as he answered:</p> + +<p>"Lady, forgive me; but you speak like a woman, whose destiny is to +think, not to act. But in my heart the barbarism out of which true +heroes spring, and the Anglo-Saxon blood of which you boast, meet and +swell together into one mighty resolve. We will first conquer our foes; +then wrest from them the secrets that make the soil teem with food and +beauty for their use. While the earth rolls, and the sun shines, brave +men of all nations will seek the war-path; the church spires and halls +of justice will never prevent that. But, like the white man, we will +plant corn where the earth has been made richest with human blood, and +let wild flowers start into bloom above the graves we have filled to +loathing with dead foes."</p> + +<p>"But if you are ready to follow the lead of our people so far," said +Barbara, "why not join them in amity now?"</p> + +<p>"Because the Indian would be master of the soil he plants, and the game +he shoots. King Philip of Mount Hope acknowledged no peer. They slew +him, but he filled a monarch's grave. Has the blood of a white woman, +martyred for her faith, made his son so weak that he needs Anglo-Saxon +adventurers and dissatisfied clergymen to share authority with him?"</p> + +<p>Barbara arose, and reached forth her hand.</p> + +<p>"Farewell!" she said, with sweet mournfulness. "That I meet you here and +thus, is a new pang and a new sorrow. I had hoped to find you content +and happy, on my return to Europe; but alas, these awful forests seem to +swallow up every thing upon which my poor heart leaned. God help me, for +now I feel more alone than ever. Ah, Philip, if you would only be +persuaded to recross the Atlantic—there alone you are safe."</p> + +<p>"Lady, when I am indeed a chief, and my brave warriors have turned the +churches you boast of into wigwams, I will cross the sea, and ask again +if great deeds and undying love may claim at least a patient hearing."</p> + +<p>Barbara shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Not with that hope—not with such intent," she answered, gravely; "for +it can never be. Now, farewell."</p> + +<p>"Adieu, but not forever," answered the young man, bending low over the +hand she offered. "These are unsafe times, and with all your pride there +will come a season when you will have need of me. The spirit which +hunted Anna Hutchinson into the forest, and drove my mother out to +starve, is not yet appeased. New victims will be wanted. The great +Anglo-Saxon mind that you speak of is, after all, but slavish and half +developed—the outgrowth of that very tyranny of opinion it fled to +avoid. Those who brave martyrdom ever are foremost in persecution. Lady, +beware of these new people. Nay, I had better say, take no heed; for I +who, hating slavery, glory in being your slave, will guard you well."</p> + +<p>With these words the youth snatched up his rifle, pointed out a +footpath, which Barbara turned into, and both disappeared in opposite +directions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>WORKING OF THE EVIL SPELL.</h3> + + +<p>Elizabeth Parris was in her own little chamber, in the gable end of her +father's log house; the window looked out toward the sea, and a +beautiful glow of sunshine lay upon the pasture land which stretched +between it and the shore, turning the water to sparkling sapphires, and +the green of the land to a richer emerald tint, as the day drew toward +its noon.</p> + +<p>There was something very pretty and picturesque about Elizabeth's room. +Though a tiny little place compared to that she had just left in the +gubernatorial mansion, it possessed a score of dainty trifles, that, at +first sight, awoke in her heart a sweet home-feeling, which went +rippling like a trill of music through her whole being. So she went from +object to object, arranging one, displacing another, and fluttering to +and fro like a bird that returns to its cage, after a long, pleasant +flight in the open air.</p> + +<p>"Ah, how white and nice everything is!" she said, addressing old Tituba, +who stood by the door, watching her with a glow of satisfaction in her +sharp, black eyes. "This curtain is soft and pure as the clouds that +hang over the sea out yonder. As for the bed, I shouldn't think it had +been slept in since I went away, the pillow-cases shine like snow +crust."</p> + +<p>"The bed hasn't been slept in since we knew you were coming right away +home, child," said old Tituba, casting a well-pleased look on the +pillow-cases, polished by her own deftly urged smoothing-irons. "I put +every thing on fresh, yesterday: all for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Not used, Tituba, not used! Then where has cousin Abby slept? Where did +she sleep last night?"</p> + +<p>"She's gone into the back room, at t'other end of the house; the night +we heard you were coming she went in there."</p> + +<p>"What? The store-room, where you kept herbs and dried apples, and all +sorts of things—where the old chest of drawers stands? What does this +mean, Tituba?"</p> + +<p>"I s'pose Abby was lonesome."</p> + +<p>"Lonesome here, in this bright room, with a glow from the water breaking +in whenever there is sunshine, and the first roses always peeping +through that window, with dew on the leaves?—Tituba, you must be +dreaming! How could Abby tire of our own room, even if I was away? But +then, just as I was sure to come back—I can't understand it, Tituba!</p> + +<p>"Come and see," said Tituba, crossing a little span of open garret, and +unclosing a door which led to the opposite gable. "Sure as the world, +this is Abby Williams's room now."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth stepped into the little chamber. It was similar in size to the +one she had just left; but not enclosed, like that, with wooden panels +of a light, cheerful color, or floored with fine boards scoured white by +the constant exercise of old Tituba's scrubbing-cloth. But in this +still, neglected chamber, the rafters were dismally exposed, crevices of +light broke through the shingles here and there, while the rough floor +was full of knot-holes, and shook loosely under the tread as it was +passed over.</p> + +<p>A low trundle bed, covered with a blue-and-white yarn quilt, stood in a +corner, close under the slope of the roof. A single chair was near it, +and close by the door a tall chest of drawers towered into the roof. +This was all the furniture visible. That the room had been used for rude +household purposes formerly, was very evident; for opposite the bed, +clusters of pennyroyal, sage, and coriander, were still hanging to the +rafters; and on each side of the windows festoons of dried apples and +rings of pumpkins fell, like a drapery, from roof to floor, but half +concealing the rough logs underneath. The windows looked toward the +grave-yard, and beyond that into the deep, dark forest.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth gazed around with mingled surprise and distress. After her +beautiful city life, this homely apartment seemed full of insupportable +gloom.</p> + +<p>"And does Abby mean to sleep here? She who loved our own pretty room so +much? What does it all mean? Do tell me, old Tituba, what does it mean?"</p> + +<p>Tituba shook her head.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean?" persisted the young lady, with a burst of her +natural impatience. "I want to understand all about it!"</p> + +<p>That moment the door opened, and Abby Williams came in, looking pale and +harassed.</p> + +<p>"What is all this about?" cried Elizabeth, turning upon her cousin, with +a burst of indignant affection. "I come back, Abby Williams, to find our +dear old room white and cold as a snow drift—not a flower in the +glasses—not even a branch of pine or hemlock in the fire-place—and +worst of all, the bed so smooth that it looks as if no one ever slept in +it, or ought to sleep in it, without being chilled to death. Why have +you left our pretty room, Abby Williams? the chamber you and I have +slept in since they took us from the same cradle; left it, too, for this +dreary corner, just as I was coming home so happy, so very, very happy, +at the thoughts of—of—oh! Abby, dear, dear Abby, what has come over +you since I have been away?"</p> + +<p>Abby Williams stood leaning against the chest of drawers. She looked sad +and weary, rather than touched, or excited, by her cousin's almost +passionate appeal.</p> + +<p>"I came here," she said, gently, "because, since you went away, +Elizabeth, I have learned to be alone. It seems unnatural to go back +into the old life now: your heart is full of its own joys. But mine—you +see I am fond of loneliness, and that is why we cannot sleep together +any more."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth's blue eyes filled with angry tears; her fair face flushed, +and turned pale, and then broke into one of those heavenly smiles that +seemed bright enough to win an angel from his place in paradise. She +went up to her cousin, and flung one arm over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see how it is," she cried, turning the sad face toward her with a +gentle pat of the hand: "she is jealous that I shall think of somebody +else now, and not all the day and night long of her, as we used to think +of each other. I know what the feeling is, Abby darling, and would +rather die than give it to you. But then you are so wrong! This +love—don't stare, old Tituba—indeed I love some one, very, very +much—you cross-looking old thing—and that very love gives warmth and +breadth to all the dear old household feelings, that nothing ever could +crowd from my heart, just as a good mother loves all her children, +better and better for every new baby. There now, don't be jealous, +cousin!"</p> + +<p>"I am not jealous, Elizabeth Parris," answered Abby, oppressed by the +caressing tenderness of the young girl, "only sad, and in love with my +own company. When two girls like us are once separated, it is not so +easy to fall back into the old ways."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed, this is jealousy, nothing else. But I do love you so +much, Abby Williams, cross as you are; you don't know how my heart +leaped, as I came in sight of the house; I wanted to fly, to kiss you, +like this, a thousand, thousand times. There—there."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth interrupted herself, pressing kiss after kiss on the lips, +forehead and hair of her cousin, who shrunk and grew pallid in her +embrace, as if those warm caresses had poison in them.</p> + +<p>"Why, Abby, you do not kiss me back—you are trying to get away—is it +because you do not love me any longer—is it really that?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth drew back, searching her cousin's face with reproachful eyes, +while Abby turned away sullenly.</p> + +<p>"This is hard, very hard!" murmured Elizabeth, choking back the sobs +that struggled in her throat. "I am home again, my—my heart brimful of +joy, and no one seems to care for it; even old Tituba stands looking at +me, as if she expected to be hanged, and I had the rope somewhere about +me. What have I done, or left undone, that my cousin should hate me so?"</p> + +<p>Abigail muttered something beneath her breath. It was that fragment of +Scripture, which speaks of children inheriting the sins of their +parents. The poor girl did not remember that endurance and atonement +make up the duty of this fell inheritance, not vengeance. But her whole +being was in commotion. She began to look upon herself as an avenger, +and this iron repulse of her cousin was her first step in the gloomy +path which seemed the only one she could ever tread.</p> + +<p>"What were you saying, Abigail?" inquired Elizabeth, softened with what +she thought a relenting murmur.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I did not speak," said Abby, moving toward the window, and +looking out.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth also looked out: her glance fell on the outskirts of the +grave-yard, along which a female figure was moving rapidly toward the +house.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth caught her breath. Abigail turned her eyes, that instant, and +saw the change that came, like a storm, over that bright face.</p> + +<p>"She here!" said Elizabeth, casting suspicious glances at Abby and old +Tituba. "She here! Then I understand it all. She is the malignant witch +that prowls forever along my path, turning every one against me. Abby +Williams, you saw Barbara Stafford before I came home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Abby, vaguely, "I saw her; she is a strange, sweet woman, +full of soothing, rich in all that gives tranquillity."</p> + +<p>"It is her doings!" exclaimed Elizabeth, passionately. "This woman +intrigues forever against me. I say again, Abigail Williams, and you, +old Tituba, this woman, Barbara Stafford, is my enemy!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth was white and stern, as she uttered this denunciation. Every +feature bore conviction that she solemnly believed what she was saying.</p> + +<p>Old Tituba cowered down in a corner of the room, knitting her hands +together in a paroxysm of nervous dread, for the sight of her child's +distress made a coward of her. Even Abby, whose soul was full of a +trouble more harrassing than superstition, felt a shudder creep through +her frame, and a strange, intangible dread possessed her. She almost +thought her cousin mad.</p> + +<p>"See! see!" cried Elizabeth, pointing through the window, "that is my +father; she is speaking with him—she dares to touch him—she turns—he +walks by her side—he stoops his head to listen. Oh! my God, save him +from her subtle power; I cannot move, I cannot run, to warn him: the +very sight of the evil woman takes the strength from my limbs!"</p> + +<p>A sudden faintness seized upon the young girl, as she spoke. She began +to tremble violently, and crept away to her own chamber, moaning as she +went. The change in her cousin, the shock of Barbara Stafford's sudden +presence, the excitement in which she had been living, recoiled upon her +all at once, and she was seriously ill.</p> + +<p>For a little time she lay writhing upon the snowy bed, which had seemed +so cold to her a few moments before. Sorrow, or any kind of anxiety, was +so entirely new to her, that she wrestled all her strength away with the +first encounter.</p> + +<p>Old Tituba came into the room with a bowl of herb-tea, which the young +girl strove to drink; but the first drop was met with a hysterical swell +of the throat, and she pushed the bowl away, exclaiming, "I cannot +swallow! I cannot swallow!"</p> + +<p>Old Tituba stood by the bed, grasping the bowl in her little, brown +hands, terrified by a burst of feeling which convulsed the slight form +before her with strange throes.</p> + +<p>She possessed no skill which could reach or even understand a paroxysm +like this, for in those days the hysterical affections that spring from +over-excitement and ill-regulated tempers, had not reached the dignity +of a fashionable disease.</p> + +<p>Abby Williams did not enter the chamber. She heard these moans and sobs +with forced indifference. With the thoughts of the constable's lash +across the white shoulders of her mother, and the Indian tomahawk +mercifully buried in the broad forehead of her grandame, Anna +Hutchinson, she had no sympathy to cast away on the causeless moans of a +young girl. To her they seemed trivial and mocking. With mighty wrongs +like those in the past, what right had any one to moan over the +capricious rise and flow of mere household affection?</p> + +<p>Under the knowledge of a great wrong, Abby Williams stifled the tender +impulses of a heart naturally full of human goodness. She had learned to +think revenge a solemn obligation. Was not this young creature writhing +under the first recoil of her affections, the child of her mother's +judge? Was not she, Abigail Williams, the creature of her enemies' +bounty? From the cradle up, had she not received her daily bread from +the hand which placed her mother beneath the lash?</p> + +<p>These thoughts froze all compassion in her heart; but she could not +listen to the sobs that broke from that room without a sensation of +terrible regret for the love that had grown so icy in her bosom. In the +grasp of that iron destiny, her poor heart, with a thousand kind +impulses fluttering at the core, trembled to free itself, but had no +power. A wall of granite seemed built up between her and the young +creature who had once been her second life. So, stupefied and locked up +in the iron destiny before her, she sat down in the open garret, and +waited within hearing of her cousin's sobs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>ASKING FOR SHELTER.</h3> + + +<p>As Abigail Williams sat upon a wooden box, with both hands locked over +her knees, holding herself, body and soul, as it were, in a vice, the +chamber door opened, and Elizabeth came out. Her hair was disordered, +and her face flushed with weeping; but she walked with a gesture of +resolve, and descended to the lower part of the house in quick haste.</p> + +<p>The sitting-room was empty, but through the window she saw her father, +standing with Barbara Stafford. The woman was talking earnestly, +enforcing what she said, now and then, with a gentle motion of the hand.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris was looking in her face with a long-fixed gaze. His heart +had not been so moved by a human voice since the day when the young +wife, who lay close in sight, had turned from his embrace to bless her +babe and die.</p> + +<p>There was something in Barbara's look, or voice, that troubled all the +deep waters of his memory, and yet she was in no one thing like the fair +young creature lost to him so long ago.</p> + +<p>Parris was speaking as his daughter came up. Almost for the first time +in his life, he did not take a step to meet the idol of his home, as she +approached; but kept on with the invitation he was giving.</p> + +<p>"Surely, we will find you food and shelter, so long as you may require +either," he was saying; "we are a simple family, and live as becometh a +servant of the Most High, taking God's gifts in frugal thankfulness. You +have, doubtless, been used to more sumptuous fare, lady, and a statelier +roof; but in my poor house you will find peace and household love, which +is better than cups of gold and trenchers of silver. Sojourn with us, +then, so long as it pleases you. See, here comes my daughter, who shall +speak our welcome better than I can—who, to own the truth, am somewhat +unused to hospitable courtesies. Elizabeth, my child, this lady will be +our guest a while, welcome her as beseemeth a lady of condition, for +such make sure she is."</p> + +<p>When Elizabeth came up, her cheek was on fire, and her eyes sparkled +with some passionate resolve; but as she turned from her father to +Barbara Stafford, with a proud refusal on her lip, the calm, blue eyes +of the woman fell upon her, like sunshine on a thunder-cloud. The +repulse that had burned on her lip quivered into a murmur of welcome; +her eyes drooped to the earth, and she grew ashamed of her passion. The +fire upon her cheek melted into a modest blush, and her voice was sweet +with new-born humility.</p> + +<p>And all this change arose from a single, calm glance, prolonged and +vital with that mesmeric power which endows some human beings with +wonderful influence—an influence that might well arouse the +superstition of an age like that, and prove a dangerous gift to its +possessor.</p> + +<p>As Elizabeth stood before her, mute and blushing, Barbara reached forth +her hand, clasping that of the young girl with a gentle pressure.</p> + +<p>"You will not find me troublesome," she said, with a sad smile, quietly +ignoring the fact that they had ever met before; "I want a little time +for rest and thought. You will not grudge me a corner in your home, or a +crust and cold water twice a day. My wants will be scarcely more than +that."</p> + +<p>"You shall be welcome, lady," murmured Elizabeth, almost in a whisper. +"But deal kindly with us, for you have great power."</p> + +<p>This was not at all the reply Elizabeth had intended to make; but she +had no courage either to expostulate or protest; her heart swelled, and +her limbs shook, but she had lost all ability or wish to send the +stranger from her father's door.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go in-doors now?" said Samuel Parris, who saw nothing unusual +in the reception his daughter had given to their guest. "I have scarcely +spoken to my niece yet; but methought, Elizabeth, that she looked sad, +as if the loneliness of our absence had stricken deep. Pray, call +Abigail Williams, my child. I would greet her once more, and present her +to our guest."</p> + +<p>"I have already seen the young lady," said Barbara, smiling upon the old +man; "she gave me some breakfast, this morning, before you came!"</p> + +<p>"And in all that time we were together never mentioned it," murmured +Elizabeth, with a swell of jealous indignation at the heart; "this is +why Abby shuns me so cruelly!"</p> + +<p>"She has a fair—nay, that is not the right word—she has a strangely +interesting face," continued Barbara, softly, "a sibilline face, full of +sweet gravity. I have never seen features so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay," said the simple-hearted old man, looking with jealous +fondness on his own child, "Abby is a comely girl enough; but great +painters, I am told, give blue eyes and sunny hair to the angels."</p> + +<p>Barbara smiled. His words bore a double compliment, for her own hair, +though concealed under the folds of a lace coif, was lightly golden, and +her eyes were of that deep bluish gray, which might at one time have +been as rich in sparkling life as those of Elizabeth; but were now sad +and hazy, with crushed tears.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris had not noticed this. His heart was turning back to +another fair creature, who had indeed been the angel at his hearthstone +years before; and her memory was the very type of human loveliness to +him.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford seemed to understand his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "you are right; there is something almost divine in a +pure, young face like—like—" she broke off suddenly, with a little +confusion which satisfied the strong love of the old man for his child. +Of course, the strange lady could not praise the beauty of Elizabeth, +and she present. He looked at his daughter, wondering at the cloud on +her forehead.</p> + +<p>Barbara stepped forward, and laid her hand on that of the young girl; +Elizabeth shrunk back, but as Barbara's fingers closed over hers, a +thrill of almost imperceptible pleasure stole the pain from her heart, +and she blushed like a naughty child beneath the grave, kind look, +fastened on her face.</p> + +<p>Abby Williams looked out from the gable window of her little chamber, +and saw the action. A vague sense of loneliness drove her back into the +room. She locked the door, creating for herself a moral desert, in which +she sat down, a second Ishmael, ready to lift her hand against every +creature of the white race.</p> + +<p>A week went by, and all the bitter feelings, starting up in the hearts +of those two girls, grew and throve like nightshade which overruns all +the sweet flowers of a garden. Elizabeth was grieved and wounded into +coldness. Abby grew silent, and shrunk away from her warm-hearted +cousin. Her whole habits of life changed. She gave up all her dainty +needle-work and passive knitting; from choice she toiled all day long in +the kitchen with old Tituba, doing the hardest and coarsest work with a +zeal that threatened to undermine her strength. The sweet, dreamy +portion of her life gave place to hard reality. She toiled like a slave, +and thought like a martyr.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris sometimes expostulated with his niece, in a solemn, kindly +way; but she answered him vaguely, and went on her own course, denying +his authority to chide only by a persistent refusal to change her new +mode of life.</p> + +<p>"I will earn my own bread," she would say to herself, "the hand that +smote my mother shall not feed her child."</p> + +<p>Then would come bitter, bitter hatred for the shelter she had received, +and the food she had eaten from her cradle up. She loathed the very +roundness of her limbs, and the richness of her beauty, because both had +thriven on the kindness of her mother's arch enemy. Yet it seemed +strange, very strange, that any one could feel a moment's bitterness +toward that good old man, who had but acted up to the light of an iron +age, believing himself even as Paul believed, when he persecuted the +saints most cruelly.</p> + +<p>Thus the household of Samuel Parris was divided against itself; and in +the midst of this growing discord, Barbara Stafford rested, after many a +heavy trouble, unconscious of the good or evil her presence created. She +was a stranger in the land, the very reasons for her coming rested a +secret in her bosom. Distressed, disappointed, and filled with heavy +regrets, she had lost the keen perception which might have enlightened a +less occupied person regarding the effect of her visit at the minister's +house. Besides all this, Barbara knew nothing of the previous habits of +the family, and had no way of learning that the two girls, now so far +apart, had, up to the last two months, been like twin blossoms which a +storm had never touched. But the days wore on, as if no discontent were +known under that humble roof. When Abby Williams was not drudging in the +kitchen, she spent her time in the woods; and in this lay the greatest +danger of all, for during their lives, the two girls had haunted those +forest nooks in company. Now Abigail went alone, in the day and in the +night, without a word of explanation when she went in, or when she came +out.</p> + +<p>I do not know how Barbara Stafford spent her time, or what led her so +much into the open air. She sat hours together on the sea-shore, looking +wistfully over the swelling blue of the waters, waiting and musing like +one who had no world out of her own thoughts. She seldom went to the +forest, but sometimes walked slowly out to the outskirting trees, and +came back again breathing fast as if something had frightened her away.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Elizabeth, weary of the solitude forced upon her, would join +Barbara in the sitting-room down-stairs, for the young girl seemed +constantly torn by opposing influences. In the absence of her father's +guest, jealousy, suspicion, and bursts of dislike, embittered every +thought; but some strange force seemed constantly bringing the two in +company. Then Elizabeth was like a little child, so gentle, and +regretting so much the bitter feelings of her solitude, that her whole +character was disturbed with contradictions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>STRANGE SHADOWS.</h3> + + +<p>One evening, after Barbara Stafford had found shelter beneath the roof +of Samuel Parris, Jason Brown and his wife sat upon the lonely hearth, +just after the tow-wicked candle was lighted, and the evening +knitting-work brought out. Jason was sitting near the round stand, +scooping out a rude butter-ladle with his jackknife, from a thick piece +of pine, which he had brought in from the wood-house. The hired man +occupied a closer place by the dim light; for he was employed in the +more difficult operation of mending a broken harness.</p> + +<p>"Look a-here, Jase," said the hired man, looking up from his task, while +he jerked two waxed ends through the leather, and tightened them at +arm's length. "What du yer mean ter decide on about them tarnal heavy +boxes in the barn? The hay is eenamost gone, and by-an-by there won't be +enough left to kiver 'em with. Besides—what is in 'em? I should kinder +like to know that, my bisness or not."</p> + +<p>"What du you know or care about that?" answered Jason, lifting his +butter-ladle to the light, and eying its growing symmetry with great +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Don't know nothin' and don't care a darn," was the reply, given in +perfect self-complacency; "only the all-fired things will be tarnally in +the way when we come to thrash."</p> + +<p>"But they can be moved then."</p> + +<p>"Moved! why you might as well try to lift a tombstun. I reckon I've +tried it."</p> + +<p>Goody Brown kept on with her work, without joining in this conversation, +and for some minutes the click and rattle of her needles kept time with +the splinters cast off by her husband's jackknife.</p> + +<p>Then the hired man spoke again.</p> + +<p>"How long afore you'll be going to sea agin, Jase?"</p> + +<p>"That's rayther unsartin. There'll be a good deal of jiner work to do on +the vessel afore she puts out agin. That storm tore her eenamost tu +pieces."</p> + +<p>Goody Brown looked up from her knitting with the ghost of a smile +hovering over her lips.</p> + +<p>"Then you'll have so much longer to stay tu hum," she said.</p> + +<p>"Wal, yes; I shouldn't much wonder if Thanksgiving found me in this +identical spot."</p> + +<p>The good wife breathed deeply, and went on with her work, sending out +absolute music from her needles. Then the hired man spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Any passengers this trip?"</p> + +<p>"One bespoken for the cabin."</p> + +<p>"Who, of all the Bosting folks, are going over now?" asked the +housewife.</p> + +<p>"It ain't a Bosting woman that I ever hearn on," answered Jason, "but +the same lady that stayed with you so long arter the storm. She's going +straight hum agin, I reckon. Her passage was took the very day arter +Governor Phipps jined the church. She was uneasy enough about getting +off ter once, and wanted the ship to put out jist as she was, jiner or +no jiner. But the captain said he couldn't and wouldn't hist a sail till +his craft was sound and taut from stem to stern, not if the lady offered +him her hull weight in guinea gold. So she had ter put up with it."</p> + +<p>"Poor lady, how homesick she must be!" said the housewife, setling a +fresh needle in the quill of a knitting sheath of red cloth fastened on +the right side of her waist, and twisting the yarn around her +fore-finger. "She was a proper purty woman, wasn't she, Jase? See here +what she gave me the morning afore she went away."</p> + +<p>Goody Brown laid down her work, and, thrusting one hand deep into her +pocket, drew forth a steel side thimble, a lump of yellow wax, crossed +and recrossed with marks of the thread she had drawn over it, a trunk +key, two great copper pennies, and a tiny parcel done up in an old +book-leaf. This she carefully unfolded and laid four golden guineas on +the stand.</p> + +<p>"You can have 'em, Jase," she said in a low, husky voice. "They ain't of +no use to me now."</p> + +<p>Jason understood her and made a reckless cut at the butter ladle, for +his hand became all at once unsteady.</p> + +<p>"When I was a scrimpin' and saving to send our own—"</p> + +<p>"Wal! wal! it ain't no use to talk about that now," cried out the +father, stung into a passion of angry grief. "What God has done is done. +What's the use of pining over it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Jase," answered the wife, rebuking him with her grave, deep eyes, +"I didn't mean that—only the gold ain't of no use ter me anyhow since I +haven't any children to edicate. It isn't for me to fly into the face of +Providence, and I never thought of doing it."</p> + +<p>"Buy a yoke of oxen with the money," interposed the hired man. "I've +hearn of people loving their oxen a'most like children. It's enough to +make a fellur's heart yearn to see how patiently them critturs will bend +under one yoke and kinder help one another along. Talk about friendship +and brotherly feelin'—wal, if that thing ain't found in a yoke of oxen +brought up together from steers, it's of no use to sarch for it. If yer +feelings is touched and kinder hankers arter something ter love, buy a +yoke of oxen—that's my advice."</p> + +<p>Jason Brown was thoughtfully whittling down the edge of his ladle. His +wife took up her knitting, which dragged on with slow monotony, for she +looped each stitch through a blinding mist of tears; but the hired man +snapped his waxed ends as if they had been bow-strings, punched his awl +furiously through the unyielding leather, and looked out from his +bending eye-brows now and then, in vague astonishment that his advice +was so blankly received. All at once he paused with both threads half +drawn, and listened.</p> + +<p>"What on 'arth is that?"</p> + +<p>A sound, as if from the falling of some ponderous object a little +distance off, had occasioned this exclamation. Jason Brown and his wife +suspended their work in astonishment, and sat gazing at each other.</p> + +<p>"I will go see," said Brown, closing his knife with a defiant snap. "It +don't seem like the stomp of horses."</p> + +<p>"Hush up!" whispered the hired man. "Set down this minute and look +behind you!"</p> + +<p>Jason had a powerful will of his own and was not to be ordered about by +any one, but he turned toward the window which the man was pointing out +with his awl and saw it crowded with dusky faces, rendered terrible by +great, fiery eyes and stiff, upright plumes, that shot up through the +darkness like shafted arrows from a quiver.</p> + +<p>"Great God, help us, for it is the Indians!" exclaimed Brown, in a +hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>The woman held her work suspended, as if it had frozen in her hand. The +hired servant went on with his stitching, but his sunburned face grew +whiter and whiter with each pull of the thread, and the sidelong glances +he cast at the window betrayed the keen terror his stolid obstinacy +suppressed.</p> + +<p>"Shall we pitch in, or keep still?" whispered Brown.</p> + +<p>"Keep still," answered the woman.</p> + +<p>"Or else God have mercy upon us," muttered the hired man, "for I dare +say there is a hundred to one."</p> + +<p>"Wife, where is my father's gun?" demanded Brown, ashamed of standing +helplessly on his own hearth.</p> + +<p>"Behind the bedroom door, Jason."</p> + +<p>"Is it loaded?"</p> + +<p>"With buck shot," answered the hired man. "I loaded it for wild game, +but blaze away at them varmints, if you want to, and I'll back you up +with the fire shovel. The old woman can pitch in with a flat-iron or +rolling-pin. They shan't say that we didn't show grit afore they scalped +us, anyhow. Darn 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Hark! they are gone."</p> + +<p>True enough, the crowd of faces vanished from the window like shadows, +and a confused tread of feet followed, so mellow and soft that it seemed +as if the earth throbbed with a faint pulsation. This sound lasted some +minutes, and then died away in the whisperings of the forest that crept +along the shore close up to the stone homestead.</p> + +<p>When all was still again a footstep stole over the turf and paused +before the threshold. This was followed by a low knock and a gentle stir +of the latch string. Brown went to the door. The ruddy color had left +his cheek, but his hand was firm as it lifted the wooden bar and threw +the door wide open. A young man stood in the opening, and the light fell +upon his face.</p> + +<p>"Wal, now, if this don't beat all. Is it raly you? Come in, come in, and +shet the door, for just as true as you live there's live Injuns around +to-night."</p> + +<p>The young man came in, lifting the cap from his head as he entered. He +was a workman employed on the vessel. Then Brown attempted to appear +unconcerned, but his face was disturbed and his voice shook.</p> + +<p>"Why, you seem to be frightened," said the young man. "What at?"</p> + +<p>"Did you meet nothing on the way?" asked Brown.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a flock of sea-gulls wheeling out to sea."</p> + +<p>"And nothing more—no red Injuns?"</p> + +<p>"Red Indians! Indeed, I saw nothing worse than myself," was the cheerful +reply.</p> + +<p>"And did you pass close to the window?" asked the hired man.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I passed the window."</p> + +<p>"And did you twist one face into ten, and crown them all with eagles' +quills?"</p> + +<p>"No, not exactly that, but I did look in."</p> + +<p>"And no one else?" asked Brown.</p> + +<p>"Truly, friends, you question me close, but I was alone."</p> + +<p>"Husband," said Goody Brown, in a solemn whisper, "it might have been a +witch gathering. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>Jason Brown turned deadly white, and the hired man thrust the awl +through his thumb.</p> + +<p>"In that case you had better not speak of it," said the young man, with +a shade of gravity. "It is almost as dangerous to be visited by witches +as to join in their wicked rioting. I remember, at the last trial, it +was set forth in evidence that the woods around here were given up to +witchcraft: I for one do not believe it, but yet if you saw the faces?"</p> + +<p>"We did! we did!"</p> + +<p>"Crowned with eagles' plumes?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, like savage Indians."</p> + +<p>"But no Indian would dare flount his war plumes in this neighborhood. It +is too near Boston for that."</p> + +<p>"True, how is that possible? The tribes are quiet now," answered Brown, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"It is witchcraft beyond a doubt," whispered the good wife. "I remember, +now, the needles turned to stones in my hands. I lost all power to move +them."</p> + +<p>"And my feet were nailed to the hearth," answered Jason. "I, who never +knew what it was to be scared in my life, could not move."</p> + +<p>"See how the pestilent things have wounded me," added the hired man, +exhibiting his thumb from which the blood was falling in heavy drops.</p> + +<p>"Hark! I hear footsteps again," whispered the good wife.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, slow and steady footsteps came across the turf, and a knock +sounded at the door.</p> + +<p>"I will open it," said the young man, cheerfully. "No witchcraft can +harm me, save that of a bright eye and cherry lip."</p> + +<p>He opened the door with a brave swing while uttering these words, but +started back in dismay, for there, upon the gravel of the path, stood a +woman with a crimson mantle over her shoulders and its hood drawn close +around her face.</p> + +<p>"Is the dame or her husband at home?" inquired the woman in a clear, +rich voice that made the housewife start. "I wish to see either Jason +Brown or his wife."</p> + +<p>"If you are an honest woman and no witch, come in," answered the young +man, half closing the door against her, notwithstanding his invitation.</p> + +<p>The woman advanced to the door and pushed it gently open. Goody Brown +arose with a flush on her cheek and called out, in a voice of infinite +relief, "It is the lady! it is the lady!"</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford entered the room, and went up to the excited housewife.</p> + +<p>"I come at an untimely hour," she said, pushing the red hood back from +her face, "but it could not be helped."</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down, and take off your things," said the housewife, +greatly relieved, for she had learned to love the gentle lady, and +believed in her.</p> + +<p>"Sit down. We have had tea long ago, but Jase shall rake open the fire, +and hang on the kettle in no time."</p> + +<p>"No, no, it is impossible! I cannot wait," answered the lady, resisting +Mrs. Brown's effort to unclasp her cloak. "A few words only and I must +go back again."</p> + +<p>"What! to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, at once."</p> + +<p>"To Boston—to the governor's house?" questioned Goody Brown.</p> + +<p>"No, no, farther than that. I have a long ride through the woods."</p> + +<p>"Through the woods!" exclaimed four voices at once. "Why, they swarm +with wild beasts and savage Indians!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, me," answered the lady, "it is not of them I am afraid: my best +friends are in the forest."</p> + +<p>"But how will you ride, lady?" asked the young carpenter, looking at her +with growing distrust.</p> + +<p>"I have a swift and sure horse, and know how to ride even in the night. +Beside I came with an escort."</p> + +<p>"Of white men or devils?" questioned the hired man, nursing his thumb, +and eying the lady with sinister glances.</p> + +<p>"Nay, it is wrong to speak of these unhappy children of the woods in +this fashion. They have been a grand people, and possess power even yet. +I marvel that they are pursued with such hatred."</p> + +<p>The benevolent smile that broke over her noble face as she spoke charmed +half the superstition out of that rough heart. As for the others, they +forgot all distrust, and oppressed her with offers of hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night. I will come and sleep in your pretty room again," she +said, laying her small hand on Goody Brown's shoulder. "But now I must +be in haste. Tell me, Brown, for it is urgent that I should know, when +the ship will be ready to sail."</p> + +<p>"It is hard to tell," answered Brown, "but here is the master workman: +he knows best."</p> + +<p>Barbara turned a questioning look on the young man, who answered it as +if she had spoken.</p> + +<p>"Some time this fall the craft will be ready."</p> + +<p>"This autumn and not before!" cried Barbara, with surprise and even +anguish in her voice. "Oh, my God! how am I to get over this weary +time?"</p> + +<p>"It is slow work, and hands are scarce," said the carpenter.</p> + +<p>"But gold can do much, every thing, they tell me, and I have plenty," +cried Barbara, with nervous eagerness. "Young man, spare nothing that +can speed this work. Get more men—toil night and day. I will find means +for all. Only let the ship be ready before the leaves turn from green to +red."</p> + +<p>"Lady, I will do my best," answered the carpenter.</p> + +<p>"I tell you again spare nothing that money can pay for. No matter what +labor costs, I will find gold to meet every demand. Jason Brown, urge +this matter forward. Those who serve me I can enrich."</p> + +<p>"Yes, lady, I will do my best."</p> + +<p>"It was for this I came to-night. I waited for news that the ship was +ready to sail, till delay made me heartsick, and I could tarry at rest +no longer. Now, ah, me, you say wait till fall, as if it were an easy +thing."</p> + +<p>"Be content, dear lady," said Goody Brown, touched by this pathetic cry +of disappointment. "My old man shall go in search of workmen. He can do +any thing when he's a mind to."</p> + +<p>"Thank you! thank you! See, I have brought money with me," said Barbara. +"When that is gone I can find more."</p> + +<p>Barbara laid a purse, heavy with gold, on the candle stand, as she +spoke. All three of the men looked at it with a thrill of superstitious +dread. At last Brown spoke.</p> + +<p>"Is it English gold, honest guineas, with His Majesty's face on it?"</p> + +<p>Barbara smiled.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she answered. "I have no other. The coin of England is +current here. Why this hesitation?"</p> + +<p>Brown took up the purse and emptied a quantity of its gold into his hard +palm.</p> + +<p>"Truly it is the king's head, and full weight," he muttered. Then +turning more confidently to the lady, he said:</p> + +<p>"And I am to use this about the ship?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!"</p> + +<p>"And crowd on all the work we can," joined in the carpenter.</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!"</p> + +<p>"That is easy understood," observed the hired man. "I only wish that I +could swing a broad axe."</p> + +<p>"Now I must go," said the lady, taking the hard hand of Goody Brown in +her friendly clasp. "You have been kind to me and I can never forget it. +Only help me to these shores, and see if I prove ungrateful."</p> + +<p>These words had hardly left the lady's lips when she was outside the +door and moving toward the woods in a rapid walk.</p> + +<p>These three men and Goody Brown flocked to the window and looked after +her as she moved through the light of a moon buried half the time under +the fleecy whiteness of drifting clouds. She approached the woods and +they saw her engulfed in shadows that seemed to move and sway with the +wind. Directly she came forth, riding on a milk-white horse, that stood +out from the leaden shadows distinct as marble; for that instant the +moon threw off its fleecy burden of clouds, and rode clear and bright +across a plain of blue sky. Directly another horse and rider, that +looked black as ebony in the distance, came out of the shadows, and then +a third; but whether the riders of these black steeds were men or women +no one could tell. For a little time the horses kept along the edge of +the woods, but at last they plunged into some forest path and were gone.</p> + +<p>Still the inmates of the farm-house watched by the window, for there was +something weird in the woman's departure which stimulated curiosity. As +they looked, the edges of the wood grew alive. Dusky forms moved to and +fro, now in the darkness, now in fitful gleams of light; and the forests +began to sway and moan as if oppressed by some evil presence, which made +all its boughs heave and its foliage quiver. Then a muffled yell broke +out from the heart of the woods, and a line of what seemed to be human +forms came into an open field that lay close to the forest, and, curving +onward like an enormous serpent, crept away through the darkness.</p> + +<p>There was little said in the farm-house that night about these +mysterious appearances, but a vague superstition took possession of +those three men, and they all felt as if the gold they had received +might vanish into thin air before morning.</p> + +<p>When the day broke, Brown and his hired man went into the barn in order +to clear the thrashing-floor of all incumbrances. They found the door +shut and every thing in place. But when the man went to the corner where +those ponderous boxes had been stored, they were gone. Then the thick +hair on Jason Brown's head stood up with terror, and turning from the +astonished look of his companion he went into the house.</p> + +<p>"Wife, take that purse of gold from your bosom and give it to me."</p> + +<p>The woman obeyed him, and drew forth the purse. He snatched it from her +hold, left the house, and ran down to the shore. When he reached the +verge of the water, great drops stood on his forehead, and he panted for +breath. A little way off was a line of breakers dashing up spray from a +cluster of hidden rocks. Brown waded knee-deep into the water, swung his +arm backward, and hurled the purse into the seething foam.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>NOON IN THE WOODS.</h3> + + +<p>Old Wahpee had procured a forest-bred horse for Barbara Stafford and +another for his own use. Restless from a strong desire to leave the +country, she had besought him to act as her guide to the stone +farm-house. Their object was unknown to the family, for the Indian was +sadly afraid that Samuel Parris would know of his share in the business, +and for this reason Barbara promised to keep her journey a secret. +Tituba alone of all the household was taken into their confidence, and +she undertook to divert attention from Barbara's movements.</p> + +<p>This was no very difficult matter, for the cousins were occupied with +each other, and Samuel Parris in his self-absorption would hardly have +missed his guest had she remained absent a week. So one day Barbara went +as usual into the margin of the forest, mounted the white horse that +Wahpee held by the bridle, and following a trail which the Indian +informed her led by a short cut to Boston, entered fearlessly on her +adventure. The vast solitude of the wilderness harmonized with the +solemn depression of her own thoughts. Its profound silence filled her +with a sentiment of sublime resignation. Sometimes, as she rode along, a +whispered prayer brightened her face, and you would have thought that +she was travelling through those deep forest shades directly into that +happier world where the weary are at rest. So far as conversation went, +she was completely alone. Wahpee never talked, and if she asked him a +question it was answered in some brief monosyllable. So deep was the +forest and so remote the way, that wild deer leaped across her path, and +stopped to gaze on her more than once with almost human curiosity.</p> + +<p>No matter how deep or persistent unhappiness may be, there is something +in nature that will charm it half away, if the heart it troubles is +capable of real poetic sentiment. The unselfish and pure-minded cannot +look upon all the munificence of God lavished everywhere in objects of +beauty and usefulness—for the glorious Artist of the universe has +created no one thing that has not a peculiar gift of beauty to recommend +it—without an outburst of thankfulness. If the supreme object for which +the heart yearns so hungrily is withheld, nature holds forth a thousand +lures of beauty which are sure to draw the soul out of itself and thus +nearer to its God.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford was very unhappy. Since landing in America, her life +had been one struggle. She was a woman of gentle nature, not the less +pliant and sweet because her will was firm and her powers of endurance +wonderful. She was now absolutely without earthly hope. If she turned to +the past, it was full of pain. The future lay before her a desert. She +could not endure, even in thought, to travel over the waste which lay +between her coming sea-voyage and the grave. But though unhappy, +disappointed, and dejected, she was neither bitter nor cynical. The +grandeur and breadth of character which had led her silently into making +almost impossible sacrifices would be sufficient to carry her to the end +without faltering. Her history and her object, whatever they were, +remained a secret in her own bosom. That she suffered, no one who looked +upon the lines about her mouth and the shadows in those eyes could +doubt. Yet a casual observer would have guessed nothing of this, and +even a friend might have sometimes mistaken her kindness and urbanity +for the expression of a serene life.</p> + +<p>Let her history be what it might, the woman was sufficient unto herself. +She knew how "to suffer and grow strong," without hope and without +counsel. That day, as she rode through the woods, so rich in leafiness, +so lavish in beauty, her soul expanded itself thankfully to the sweet +influences that opened upon her. She was no longer young, but, perhaps, +more capable of enjoyment when alone with God's works for that very +reason. So for the hour she put aside the one great sorrow that haunted +her life, and rode cheerfully through the woods, enjoying each ferny +knoll or grassy hollow, with a brook whispering along the bottom, as if +she had nothing but sunshine in her heart.</p> + +<p>It must have been somewhat after noon when Wahpee came upon a little +opening in the trees, where some Indian hunter had cleared away the +undergrowth and cut down a few trees in order to build a lodge, which +was now a heap of mossy logs. It was a lovely spot, lifted a little from +the level of the woods and crested with half a dozen stately old trees, +through which the sunshine came shimmering down upon the forest turf, +luring ten thousand lovely blossoms up through its greenness. Half in +the sunshine, half in the shadow of overhanging pines and hemlocks, a +lovely brook went singing on its way through bending ferns and the wild +vines whose roots drank life from its crystal waves; while around this +bright spot the dark barriers of the forest crowded up on three sides, +rendering its green slopes more sunny from their sombre contrast.</p> + +<p>Barbara drew up her horse as she felt the sunshine bursting so warmly +over her path, and uttered an exclamation, half astonishment, half +delight: "Why, Wahpee! You have led the way to a paradise," she said, +gazing around. "One almost forgets to be mortal in a place like this, +but my horse reminds us that he at least is hungry."</p> + +<p>In her admiration, Barbara had loosened her bridle, and the beautiful +animal which she rode was cropping the sward with great zest, eagerly +sweeping up grass and blossoms in one fragrant mouthful, as if he feared +that her hand might the next instant curb him up from his sweet repast.</p> + +<p>Wahpee got down from his own horse, and cast him loose. Then he lifted +Barbara from her saddle, and saying only, "Come here," led her along the +margin of the brook, where she observed, with some surprise, that the +grasses and ferns had been recently trodden into something like a path. +The brook swept its crystal curves around one side of the clearing, +which took the sun so warmly, then widened into a beautiful pool, +margined with golden willows, growing wildly, under a sumptuous drapery +of vines. Beyond this basin of water Barbara saw a column of blue smoke +curling up from the foot of a great hemlock, and flashes of fire shot in +and out through the quivering green of the undergrowth.</p> + +<p>Pleased and expectant, for Barbara began to surmise that she had not +been brought to that lovely place by accident, she followed her guide in +silence, and at last came out on a mound of grand circumference, covered +so thickly with grass that her feet trod a hundred tiny flowers to death +without her seeing them. The willows that margined the miniature lake at +its base, and the hemlocks that crowded up from the forest, hedged in +this pretty eminence, flickering its edges with tangled shadows and +sunshine, but leaving a broad flat rock on the summit bathed in golden +light. Around this rock, clusters of wild trumpet vines, trailing +arbutus, and golden bitter-sweet, wove their beauties together in +luxuriant wildness, creeping in rich traceries over the rock, or falling +in garlands down the grassy sides of the mound. The centre of this rocky +table was bright with sparkling crystals and clean as granite could be +made. Something more than the hand of nature had been at work there. Not +a dead leaf or broken twig could be found littering on the rock or in +the grass.</p> + +<p>"Ah, how lovely!" exclaimed the lady, flinging back the hood of her +mantle, and looking around in pleasant astonishment. "Surely, Wahpee, +this is not your work?"</p> + +<p>"Would you be offended, lady, if it were mine?" said a voice close by, +and from beneath the bending hemlocks came forth Philip, or Metacomet, +the young man whose fate had been so strangely enwoven with her own.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Philip, I am neither offended nor surprised. It was kind to +provide me this lovely spot to rest in, and I am glad to look once more +on the face of a friend."</p> + +<p>Barbara sat down on the rock as she spoke, and unfastening the clasp of +her scarlet cloak, allowed it to fall loosely around her. Philip flung +himself on the grass at her feet, kindling up its green with the +gorgeousness of his savage raiment. Seated thus, they could catch gleams +of blue water under the willow branches, and watch the broad lily pods +heaving softly up and down as if stirred with human pulses.</p> + +<p>Barbara's face brightened, and her lips parted with smiles. She was +naturally of a cheerful disposition, and such beauty as this gladdened +her whole being.</p> + +<p>"It seems like enchantment," she said; "some beautiful witchcraft has +been at work here."</p> + +<p>"It has brought a smile to that face, and I am happy," answered the +young man.</p> + +<p>"Have you known this spot long?" asked Barbara. "It looks like a corner +in some English park. The clearing must have been made years ago, for, +save that once massive stump, which is now more than half moss, no trace +of the axe is visible."</p> + +<p>"It was cleared years ago, lady, for I was born here."</p> + +<p>"Here!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my father was out hunting with the chiefs of his tribe. He never +went even to the war-path that his wife did not follow and rest +somewhere near him. That year he built her lodge in this spot. A few of +the old logs lie in the clearing yonder even yet, held together by the +moss that has been years and years creeping over them. When Wahpee told +me that you would ride through the forest, I directed him to bring you +along this trail. But you look tired and must be hungry."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a little tired, and not a little hungry," answered Barbara. "In my +anxiety I quite forgot that food might be needed on the way."</p> + +<p>"Would to heaven that I could always think for you!" was the humble +reply. "Oh, lady, how lovely these forests would be if you never left +them!"</p> + +<p>Barbara looked around, and her eyes filled with tears. "If you were my +son."</p> + +<p>The young man made an impatient gesture.</p> + +<p>"Or my brother," she added. "Then, Philip, I might find that rest here +which all other places in the world deny me. But my destiny leads me +into the world, where I shall be far more alone than you can be here."</p> + +<p>The young man looked searchingly into Barbara's face, and saw how +honestly she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I know! I knew from the first how hopeless this fatal love was," he +said, passionately. "Yet spite of every thing it will break forth to +offend you."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not offended," answered the lady. "God forbid that honest +affection should anger me! I am only sorrowful that my destiny is always +to give pain. I do not even reason with you, Philip, knowing well that +human love is not the growth of human will. But you must learn patience, +my friend, and strive, as I must, to be useful, and with God's help +happy, without love."</p> + +<p>Philip shook his head, and arose suddenly that she might not see how +near he was to weeping. He advanced a few paces into the forest and came +to another small opening in the trees. There a fire was blazing up +redly, surrounded by a group of Indian women, who were busy turning a +half-dozen birds, fastened by delicate withes of bark to the branches +overhead, and roasting before the fire.</p> + +<p>"Come," said the chief, in the Indian tongue, "is all ready?"</p> + +<p>A woman was busy peeling strips of birch bark from the trunk of a +sapling close by. She cut the bark into fragments and gave them to the +women about the fire, who laid the roasted birds daintily upon them, +nesting each one in leaves from a golden spice bush which grew near. +Then they took hot corn-cakes from the ashes, and brought from under a +cool thicket two little painted baskets full of blue berries, with the +bloom on them.</p> + +<p>This rustic meal the women brought forth to the mound and placed upon +the rock, without a sign of curiosity about the stranger, or a spoken +word. Barbara looked on in wonder. The whole scene really did appear +like enchantment to her. Philip took a case from the pouch by his side, +and extracted from it a knife and fork, mounted with silver. Barbara's +eye brightened: they had been her gift to the young man when he first +went forth on his travels after those dreary years of bondage.</p> + +<p>"Eat," he said, carving one of the birds with his hunting-knife, "and +see if wholesome food may not be found in the woods."</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you eat also," she answered. "In our hard journey through life +we may at least take this one quiet meal together."</p> + +<p>Philip took a piece of the bird, but could not eat; his heart was too +full.</p> + +<p>"This is our last meal together on earth, perhaps," he said, in a broken +voice. "If you return to England I may perish here, and never look upon +your face again."</p> + +<p>"My friend, there is another world," Barbara answered, "and at the +longest only a few short years divides us from it."</p> + +<p>"But what if the Indian's hunting-grounds and the white man's heaven +should be eternally sundered?" answered the young chief mournfully.</p> + +<p>"That cannot be," was the gentle reply. "If friendship and love are +immortal, God will not make a torture of his holiest gifts. In the next +world as in this I shall surely be your friend."</p> + +<p>"And the friendship of angels must be sweeter than earthly love," +answered the youth. "That shall content me, lady; something tells me +that it will not be long before I can claim this beautiful promise, up +yonder. The path that I have chosen is full of danger, and its end may +be speedy death."</p> + +<p>Barbara looked down upon him with all the light of a noble soul in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Philip! may you never learn how sweet the hopes of death can be to +a human soul."</p> + +<p>The young man smiled mournfully.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I have already learned that," he said. "But I am wrong, +inhospitable, selfish; my complaints trouble you, and you cannot eat. +Come, come; let me carve another bird, this is cold."</p> + +<p>An hour after this Barbara mounted her horse, and accompanied by her old +guide took the forest path again. As the night came on, and the shadows +around her grew blacker and blacker, though the tree tops were aflame +with scarlet and gold, she became conscious of some strange +companionship in the woods. Sometimes it seemed as if the mellow tread +of hoofs stole up from the recesses of the forest. Then she could hear +the bend and sway of branches; and, closer still, whispering sounds +among the leaves, as if every thing around her were full of active life. +What these signs could be was a wonder to her; neither restless birds +nor deer, bounding through the undergrowth in flocks, could produce a +noise at once so subdued and persistent. But no harm came, or appeared +to threaten her. On the contrary, legions of spirits seemed to guard her +path unseen. It was dark before Barbara came out of the thick of the +forest, and made her way to the farm-house. Up to the very margin of the +trees these whispered sounds and almost inaudible footsteps accompanied +her. The moment Barbara's feet crossed that threshold hundreds on +hundreds of human beings swarmed out of the woods, and moved noiselessly +toward Jason Brown's barn.</p> + +<p>A crash, as of broken boards, followed by a low, rattling sound, came +from the building. Then, as each man filed by the door, a musket was +placed in his hand, which he carried straight to the woods, following +the warrior who had gone before, as savages tread a war-path. It was the +end of this procession that Jason Brown had seen, coiling like a serpent +along the edge of the forest, after Barbara Stafford came forth into the +moonlight on her white horse and rode away. Of all the arms secreted in +the barn, not a gun was left; even the boxes were carried off in +fragments.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>THE BEACON FIRE.</h3> + + +<p>Barbara rode on her way, altogether unconscious that the woods around +her swarmed with armed men, who had been for hours following her at a +distance. But all at once another hoof-tread sounded in her path, and +looking around she saw young Philip, mounted on a horse that seemed +black in the darkness, riding close by her side, while Wahpee lagged +behind.</p> + +<p>"Do not be afraid; I have been near you all the time," said the young +horseman.</p> + +<p>The woods were so dark, except where the light of a clear moon could +penetrate to the path she rode over, that Barbara was glad of this +addition to her escort. So they rode on together at a quick pace, +penetrating more and more deeply into the heart of the wilderness. The +hum and rush of what seemed a current of wind in the distance still +haunted her way. Sometimes she heard the crackling of underbrush, afar +off; but these sounds were so continuous that she soon ceased to regard +them. Then, for a mile or two, all was profound stillness. It seemed as +if every living thing had suddenly dropped to sleep upon the earth, and +in the leaves. The very moonlight ceased to tremble along the forest +turf, for the branches which had sent it quivering like frost-work +around her path, hung motionless over Barbara's head.</p> + +<p>Over the soft turf the three horses sped till the moon went down, and +midnight came on. Then, all at once, the woods just ahead of this party +burst into sudden flame; a vivid column of fire shot up to the sky, +leaping, hissing, and rioting along the sapless boughs of a dead +pine-tree, that crowned an eminence around which their path lead. Thus +the blackness of night was swept away, and all the forest trees turned +of a rich, golden green, inexpressibly beautiful.</p> + +<p>"We are near the encampment," said Philip, and a proud smile lighted his +face, upon which the sudden radiance shone. "Ride on, dear lady; your +halting-place of yesterday is but just ahead: that flaming pine-tree +will light us to it. This time you will find it filled with warriors."</p> + +<p>The horse which Philip bestrode leaped forward while he was speaking, +and with a spirited bound Barbara's white steed sprang after him.</p> + +<p>Directly they came in sight of the clearing, illuminated by the burning +pine, which, uplifted by a ledge of rocks from a level with the forest, +towered behind it like a steeple of quivering fire. Bathed in this +golden light Barbara saw the turfy mound on which she had taken that +noonday repast, and under it the miniature lake with all its crystal +waves flame-tinted by the fire. The sparks, which fell in a perpetual +storm from that burning tree, seemed eddying and shimmering in the depth +of its waters, and the willows which drooped over them were of a rich +luminous green that quivered with every stir of the wind.</p> + +<p>The larger clearing was less broadly in the light, but that presented +one of the grandest scenes that human eye ever dwelt upon. There, +swarming, jostling, heaving together in gorgeous masses, a multitude of +savages crowded the open space. Within the glow of that mighty council +fire the scattered tribe of the Pomperoags had gathered to meet the son +of their slain king. Burning with war paint, and resplendent with +barbarous ornaments, they turned the sweet rural scene of the morning +into a war camp so wild and picturesque that the lady uttered a cry of +astonishment when she came thus suddenly upon it.</p> + +<p>"Do not be afraid," said Philip, reining in his horse and bending a +triumphant look upon his forced guest. "You are safe here. Keep close to +my side, and I will show you how hard it is to subjugate a brave +people."</p> + +<p>Barbara drew her rein tight: this scene, so grandly beautiful, the +passionate eloquence in her companion's look and voice, aroused all the +enthusiasm of her nature.</p> + +<p>"Ride on; I will follow;" she said.</p> + +<p>With grave dignity, and curbing the heroic fire that burned in his eyes, +the young man advanced into the clearing. Barbara followed, threading +her way through crowds of armed warriors, some standing in groups, +others sitting on the half-illuminated sward, while the edges of the +forest swarmed with savage forms; for the multitude gathering into that +spot had already overrun the open space, and was crowded back into the +woods.</p> + +<p>Barbara drew up her horse on the margin of the lake, where she sat, like +an equestrian statue, under the willows. Philip rode directly up the +mound, and as the hoofs of his war-horse struck the rock at its summit, +called out in a loud, ringing voice that penetrated every nook and +corner of the encampment—</p> + +<p>"Chiefs and warriors, Metacomet, the son of King Philip, has asked the +people of his tribe to come hither that he may hold a talk with them. He +is here."</p> + +<p>The young man's face and figure were thrown into splendid relief by the +fire light. His dress, savage only where it could be made picturesque, +gave kingly dignity to his presence. The eagle's plume, that proclaimed +him chief, rose from a cap of crimson cloth, from under which his bright +hair swept in curling waves. The horse stood motionless, his neck arched +proudly, his wild eyes a-glow with animal fire.</p> + +<p>While Philip's voice was yet vibrating through those savage hearts, a +line of warriors, laden down with arms, defiled out of some unseen path +of the forest, and belted the mound in with a triple wall of braves, +which bristled so thickly with pikes and bayonets that the men who bore +them were almost invisible.</p> + +<p>As the fiery pine flamed skyward and flashed on this bristling steel, +rank after rank of savages, concealed in the woods, pressed into the +light, till the whole clearing was alive with Indians, some armed for +the war-path, others bearing calumets, doubtful if they had been +summoned from their hiding places in the forest to hold council or sound +a war-whoop. But the whole multitude was ready for either, and a sea of +dusky faces was uplifted to the young chief in stern attention.</p> + +<p>"If there lives a warrior who knew Philip when he was king and chief of +the Pomperoags, let him step forth, look on this face and say if it is +not his son who talks with you?"</p> + +<p>Thus the young Metacomet addressed the throng of savages as they swarmed +in from the forest.</p> + +<p>Two old medicine-men came out of the ranks and passed through a lane of +bayonets crowded back to give them free passage. They went close up to +Philip, and, shading their eyes from the hot light, searched his face +with keen glances. They fell back satisfied, and, so far as their feeble +voices could reach, the savages heard this curt decision:</p> + +<p>"His face does not lie."</p> + +<p>Here a low shout, or rather groan, of approval, ran through those savage +ranks and died away in the forest. Again Metacomet turned to the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Warriors, I have come back from across the great waters with the heart +of King Philip beating loud in my bosom. He died fighting for his +people. So will I, or set them free, with broader hunting-grounds than +they ever trod, and richer cornfields than their enemies have learned to +plant. When King Philip died, his enemies laughed, like cowards, for +they knew that a great warrior had fallen, such as will never tread +their cornfields, though they plant them over our fathers' graves ten +thousand years. When he fell, the Pomperoags were a conquered people, +not from lack of bravery, but because the white man's cunning was more +powerful than the strong arms of all our warriors, with the bravest man +that ever lived at their head.</p> + +<p>"Warriors, your king, betrayed by a traitor, hunted down like a wild +beast, was murdered. His son seized the rifle as it fell from his hand +and sent its last bullet through the brain of a white soldier, who +attempted to drag him away from his dying father. When he was disarmed, +bleeding, desperate, they seized upon him. Warriors, I see by the fire +in those eyes and the grip of those hands that no one of you has +forgotten that story. The captors of this wretched boy sold him into +slavery. They chained his limbs and gave him over to the lash—sent him +under the hot sun to work like a beast of burden. He did work and he +suffered, but slavery never reached the soul of Metacomet—that forever +turned back to his people. Still he must have died like a brute beast, +worn out with toil, but for the woman who sits yonder with her face +turned this way in wonder at what she sees. She came to the island where +he toiled under the lash, and saw how wretched he was. With her gold she +broke his chains. With her smiles she cured his wounded heart. She +taught him how to think, and out of that came a power which turned +thought into a great purpose, which has never left his brain a moment +from that day to this.</p> + +<p>"He went across the great waters, and learned all the cunning secrets +with which our enemies conquered the red man. He searched out the +wonderful power which conquers without fighting. He learned that +knowledge is more powerful than the tomahawk, and swifter than a rifle +bullet. He learned that white men cut eagle plumes into pens, and with +their sharp points send out thoughts like arrows, striking whole tribes +at once.</p> + +<p>"Warriors, with this knowledge the son of King Philip will give force to +your strong arms. This night swift runners shall be on their way to +friendly nations along the coast, and the great hunting-grounds on the +big lakes. The thought that speaks here will run as fire leaps along +yonder dead tree, burning up the hate that we have felt for each other, +and linking us, tribe to tribe, nation to nation, till the coast is +lighted by one belt of council fires, our forests threaded with +war-paths, and the fields, cleared by our enemies, grow corn for the +Indian alone. Warriors, has the son of your chief spoken well?"</p> + +<p>A groan of general assent once more ran hoarsely through that savage +multitude, dying away in the depths of the forest. Again Metacomet +spoke:</p> + +<p>"Warriors, like the son of King Philip you have been slaves. The whites +have taken away your rifles, and driven you into holes and corners to +hide like foxes when the dogs are out. But I have brought muskets from +over the great waters, and sharp spears that kill without leaving the +hand. Powder and lead we have in plenty, hidden away in dry caves which +our foe can never find."</p> + +<p>Philip turned to the Indians that surrounded him closest standing under +a forest of bayonets. Some of these men carried two muskets and a spear, +some more.</p> + +<p>"Stack your guns," he commanded.</p> + +<p>Instantly, and with great precision, the savages stepped forward and +stacked their weapons. These men had been for weeks drilled by their +young leader, and were quick to learn. Philip guided his horse through +the bristling weapons, and rode up to Barbara, where she sat pale with +excitement and thrilled with vague terror.</p> + +<p>"Lady," he said, "can you forgive the use to which I have applied your +bounty? During all these years, I have been hoarding up the gold of +which you were so lavish, for this purpose alone—'To free his father's +people, Philip consented to be a beggar after he ceased to work as a +slave.'"</p> + +<p>"Great heavens! and have I done this?" cried Barbara, violently +agitated. "God forgive me if my kind intent leads to bloodshed."</p> + +<p>"It shall lead a brave people to freedom! Oh, lady, regret nothing that +you have done. Never on the earth did gold perform a more holy work."</p> + +<p>Barbara made no answer: she was appalled into silence by what she saw +and heard.</p> + +<p>Philip took hold of her bridle-rein gently, and turned her horse from +the lake.</p> + +<p>"Let the warriors see your face, lady," he said: "dangerous times are +coming on and it is well that they should know to whom their protection +is promised."</p> + +<p>Barbara made no resistance, but she trembled on her saddle. As her horse +stood side by side with that of Philip on the mound, a crowd of dusky +faces was uplifted to hers, and she grew pale under the wild light of a +thousand burning eyes that seemed piercing her like arrows.</p> + +<p>"Braves," said Philip, and his voice sounded full and clear as a +trumpet, "look upon this lady, and remember that so long as a man of our +tribe lives she is his charge. The white man may yet become her foe as +he is ours. She may be driven into the woods, as other women have been, +but I charge you, wherever she is found, in forest or settlement, obey +her and guard her as if she were a prophet of our people."</p> + +<p>The groan of approval that followed this speech swelled almost into a +shout, and went rolling off into the forest like the smothered howl of +wild beasts.</p> + +<p>Terrified and distressed, Barbara pleaded with the young chief to send +her away. Her face was white, her lips trembled as she spoke. She was +completely overcome by the shock of this unexpected scene.</p> + +<p>"Braves," cried Philip, standing up in his stirrups, "on this spot, +where he was born, Metacomet has kindled his first great council-fire: +light your pipes and smoke while he rides with this lady on her way +through the woods, and let no man forget that from this hour she is a +daughter of our tribe."</p> + +<p>Again that hoarse, growl-like shout answered as he wished, and while it +swelled along her path Barbara rode from the encampment, followed by +Wahpee and accompanied by Philip. During all the waning night he kept by +her side, and she made no protest. The wild grandeur of the scene she +had left still impressed her with awe to which she could give no words, +and a ride of so many hours had almost exhausted her strength when she +came to the encampment. An hour before dawn Philip left her and rode +back to the beacon fire at her own urgent request.</p> + +<p>The first flush of morning was scattering rose leaves in the east and +turning the far-off waves to liquid opals when Barbara came in sight of +Samuel Parris's dwelling. She would have dismounted within the shelter +of the trees, but was so overcome with fatigue that it seemed impossible +for her to walk across the open space that lay in front of the +meeting-house. But old Wahpee drew up his horse, and motioned +obstinately that he intended to go no farther.</p> + +<p>"But what shall I do with the horse?" questioned the lady, wearily.</p> + +<p>"Turn him loose: he will know Wahpee's call," answered the Indian.</p> + +<p>Barbara rode on, so worn and weary that she could hardly keep her +saddle.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris was looking out of her bedroom window and marvelled at +the strange apparition of her father's guest on a horse which she had +never seen before; but Tituba passed the threshold of her room that +moment, and she turned to answer some question that the old woman asked. +While she was so occupied Barbara descended from her horse. Scarcely had +her foot touched the ground when the creature heard a shrill whistle +from Wahpee and bounded off to the woods. When Elizabeth looked out of +the window a few moments after, Barbara Stafford was walking slowly +toward the house, but there was no sign of the white horse; at which the +young girl drew her breath painfully, and sunk to a chair shocked with +an awful dread.</p> + +<p>"Tituba! Tituba!"</p> + +<p>The old woman, who was half-way down-stairs, came back again, alarmed by +that sharp cry.</p> + +<p>"Tituba, you told me that Mistress Barbara Stafford was ill and wished +to be left alone."</p> + +<p>"So she is," answered the old woman, entering the room and closing the +door after her.</p> + +<p>"But I saw her just now."</p> + +<p>"Saw her, Miss Lizzybeth!" answered the Indian, listening keenly to a +rustling sound that came from the stairs. "Saw her! why everybody is +asleep in the house. What did you get up for, child?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tituba, I am so restless! There is something strange, terrible, +going on in this house. What is the matter with Abby? What keeps this +woman here when nobody wants her? Is she truly ill? When did you see her +last?"</p> + +<p>"This very morning," asserted Tituba, who had in truth seen Barbara near +the door, and now heard her moving in the back room.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth leaned her head on one hand as if some distressing thought +pained her.</p> + +<p>"Strange! strange!" she muttered.</p> + +<p>"Do you want me any longer?" asked the Indian still listening keenly.</p> + +<p>"No. Yes, Tituba, don't go down yet. Where is Abby?"</p> + +<p>"In bed and sound asleep."</p> + +<p>"How can she sleep away from me? Oh, Tituba! Tituba! I am so lonesome."</p> + +<p>Tituba went close to her young mistress, and kneeling down received that +drooping head on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Come close, Tituba. Oh, how I want my mother now!"</p> + +<p>This cry of nature touched old Tituba's heart, but she had no words.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth lifted her face and searched those withered features with her +beautiful eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tituba, just as sure as I live, Barbara Stafford sat out yonder on a +white horse only a little while ago. The horse vanished. Then I saw her +on foot near the door," she said wildly. "What does it mean? What can it +mean?"</p> + +<p>The old woman made vague efforts to caress the girl, but said nothing. +At last Elizabeth sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Are you speaking truth, Tituba?" she exclaimed, "or am I bewitched?"</p> + +<p>The last words of this sentence were uttered in a whisper: even the word +witchcraft was full of awe to that young heart. Then, struck with a +sudden resolution, she flung the door open. "I will see for myself! I +will see for myself!"</p> + +<p>She went out into the passage, opened the door of Barbara Stafford's +room and stole in on tip-toe, holding her breath. Barbara Stafford was +in bed—sound asleep. The moment her head touched that pillow she had +fallen into the death-like slumber which follows extreme fatigue. Her +garments lay in a heap on the floor, save the scarlet cloak, which hung +in its usual place against the wall.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<h3>ALL OR NOTHING.</h3> + + +<p>The third week after Samuel Parris's return from Boston, Norman Lovel +arrived at his house. When we first met this young man he had the face +of an angel and the impulsive manners of a child; even then he possessed +a depth and earnestness of feeling which only broke out when the +occasion was important enough to draw forth high and brave qualities.</p> + +<p>But a few weeks of thoughtful experience had changed him greatly. He had +all at once taken a leap into manhood. The bloom and grace of extreme +youth had risen into the calm dignity of quiet self-reliance. This was a +result most likely to follow the young man's intimate companionship with +a woman like Barbara Stafford, who always gave to others the +self-respect which never forsook herself.</p> + +<p>When Elizabeth saw the young man coming, she forgot all coldness, and +uttering a joyful cry, ran into the little garret room, where Abby +Williams sat brooding over her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Abby! dear, dear Abby! he has come! Norman is here! Run and look at +him as he dismounts. Then say if he is not the brightest, the +handsomest—oh, do come!"</p> + +<p>In her eagerness, she almost lifted Abby from her seat on the bed, and +kissed her averted face again and again. Abby was taken by surprise: her +heart gave a wild leap, and her cheeks grew red and warm. The good, true +heart for a moment flung off its bitter load.</p> + +<p>They crossed the garret, each with an arm girding the other's waist, and +stood by the window, while the young man dismounted. Abby could not feel +that young heart beating and fluttering against her own without a thrill +of warm sympathy, and for a little time the old love triumphed.</p> + +<p>"Stand back a little, just a step, cousin Abby, or he will see us +watching him," cried Elizabeth, blushing crimson as the fear crossed her +mind.</p> + +<p>"There now—ah!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth gave a start, and, forgetting her late precaution, drew close +to the window. The young man had sprung from his saddle, and was moving +eagerly toward the door-step, on which Barbara Stafford seemed to be +waiting for him. The sound of his voice, clear and full of glad +surprise, rang up to the two girls where they stood.</p> + +<p>"You here, lady—oh, if you only knew how anxious we have been, how +lonely the house was after you left so strangely. The governor has +scarcely spoken since, except on state affairs—and as for Lady Phipps, +she moves about like a shadow. Somehow all the sunshine went out when +you disappeared."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford answered, in a constrained voice, but with gentleness,</p> + +<p>"I have a few weeks to wait, before the ship goes out. My business in +this land is accomplished. I only wanted some place to rest in, till the +time came, and was reluctant to burden the governor's hospitality for so +long a time. Avoiding a formal farewell I found my way here, knowing +that the good minister would give me shelter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we have been so troubled at your sudden disappearance: it was +very cruel."</p> + +<p>"Was there any one who felt my loss?" asked Barbara, with a thrill of +tenderness in her voice. "Who cared to inquire if I was dead or alive?"</p> + +<p>"You ask that question in earnest? I will not believe it. How little you +knew of the friendship, the love you abandoned!"</p> + +<p>These words rose to the window less distinctly than the others had done; +but Abby felt the form, still encircled by her arm, waver as if about to +fall.</p> + +<p>"Listen—listen," she said, "it is not of himself he speaks."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth did not answer. Her breath was hushed. With all her soul she +listened for the next words. They came like a gush of bright waters.</p> + +<p>"But now that I find you safe, and have good tidings to carry back to +Sir William and Lady Phipps, I will pass in, lady, for I must see +another before my hard gallop is quite rewarded. Surely, Miss Parris is +not away from home, or ill?"</p> + +<p>"He thinks of you—he inquires for you!" whispered Abby. "It was +surprise, only surprise, that kept him at the door so long."</p> + +<p>"I will go down. Shall I go down at once? Dear cousin, tell me—don't +let me go if it is unmaidenly, or if you think he has been too cold. +Shall I go, cousin Abby?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, go," answered Abby Williams, withdrawing her arm. "He is waiting +for you!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth smoothed her hair with both hands, looked shyly at her cousin +as she turned from the little mirror, and glided away. She entered the +lower hall; there between her and her lover stood Barbara Stafford, with +the sunshine on her head, but casting a dark shadow across the +door-sill. So the young people met with constraint, and each thought the +other cold.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford glided away when she saw Elizabeth, and bent her course +to the sea-shore. Young Lovel watched her, with a long, earnest look, +and when she disappeared behind a grove of orchard trees he sighed +deeply, and fell into thought. Elizabeth stood on the threshold, leaning +against the mouldings of the door. Her cheek grew red, and she began to +tremble beneath the rush of a terrible idea, that took distinct form on +that fatal moment.</p> + +<p>"Strange, strange woman!" muttered the youth. "By what power does she +drain the heart of all thoughts that do not belong to herself?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth drew back keenly disappointed. The young man seemed +unconscious of her presence; yet they had not seen each other for weeks. +She turned proudly, and went into the house. The movement aroused Lovel. +He withdrew his eyes from the retreating form of Barbara Stafford, to +which they seemed drawn by some fascination, and followed the young +girl, unconscious that he had done any thing to wound or offend her.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth sat down in the oaken chair, that had belonged to her mother. +She could not understand the iron feelings that crept over her.</p> + +<p>"Has that woman's shadow chilled all the love from my heart as well as +his?" she said to herself. "Am I too bewitched?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<h3>TOWARD THE SHORE.</h3> + + +<p>This word made the idea, that had haunted her so long, painfully +tangible. The young girl began to shudder at the thoughts that crowded +upon her. All the feelings, connected with her love of this young man, +had been strange from the first. So much of pain was mingled with its +sweetness, so much of passion, temper, and the bitter tears which spring +from both, that she could not comprehend them. The very development of +her own nature, under the workings of a passion utterly unknown to her +before, had something mysterious in it, which aroused ideas of some +supernatural power, checking and thwarting it into a wild pain.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford had undoubtedly connected herself with the evil power, +which sometimes held her heart girded like a vice, and again forced the +young creature to throw herself upon the woman's bosom in a paroxysm of +regretful tenderness.</p> + +<p>Why was she to love or hate Barbara Stafford, a woman she had never seen +till within the last few weeks—a stranger wrecked upon the shore, and +cast up, as it were, from the foam of the ocean, without a history, and +it might prove without a true name. If it must be that their destinies +jostled each other, why could it not be all love or entire hate?</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris sat still, thinking these things over, while Norman +Lovel was talking to her of the friends she had so lately left. He +brought a score of sweet messages from Lady Phipps, and kindly +remembrances from the governor himself. He spoke of the loneliness that +fell upon the family when its guests had departed; but after his words +to Barbara Stafford, any thing he could say to her seemed cold and +common-place. Without knowing it, Elizabeth was possessed of that proud +hunger, which every true woman feels, when she really loves—that +craving desire to be all or nothing, which makes so many noble hearts +miserable.</p> + +<p>Yes, Elizabeth would be all to Norman Lovel, or she would be nothing. +She did not say these words, or think these thoughts; but the resolution +rose and burned in her heart like a fire. Filled with the tumult of +these sensations, she did not heed what her lover was saying. His voice +seemed to come from afar off; and as for the meaning of his speech, her +ears refused to drink it in.</p> + +<p>Norman saw her distraction, and was amazed by it. Had he ridden fifteen +miles through the woods, almost on an unbroken gallop, to be met with +half looks, and greeted only by monosyllables? The young man took fire +at once. He would give Elizabeth plenty of time to collect her thoughts. +His kindest words should no longer be wasted on a sullen statue.</p> + +<p>In this heat of temper, Norman took up his hat and went out. Elizabeth +started, looked wildly over her shoulder, and tried to call him back; +but her voice was husky, and refused utterance; she could neither speak +nor move, till he had crossed the threshold, and was gone. For some +moments she sat motionless. It seemed as if her limbs were girded to the +chair. She thought with bitterness that the power of Barbara Stafford's +evil will held her tight, when it was but the reaction of her own +overwrought feelings. The fiend Jealousy was torturing her.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth broke free from this painful thrall, started up, and went to +the door, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked forth toward the +ocean. It lay in the distance, blue and sparkling, like ridges and waves +of sapphire, breaking through streams of diamond dust. The glory of the +sunshine was nothing to her. She turned away, searching the shore; there +she saw young Lovel walking rapidly in the path from which Barbara +Stafford had just disappeared.</p> + +<p>"He is going to her! he is going to her!" cried the young girl, pressing +one hand upon her forehead, to still a thought that seemed gnawing at +her brain like a viper. "She has charmed him away, she and the +sweet-toned familiar, that whispers in her voice, and looks through +those velvet eyes—"</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, child! Elizabeth!"</p> + +<p>She did not hear the voice of Tituba, who stood in the entry, behind +her, waiting to be noticed.</p> + +<p>"Child!" she repeated, touching the uplifted arm with her finger, +"child!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth dropped her hand, and shrunk away, looking at Tituba +suspiciously, over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"You hurt me, old Tituba. Look—my arm is black and purple where the +marks of your nails have been. She has taught you this, old woman. I +have seen her in the kitchen, with fresh herbs, which you made into tea; +and roots, which she dug up with a dagger from among drifts of sea-weed +on the shore. Keep away from me, old woman; my flesh creeps as you come +near."</p> + +<p>Old Tituba was confounded. She had only come to consult her young +mistress on the propriety of killing a chicken, and making up a batch of +blackberry pies, if the young gentleman was likely to stay over night; +and this charge of hurting the creature whom she loved better, almost, +than any thing on earth, struck her dumb. At length she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You are sick, Miss Lizzybeth; something dreadful is the matter, or +you'd never say this to old Tituba. Go up-stairs, and lie down while I +make some tea."</p> + +<p>"No; you gave me herb drink last night, and once before this week. I +will not take that drink from any one."</p> + +<p>"Why, child?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Tituba, hush, if you love me! I don't mean to be cross; but my +head is full of awful thoughts; they make me say cruel things even to +poor old Tituba."</p> + +<p>"The poor child—and she will take nothing," said the old woman, while +her face, dark and wrinkled like a dried peach, began to work, the +nearest approach to weeping her Indian blood ever permitted. "What can I +do? Where is the young brave?"</p> + +<p>"Yonder," said Elizabeth, bitterly, "going toward the sea!"</p> + +<p>"Shall I bring him back? Shall I tell him he has left your heart full of +tears?"</p> + +<p>Tituba clenched her little withered hands with energy, as if she were +about to give a leap, and start off at full speed, while her sharp eyes +followed the retreating figure of the young man. But Elizabeth held her +back.</p> + +<p>"No, no. See, Abigail is coming down. I will tell her. Abigail! cousin +Abigail!"</p> + +<p>But Abigail Williams, who had been so caressing and kind half an hour +before, came into the passage with the dull, heavy frown on her forehead +which had become habitual now; answering her cousin's appeal with a +repulsive motion of the hand, she passed by her, and went into the open +air.</p> + +<p>The sun was very bright, and for an instant she stood upon the +stepping-stone, shading her eyes with one hand, looking first toward the +forest, and again, with more lingering earnestness, sweeping the horizon +with her gaze, where the sky melted into the ocean. A boat lay like a +speck amid the brightness of the water. If Abigail had not been +searching for it, an object so diminished by distance would have escaped +observation. But she saw the floating speck, and, without a look or word +for those she left behind, started off for the shore.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<h3>UNACCOUNTABLE SYMPATHIES.</h3> + + +<p>Barbara Stafford sat upon the roots of an old oak, that held the edges +of forest turf together, just where they verged into the white sands of +the beach. The woods had been thinned on that portion of the coast, and +the oak stood out almost alone, amid a sea of whortleberry bushes, +ferns, and low-vined blackberries, that covered the sparse soil with +their many-tinted herbage. Behind her loomed the forest; before her +rolled the ocean. The sunshine lay upon both, turning one to sapphires, +the other to shifting emeralds. The sunshine lay everywhere, save in her +own heart—there was unutterably darkened.</p> + +<p>I do not say that all this brightness in nature fell around her like a +mockery; for her soul was too heavy even for a thought of external +objects. It is only sudden or light sorrows that shrink and thrill to +outward things. When depression becomes the habit of a life, it weighs +upon the existence, as stagnant waters sleep in a landscape. When they +are disturbed, miasma starts forth, and makes the earth feel that a +weight is forever upon its bosom, whose breath is poison, which no power +can fathom, and brightness can warm.</p> + +<p>This great burden lay upon Barbara Stafford. Had the ocean been lashed +with storms, she might have looked upon it in awe, for she was a woman +full of feminine timidity, and only a few weeks before had been snatched +from the waves by the very youth from whom she had just parted. She was +thinking of the youth, but not of the waves from which he had rescued +her—thinking of him with vague yearnings and fond regrets, which seemed +all of human tenderness that gleamed across the desolation of her hopes. +She felt something like joy singing through the dreariness of her life, +whenever the image of this young man presented itself. Why was it? she +asked herself again and again. Were the blossoms of a new love springing +up from her soul, after it had been laid waste for so many years? Had +the ashes of dead hopes fertilized her life afresh, that she should feel +this glow of affection, when the lad spoke or looked into her eyes?</p> + +<p>Barbara was no girl to wave these questions with blushes. She knew their +meaning well, and searched her own heart to its depths, as the surgeon +probes a wound. The unnaturalness of this attachment did not startle her +pride as at first; for she was one of those who measure souls by their +capacity, not the years that might have fallen upon them. Still every +sensitive feeling was wounded by the very idea of love, in its broadest +and most beautiful meaning, as connected with this youth. Affection deep +and steadfast, a love that thrilled her with holy impulses, she found; +but nothing that could bring the pure matronly blood warmer to her +cheeks, or cause her frank eyes to turn aside from his glances. The +feelings that she was forced to acknowledge to herself were +inexplicable, for gratitude was never half so tender, love never in a +degree so unselfish. Barbara had never experienced the sweet worship +which a mother feels for a living child, therefore could not judge how +far these sensations approached that most holy feeling; but she knew +that the presence of this strange emotion had filled her with ineffable +content. The hard realities of her condition faded away at the approach +of this young man, and all the gentle sensations of her youth came +softly back across the desert of her life, keeping her soul from the +despair that for a time had threatened it.</p> + +<p>She was thinking of the youth, nothing else, though her eyes gazed +wistfully across the sea, and her face was thoughtful, as if she +expected some pleasant approach from the far-off blue of the deep. So, +when footsteps came across the bench, she started, and the wings of a +brooding dove seemed to unfold in her bosom as Norman Lovel approached +and seated himself on a fragment of stone at her feet.</p> + +<p>Barbara could not resist the impulse, but laid her hand caressingly on +his head, burying her fingers in the rich waves of his hair.</p> + +<p>He looked up, and smiled. This gentle caress was pleasant, after the +coldness with which Elizabeth had driven him from her side.</p> + +<p>"How profoundly you were thinking!" he said. "I was almost afraid to +disturb you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Barbara, "I was trying to find out what has swept so +much of the darkness from my life within the last hour."</p> + +<p>"And did you find a happy conclusion? I hope so, for then I shall think +that some pleasure at my coming was mingled with your thoughts. Oh, dear +lady, you never will know how keenly we felt your loss."</p> + +<p>"And yet I am a stranger to you all."</p> + +<p>"Some people are never strangers. I feel as if I had known you from the +cradle up—as if my happiness would never be complete if you were away. +The touch of your hand soothes me, and your voice stirs my heart, like +music heard before thought or memory comes. When I am near you, a solemn +gladness quiets me into a very child. Oh, lady, I love you dearly."</p> + +<p>Barbara did not start, or change color. This language seemed natural to +her, as the rush of the waves on the beach. She simply bent down and +laid her hand on his forehead. He drew a deep breath and was silent. The +smile upon his lips was like that of an infant Samuel when he prays.</p> + +<p>"I have found you at last; you will never, never leave us again!"</p> + +<p>"When the ship sails I must go yonder," she answered, pointing seaward.</p> + +<p>"To England! Why should you go? Have you friends there more dear than +those you will leave behind?" questioned the youth, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I have no friends there, but many duties," said Barbara, and her voice +trembled painfully. "When I leave these shores, every living being that +I love will be left behind."</p> + +<p>"Why go, then? Why abandon those who regard you tenderly, for a land +that contains no friends?"</p> + +<p>Barbara turned pale as she looked down into those beautiful, eager eyes.</p> + +<p>"Because," she said, extending her hand toward the ocean, "because that +must roll between us and—and this continent, before I can fall into the +heavy rest, which is all I hope or ask for now."</p> + +<p>"But why go away? This is a new country; a mind and energy like yours +may find ample scope for exertion here. Become the missionary of +intelligence. We have school-houses, but few teachers. What grand men +and noble women would be given to the world, from a teacher at once so +strong and so gentle."</p> + +<p>Barbara smiled a little proudly. The idea of becoming a school-teacher +in one of the colonies had evidently never entered her mind.</p> + +<p>Norman saw the smile and blushed.</p> + +<p>"You think it a humble means of good," he said, "and are, perhaps, +offended with me for naming it. But Governor Phipps thinks it a calling +of the utmost importance in these settlements. He says that the man, or +woman, who gives wisdom and Christianity to our little ones, holds an +office higher than that of any judge or statesman in the land."</p> + +<p>Barbara gazed wistfully in Norman's face, while he was speaking. An +earnest gleam came into her eyes, and her lips began to quiver. Why was +her voice so like a hoarse whisper when she spoke?</p> + +<p>"Did—did Governor Phipps speak of me in this connection?"</p> + +<p>"No, but when I had been speaking of you, he said it, as if the idea +came with your name."</p> + +<p>Barbara shook her head, slowly and mournfully.</p> + +<p>"It can never happen. This land holds no corner of rest for me now. Here +is struggle, temptation, bitter soul-strife; there, is rest, that leaden +rest, which comes when there is nothing to hope or fear. Oh, my young +friend, it is a terrible thing, when one reaches the hill-tops of life, +and finds a broad, ashen desert beyond, with a grave on the other side, +which you long to reach, but must not."</p> + +<p>"But surely this is not your case, lady?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! what else?" she whispered, casting that wistful look seaward +again. "What of joy, or hope, can ever come to me again?"</p> + +<p>"And are you so unhappy?" questioned the youth, almost with tears in his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Unhappy! I do not know—but let us talk of other things: this fair girl +Elizabeth."</p> + +<p>"Do not speak of her—she wounds me with her coldness, she insults me +with suspicions—let us talk of any thing rather than her."</p> + +<p>"But she loves you, for all that."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it!" cried the youth, impetuously: "love does not turn +a maiden into stone, when a true heart appeals to hers. You would not +repulse me one hour, and adore me the next. I am tired of girls!"</p> + +<p>Barbara smiled, as if the prattle of an infant had amused her.</p> + +<p>"Fiery young heart," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, "how +little you comprehend the feelings that trouble you!"</p> + +<p>"I can only understand how much sweeter your voice is than hers, how +grand your words are, how like heaven the earth seems when you permit me +to rest as I do now at your feet, and look forth on the ocean. With you, +all is rest—with her, excitement, discontent. She does not love me, and +I begin to think that I do not love her."</p> + +<p>"Boy, forbear. This is madness. Your heart does not speak out here. Such +impetuosity will end in evil. Check it. Your wild temper belies a noble +nature. Remember Elizabeth Parris is your betrothed wife!"</p> + +<p>"I can remember nothing, except that I have offended you," answered the +youth, passionately, "and I would rather die here at your feet."</p> + +<p>"Hush," said Barbara, "here comes Samuel Parris. He turns this way. I +will stroll toward the beach, while you converse with him."</p> + +<p>"Nay! I will follow you."</p> + +<p>Barbara had arisen. The young man started to his feet, and prepared to +walk forward with her. His color rose, and a glow of haughty resentment +came to his forehead as he caught a glimpse of Samuel Parris, who was +walking quickly toward them, while his face lowered with sombre anxiety.</p> + +<p>"Stop," cried the old man, lifting his staff. "Move not to the right or +the left, till I have spoken with you both, face to face."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford drew her proud figure to its height. There was +something too imperative in his command for her humble endurance. At +times, blood, that seemed born of emperors, mantled over that broad +forehead. It rose red and warm now.</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel stood by her side, his lips curved, his eyes flashing fire. +The two looked strangely akin in their haughty astonishment, as that +voice of command sought to arrest their footsteps.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<h3>SOUL TORTURES.</h3> + + +<p>When Elizabeth Parris was left standing on the door-step, and saw every +one drift toward the shore, a sensation fell upon her, so strange and +even terrible, that she thought herself dying. The blood seemed to stop +in her veins, blocking up all the avenues of life. The breath choked up +her throat, and from heart to limb she seemed turning to stone. During +some heavy minutes, she stood in this position, like a thing of marble, +save that her hair had sunshine in it, and her eyes deepened in color +till they seemed black. At last she turned, as a statue might have +wheeled from its base, and entered the house.</p> + +<p>A little wing had been added to the building, in which Samuel Parris +kept his books, and wrote his discourses. It was dimly lighted, and a +sombre gloom hung about it in solemn accordance with the old man's habit +of mind. Samuel Parris had spent much time in this apartment after the +excitement of returning home; and with a feeling of gentle complacency +was looking over some of the familiar books that lay on the table. +Engaged with these old friends, he did not observe when the door opened, +and his child glided through. Her small hand, pale as wax, dropped +heavily upon the open page he was reading, first warned him of the dear +presence.</p> + +<p>The old man gently pushed the hand aside.</p> + +<p>"It is the Holy Bible," he said, in explanation of the act.</p> + +<p>"The Bible," muttered Elizabeth, bending down and attempting to read. +But the words all ran together and melted into an intangible network of +characters under her gaze. She started back with a moan of horror, and +clasped both hands over her eyes.</p> + +<p>The minister looked up in dumb astonishment.</p> + +<p>"What—what is this?" he said, greatly troubled. "What have I done to +make you moan so piteously, Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>The young girl dropped her hands from her face, and wrung them in bitter +anguish.</p> + +<p>"Father, I am smitten in my sight. The blood is frozen in my veins. The +breath settles in my throat, strangling me when I speak. I scarcely feel +your touch. I cannot draw a deep breath. When I bend my looks on the +Bible, the pages are striped with ragged, black lines, as if a devil, +not God, had written it."</p> + +<p>"My child, what is this? A little while ago you were quiet and cheerful. +What disease can have fallen upon you? What evil thing has touched you?"</p> + +<p>She fell upon her knees, grovelling on the floor. Her eyes glittered +painfully, her lips bluish white.</p> + +<p>"Father, do not touch me. I am smitten. Lo! I am <i>bewitched</i>."</p> + +<p>The old man began to tremble in all his limbs. He shrunk away from his +child, gazing wildly at her, as some holy man might watch an angel +changing into a fiend before his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, daughter Elizabeth," he cried, "oh, my God—my God!"</p> + +<p>She bent her face downward, shrouding it with her garments, sobbing out,</p> + +<p>"Do not touch me, father. I am unholy—body and soul I am unholy. God +blinds my sight to his word. Fiery fiends have tracked their footprints +over His promises. Oh, me—oh, me—the curse is here!"</p> + +<p>More pale, more terribly stricken than his child, the old man stood up, +and, clasping his thin hands, lifted them slowly to heaven. At last he +spoke, in a voice of solemn command, which vibrated to the poor girl's +heart:</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth Parris, rise up, and say unto me, who has done this +thing—whence comes thy affliction?"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth arose very slowly, and looked her father in the face.</p> + +<p>"Come and see!"</p> + +<p>Uttering only this one sentence, she led the way out of the house and +into the open air. On she sped, through the sunshine and along by-paths, +toward the sea-shore, looking over her shoulder now and then to be sure +that her father followed close, but never turning aside or speaking a +word.</p> + +<p>At last she came out upon a curve of the beach, within sight of the oak +tree under which Barbara Stafford was sitting with Norman Lovel.</p> + +<p>"Behold!" she said, throwing out her hand, with the look and gesture of +a priestess. "Behold the strange woman, Barbara Stafford—the evil one +cast forth from the depths of the sea to torment us. Behold the WITCH!"</p> + +<p>After the young girl had uttered these awful words, for awful they were +in those days, a dead silence fell upon the father and child. At last +they both turned away, slowly retraced their steps, and entered the +house together. When they were alone in the library, the minister fell +into his chair and began to weep—weep and pray with a troubled +abruptness that proved the terrible hold with which his daughter's +charge had seized upon him. He saw now the complete change that had come +over her, the wildness in her eyes, the deadly white of her face. The +inroads, which a week of anxiety had made upon her person, struck him +with consternation and irresistible belief. What, save some fiendish +influence, could have changed the rosy bloom of her youth into that +dull, hopeless look?</p> + +<p>"Kneel down," he said, at last, "Elizabeth, my child; for if all the +evil spirits of the black realm have entered that form, thou art yet my +child. Kneel down, and with thy hand upon the Bible, tell me how this +strange woman has poisoned thy young life; tell me all, that I may ask +the Most High God to help us in this strait."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth answered more consistently than her state of terror would seem +to warrant. She had evidently thought deeply on the matter, and reasoned +with an intellect rendered keen by the alarm of a loving heart. She was +very pale, and sharp, nervous quivers shook her now and then, but the +pretty wilfulness of her character had entirely disappeared. She was +like a priestess preparing for some solemn oracle.</p> + +<p>"First, let me ask you, father, who is this woman whom you and Norman +Lovel dragged up from the depths of the sea?"</p> + +<p>"In truth I do not know," answered the minister, greatly troubled. "Did +I not tell you, Elizabeth, that it happened on the second day of my +arrival in Boston?"</p> + +<p>"The second day; and I had not seen you then."</p> + +<p>"Truly, these words are sooth, my child. I was beset by this weak heart +to visit thee at once, but some feeling, which seemed from above, held +me back, whispering ever, 'Do not make to thyself an idol of this fair +child, for thy God is a jealous God, visiting the sins of the fathers +upon the children.' Then, feeling that the great love in my bosom might +fall upon thee in wrath for mine offence, I dared not come within sight +of thee, mine only child; but was driven by the storm, as it were, on to +the heights overlooking the ocean."</p> + +<p>"And what did you see there, my father?"</p> + +<p>"A ship, breaking through the clouds, afar off, that waved and surged +around and above it like fiery banners."</p> + +<p>"And this woman came down the sides, entered a boat, and was whelmed in +the waves, from which you and Norman Lovel, my betrothed, rescued her. +All the rest I know. But who is she? Where is her country, and from what +good or evil influence did she get that wonderful power, which wins +every heart to her glance?"</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, I do not know!"</p> + +<p>"Father, let us be just. From the depth of my soul I believe this woman +an emissary of the Evil One, sent hither to break up the harmony of our +lives. But speak to her, father; question her, as a judge might do, when +afraid to sentence unholily. If the conviction fastened in this poor +heart springs from the selfishness of too keen affections, let me have +the proof, and I will kneel at Barbara Stafford's feet till she pardons +me. But if there is truth in these things—if she possesses no power to +sweep suspicion of diabolical influence away from her—then will I, of +my own strength, surrender her to the magistrates, that the evil spirit +may be driven from our house."</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris was sorely perplexed. In his simplicity, the introduction +of this strange lady into his household had been preceded with none of +the usual explanations. There was something about the woman, a dignity +of reserve, that, notwithstanding her sweet graciousness, forbade all +close questioning. When Samuel Parris remembered all the incidents +connected with their first meeting—the reserve maintained ever +since—the confusion left behind when she fled so strangely from the +governor's house, and the animosities that had sprung up under his own +roof since it had sheltered her—the justice of his daughter's +accusation fastened strongly upon him. He shivered with dread. Events +hitherto of simple solution, took a lurid form in his eyes. He looked +wistfully at the pale face uplifted to his—at the trouble in those +beautiful eyes—and was ready to cry out with anguish when he thought +that it was through him the evil influence had reached that young soul.</p> + +<p>"Stay here," he said, rising from his chair, and searching for his +staff, for the tremor in his old limbs was painfully visible. "Sit here, +and pray for help. Before the Lord I will question this woman."</p> + +<p>He kissed his daughter on the forehead, trembling all over, as if his +lips pressed the brow of a corpse, and taking up his staff went out, +followed by her heavy gaze, and a succession of low moans; for with +great mental anguish came bodily pain, and for a time Elizabeth Parris +seemed as if shrouded in ice.</p> + +<p>The old man bent his steps toward the beach once more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<h3>DENUNCIATION AND REPROACHES.</h3> + + +<p>Barbara Stafford was both disturbed and offended by the abrupt challenge +of the minister. There was something wild, even rude in his manner, that +aroused all the force of her really proud nature.</p> + +<p>"Leave me, Norman!" she said, gently. "It was wrong to abandon the young +lady on the first hour of your arrival; one does not readily forgive +such slights. Go back to the house, and make atonement."</p> + +<p>Norman obeyed, lifting his hat with haughty reverence as he passed the +minister. The old man turned, and followed him half way to the house. +Then he paused—stood a moment lost in thought, and slowly retraced his +steps.</p> + +<p>Barbara would not appear to wait his coming. She had wandered forth, as +was her frequent habit, in search of rare flowers that excited her +botanical fancy, from their beauty; or roots that possessed some +medicinal property, useful in the minister's household. Without +appearing to heed the old man, she left the foot of the oak, and was +walking along the curving lines formed where the forest turf crumbled +away into a surface of white sand. Now and then she paused to gather a +leaf, or some wood blossom, which she put in a little Indian basket, +which hung upon her arm.</p> + +<p>As the minister came up with her, she was kneeling on the turf and +eagerly unearthing a bulbous root, from which two or three rich leaves +sprang, shading a cone of red berries that shot up from their midst like +a flame.</p> + +<p>She looked over her shoulder, as the minister approached, and half rose, +with the little stiletto, with which she had been digging, in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," she said, falling to her work again. "This is a rare +specimen. I have almost uprooted the bulb. Old Tituba will find it +wonderfully useful in making up her drinks."</p> + +<p>The minister grew pale, as he stood leaning on his staff gazing at the +root. Barbara spoke again, rather cheerfully, for exercise and a bright +sea-breeze had excited her a little.</p> + +<p>"It has a common name, I think, among the people here. Wake +robbin—isn't that correct?"</p> + +<p>"Wake robbin—wild turnip, a deadly poison," answered the old man, +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is as you take it. Well dried, and ground to powder, it is +sometimes a wholesome medicine. I will teach Tituba how to use it."</p> + +<p>"Tituba—my woman servant, Tituba—and is she of this diabolical +confederacy?" muttered the old man, while a sensation of horror crept +over him. "Am I beset with fiends?"</p> + +<p>Barbara arose from the earth, held up the cone of scarlet berries in the +sun, while the bulb was clasped in her hand, with the green leaves +falling over it.</p> + +<p>"How can poisonous things be so beautiful?" she said, with a sigh. "Who +would believe that one of these glowing drops could take a human life?"</p> + +<p>"You know it to be deadly, then?" questioned the old man.</p> + +<p>His voice was so hoarse that Barbara looked him earnestly in the face.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, thoughtfully, "I know all its good and all its evil +qualities. Like many other things in life it can both cure and kill."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Barbara cut away the leaves and the red cone with her +poignard, dropping the root into her basket. Then she put away the +stiletto somewhere in the folds of her dress, and dashed off the soil +that clung to her white hands.</p> + +<p>"You would speak with me, I think?" she said, a little anxiously.</p> + +<p>"She knows that already," thought the old man, feeding his suspicions +with every word Barbara Stafford uttered: but he only said:</p> + +<p>"Lady, what have you in common with the young man who sat with you a few +minutes ago, under the oak yonder?"</p> + +<p>Barbara smiled. These words were a relief to her. She had expected +something more important by his strange manner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Lovel—he joined me on the shore where I went in search of a +shrub I wanted for old Tituba who has a bad cough. I hope his wish to +join me has not encroached on pleasanter duties."</p> + +<p>"And he too?" muttered the old man—"he too?"</p> + +<p>Barbara listened keenly, but the words escaped her. Her silence, +however, was impressive.</p> + +<p>"Let us go forward to the oak yonder," he said, pointing the way with +his staff.</p> + +<p>Barbara turned, without a word, and walked slowly toward the oak.</p> + +<p>They sat down together, the old man and the strange woman—she with a +calm look of preparation; he stern and pale, but hesitating how to +begin. Her dignity and the grave attention with which she waited took +away all his self-possession.</p> + +<p>"You would speak with me," Barbara said, at length: "you look agitated. +Surely nothing has gone amiss since I left the house!"</p> + +<p>The old man's face changed, and his voice trembled as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I helped to save you from the deep. I surrendered to you the +sacred wine after it had touched the lips of the man who stands highest +in our land. I have given you shelter in my dwelling, and placed you at +the same table with my daughter and my niece; yet so far as your worldly +life is concerned, I know you not, neither your outgoing nor your +incoming. What could I answer to the Lord, were he to say to me, 'Samuel +Parris, who is the woman with whom you have broken bread, and shared the +same roof?' I could but reply, 'Lord, I know not—for good or for evil +she was cast upon my care, like a drift of sea-weed from the great +deep—without a history—without a friend!'"</p> + +<p>"And in so much your answer would prove correct. Be satisfied, kind old +man, that you have done a Christian duty, for which the poor woman you +saved will not prove ungrateful."</p> + +<p>The minister shook his head, muttering to himself,</p> + +<p>"The arch enemy is most potent when he speaks in a sweet voice, and +takes on himself the meekness of an angel."</p> + +<p>Barbara only heard a word or two of this low speech, but she saw that +the old man was troubled, and a mournful smile came to her lips.</p> + +<p>"You are weary of me, I have become a burden in your house; do not fear +to say this."</p> + +<p>"Not a burden, lady, but a mystery—not an unwelcome guest, but one +around whom tears and discord centre, like storm clouds over the sky. +Lady, in the name of God, I ask, who are you, and for what purpose do +you sojourn among us?"</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford arose, pressed both hands to her eyes for a moment, and +answered—ah, so sadly—</p> + +<p>"I am nothing but a lone, lone woman, Samuel Parris, a sorrowful woman +whose way of life lies through the ashes of dead hopes. I am a woman to +whom love is a forbidden blessing. This is your first answer. As for my +object in coming among you, it is not accomplished, but dead. A few +weeks and I shall pass away. The sea, which would not mercifully +overwhelm me, spreads its waters between us and the land where my grave +will be dug. Let me rest in peace, old man, till a ship sails for some +British port: then I will trouble no one longer."</p> + +<p>"Then she will trouble no one longer," muttered Parris, writing with his +stick upon the ground. "God teach me how to deal with this beautiful +demon, if such she is: her words disturb my soul with compassion against +its will."</p> + +<p>He was tempted to go away and leave the gentle lady in peace, with her +basket of roots, and the fragrant flowers with which she had +interspersed them. The task of questioning her was too much for his kind +nature; while, influenced by the sweetness of her voice, and under the +magnetism of her presence, he felt humbled and gentle as a child. His +daughter was quite forgotten; but, as he stood irresolute, a cry came +out from the distance, and looking toward his house, he saw Elizabeth +coming swiftly toward them, her golden hair all afloat in the sunshine, +her blue eyes bright as diamonds, her lips apart and tremulous with the +cries that came sobbing through them.</p> + +<p>"My child! my child!" cried the old man, stretching forth his arms as +the young girl drew near. "Woman, behold your evil work!"</p> + +<p>Barbara was bewildered. Her eyes turned from the old man to the girl, +who came up swiftly, her face all flushed with fever, her eyes burning, +and her lips filling the air with broken words.</p> + +<p>"Father! father! Come away! There is witchcraft in her eyes: they have +beguiled him and now turn upon you. Come away, or she will lure you upon +the sands, and sing you into the coral caves, which are built by her +sisters, the sea witches."</p> + +<p>"Alas! the poor child is ill. This is the delirium of fever!" cried +Barbara, going toward the frantic young creature, who flung herself +back, and with her hand motioned the woman away.</p> + +<p>"Avaunt! get you behind me!" she cried, with the voice and air of a +priestess in full inspiration. "Sister of her of Endor, I denounce you. +Demon, whom the waves have hurled forth to our destruction, I denounce +you. Let the old man alone. He shall not taste your roots, or be +poisoned with a touch of your hand. Lo, it is in my veins, it burns in +my eyes, and aches on my forehead—body and soul, your evil power +possesses me; but remember, he is a servant of the Most High. His heart +is full of prayers, his brain armed with holy thoughts. The fiends you +serve shall not prevail against this holy man!"</p> + +<p>Barbara was struck with astonishment. She turned deathly white as these +words were hurled against her, but she had great knowledge of diseases +and instantly saw the truth.</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" she said, approaching Elizabeth, "this is the delirium of +brain fever. She is very ill!"</p> + +<p>Elizabeth flung out her arms, staggered back, and fell to the earth, +moaning with pain.</p> + +<p>"Stand back," said the old man, planting himself before the prostrate +form of his child, "your sorcery has done its work; a demon possesses +her. Woman, before the most holy God, I denounce you as a Witch!"</p> + +<p>Barbara staggered back, stunned and white, under the minister's solemn +denunciation. The horrible magnitude of his charge paralyzed her.</p> + +<p>"What can this mean? Who denounces me?" she cried out at last, rising to +her full majestic height, and casting a look of sorrowful indignation at +her accuser. "I am a stranger, and helpless!"</p> + +<p>The old man was bending over his child. Her flushed face was turned +upward to the sun, her eyes wandered to and fro, dazzled and bright with +pain. She had ceased to mutter now, and lay motionless.</p> + +<p>Barbara would have helped the old man, but he put her aside, and in a +stern voice bade her depart.</p> + +<p>The unhappy woman looked wildly abroad, upon the ocean—the land—it all +seemed a dreary wilderness to her. Why should she remain where men hated +her so? Why did she wish to escape the awful danger threatened by that +old man's words? Fleeing, as much from the minister's evident abhorrence +as from fear of the consequences, the woman turned and walked slowly +toward the woods.</p> + +<p>When Samuel Parris arose, lifting his child from the earth, Barbara +Stafford had disappeared. Unheard and unseen she had vanished from his +presence; and this was remembered as another proof against her.</p> + +<p>While the scene had been in progress, a boat grated on the sands of the +beach, and two persons stepped out, going different ways: the young man +bent his course toward the forest; the maiden came softly up to the +place where Samuel Parris stood staggering under the weight of his +child.</p> + +<p>"What is this, uncle? Has Elizabeth hurt herself that she cannot keep +her feet?" said Abigail Williams, in the cold, still way that had marked +her of late.</p> + +<p>"She is possessed—God have mercy upon us! the child is possessed!"</p> + +<p>Abigail looked on her cousin's face, and a spasm of pain crept over her +own features.</p> + +<p>"She is indeed very ill—something terrible is upon her. Let us go to +the house: the hot sun makes her worse."</p> + +<p>The old man gathered Elizabeth closer to his bosom and turned to obey +this suggestion. In moving, his foot struck the little basket which +Barbara had carried, scattering some of the roots and flowers on the +ground.</p> + +<p>"Bring that, also!" he said, glancing earthward; "bring that also!"</p> + +<p>Abigail took up the basket, replaced the scattered roots, and followed +the minister home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>SHELTERED IN THE WOODS.</h3> + + +<p>Barbara Stafford found herself in the deep shadows of the wilderness, +walking slowly and steadily on till their gloom lay around her—heavy +and dark, like the terror that settled on her soul.</p> + +<p>Barbara was a woman strong to suffer, to endure, and to act; but a woman +still, timid like her sex, shrinking from pain, and afraid of violence, +as true womanhood is. Though full of that gentle courage which is so +beautiful when blended with softer qualities, she was sensitive to blame +and easily wounded in her personal dignity. This abrupt charge of +witchcraft shocked her to the soul. Was she to give up every thing, to +suffer a martyrdom of affection, and go down to her grave branded as a +demon? Barbara knew well the importance of a charge like that denounced +against her by the lips of Samuel Parris. There did not exist a person +in the colonies whose power of character would give more crushing force +to an accusation of this kind, both in the courts and in the +congregation. She felt that the good old man was convinced of her evil +power against his own wishes—that, added to his natural fanaticism, a +solemn belief in witchcraft, which had spread from the old country into +the colonies, had seized upon his quick imagination, and he would pursue +her to death from an honest sense of duty.</p> + +<p>She felt the danger to be imminent. But where could she fly? to whom +appeal? A stranger, without history, with a name utterly unknown in the +colonies, with no ostensible motive for leaving her own land, or +remaining an hour in this, who would step forward in her defence? Norman +Lovel? Alas! he was young and entirely dependent on Gov. Phipps, the +tried and bosom friend of Samuel Parris. What hope could lie in that +direction?</p> + +<p>There was no shelter—no help. A feeling of strange desolation crept +over her. She had thought herself lonely, and her life dreary before, +but her heart was full of gentle sympathies that would put forth their +fibres and search for something to cling to, even in her worst hours. +Now she was literally driven forth to the wilderness, branded by a +horrible accusation, which must turn all compassion into hate wherever +she approached. She had gold about her person, but even that all potent +metal was valueless here. Who would touch coin that came from a +denounced witch? Who would believe in its validity, or dare to receive +money which might turn to some poisonous drug in the handling?</p> + +<p>In her distress, Barbara bethought herself of the broken tribe of +Indians that she had seen only a few nights before mustering with such +solemn purpose around the man whom she had so signally befriended. She +remembered that promise to protect her, which had stirred the very heart +of the wilderness as with a single voice. She was ready to trust these +savages, and without a pang accept protection from their chief. But how +could she find their hiding-places in a forest so deep, and without a +guide?</p> + +<p>The night was drawing on, dark and heavy. Storm clouds gathered in +masses over the sun as it set, turning all its gold to lead, and filling +the woods with pall-like shadows. Then came sounds of low thunder, +mingled with a sough of the winds as they swept in from the distant +ocean. The loneliness grew terrible. She fell upon her knees and prayed +to God, the only being to whom she could appeal, in heaven or on earth.</p> + +<p>As she prayed the rain began to fall. It came pattering among the +leaves, breaking up the gloom with opposing dreariness. When the foliage +was all saturated and dripping, the drops began to fall heavily around +her, but she had no shelter—no friend. The elements seemed driving her +from all approach to heaven. She arose heart sick, and seating herself +on a fragment of rock, buried her face in her folded arms and wept.</p> + +<p>A hand laid upon her shoulder broke the deadness of her grief. She +looked up and saw the young Indian chief.</p> + +<p>"Lady, why are you here alone, so far from home, and a storm brewing?" +he said.</p> + +<p>She lifted her face with a look of touching gratitude. It was something +to feel that human life was near—that she need not shiver in the rain, +and be left to starve in the deep woods.</p> + +<p>"They pursue me—the white men of my race—they charge me with grave +crimes—they have driven me into the woods," she answered, with touching +mournfulness.</p> + +<p>The young man drew himself up, and clutched the gun which he held with a +passionate grip.</p> + +<p>"Again," he said, bitterly, "are they at their old work? Must another +bright head stoop beneath their blows? Come with me. I have nothing but +savage fare and savage protection to give, but with us you will be safe. +When the Indian strikes a woman, it is upon the forehead, not the heart. +We torture with fire, not with words."</p> + +<p>Barbara arose, thankful for his kindness, but her limbs trembled. She +had walked many miles, and now that protection came her strength fled.</p> + +<p>"Where would you take me?" she inquired. "Is it very far?"</p> + +<p>He saw how helpless she was, and his brow fell. The encampment was far +distant over the broken hills.</p> + +<p>"Wait a little," he said; "gather strength and courage. Not far from +this are a few of my people, who follow me always when I approach the +settlements. We can soon reach them."</p> + +<p>Barbara made a brave effort, and followed him through the gathering +darkness. He did not pause more than was necessary to help her through +the undergrowth where the ground was broken and difficult of ascent. It +seemed as if her lonely condition and utter helplessness silenced all +the fiery devotion which had marked their previous interviews. He +touched her hand with reverence when she extended it for help once or +twice, but never looked upon her face, or uttered a word of the +passionate homage that burned in his heart.</p> + +<p>At last they reached a basin in the hills, locked in by a chain of +ledges, crowned with trees and covered with creeping ferns and mosses. A +fire was burning in this little hollow; the rain beat upon it through +the branches, but still it flamed up, giving glow and warmth to the +night. Around this fire a group of Indians sat in patient watching for +their chief. He approached them softly and spoke a few gentle words. The +Indians stood up and gazed at Barbara in respectful wonder. She in her +turn looked upon their stately forms and worn habiliments with a strange +feeling of safety.</p> + +<p>These men wore no paint; their robes of dressed deer-skin were faded and +without ornament. Nothing about them seemed worthy of care, except the +guns that they leaned upon, and the pouches in which they kept powder +and lead.</p> + +<p>The young chief spoke with his followers in their own language. He told +them more of Barbara Stafford's history than any person in America knew +except himself. How she was the daughter of a proud old chief in the +mother country, who owned lands broad almost as the wilderness they +stood in, with a vast dwelling which rose from the earth like a mountain +peak. The savages needed no more than this, for they had heard his +speech near the beacon fire, but he seemed to find proud joy in telling +them that the lady, so gentle and so good, now their guest, so far as +God's wilderness could afford hospitality, had bought him of his +task-masters, and taken him to foreign countries, where she and her +father travelled together in sad companionship, for both were unhappy, +and found his affection a solace. She had in her beautiful kindness +redeemed his soul from ignorance, as she had purchased his body from the +slave-driver's lash. After this she and her proud father had taken him +to their home in England—that grand home in which they were held as +chiefs and princes—where the old chief died, leaving his daughter alone +in her proud domain.</p> + +<p>Here the young man paused, his eyes fell, and his haughty lip began to +tremble. He spoke in the Indian tongue, which Barbara could not +understand, but the swarthy blood burned on his forehead as her eye +turned upon him, and for a moment he shrunk from telling the whole +truth; but his brave nature gained the mastery, and he went on, yet with +humility in his voice, and shame burning in his downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"My children, I loved the lady from the hour her hand unlocked my +chains, but the secret lay buried deep in my heart, and no one guessed +how it burned there. When her father was dead, and I saw her alone, with +no one but me to counsel or comfort her, this love broke from its covert +and frightened her almost into hating me. She did not mock me with +scorn, but—"</p> + +<p>Here the Indians broke their grim silence, and signs of proud anger +passed between them. At last one spoke.</p> + +<p>"Why should the woman treat you with scorn? If she was the child of a +great chief, Philip, your father, was the king of a mighty tribe—your +mother was white as the boxwood in flower, and proud as the hemlock on a +cliff. What woman dare receive the love of a king's son, save with her +forehead in the dust?"</p> + +<p>"Not with scorn, my braves. I said she was frightened, not angry: my +wild passion was its own enemy. She commanded me from her presence, told +me of the years she had lived before I was born, and with cruel +gentleness sent me away.</p> + +<p>"But I would not go. Like a disgraced hound I hung upon her track, +unseen, unthought of, it may be, till she left her home and came down to +the sea shore, where a ship lay ready to sail. I followed her, and +buried myself deep in the hold of the vessel, not caring—may the Great +Spirit forgive me!—where the ship went, nor how long she might plough +the ocean. We were sheltered by the same timbers once more, and that was +enough. Before starting I knew that the ship was bound for Boston, and +felt that the Great Spirit had been leading me back to my father's +people—back among my father's enemies, that I might accomplish the +great object of my life, and avenge the wrongs which no Indian can +forget. So, urged on by two great passions, I obtained such means of war +as lay within my power and came among you.</p> + +<p>"The lady left our vessel when we neared the land. She descended into a +frail boat, and was launched forth into the harbor, which was lashed and +angry with storms I dared not offer to go with her, but looked on sick +at heart till the tempest swept her away. She was hurled among the +breakers, buried in the sea; but an old man, the persecutor of our +people, the minister of Salem, dragged her forth, and with him a youth."</p> + +<p>The chief paused abruptly, and his reproachful eyes turned upon the +lady.</p> + +<p>"He was younger than I am, and a stranger, yet she did not drive him +from her presence."</p> + +<p>He spoke these words in English, but Barbara did not comprehend their +meaning or connection. She only knew that his eyes were full of sad +reproach, and, smiling softly, drew close to his side, murmuring,</p> + +<p>"I am driven into captivity now, and it is from you I seek shelter."</p> + +<p>"I have told my braves whom it is they will defend. While they live you +are safe in the wilderness which was my father's hunting-ground. As for +me, have compassion and let me go hence."</p> + +<p>A flush reddened Barbara Stafford's forehead as she bent it with a +gentle sign of acquiescence. The chief gave some orders in their own +tongue, and the Indians instantly fell to work cutting away wet branches +from the hemlocks and pines, tearing green bark from the giant elms, and +felling young saplings, which they planted in the earth, and curved +downward in the form of a tent. Over these they laid the bark, and +covered the whole with green boughs, till a bower was formed worthy of a +wood nymph. Two of the Indians brought great fleeces of moss down from +the ledges and heaped a couch with them, and over all a noble white pine +spread its massy branches, through which the full moon sent a thousand +gleams of silver, as if laughing at the bank of storm clouds from which +it had just escaped.</p> + +<p>Upon the couch of moss which his people had heaped in this bower, the +young chief spread a robe of skins, and laid his blanket, which he +unwound from his shoulders. Then, with the air of a prince offering the +hospitality of a royal palace, he approached Barbara Stafford where she +sat by the fire, and led her to the shelter provided for her.</p> + +<p>Barbara was greatly moved. With an impulse of thankfulness, she bent +down and kissed the young chief's hand as he was about to withdraw it +from hers; but it trembled like a wounded bird beneath her touch, and +his magnificent eyes filled with tears—the shame of an Indian's soul.</p> + +<p>Angry with his weakness, the young man turned from her and dashed away +into the woods.</p> + +<p>When Barbara awoke in the morning, for fatigue made her sleep heavy, she +inquired for the young man. The Indians answered that he had gone deeper +into the wilderness, where the main body of his tribe lay, and when a +cabin was prepared for her reception, he would come back again; till +then the five warriors whom he had left behind would protect her with +their lives.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<h3>TAKEN CAPTIVE.</h3> + + +<p>Samuel Parris bore his daughter home and laid her on her own white bed, +where she writhed like a wounded fawn in the snow. Her face was rosy +with flushes, that came and went like gleams of light on marble; her +lips were in constant motion; she muttered continually about Barbara +Stafford and Norman Lovel. Sometimes she called aloud for her mother, +and declared with child-like earnestness that she saw her gliding +through the room with her golden hair smoothed under a close cap, and a +white dress sweeping around her like the wings of an angel.</p> + +<p>The old minister listened to all this in stern sorrow. His ewe lamb was +smitten down before his eyes: God had suffered his idolatrous love to +find a terrible punishment. What could he do? how act to save that +beautiful one from perdition?</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel was sad. Barbara Stafford had disappeared like a myth. His +approach seemed to have driven her away, and he found Elizabeth, from +whom he had parted in anger, writhing on a bed of pain, muttering her +wild fancies and crying aloud for help.</p> + +<p>Abigail Williams moved about coldly and in breathless silence. The curse +of witchcraft was upon the house, hatred and death clung around it like +cerecloths to a coffin. What if she, too, were possessed—the story of +old Tituba, a device of the Evil One, and the young chief so wildly +beautiful, who claimed relationship with her, the arch fiend himself? +The very foundations of her reason seemed shaken by these doubts, and as +the moans and cries of Elizabeth reached her ear from time to time, she +would pause in her work and stand motionless like a block of marble, +till some new sound startled her into life again.</p> + +<p>All night Samuel Parris sat by the bedside of his child, pallid and +thoughtful. Over and again he questioned her in the midst of her wild +speeches, as a judge sifts the words of a doubtful witness. Sometimes he +fell into audible prayer, and again sat in dull silence pondering +gloomily.</p> + +<p>When the morning came he went forth, and, mounting his horse, rode to +the nearest magistrate, who was a deacon in his own church, and a man of +iron domination. Samuel Parris knew well that after his appeal to this +man, there could be little free will left to him.</p> + +<p>No wonder then that he walked heavily, and paused long upon the +door-step before entering. He shrunk from hunting down the life of a +helpless woman, and shuddered at the thought of making a charge from +which there was no chance of retreat.</p> + +<p>The minister went in at last, and the door closed heavily after him. The +sound of a muffled drum could not have followed his footsteps more +solemnly.</p> + +<p>After an hour the old man came forth again, and moved with a slow tread +down the village street toward his own dwelling. As he passed the doors +of his parishioners, men and women came out and questioned him in low +tones, and with looks of awe, regarding the condition of his child. He +answered them all patiently, but with a sad weariness of manner that +turned curiosity into compassion.</p> + +<p>On the threshold of his home Samuel Parris met three men, members of his +own congregation, who greeted him in silence, as neighbors salute the +chief mourners at a funeral. Then the four passed in, and mounted to the +chamber where Elizabeth lay, with her wild eyes lifted to the ceiling, +and her hands waving about in the air.</p> + +<p>These four good men—for after the manner of the times they were +good—sat down in silence, and each gathered from the lips of the +delirious girl the evidence which was to imperil a human life. When they +had listened an hour keenly and conscientiously, each according to his +light, they arose and went forth, shaking Samuel Parris by the hand with +touching solemnity.</p> + +<p>The old minister saw his friends file away from the house, and bend +their course toward that of the magistrate, and then he felt with a pang +of unutterable sorrow that the fate of Barbara Stafford had passed out +of his hands.</p> + +<p>That day a posse of men, headed by a constable, armed with a warrant to +arrest Barbara Stafford for witchcraft, passed through the village and +into the forest, taking the track which the unhappy woman had pursued. +The moss and forest sward was moist yet, and with the keen eyes of men +accustomed to pursue an Indian trail they found traces of her +progress—now a faint footprint—then a broken twig or a fragment of her +garments. Thus step by step they pursued her, till at last the whole +group stood upon a swell of land that overlooked the hollow in which the +Indians had built that sylvan lodge. At the entrance a red shawl had +been stretched, which was now folded back to let the daylight through, +and in the warm shadow beyond they saw the object of their search +sitting in dreary thought.</p> + +<p>A single Indian lay upon the turf a little way off, guarding the lodge +with a vigilance the more watchful because his companions had gone forth +in search of food.</p> + +<p>The posse of men held a whispered consultation. They understood the +condition of things, and resolved to act promptly before help came.</p> + +<p>In the savage warfare which had ended in the subjugation of the kingly +tribes, Indian life was held scarcely more sacred than that of the wild +deer and panthers that infested the hills. When the constable saw that +athletic savage lying upon the turf, with his broad chest exposed like +that of a bronze statue, he drew the gun which he carried to his +shoulder with a grim smile, called on God to bless the murder, and +touched the ponderous lock with his finger. A sharp click, a loud +report, a fierce cry: the savage leaped into the air, fell upon his +face, all his limbs quivering, and with a single spasm lay dead across +the entrance of Barbara Stafford's hiding-place.</p> + +<p>Barbara came forth white and trembling, saw the dead savage at her feet, +and looked fearfully around for his murderers. A group of men and a +wreath of pale smoke curling out upon the air revealed all her danger. +She did not retreat, but fell upon her knees and lifted the head of the +Indian up from the ground. Drops of crimson stole down the bronze chest +and fell slowly to the turf.</p> + +<p>Barbara did not attempt to escape, though she saw at a glance all her +danger. The savage who had been her protector was shot through the +heart. The sight of so much life and strength smitten down in one +instant paralyzed her. She had never witnessed a violent death before, +and the shock bereft her alike of hope and fear.</p> + +<p>The constable understood, and whispering his men to follow, crept toward +her. She saw him without caring to escape, but, stooping over the body +of her friend, shook her head mournfully as he came up.</p> + +<p>"Unhappy man, you have killed him," she said, lifting her eyes to his +face with a glance of pathetic reproach.</p> + +<p>The constable stooped down, dragged the body from her feet, and cast it +headlong down the slope of earth on which she stood. Then, without a +word, he seized Barbara by both her wrists, and grasped them together +with a firm grip of one hand, while he searched in his pocket for a +thong of deer-skin prepared for the occasion. Putting one end of the +thong between his teeth, he wound the other tightly over her wrists—so +tightly that the delicate hands grew purple to the finger ends. Then he +finished his barbarous work with a double knot tightened with both hands +and teeth.</p> + +<p>The outraged woman lifted her eyes to his face with a frightened look as +he performed this brutal act, but she neither protested nor struggled; +once she observed gently that he hurt her hands, but, when no heed was +taken, allowed him to proceed without further remonstrance.</p> + +<p>When her hands were bound, the constable tore down her shawl from the +entrance of the lodge and placed it on her shoulders, crossing it over +her bosom and knotting it behind, thus forming a double thraldom for her +arms.</p> + +<p>She bore it all patiently and in silence; once she cast an earnest look +into the depths of the forest, perhaps with a hope that her savage +friends might come to the rescue, but she only met the gleaming eyes of +a wild-cat, swinging lazily on a bough to which human approach had +driven him. Even there her glance was answered by a low growl and a +gleam of savage teeth. The wild beasts were defying her in one +direction, and human cruelty dragging her to death in another.</p> + +<p>Thus, helpless and unresisting, she was forced into the settlement +again, bound like a criminal. She made neither protest nor resistance, +but remained quietly in the hands of her captors, accepting her fate +with touching resignation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<h3>THE ACCUSERS OF BARBARA.</h3> + + +<p>When the constable and his followers came into the town of Salem, with +Barbara Stafford in their midst, a wild commotion seized upon the +inhabitants. Every door and window was crowded with human heads. The +public streets were swarming like a bee-hive, and a look of solemn +consternation greeted her at every point. Pale and still Barbara passed +before them. The subdued feeling, the majesty and grandeur of her +carriage, impressed many with awe, and a few with gleams of compassion; +but the ban of witchcraft was upon her, and no one ventured to step +forth for her defence or comfort. She was not insulted: among the whole +crowd there was no man or child cruel enough to assail her. Little boys +who had gathered up stones and handfuls of turf to hurl at the witch, +felt the missiles dropping from their grasp when those great, mournful +eyes turned upon them. Some little girls, in the tenderness of their +youth, began to cry when they saw how her hands were bound; but one or +two old women called out, and with jeers bade her prove her descent from +the devil by breaking her own bonds, exactly as like revilers mocked our +Saviour more than sixteen hundred years before. But some supernatural +power seemed to bind the voices of these women, and the words they would +have uttered died out in low groans: the gentle power of that woman's +presence silenced even the spite of unredeemed old age.</p> + +<p>The constable and his men bent their way to the house of Samuel Parris, +where the accused was to be confronted with her victim. The inhabitants +of the town followed the cortege, and gathered in groups upon the +stretch of sward that lay between the minister's dwelling and the +meeting-house; while the functionaries of the church and officials of +the government entered the house.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris still kept her room, but in her delirium she had +insisted on wearing her usual apparel, and when her father came up, with +distress in his face, to prepare her for the approach of her strange +visitors, the young girl was resolute to descend to the rooms below +where she would entertain her father's guests with due state.</p> + +<p>Possessed of the idea that there was some great entertainment at which +she was to preside, the beautiful lunatic—for such fever and intense +excitement had made her for the time—began to rummage in her chest of +drawers for the pretty ornaments with which she had adorned herself +while the guest of Lady Phipps. The old minister dared not resist her; +with him these vagaries were solemn evidences of witchcraft with which +it was sacrilege to interfere.</p> + +<p>Thus, in a little time after Barbara Stafford was led into the house, +Elizabeth Parris appeared on the staircase, crowned with artificial +roses that glowed crimson in her golden hair, and gathering the white +muslin robe to her bosom with one pale hand, as if the inspiration of +some old master, when he searched his soul for the type of a heathen +priestess, had fallen upon her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shone +like stars, and the gliding motion with which she descended the stairs +made her presence spiritual as that of an angel.</p> + +<p>Abigail Williams came after, very serious, and with a look of terrible +pain upon her forehead; her eyes, dusky with trouble, watched the +movements of her cousin. She seemed a dark shadow following the spirit.</p> + +<p>Then came Samuel Parris; how white his hair had become! how old and +locked were those thin features! He moved like one who felt the curse of +God heavy upon him and his whole house. Desolation was in every +movement.</p> + +<p>Old Tituba crept after, quick and vigilant as a fox. She traced back all +this trouble to her own story of the martyred Hutchinsons. From the day +of her confidence with Abby Williams the curse had entered her master's +house. She was the evil spirit that the people sought. She had concocted +the roots into the drinks with which Elizabeth had quenched her fever +thirst when the disease crept insidiously over her. True, Barbara +Stafford had told her they were cooling and wholesome; but what right +had she to take the word of a strange woman like that? Was not her +darling witch-stricken, soul and body, by the very decoctions with which +she had hoped to cure her? Had not the words of her own tongue changed +Abigail Williams from a calm, gentle maiden, full of thoughtful +affections, to a stern prophetess, such as her people evoked when they +thirsted for vengeance?</p> + +<p>Tituba had pondered these things over and over in her thoughts till she +almost believed herself a witch and a demon, and this was the frame of +mind in which the poor old creature followed the stricken family into +the presence of the magistrates.</p> + +<p>When Elizabeth Parris entered the room that had once been the favorite +retreat of her mother, she bent her slight figure with gentle +recognition of her father's friends, and moving toward the old oaken +chair, which had been, time out of mind, in the family, sat down, or +rather dropped into it, for her strength was giving way. But, feeling +that something was expected of her, she looked around, making mournful +efforts at a smile. Her glance fell on Barbara Stafford, who sat near +the window, watching her movements with a look of gentle compassion.</p> + +<p>All at once her eyes dilated and shot fire, her brow began to throb +heavily under the roses that bound it, and uplifting herself from the +chair, she pointed at Barbara with her finger, reeling to and fro, as we +remember Rachel when she sung the Marseillaise almost upon the brink of +her own grave.</p> + +<p>"Take her away! take her away! I cannot breathe while she sits yonder, +with her soft, calm eyes! That look has poison in it!"</p> + +<p>She began to shudder, and fell back into the chair, crying piteously.</p> + +<p>The old man approached Barbara Stafford, and clasping his withered +hands, began to plead with her.</p> + +<p>"Behold," he said, stooping meekly toward her, "behold your evil work! +When you came here, only a few days ago, she was bright and fair as the +rose when it opens. Every thing made her happy. If she went out, joy +followed her; when she came back, the sound of her footsteps was like an +answered prayer. Till you came, the Lord dwelt in our household, and +blessed it. We loved each other, and helped each other, as Christians +should. Woman, what had we done that you should drive out our household +angels, and fill their places with fiends of darkness? I saved your +life, and lo, my child, my only child, is accursed before God and man!"</p> + +<p>The minister lifted his hands as he ceased speaking, and covering his +face, wept aloud.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" said Barbara Stafford, and her voice was full of unshed tears, +"I have done you no wrong, kind old man. The life you saved was of +little worth, but such as it is, I would gladly lay it down to bring +peace under this roof once more. Do believe me, not for my sake, but +your own: Elizabeth Parris is ill from natural causes, not from any +power, evil or good, that rests in me. Sudden excitement—a cold perhaps +taken in the night air—anxiety to which her girlish nature is +unused—all these may have conspired to disturb her brain."</p> + +<p>Barbara would have said more, but at the sound of her voice Elizabeth +began to writhe and moan in her chair, till the sound of her anguish +drove the old man wild.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God! my God! why hast thou forsaken this household!" he cried, +while his quivering hands dropped apart and fell downward, and his +deploring eyes turned upon his child.</p> + +<p>"Oh, woman, are you not potent to redeem as well as to inflict? Is your +power all evil?"</p> + +<p>"I have no power save that which belongs to a weak woman," replied +Barbara; "but if you can unbind my hands, I will strive to soothe the +poor child."</p> + +<p>"Unbind her hands," said the magistrate, who had not spoken till then. +"Let the spirit within have full sway. Heaven forbid that we judge +without sure evidence. Constable, set her limbs free!"</p> + +<p>The constable unknotted the red shawl from Barbara's shoulders, and +loosened the thongs that tied her wrists together. A broad purple mark +was left on the delicate skin, and her fair hands were swollen with +pain. She drew a deep breath, for the sense of relief was pleasant; and +moving gently across the floor, she laid her two hands on Elizabeth's +forehead.</p> + +<p>Up to this moment the girl had moaned and writhed as with overwhelming +pain, but as the hands of Barbara Stafford fell upon her forehead and +rested there, the tension left her nerves, and with a sigh she sank back +in the chair. Barbara smiled, passing her hands softly down the now pale +cheek, till they rested for a moment on the muslin that covered +Elizabeth's bosom. She again lifted them to the drooping forehead, and +let them glide to the bosom again, leaving quiet with each gentle touch.</p> + +<p>At last Elizabeth Parris turned her head drowsily, and the lids fell +over her eyes like white rose-leaves folding themselves to sleep, and +with what seemed a blissful shudder, she resigned herself to perfect +rest. Then Barbara looked at her accusers with a sad smile, and took her +seat by the window, little dreaming that the holy impulses of pity that +had just soothed the pain of a fellow-creature would be the most fatal +evidence offered at her trial.</p> + +<p>"Take her away—take the woman hence!" cried the magistrate, rising up, +hardened in all his iron nature. "The devil, her master, has for once +betrayed her into what might seem an angel's work, but it proves more +than an angel's power—away with her!"</p> + +<p>In his supreme ignorance, this magistrate of the seventeenth century +followed the example of the rabble that hunted our Saviour to death. +Surely the world had progressed but slowly in its soul knowledge since +that awful day of the crucifixion.</p> + +<p>While Elizabeth Parris lay sleeping sweetly in her chair—it was the +first slumber she had known in three days—Barbara Stafford was bound +again with those ignominious thongs and taken from the room. Samuel +Parris watched the movements with a thrill of compassion: grateful for +the rest that had been given to his child, he could not see those white +hands bound so rudely without a thrill of pity.</p> + +<p>But the people without obtained intelligence of what had been passing, +and the words sacrilegious and blasphemy ran from lip to lip. "What," +said one, "does the witch mock the holy miracles of our Saviour, and +attempt to heal with the laying on of hands? Dares she to brave God in +the very presence of our most worshipful magistrate, and that +gray-haired Christian, Samuel Parris? Why should we wait for a trial? is +not this evidence enough? Let us take her down to the sea and cast her +into the deep."</p> + +<p>"Let us hang her at the town post," cried another. "The sea has vomited +her up once; it is no use trying that."</p> + +<p>Then other voices set in, and the tumult became general. The throng +gathered closer and closer around the minister's house; the women most +eager, and crying out loudest that the witch should be given up to them.</p> + +<p>The magistrate was, so far as he allowed his own nature freedom, a just +man, and fully believed himself right in giving Barbara up to the law, +still he would have guarded her with his life from the howling rage of +the mob. But it is doubtful if even his steady courage could have saved +her, so intense was the excitement; but just as he appeared on the +door-step standing in front of the prisoner, a company of soldiers, +wearing the colonial uniform, came galloping up the forest road with +Norman Lovel, Governor Phipps's private secretary, at their head.</p> + +<p>The crowd fell back tumultuously as the young man came forward, for he +dashed on with little regard to life or limb, and drew up in front of +the house.</p> + +<p>"Worshipful sir," he said, addressing the magistrate, "I have come to +relieve you of a painful duty. Here is Governor Phipps's requisition. +This lady being a stranger, will be tried where his excellency can +himself have cognizance of the proceedings. I am authorized to convey +your prisoner to Boston."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<h3>BARBARA IN HER DUNGEON.</h3> + + +<p>The trees were leafless, and snow lay thick on the ground, when Barbara +Stafford was brought from the prison where she had been kept in close +captivity, and presented for trial in the North Church of Boston. A +trial for witchcraft was considered somewhat in the light of an +ecclesiastical tribunal, and thus the sacred edifices of Boston and +Salem were frequently used in such cases. But this was the first legal +assemblage that had ever entered the North Church, for the governor's +attendance and membership there gave it a prestige over all other places +of worship. Besides it had of late been doubly consecrated by the +baptism of the chief magistrate in the very plentitude of his power; and +for common witches, such as had been tried, hung and drowned, by dozens +during the year, the place would have been considered far too holy.</p> + +<p>But Barbara Stafford was no common offender. She had been a guest in +Governor Phipps's mansion. The people of Boston had seen her seated, +side by side, with Lady Phipps in the state carriage, with servitors and +halberts, right and left. It was known far and wide that she had come to +the country in a strange ship, heaved up, as it were, from the depths of +a raging storm; that the elements had battled against her and +overwhelmed her in the deep, wrecking the boat in which she strove to +reach the shore, and swallowing her up in whirlpools, lashed into fury +doubtless by her evil presence.</p> + +<p>From all this peril it was known that Samuel Parris, the minister of +Salem, had rescued her. The studious, holy man of books and prayer, who +had saved her life, was now ready to stand forward as her chief accuser.</p> + +<p>Many remembered that her garments had been of a texture more rich than +those of the governor's lady, while many who had been present at the +baptism of Sir William Phipps were impressed by the grandeur of her +countenance, and the almost unearthly stateliness with which she had +glided through the throng of worshippers on that memorable day.</p> + +<p>All these things made a great impression on the people, the more because +of the profound silence which had reigned regarding her, since she was +placed in the prison at Boston. It was said that, during the first three +days of her incarceration, she had been visited by Governor Phipps, who, +urged by the solicitations of his young secretary, had consented to see +her. But the interview had been brief and unsatisfactory. When apprised +of his coming, the lady had protested, and by every means in her power +sought to avoid the visit; but young Lovel hoped to gain her a potent +friend by persistence, and overcome by his persuasion she submitted.</p> + +<p>Her dungeon was badly lighted, and Barbara sat in the darkest corner, +with her face bowed and her form muffled in a large shawl. She lifted +her eyes as the governor approached, and he felt their glance coming out +from the darkness without really meeting it with his eyes. The thrill, +that ran through his form, warned him of the diabolical power which the +woman was said to possess, and it was with a solemn reserve that he drew +near her.</p> + +<p>She neither spoke nor moved, but her form shrunk together, and her +garments began to tremble, as if she were suffering from cold. He spoke +to her, but she did not answer. He stooped down to address her, and the +shivering fit came on again. His stern heart was filled with compassion, +and yet she had not spoken a word. A gush of strange, tender pity +swelled his breast, and he turned away, with dew in his eyes—such dew +as had not sparkled there in twenty years.</p> + +<p>He went back and bent over her; the velvet of his cloak swept her lap, +his breath almost stirred her hair.</p> + +<p>She gave him one wild look, and dropped her head again, while, with her +two hands, she grasped a fold of his cloak, and pressed it to her lips. +The hands fell to her knees, the cloak swayed back to its natural folds, +and he was all unconscious of the movement. In his earnestness, and +compelled by a power that endowed him with momentary eloquence, he was +pleading with her to give her true name and history, in order that he +and those who wished her well might find some means of defence when she +should be brought to trial.</p> + +<p>She heard him, like one in a dream—a sweet, wild dream—for her lips +parted with a heavenly smile, and she held her breath, as if it had been +a delicious perfume, which she would not permit to escape from the bosom +it thrilled. A shiver still ran through her frame. It was no longer as +an expression of pain, but like the exquisite tremor which the south +wind gives to a thicket of roses.</p> + +<p>She could not have spoken, had the whole world depended on her voice; so +his pleading was all in vain. Had she uttered a sound, it would have +been a cry of wild thanksgiving. Had she moved, it would have been to +throw herself at his feet. She did move, and half rose from the wooden +bench on which she was seated, but, seeing young Lovel at the door, fell +back again, shrouding her face in the shawl, and murmuring prayers of +entreaty and gratitude that she had escaped a great peril. The shawl +muffled her voice, but the governor saw that she was praying, and +retreated toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Tell her to think of what I have said—to send me any information—I +will not ask it to be a confession—on which she may found a defence +before the judges," he said, addressing young Lovel; "she is frightened +by my presence and has no power to speak; persuade her to confide in +you, Norman. Surely, as the Lord liveth, this woman has some great +power, for good or for evil. Those who visited Peter in his prison must +have felt as I do now."</p> + +<p>"Hear how she sobs!" said the young man, deeply moved. "Oh! your +excellency, go back; her heart is softened; she may speak to you now; I +never heard her weep so passionately before."</p> + +<p>"No," said the governor, gently, "I will not force myself upon her +grief. Give her time for thought, and opportunities for prayer. The +devil had power over the Holy One forty days and forty nights. It may be +that this poor lady is going through a like probation. She may come +forth with the radiance of an angel at last."</p> + +<p>"She is an angel," answered Lovel, with tender enthusiasm. "Oh! if she +could but be brought to confide in you."</p> + +<p>"We can at least delay the trial, and give her time," said the governor. +"Perhaps this scourge of the evil one may pass away without crushing +her, if she is protected till the power has reached its climax."</p> + +<p>The governor went away, after saying this, a thoughtful and saddened +man. His intellect was clear, and his strength of character too powerful +for that profound faith in witchcraft which influenced many of the +clergy and judges of the land. He was not a person to join men, who +should have stood between the superstition of ignorance and its victims, +but rather gave this superstitious frenzy the force of their superior +intelligence, and such dignity as sprang from position. The commotion +which this subject had created in his government—the solemn trials held +upon helpless old men and women, followed by bloodshed and terror—had +already filled his mind with misgiving. Though, for a season, he was +borne forward by the public clamor, and had in his own experience no +strong proof against the phenomena produced in confirmation of +witchcraft, he had never entered heartily into the persecutions of the +courts. Nor had he risen up against them, because in his own soul there +was doubt and misgiving.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford had not spoken a word in his presence, yet her silence +and the very atmosphere of truth that surrounded her had affected him +deeply. After this interview he began to doubt more than ever if the +great excitement of the day might not merge into persecution; if the +pure and the good might not possibly suffer with those given over to the +prince of darkness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<h3>OLD FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.</h3> + + +<p>When Sir William returned home, he found Samuel Parris, his old patron +and early preceptor, waiting for him. The good man had taken his staff +and walked all the way from Salem, to seek counsel and consolation of +his powerful friend.</p> + +<p>Between these two men was a tie which no one could fathom—a tie +stronger than that which might have bound master and pupil, or +benefactor and protege. Phipps had sprung from a poor apprentice boy, to +be the richest and most powerful man in New England. He had won title +and wealth from the mother government, by his indomitable energies, +while Samuel Parris had dreamed his life away, under the roof where the +embryo great man had taken his first charity lesson. But though one was +a man of thought, and the other of progress, no distance of time nor +station could separate them.</p> + +<p>Governor Phipps was in the prime of life, a man of noble presence, +strong in intellect and in power. Parris was old and bowed to the earth +with trouble; the white locks floated thinly over his temples, his black +eyes were sharp and wild with protracted anguish. But the two met +kindly, as they had done years before. The strong man forgot his +successful ambition, and the state to which it had led. With the feeble +old minister he was an apprentice boy again.</p> + +<p>Sir William found the minister sitting in his library, exhausted with +fatigue and completely broken down by the awful affliction that had +fallen upon him. Dust from the road lay thick upon his heavy shoes and +along the seams of his black garments, while it turned his snow white +hair to a dull gray. His stout cane was planted hard on the carpet, and +his weary head fell on the withered hands clenched tremulously over it.</p> + +<p>Thus tired, desolate, and broken-hearted, the old man waited for his +former pupil.</p> + +<p>"My dear, old master—my best friend!" cried Phipps, smitten with a +thousand memories, both of pain and pleasure at the sight of his +preceptor. "I can guess what has brought you hither. The same subject is +weighing on my own heart. I have just returned from a conference with +that unhappy lady."</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris looked up eagerly.</p> + +<p>"You saw her? She spoke with you? Tell me, tell me, did the woman +confess?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, she did not speak."</p> + +<p>"What, obstinately silent? does the evil spirit take that course?" said +Parris.</p> + +<p>"Not obstinately silent: I did not say that; on the contrary, she seemed +deeply moved, and her sobs filled the room as I left it."</p> + +<p>"But she confessed nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing!"</p> + +<p>"Nor has she told any one a word of her own history?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>The old man lifted his wild eyes to those of his friend, and searched +the expression there as if his life depended on it.</p> + +<p>"William Phipps, you think this woman innocent?"</p> + +<p>"I feel that she is innocent, but magistrates do not judge by feeling. +Justice appeals only to the brain, while mercy is a child of the heart. +Samuel Parris, as I came from Barbara Stafford's prison, it was with a +thankful spirit that God had not made me one of her judges."</p> + +<p>"But I—I am her accuser!" cried out the old man, in passionate sorrow.</p> + +<p>"But you had good grounds. This charge came not from you or yours, +lightly or with malice: of that I am certain," said the governor, +soothingly.</p> + +<p>"But it came from me in terror and sore perplexity. The sight of my +child possessed with the evil one urged me on. William, William, I +thought of her, rather than of God's service! It is this that troubles +me."</p> + +<p>"But how of the maiden? Is she better or does this fiend rend her yet?"</p> + +<p>"She is better. Since the sound sleep into which the woman cast her, +Elizabeth has been quiet; but thoughtful as I never saw her before. The +flush has left her face and half the time her eyes are full of tears, +but she says little."</p> + +<p>"These are favorable symptoms," answered Sir William. "Does the maiden +still persist in thinking this woman the cause of her malady?"</p> + +<p>"Both its cause and its cure. To her she has been an angel of wrath and +of mercy both. But another cause of sorrow has sprung up in my +household—Abigail Williams!"</p> + +<p>"What, the dark-eyed girl that Lady Phipps thought so beautiful? Has +this wicked contagion seized on her also?"</p> + +<p>"Worse than my child. She seems smitten to the soul with sullen sorrow +and deadly hate. Above all she dreaded old Tituba, who followed her from +room to room like a dog at first, but when the girl drove her away, she +sat down on the kitchen hearth with her feet in the ashes, refusing to +eat or sleep, but kept up a weird chant that filled the house night and +day with deathly music."</p> + +<p>"Does this old woman accuse any one?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, she simply accused herself. Once or twice she has gone out to the +forest and stayed all day. At last she persuaded Abigail to go into the +woods with her. After that, the strange animosity which had seized upon +the maiden died out, and she was much with old Tituba who went quietly +about her household work again."</p> + +<p>Sir William listened to all this with grave attention. He was striving +to judge how far the disturbed state of the minister's household had +arisen from natural causes, but in his profound ignorance of all those +sources of irritation which had preceded Barbara Stafford's arrest, he +was unable to give them any solution save that of witchcraft, strongly +as his sound judgment rebelled against it.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, and speak I adjure you in the fear of God—tell me, William +Phipps, if after hearing the evidence on which I have accused this +woman, you can find one reason for thinking the charge of witchcraft +without just foundation."</p> + +<p>The governor, who sat with his elbow resting on the library table, bent +his forehead thoughtfully on one hand.</p> + +<p>"Friend, you ask a solemn question, and I will solemnly answer it. +Before the Most High I cannot yet give a full and free belief to this +enormity, which men call witchcraft. Yet when such judges as Hale, and +many of like sort, give it credence, and hold solemn tribunals over it, +I dare not oppose my judgment against theirs."</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris arose to his feet and leaned heavily on his cane for +support.</p> + +<p>"What if these doubts be true?" he said, moving his head and looking +away into vacancy. "Then what am I but a bearer of false witness, a +persecutor, and if this lady is driven to her death, a murderer!"</p> + +<p>"We can but walk according to the light which God has given us," +answered Sir William.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," continued Parris, "did this woman impress you with a sense of +her diabolical power? Did your heart beat evenly as she spoke? Could you +breath without an effort?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, I cannot tell if the sensation I felt was evil or good," Phipps +answered. "Compassion never yet swelled my heart so near to bursting. I +tell you of a truth, Samuel Parris, when I was talking to that unhappy +woman, I felt my knees shake, my breath stand still, and my very being +go out to her in a flood of sorrowful tenderness, such as I never felt +for mortal woman—but one."</p> + +<p>"Then—then—you did think of <i>her</i>!" cried Parris, suddenly standing +upright. "That was the question I dared not ask. Has her memory haunted +you as it besets me, night and day, not only now but ever since that +ship came drifting toward me through the storm?"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said the governor, and his voice scarcely rose above a whisper, +while his face turned coldly white. "If this thing is witchcraft may it +not drag the memories we love out of the very grave to haunt us?"</p> + +<p>"Even so I have reasoned," answered Parris.</p> + +<p>"God help us!" exclaimed Phipps, rising and beginning to pace the room +with long, powerful strides, "for we have fallen on evil times."</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris followed his friend's tall figure as it strode to and fro +in the room with wistful interest.</p> + +<p>"I came hither for counsel of thy younger and more vigorous mind," he +said, with touching melancholy, "but everywhere that my footsteps turn, +doubt and terror spring up. It grieves me sorely, son William, that my +words have driven the color from that face, and the calm from thy bosom. +Forgive me before I go!"</p> + +<p>Phipps broke off abruptly in his walk. His grand face had regained its +composure: it was pale still, but resolutely calm.</p> + +<p>"Father," he said, gently, using an old term of endearment, "I am unfit +to give counsel in this matter. See you not how weak I am?"</p> + +<p>Parris took the hand held out to him and pressed it with solemn fervor.</p> + +<p>"William, I too will see this woman in prison: peradventure some light +may be vouchsafed to me."</p> + +<p>"After that, come to me again," said the governor.</p> + +<p>Thus the two friends parted.</p> + +<p>The minister did indeed go to the prison, where his victim was confined, +but she resolutely refused to see him. "No good could come of the +interview," she said. "She was resigned to her fate, and only asked to +be left in quiet till her day of humiliation came on." The only person +that she would permit to enter her presence was Norman Lovel, whose +faith in her goodness had never been shaken for an instant. Twice a +dark-browed and singularly handsome young man made urgent solicitation +to be admitted to her prison, but she never heard of it. Being a +stranger of singular appearance, the guard had refused him without +communicating his wish to her, but the fact was stated to Samuel Parris +with such interpretation as an ignorant and superstitious man might be +expected to give. To him the singular beauty of the visitor's face, the +magnificent eyes and raven hair, could alone belong to the evil one +himself. Certain it was, no human being like that had ever been +recognized by any one in or out of the city till he began to haunt the +witch-prison.</p> + +<p>Here was new cause for suspicion, and once more the minister's heart +hardened itself. Disappointed in his hopes of counsel from the governor, +the restless man betook himself to his brother divines, and told them +his doubts and sorrows with the simple truth so natural to his +character. When he described the condition of his child and told how +Barbara Stafford, who seemed at first an angel of light, had wrought a +fiend's work in his household, the ministers rebuked his unbelief and +reasoned with him diligently, till he began to look upon his gentler +feelings as a snare of Satan, ever on the alert to save his own. To this +belief, at last, Sir William Phipps brought himself, but slowly and with +reluctance. His heart smote him as he gave the lady up, but how would he +oppose such evidence? After admitting so much it was impossible for a +just man to feel any thing but holy indignation against the person who +had, by satanic power, disturbed the beautiful character of his favorite +Elizabeth Parris.</p> + +<p>From that time he began to look upon the interest which young Lovel +manifested in the prisoner as a proof of her pernicious influence, and +rebuked the young man sternly when he sought to arouse kindly feelings +in her behalf once more.</p> + +<p>Thus weeks and months went by, leaving Barbara Stafford in miserable +solitude, till the frost crept over the forest, and the white snow fell +upon the earth like a winding sheet; then they brought her forth for +trial.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE MINISTER'S EVIDENCE.</h3> + + +<p>The trial was one which filled the community with a certain sense of +awe. It was no old woman, brought up in their midst, whose very +ignorance could be urged in judgment against her; but a brave, beautiful +lady, full of life, and bright with intellect, whose very presence as +she walked up those aisles, with a forest of halberts bristling around +her, made the proudest of her judges hold his breath. The prisoner sat +down upon a bench placed near the pulpit, within sight of the +communion-table which was surrounded by her judges, for whom a platform +had been built, lifting them in sight of the people. She was very pale, +and her eyes had a mournful look inexpressibly touching, but there was +neither timidity nor unconcern in her appearance; she seemed quiet as a +lamb, but weary unto death, like one who had been driven a long way, and +through rough places, to be slaughtered at last.</p> + +<p>The meeting-house was crowded. The square pews, the galleries and +staircases, groaned under a weight of human life. Men crowded upon each +other, like hounds on the scent, only to obtain a glimpse of the +beautiful witch, or to catch a tone of her voice. Like sportsmen who had +brought down a splendid bird in their search after common game, the +rabble gloried in the queenliness and grace of its victim. The public +had become tired of hanging withered old crones on the witch-gallows, +and wanted exactly a creature like that, to give piquancy and zest to +their terrible hunt after human life.</p> + +<p>Inside and out, the meeting-house was beset with a breathless throng. +The windows were open, though the air was sharp and full of frost, that +the curious crowd, which trampled down the snow without, might get a +glimpse of that pale face. The forest, out of whose bosom the city of +Boston had been cut, swept down close to the building, and the crowd +extended into its margin. It was observed that a few Indians mingled +with the people in this direction, and that others were occasionally +seen moving among the naked trees farther up the woods, where a hemlock +hollow broke off the view.</p> + +<p>When the trial commenced, and the prosecuting attorney was about to open +his case, drawing all eyes to the meeting-house and the proceedings +within, a train of savages came gliding out of these hemlock shadows, +and mingling imperceptibly with the crowd, through which they moved like +a brook stirring the long grass of a meadow.</p> + +<p>It was a common thing for friendly Indians to mix in such crowds, and no +one observed that a sort of military precision marked the movement of +these seemingly friendly savages, even while penetrating the multitude, +and that they dropped into line, after entering the meeting-house, +forming a cordon from the platform, on which the judges sat, to the +front entrance doors.</p> + +<p>Had these savages been in full costume, their number might have seemed +formidable enough to excite some anxiety; but they wore no war-paint, +and came after the fashion of a friendly nation, with blankets to keep +them from the cold, and a movement so quiet that their very presence +gave little apprehension.</p> + +<p>At their head, and walking so far in advance that no one but a keen +observer would have guessed him of the party, came a young man, +handsomely garbed after the fashion of the times, as a person of +condition might be, and with a certain air of self-centred ease that +would have distinguished him in any place where the general attention +was not fixed on one point.</p> + +<p>He was a young man of wonderful presence, dark like a Spaniard, with +quick, brilliant eyes, and features finely chiselled, bold in the +outline, and yet delicate. His mouth had a beautiful power of +expression, and his forehead was like dusky marble, cut when the artist +was thinking of war and tempest. This man had made his way close up to +the platform, where the judges were seated, and listened with keen +attention to the proceedings.</p> + +<p>The prosecuting counsel opened his case with great vigor and eloquence. +Then witnesses for the crown were called, and Samuel Parris stood forth. +The old man was agitated, but firm in his sense of right. It was seldom +that a witness of so much dignity appeared upon a trial like that, for +usually the accusers, like their victims, were persons of low position +and small attainments. Here the wisdom and piety of the crowd rose up in +array against one helpless woman.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris required no questioning. He told his story with brief +earnestness, unconsciously drawing conclusions from the facts he +related, fatal to the prisoner, but with a solemn conviction of their +truth.</p> + +<p>"Did he recognize the prisoner at the bar?" he was asked. "Yes, he had +known her some months; it had seemed to him from the first that she must +have been familiar to him years ago. That was doubtless one of her +delusions; but the feeling had led him to think of her with friendly +interest, and extend hospitalities which had conducted him and his +family into a deadly snare."</p> + +<p>"Where had he seen her first?"</p> + +<p>"In the midst of a terrible storm, which the inhabitants of Boston might +well remember; when the shores were lashed and trampled down by the +tempest, where the waves rioted and tore against each other like mad +animals, and out to sea all was one turmoil of wind, waters, and black, +angry clouds.</p> + +<p>"That woman's influence must have been infernal in its power, for in the +midst of this storm he had been impelled forth to the heights—he, a +feeble old man, urged forward by a premonition, that, in the black +turmoil of the tempest, he would find something waited for all his life. +He went, with his garments in the wind, and the cold rain beating +against his temples—went, and saw, in the midst of the storm, a great +ship heaving shoreward, with vast clouds falling around her, lurid and +luminous with a red sunset, in the midst of which stood that woman—the +prisoner. As he watched, a young man had come up to him on the heights, +even Norman Lovel, the youth who was but now whispering to the woman. +This young man confessed there, in the whirl of the wind, that he, too, +had been impelled to seek the shore, and look for some great good, which +was to come to him up from the stormy sea.</p> + +<p>"They saw the ship in company. That woman was upon its deck, around her +surged angry billows and looming clouds, fringed for a moment by the +sunset.</p> + +<p>"They saw the woman come down the side of the vessel, where it rocked +and plunged like a desert horse in the lasso; saw her put off in a small +boat, amid the boiling waves; saw the boat leap and reel toward the +land. He and young Lovel rushed down together to the base of the hills, +far into the waves. They saw the boat strike, saw it crushed into atoms +among the rocks, and saw the woman weltering in a whirlpool of waters. +The two, he and the young man, rushed into the waves, breasted them, +battled with them like lions. A wild strength came to his arms, a +supernatural power, that neither belonged to his feeble organization nor +his age. From that time, no doubt, the evil one possessed him. How he +tore the woman from the waves that had engulfed her he never knew; for +the youth was hurled upon the shore, cold and dead, grasping her +garments with both hands.</p> + +<p>"The youth was dead, he could solemnly testify to that, for he felt his +pulse, and kept one hand long over his heart feeling for the hushed +life, but there was neither breath nor pulse—Lazarus, in his tomb, was +not more lifeless when the Saviour looked upon him. Yes, the youth was +surely dead. But when the woman arose from the sand, with her hair +dropping salt rain, and her lips purple with cold, she saw him lying +there, prone and white at her side. Then her pale face lighted up with +supernatural gleams. She lifted his head and breathed upon it. She +gathered him to her bosom, and pressed her cold lips down upon his +forehead and his marble mouth—those kisses, the unearthly warmth of her +eyes, brought him to life. She had purchased immortality of the evil +one, and gave part of it to him.</p> + +<p>"This was the one great act of sorcery that he had witnessed, and to +which he now bore testimony before the most high God. After that, the +woman obtained an unbounded power over the youth, who manifested an +uncontrollable desire for her company; he had neglected his old friends +and the most binding attachments; body and soul he had become the serf +of her diabolical power."</p> + +<p>Here Samuel Parris paused. The perspiration rose in great drops to his +forehead, his hands shook as he wiped the moisture away.</p> + +<p>"And is this all?" demanded the judge, while the audience broke the +silence by hoarse murmurs, that stole through the windows, and grew +louder as the people outside took them up. "Is this all?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the old man, and the white hair rose slowly from his temples, +while shadows gathered about his mouth, "I, too, was in the hands of +this woman of Endor—I, the servant of the Lord, who have broken the +holy bread to God's people for more than fifty years. Here, in this +consecrated building, while I stood with the sacred wine in my hands, +after that just man, William Phipps, had drank of it in baptism, this +woman appeared to me. Standing in the very spot where he had partaken of +the sacrament, she appeared to me as an angel of light, for her eyes +shone like stars, and a smile of tender humility beamed on her +face—with those eyes, with that smile, and with a voice that might have +dropped from the golden harps to which cherubs sing. She won me into a +great sacrilege."</p> + +<p>Again the minister wiped his brow; the judge grew pale, and leaned +forward breathlessly. The audience was still as death; you could hear +the shivering of the naked tree boughs afar off in the forest, but +nothing nearer.</p> + +<p>Amid this appalling hush, Barbara Stafford lifted her face to the +witness, and a faint, pitying smile lay like a shadow on her lips. She +seemed about to speak, but the judge lifted his hand.</p> + +<p>"A great sacrilege, brother Parris?"</p> + +<p>The minister cast a pleading look upon the judges at the bar and his +brethren of the ministry, as if beseeching forbearance.</p> + +<p>"Yes! a great sacrilege. As I stood, with the unleavened bread before me +and the sacred wine in my hand—stood alone in this holy building, for +all else had departed—the prisoner, Barbara Stafford, by the sweet +wiles which I speak of, won me to give the wine to her, that she might +taste it; and so beguiled of the devil, I broke with her of the bread +which is a symbol of the body of Christ. This, brethren, was my sin—I +was beset of the evil one and fell!"</p> + +<p>A groan broke from the ministers that heard the confession. The judge +bent his forehead to the palm of his hand, shading the pallor of his +features. The foreman of the jury muttered a low prayer, and the jury +whispered a solemn amen.</p> + +<p>Even the face of young Lovel took an expression of affright. The +stillness that reigned in the body of the house was appalling.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<h3>PROGRESS OF THE TRIAL.</h3> + + +<p>The old minister sat down, shading his face with both hands; then, in +his place stood Elizabeth, pale, thin, wild. The shadow of her former +beauty seemed hanging around her like a shroud.</p> + +<p>When she saw her lover standing close to Barbara Stafford, a faint glow +stole over her cheek, as if a peach blossom had blown across it, leaving +its reflection behind.</p> + +<p>The judge lifted his head and looked kindly upon her. The jury whispered +together, and cast pitying glances that way; and through all that vast +crowd a thrill of sympathy ran.</p> + +<p>Poor girl! she was sincere as a child, earnest as a woman. She told of +the power of love and hate which Barbara Stafford had attained over her; +how, in her absence, the most bitter dislike filled her bosom, but when +Barbara's eyes were upon her, or her voice in her ear, a sweet revulsion +followed, and she was like a babe, or a slave, in the woman's presence. +She spoke of the time when Barbara came to the parsonage at Salem, of +the strange effect it had upon Abby Williams, and the more terrible +results to herself. Then she said the presence of this woman became a +torture. When she spoke, a knife pierced her heart; when she smiled, +lurid fire seemed creeping over her brain. At last, her entire being was +given up to the sorceress, whose power filled her room with strange +shapes, that tormented the sleep from her eyes, and all peace from her +heart. She was better now. The prayers of her Christian father had +emancipated her; but the judges might see by her pale face, and thin +hands, how fatally the curse had fastened on her life.</p> + +<p>"Had she seen no further proof of the infernal powers of the prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. One morning, just at daylight, while standing at her bedroom +window, she saw what seemed to be the figure of Barbara Stafford, riding +out of the forest on a white horse. She turned her eyes away for a +moment, and, lo! the horse was gone, and the woman stood on the green +sward alone. Determined to satisfy herself if it was in reality a witch +spirit, or the woman in person, she went into Barbara Stafford's chamber +and found her in bed and asleep. Old Tituba could bear testimony to +this, for she also went into the prisoner's room, and saw her lying on +the bed so buried in slumber that all the noise they made on entering +did not arouse her. As for the white horse, she saw it as plainly, with +that woman on its back, as she ever saw the sun at mid-day."</p> + +<p>This was the evidence of Elizabeth Parris. She laid all the pains of her +jealous heart open to the judges, and in the natural agony of disturbed +love they read only the power of witchcraft. Reticent from the exquisite +delicacy which made her susceptible to so much pain, she did not mention +Norman Lovel in her evidence; thus, all clue to the origin of her +suffering was concealed.</p> + +<p>When her evidence was complete, Elizabeth fainted, and was borne from +the court in the arms of Norman Lovel, who, touched by her gentleness +and her innocent confession, sprang forward to save her from falling.</p> + +<p>Governor Phipps appeared as the third witness, and it was remarked that, +for the first time that day, Barbara Stafford became greatly agitated; +her lips, hitherto serenely closed, began to quiver; her eyes dilated, +and the blue tints deepened under them. When he spoke, her hands clasped +and unclasped themselves, nervously, under her shawl. Once she arose and +looked around, as if tempted to fly into the open air.</p> + +<p>But the constable laid his heavy hand on her, reminding her that she was +a prisoner. She looked in his face with a bewildered stare, remembered +what she was, and sat down with a dreary smile about her lips.</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps was also greatly agitated. He had been summoned by +the court, and with proud humility obeyed its behests.</p> + +<p>"To the best of his remembrance," he said, "he had never met the +prisoner but three times in his life: once at his own door, when, by +mistake, he for a moment thought her to be Lady Phipps."</p> + +<p>Here a low moan broke from the neighborhood of the prisoner; but, if it +came from her, the anguish to which it gave voice was instantly +suppressed.</p> + +<p>Barbara was looking at the witness. The light fell on his face, but hers +was in shadow, still and white like that of a marble statue.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for a moment," he resumed, "he had mistaken the prisoner for his +wife, and in the darkness held her to his bosom for a single moment; +during that brief time, a strange swell heaved at his heart, and took +away his breath; it subsided into a heavy pain, which hung about him for +days, though the woman had departed before he could look upon her face, +and he had not heard the sound of her voice. This pain had seized him +once before while he stood in that sacred building, with the sacramental +wine at his lips; and he was informed afterwards that the prisoner had +entered the house just as he took the goblet in his hand. Again her +supernatural influence—for he could account for these sensations no +other way—had been exerted on him as he entered her place of +confinement, for such was the compassion she inspired, had it rested +with him, his own hands would have been impelled to open her prison +doors and set her free."</p> + +<p>As the governor uttered these words, Barbara Stafford's eyes filled with +tears, and a glow of exquisite tenderness softened her face. She drew a +deep breath, and then the tears began to drop, large and fast, from her +eyes, as if her very heart were breaking.</p> + +<p>Unimportant as the governor's evidence might seem in these days, it had +a powerful effect upon the court. He was known among the people as a +stern, proud man, cold as steel, but just beyond question, even to the +sacrificing of his own life, had it been forfeited to the law. That he +should be influenced to such tenderness of compassion, against his +reason, and in spite of himself, was, to the people who listened, deeper +proofs of witchcraft than the facts to which Samuel Parris had sworn. He +was known as a tender-hearted, visionary old man, half poet, half +philosopher, by all the country round. But the governor—whoever +supposed that sentiment or imagination could cloud his clear judgment?</p> + +<p>Thus, though the governor was guarded in his evidence, which to men less +influenced by superstition would have been nothing, it bore heavily +against the unhappy woman looking at him so wistfully through her +blinding tears.</p> + +<p>After this, Norman Lovel was brought to the stand, sorely against his +will, for though, in the depths of his soul, he was satisfied that the +influence which the noble woman possessed was only such as God always +lends to true greatness, he could not, after those who had gone before, +urge his convictions on the court, and alas! the facts he had no power +to contradict: they were even as Samuel Parris had sworn them to be.</p> + +<p>When Barbara Stafford saw his troubled look, she beckoned him toward +her, and before the constable could interfere, bade him be of good +courage and speak the truth, trusting her with the Lord.</p> + +<p>It could not have been otherwise. He did speak the truth, and his very +efforts to explain and soften the facts which Samuel Parris had stated, +only served to prejudice the jury more deeply. These astute men +brightened up, and crowding their heads close together, whispered that +it was easy to see the influence of the beautiful witch strong upon him, +and, therefore, his words must be weighed with grave caution, as coming +directly from the father of lies.</p> + +<p>Then Abigail Williams came forward, but her evidence was clearly in +favor of the prisoner. She disclaimed all impressions of evil obtained +from the accused lady, so far as she was concerned. She admitted that a +sudden and great cause of grief had fallen upon her—that she had been +influenced against her friends, and suffered greatly by day and by +night, but Barbara Stafford was not the cause; of her she only knew what +was feminine and good. When questioned regarding the sources of her +knowledge, and of her estrangement, she refused to speak. So the judges, +after consulting together, drew a proof of Barbara's power from her +perverse silence. How was it to be expected that the witness could bear +unprejudicial evidence while the glance of the prisoner was upon her?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUDING TESTIMONY.</h3> + + +<p>The prosecuting attorney had been vigilant in the management of his +case. No one event of Barbara Stafford's life, since she landed in +Boston, had escaped him. Jason Brown and his wife took the witness stand +next. The honest sailor was prejudiced against the prisoner. He solemnly +believed that she had turned his own peaceful home into a den of +iniquity, and made it the centre of a fearful witch-gathering. His +frank, honest face, and profound self-conviction, aided his words +powerfully.</p> + +<p>Yes, he knew the woman. She came over from England in the same vessel +with him. During the voyage he had seen her cheerful, and easily +pleased. She always had a sweet look and kind word for every one on the +ship, till all hands on board, even to the cabin boy, almost worshipped +her. Still no one ever knew from whence she came, or what business she +had in the new country. She had plenty of gold, and gave it liberally to +all who served her.</p> + +<p>Brown had never seen any thing very remarkable in her conduct while on +ship board; sometimes he heard her singing in the cabin, and often, as +the sun went down, he had seen her gazing westward with a bright, +hopeful countenance, as if she expected some great happiness in that +direction.</p> + +<p>When the storm rose and drove them furiously toward the land, Barbara +Stafford came on deck with her cloak on, and seemed to glory in braving +the tempest, which swept her so furiously coastward. She was fearless of +danger, and exulted in every fierce plunge of the vessel, which made +even tried sailors turn pale.</p> + +<p>At last they came in sight of the harbor, but were compelled to cast +anchor, the heave and swell of the ocean were so tumultuous. As the +vessel lay there, tugging like a chained beast at its hausers, with a +heavy fog drifting over it, and red clouds heaped up in the west, this +woman had pleaded with him to let down a boat and put her on +shore—anywhere, so that her feet touched the soil of America. She +offered a handful of golden guineas to several of the men, but they all +refused, holding the attempt to be certain death. How he was persuaded +to let down the boat, unless impelled by the witchery in her look and +voice, it was impossible for him to say. Certainly he did it, and not +for the gold, for he only took one piece. The boat was dashed to pieces, +and but for that God-fearing man, Samuel Parris, and young Lovel, every +living soul in it would have been lost.</p> + +<p>In answer to the question if he knew any thing more of the prisoner's +practices in witchcraft, Jason Brown replied:</p> + +<p>Some weeks after the woman left his house she returned to it one evening +alone, just after dark. Before she entered, himself, his wife, and the +hired man had been terrified by a crowd of dark faces piled, as it +seemed, against the window and all peering in with eyes wild and bright +as fiery stars. They had seen feathers wave, and red garments gleam +through the glass, but tumultuously and half lost in shadows. Before any +one could move to search this strange appearance more thoroughly, the +faces disappeared, and did not come back.</p> + +<p>Directly after this, one of the carpenters at work on the ship came in, +and being questioned declared that he had seen nothing unusual about the +house, though his path led him almost around it. While he was saying +this Barbara Stafford came in, with her hood thrown back, her garments +disturbed and covered with dust. She besought them almost with tears to +hasten the repairs going on in the nearly wrecked vessel, and left a +purse of gold in his hands to be used to speed the work. Then the woman +went away in haste, as she had entered the house.</p> + +<p>"Did they follow her to see where she went?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly; but they gathered around the window and watched her as she +walked towards the woods. As they stood there, she rode forth out of the +shadows on a white horse, and with her came two dark figures; no doubt +the fiends who attended her. Scarcely were they swallowed up by the +darkness, when all the woods swarmed visibly with dusky figures. He saw +them moving under the trees and sweep in a slender column through a +small opening into the thick of the forest again, where the weird +pageant disappeared, following the prisoner."</p> + +<p>In the morning after these strange doings, Brown had gone to his barn, +where some boxes had been stored for a passenger who came over in the +ship, and which he was to call for. These boxes were remarkably heavy. +Of course he did not know any thing of their contents; but he was a +powerful man and could not lift one of them an inch from the floor. But +he found the corner where they stood empty. Every box was gone, and +nothing but some trusses of loose hay remained. Astonished at this, he +had searched the ground for wagon tracks, or some other sign of the way +in which the boxes had been carried off; but nothing was there; not a +wheel track or hoof print. Still the earth was trampled down, but not +with human beings, barefooted or with honestly made shoes on their feet.</p> + +<p>This was all Jason Brown had to say, except that he had felt the strange +influence, described by so many, when the woman addressed him. In spite +of himself he was always constrained to lift his hat when she went by. +Indeed, so far had this feeling prevailed, that he had more than once +put the quid of tobacco back into his pocket when it was almost to his +mouth, because she happened to be looking that way; and would hide his +cup of grog behind him if she chanced to be present when the rations of +gin or rum were dealt out to the men. Jason Brown could not account for +these things. He had never felt afraid or awkward in the presence of +womankind before. If it was witchcraft—well, he couldn't say that the +sin was altogether an unpleasant one. He knew nothing more; but his old +woman had been with the prisoner a good deal, and might have something +to tell.</p> + +<p>As Jason Brown stepped heavily down into the crowd, his wife appeared on +the stand, prim, cold, and self-possessed, like a statue of wood. She +looked toward the prisoner with a cold, quiet glance, and then gave +herself up to be questioned. Her story did not vary from that of the +other witnesses, save that she threw no feeling into it, but spoke the +simple truth without even an implied comment. Yes, she had loved the +lady, loved her so well from the very first, that it seemed almost like +a sin. But it appeared to her that this affection sprang out of the +dreariness left at her hearth after the two children died. It was very +pleasant to sit at her spinning-wheel and see the sweet, mournful look +on that face. Goody Brown could not help but think that the poor lady +had lost something that she loved, and felt lonesome over it, for +sometimes she would sit minutes together looking out on the sea till +tears filled her eyes and blinded them. It was these tears that went to +her heart. Others might have been bewitched by her smiles and her sweet +voice, but she always thought of her children when the lady fell to +crying, and longed to kneel down at her feet, sorrowful like herself, +and pray God to help them both.</p> + +<p>Had the witness seen nothing else that was strange in the prisoner?</p> + +<p>Yes; one thing did happen which she had never mentioned to any human +being except her husband. One day when Barbara Stafford was taking some +things out of a trunk, Goody Brown went into her room suddenly, when the +sunshine was streaming in at the window, and saw what seemed to her a +wreath of living fire on the bed; a pair of handcuffs blazed in the same +light, and a chain, half gold, half flame, rippled across the pillow. +The prisoner started when she opened the door, and made an attempt to +fling a purple silk mantle, that she had just taken from the trunk, over +these things, but seeing that it was too late she dropped the garment +and, pale with fright, asked what brought the housewife there, in a +voice that was almost cross.</p> + +<p>The witness looked in wonder at these strange objects, and asked if they +would not set the bed on fire; at which the lady smiled, answering: "No, +they were only bright stones playing with the sunshine, but cold and +hard as rocks."</p> + +<p>Then the witness touched the chain and saw that the prisoner spoke +truth. It seemed like handling drops of frozen water. She asked what +they were good for, and what use they could be put to. At which the lady +sat the wreath upon her head, hung the chain around her neck, and +fastened the handcuffs to her wrist with a snap that sounded like the +click of a lock. She stood close by the window, and it appeared as if a +rainbow had been broken over her.</p> + +<p>Then the witness asked what the stones were called. The prisoner did not +answer, but took them from her head and arms with a deep sigh, saying +that they were of little use to her, and only made her heart ache. Then +she put them up in a leather box lined with red velvet, and pressed them +down into her trunk.</p> + +<p>The witness had heard that witches sometimes crowned themselves with +fire; and this thing troubled her even then, for the lady had not acted +like herself, but turned red and white in the same breath, and spoke +sharply, as she had never done before. The witness had not wished to +stay in the room after that. When Barbara Stafford came out she looked +very anxious, and asked Goody Brown not to mention any thing about the +stones she had seen, or the rich garments packed in her trunk, as the +farm-house stood in a lonely place, and the knowledge that such things +could be found there might tempt robbers, she said.</p> + +<p>This request, and the evident anxiety of the prisoner, had given the +witness some troubled thoughts, but she had not really considered the +fiery stones as witch ornaments till after Barbara Stafford's visit that +night, when the shadows swarmed so thickly along her path.</p> + +<p>Here the judge asked if the prisoner's trunk had been searched, and was +answered that a thorough examination had been made, but no jewels found.</p> + +<p>Then Goody Brown remembered another event. One day she had gone down to +the wharf to carry her husband's dinner to him on shipboard, and was +returning home, when a young man, who looked like a foreigner, came from +the direction of her dwelling, carrying a small travelling-bag in his +hand. He passed her, walking fast, and lifting his hat as if she had +been a lady.</p> + +<p>But what was there in this to implicate the prisoner?</p> + +<p>Nothing, only that same man had come to the house to ask for a drink of +milk on the very day that Barbara was rescued from the waves, and the +housewife had caught a glimpse of him coming out of her room as she lay +sleeping there. Besides, the boxes which had disappeared so strangely +were his property. More than this. When Goody went back to her house she +found the door open, and the trunk in which Barbara Stafford had packed +the witch crown had been moved from its place. The lock was secure. But +she knew that it had been opened, by a girdle of blue ribbon which hung +over the edge, and was half shut in.</p> + +<p>Was this all the witness had to say?</p> + +<p>Yes; she knew nothing more, except that in every thing the lady had been +kind and gentle in her house—more like an angel of light than a witch. +She had again and again heard her praying in the night. Besides, she had +given her money to buy a marble grave-stone for the two children who had +left her house so lonesome.</p> + +<p>At last old Tituba took the stand. Her withered face seemed small, and +more shrivelled up than ever; but her eyes, usually sharp and piercing +as those of a rattlesnake, were now hard as steel. Instead of glancing +round the court with her usual vigilance, she kept her gaze fixed on the +judge, as if all her duty lay with him. The prosecutor expected much +from this witness. She had been with Abigail Williams and Elizabeth +Parris from their infancy, and must know better than any other person +the effect which Barbara Stafford had produced upon them. She had helped +to decoct the herbs and roots which Barbara loved to gather, and had +herself drank of this devil's broth, as those pleasant, wholesome drinks +were now denominated. It was these drinks, no doubt, that had shrunk up +her own features, and made her eyes so bloodshot.</p> + +<p>Tituba's first words flung the court into consternation. When called +upon to look at the prisoner, she turned her head resolutely another +way, calling out,</p> + +<p>"No, no! What has old Tituba to do with the stranger? It was I, old +Tituba, who made the drinks, and it was I who went out in the night for +herbs. Poor old Tituba meant right; but if witches walked by her side, +unseen, and put strange plants into her apron, how was she to know? She +had heard the mandrakes cry out when she tore up their roots; and once +had plucked a plant from the earth out of which the blood dropped red +when her knife cut it, and whispers ran through the forest as she +carried it away. These roots she had been tempted to put into the +household beer just before Elizabeth was taken ill."</p> + +<p>"Had Barbara Stafford tempted her?" This was a question put by the +judge. "Had she been near when the mandrake shrieked?"</p> + +<p>"No; old Tituba was alone, it was her work altogether. She was the +witch—she had yielded herself to the evil one in her old age—it was +her lips which had given forth the poison that ran through the whole +household. Beguiled by unseen devils, she had talked strange and wicked +things to Abigail Williams, and turned her to stone. The witch poison +had spread from cousin to cousin—from father to child—from parlor to +kitchen, till the minister's household was utterly accursed, and she, +old Tituba, the Indian woman—she, the witch of witches, had done it +all."</p> + +<p>When Tituba was dismissed from the stand, she cast one imploring glance +toward the dusky young stranger, who still kept his place near the +judges. When she saw by his look that he seemed satisfied with what she +had done, the fire came back to her eyes, and passing quickly down the +aisle where he stood, she whispered:</p> + +<p>"Has Tituba done well?"</p> + +<p>The young man did not answer her, but turned another way, apparently +unconscious of her whisper.</p> + +<p>While the judges were consulting together, Tituba glided through the +crowd; an Indian who stood near the door, withdrew the blanket from his +shoulders and cast it over her head. Thus disguised after the fashion of +her tribe, she found her way into the forest, thinking, poor old soul, +that in confessing herself a witch, and taking the household curse on +her own head, she had saved the beautiful, strange lady from death.</p> + +<p>Alas, it was all in vain! The judges looked upon old Tituba as an +accomplice, not as a principal. Thus, in their minds, Barbara's guilt +was confirmed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE STRANGE ADVOCATE.</h3> + + +<p>The evidence for the prosecution was here exhausted, and Barbara had +nothing to offer in her defence. A judge, more compassionate than his +brethren, asked the prisoner if she had no counsel.</p> + +<p>Barbara looked up at this question, smiled faintly, and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Wherefore should I seek counsel?" she said. "I have no friends, and +those who bear witness of my innocence injure me most. What could +eloquence or wisdom do in behalf of a creature so forsaken?"</p> + +<p>"No, not forsaken—do not say that. One friend is ready to stand by +you," whispered a voice in her ear, and looking suddenly around she saw +Norman Lovel, with all the fire of a generous nature in his face, ready +to die at her feet, or in her defence, despite his patron—despite all +the judges on earth.</p> + +<p>A beautiful joy broke over Barbara Stafford's face; the loneliness of +desolation was no longer around her. But other eyes were bent on Norman +Lovel, and when Barbara smiled, the frown upon that dark forehead +gloomed like midnight.</p> + +<p>"The prisoner refuses counsel," said the judge. "Let the trial proceed."</p> + +<p>"Not so," cried a clear voice, that rang over the crowd with singular +distinctness. "The lady has counsel. I, an admitted advocate in the +English courts, as these credentials testify, stand here in her +defence."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford started at the sound of that voice. It was the son of +King Philip, who had flung himself in the midst of his most deadly +enemies to rescue her from death. Norman Lovel started forward and took +his place by the young man, whom he saw for the first time, and toward +whom his heart leaped in quick sympathy.</p> + +<p>The judges consulted together. The case was a singular one, and they +were not altogether certain about admitting a stranger into the +provincial courts without due question. But the credentials which the +young man submitted were genuine, and after a little he was escorted +with considerable show of dignity to a place before the judges. Though +armed with the impulses of a giant, and a kind of eloquence that might +have kindled enthusiasm in any heart not locked close by superstition, +which is the romance of bigotry, he might as well have argued with the +rocks on the hills, as attempted that woman's defence before a bigoted +jury, and those iron-hearted judges. What argument could he use which +would not wound the self-love of those solemn men? how could he arouse +sympathies which they repudiated as a sin, or appeal to the judgment +which was bound down by prejudices, reverenced as solemn allegations?</p> + +<p>At first his voice was husky and faint; the very might of his sympathy +for the woman who sat gazing on him so piteously paralyzed his powers; +but indignation at last broke the trammels from his speech, and with a +loud, clear utterance, he entered upon her defence.</p> + +<p>Had not both judges and jury been blind with bigotry and solemn +self-conceit, his first argument must have enforced the prisoner's +acquittal. With the might of a powerful intellect he unravelled the +tissue of evidence, and exhibited the case as it would appear this day. +"The evil," he said, "lay not in the gentle lady arraigned before them, +but in the disturbed minds of the witnesses: Samuel Parris was a man of +books, of meditation, and thought—a poet, diseased by the unwritten +music in his soul, which had no power to express itself in long sermons, +and to which all other avenues to sympathy were closed up. It was this +that had drawn him into the storm, and had sent him to battling the +waves face to face with death on the coast. It was this that made love +for his child idolatry, from which he was compelled by a sensitive +conscience to fast and pray, as from a grievous sin.</p> + +<p>"Samuel Parris, the principal witness, was neither insincere nor insane, +but a man born in advance of the age, to whom endowments, that would +have been greatness if understood even by himself, were turned into a +torment and a curse. This quick imagination, this sensitive love, had +seized upon the old man's reason, and thus rendered him a most dread +witness—a thousand times more dangerous than falsehood or malice could +have been, because of his honesty." The other witnesses he touched on +lightly and with gentleness, but when he left them and threw his fiery +soul into a protest and appeal for the prisoner, the passion of his +eloquence was enough to stir even that crowd of prejudging accusers.</p> + +<p>Why had Barbara Stafford done these strange things? How, except from the +Prince of Darkness, had she attained the power of winning every soul +that came in contact with hers into subjection? Why was she possessed of +a beauty which died with the first youth of most women—a fresh, proud +beauty, to which years only gave grandeur, except that she had made a +compact with the evil one, and given her soul in exchange for the +marvellous beauty in which her diabolical power principally lay? How +could he, or any man, answer charges like these—charges based on +imagination only, yet for which a fellow-creature was in jeopardy of her +life?</p> + +<p>How should he answer? Let the judge and the jury look upon the woman +where she sat, with halberts bristling around her, and a tribunal of +death that moment waiting to hurl her into eternity; for, guard the +dignity of that court as they might, such was its object. See how gently +she watches these proceedings—see how brave she is. Though a woman upon +the brink of eternity, rich in beauty, and strong with life, she is not +afraid to die. Was that the attitude of a fiend? Was that troubled +smile, so full of forgiveness and pity, the smile of a devil or an +angel? Let the jury look upon that face, and answer to the most high God +if they refused to profit by the evidence beaming therein!</p> + +<p>Here the men of the jury looked at Barbara Stafford with a single +accord, as if they had no power to resist the direction of the young +advocate's eye, and it seemed impossible to turn from her gaze, so +mournful was the gloom of those large eyes, so calm was the attitude +with which she met their scrutiny.</p> + +<p>But here one of the judges arose, and warned the jury, that a glance +like that was the most dangerous fascination that Satan gave to his +witch children, and besought them to look straight toward the bench, +thus saving their souls from jeopardy.</p> + +<p>Then the wonderful eloquence of the young man was aroused, his +magnificent eyes shot fire, his lip curved, and his thin nostrils +dilated; all the strength and fervor of his being was flung into the +scathing denunciation which he hurled against the court, and against the +people whom this tribunal represented. It was the wild eloquence of +despair, for he knew when the jury turned to look upon Winthrop, the +chief judge, whose rebuke had crushed the rising pity which might have +saved Barbara Stafford, that her doom was sealed. Thus, with the +terrible conviction that he was avenging the fate of a doomed woman +rather than pleading with a hope, he poured out a wild outburst of +passionate eloquence—now appeal—now denunciation—now a wailing +lament, that made the jury tremble, and the judges turn white in the +face, as if an avenging angel had descended to protect the woman they +were about to adjudge to death.</p> + +<p>This eloquence, native to the Indian, overbore the restraint of +education, and as the wild torrent of feeling rushed over the multitude, +it fired the superstition, brooding there, into a terrible conviction. A +word only was wanting, like a lighted match, to ignite these lurid +apprehensions. It came from a far-off corner of the meeting-house, where +one of the witnesses stood aghast with wonder, and trembling in all his +massive limbs.</p> + +<p>"It is the man who came with us in the hold of the vessel. He followed +her after the storm. He it was who left the heavy boxes in my keeping."</p> + +<p>A shrewd bystander caught these words as they fell from the white lips +of Jason Brown, and he cried out in a voice that rang through the court +like a trumpet,</p> + +<p>"Behold the confederate of her sorcery! The beautiful witch has brought +Lucifer himself to plead her cause: mark the fire in his eyes, the +breath from his nostrils; see the bronze on his forehead, the proud +curve on his mouth!"</p> + +<p>At these words there rose a tumult in the house. Women shrieked, and +pressed forward to the doors; men broke into wild murmurs, or whispered +together in low voices; while the judges stood up, pale as a group of +statues; and the jury huddled together, looking into each other's faces +aghast.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this turmoil, Barbara Stafford felt a breath on her +cheek, and looking suddenly up, met the glance of those eyes, which, a +moment before, had frightened the people with their burning passion, now +full of determined purpose.</p> + +<p>He whispered something, but in the tumultuous noise Barbara lost its +meaning. The next instant the rush of the crowd carried the noble youth +from her sight, and when the court, recovering from its panic, looked +around for this emissary of the dark one, who had denounced its +proceedings face to face with the august judges, the strange advocate +was gone.</p> + +<p>Then, while the crowd was hushed with unconquerable awe, and the very +heavens bent over it black with a mustering storm, the verdict of the +jury ran in a low whisper from lip to lip, till it reached the savages +brooding in the forest, and was mingled with the deep, deep curses of +the white man—</p> + +<p>"Guilty! guilty!"</p> + +<p>Then the storm burst over them, shaking the window-panes, like angry +fiends, uphurling great trees in the woods, and plowing up the virgin +soil; and in the midst of its fury sentence was pronounced.</p> + +<p>On the second day from that Barbara Stafford was doomed to suffer death +by drowning for the crime of witchcraft.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE WIFE'S APPEAL.</h3> + + +<p>Governor Phipps was a changed man during the progress of Barbara +Stafford's trial. His character, usually so sternly calm, seemed all +broken up. He was restless—almost irritable—and would start as if +wounded if any one mentioned her name, or discussed her cause in his +presence.</p> + +<p>After giving his evidence he had not once entered the court, but shut +himself up on a plea of pressing papers to write, and remained almost +entirely alone. He neither wrote nor read, but sat with both elbows on +the library table, wondering moodily if he were indeed bewitched and +given up to the evil one.</p> + +<p>One great cause of his depression arose from the awful responsibility +which must fall upon him if this strange lady should be found guilty. +With him, as chief magistrate of the colony, rested the pardoning power. +If she was condemned her life would lie in his hands—her death perhaps +rest upon his soul should he refuse the mercy that might be demanded of +him. He felt that she would be condemned, and the coming responsibility +lay heavy on him.</p> + +<p>In this frame of mind the afternoon of the closing trial found him. The +storm which had been slowly gathering all day broke fiercely over his +dwelling; sleet and hail rattled like a storm of shot against the +window-panes; the wind howled and raved among the old trees that +sheltered the gables, beating their branches heavily against the roof, +and forcing weird sounds, almost of human anguish, from every tree and +bough.</p> + +<p>Sir William shuddered as these dismal sounds swelled around him. It +seemed indeed as if some demon were turning the elements into great +bursts of wrath. Had the trial ended? Was the beautiful witch condemned; +and were kindred demons tearing through the elements, exhausting their +fiendish powers there which had been insufficient to save her?</p> + +<p>This thought certainly passed through his disturbed mind, but took no +lasting hold there. But for the strange influence this woman had +exercised over his own feelings, his reason, always clear and logical, +would have rejected such wild fantasies. But something weird, and yet +enthralling in his own soul, rendered the strong man for once clearly +superstitious.</p> + +<p>The library door was hastily flung open, and Norman Lovel came in, pale +as death, though he had been buffeting the winds, and with terrible +excitement in his eyes. He was shivering, and cold sleet and ridges of +fine snow hung on his garments and powdered his hair.</p> + +<p>Sir William started to his feet, cast one glance on that white young +face, and sat down suddenly, stifling a groan.</p> + +<p>The young man flung himself into a chair, threw his arms out on the +table, and buried his face upon them.</p> + +<p>"Speak to me," said Sir William, hoarsely. "Is the trial ended?"</p> + +<p>The young man lifted his head; every feature of his face was quivering. +His eyes, heavy with anguish, turned upon the governor.</p> + +<p>"Day after to-morrow they will murder her."</p> + +<p>"Day after to-morrow! Great Heavens! so soon?"</p> + +<p>"You will not permit it. Thank God her life rests with you!" cried +Norman, passionately. "You have the power. Use it, and save the highest +and best creature that the sun ever shone upon."</p> + +<p>The governor slowly regained his manhood under this appeal. Remembering +that he was chief magistrate of the province, he put aside the sensitive +tenderness that had almost swayed him for a time, and asked himself +whence that strange feeling had come? Could this woman's influence reach +him even from her dungeon? Had the evil spirit within her seized upon +Norman Lovel, the being held closest to his heart, that she might thus +possess him, and force mercy from his hands?</p> + +<p>"Norman," he said, gravely, "by what power are you so wrought upon? What +is this woman to you?"</p> + +<p>"What is she to me? My soul! my life I—every thing that an angel of +light can be to a human being. If she dies, Sir William, I will perish +with her."</p> + +<p>This wild outburst hardened the governor, who absolutely believed the +young man possessed.</p> + +<p>"Leave me, boy!" he said, not unkindly; "in this matter I must take +council with my God alone. Would that this hard duty had been spared me! +I am admonished by the weakness here, that the scales of justice tremble +in my hands. This must not be. Men who govern must be firm, or mercy is +but cowardice."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you could but see her as I have! feel for her as I feel!" cried +the young man.</p> + +<p>"Were I Norman Lovel, and you governor of this province, it might be +so," answered Sir William. "But plead with me no more; this heart is +heavy enough without that. If it must withhold the mercy you ask, the +pain here will far outweigh any thing that you can feel."</p> + +<p>Sir William pressed a hand hard upon his heart as he spoke, and there +was an expression of such pain in his voice and on his features that +Norman forbore to press him further, but arose, and stood up ready to +go.</p> + +<p>"Yes, leave me," said Sir William, reaching forth his hand with a sad +smile. "I have need to be alone."</p> + +<p>Norman kissed the hand which Sir William held out to him, and his eyes +filled with tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, think mercifully of her, if you would not break my heart!" he said.</p> + +<p>Sir William drew back his hand, turning his face away.</p> + +<p>"Leave me, boy! leave me!"</p> + +<p>Was the strong man weeping, or were all his tears forced back into that +thrilling voice? Never in his life had Norman seen the governor so +moved.</p> + +<p>From the library Norman went to the little breakfast-parlor, where Lady +Phipps sat in dull silence with Elizabeth Parris and Abby Williams.</p> + +<p>The lady had evidently been weeping, for there was a flush under her +eyes, and her cheerfulness was all gone.</p> + +<p>"I have heard the sad news," she said, moving upon the sofa, that he +might sit by her. "Poor lady! I cannot choose but pity her."</p> + +<p>"I knew that her fate would touch you with compassion. God help the +sweet lady, for men and women both seem hardened against her."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Parris, who sat in a great easy-chair, with her tear-stained +cheek gleaming white against the crimson cushions, began to cry +piteously, and sobbed out,</p> + +<p>"Ah, me! If she could but go over seas and live her years out there! If +they drown her I shall never know rest again."</p> + +<p>Norman went up to the young girl, and kissed her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Help me to save her, darling. Plead with Lady Phipps, and with Sir +William. He has the power to pardon her. As I came from the court an +English ship hove in sight, struggling against the storm. Let us save +this unhappy woman from death, Elizabeth, and that ship shall carry her +away from these shores forever."</p> + +<p>"Would she go—would she?" questioned the girl, looking up eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It was her earnest wish to leave the country before this awful charge +was made."</p> + +<p>"Lady Phipps—Lady Phipps! May I go to Sir William? May I kneel to him +and beg for her life?"</p> + +<p>"I will go with you, child," answered the lady. "Alas, it was an evil +day for this poor woman when she came among us!"</p> + +<p>"Let us go—let us go at once!" cried Elizabeth, rising, and pushing +back the hair from her forehead. "I shall not sleep till it is done. He +cannot resist you. May Abigail Williams come with us?"</p> + +<p>Abigail sat by herself, looking wistfully out into the storm. She turned +her head as Elizabeth called to her, but did not attempt to rise.</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "I have done nothing toward hunting this unhappy lady to +her death."</p> + +<p>"Always cruel, always cold," said Elizabeth, reproachfully. "Well, as I +have borne witness against her, so will I go alone and beg for her life +on my knees."</p> + +<p>"It is better so," whispered Lovel, as Lady Phipps hesitated. "When it +comes to the worst, dear friend, we must claim your help. That will be +our last hope."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth left the room as they were conversing, and went into the +library. Few words were spoken after she left. Abby Williams gazed out +into the storm as if she had no part in the general trouble. Lady Phipps +sat with downcast eyes, looking thoughtfully on the floor. Norman paced +up and down the room, turning anxiously at every sound, expecting to see +Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>She came at last, pale and heavy-eyed, moving wearily across the hall.</p> + +<p>"She has failed!" cried Norman. "Oh, misery, she has failed!"</p> + +<p>A smile, that seemed malicious, quivered across Abigail's lips, but she +did not turn her head.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth tottered across the room, and fell into an easy chair, +exhausted.</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel bent over her, hoping against hope.</p> + +<p>"It is of no use," she murmured; "he would not let me plead. Oh, Norman! +must she die?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I go now?" whispered Lady Phipps. "He never refused me any thing +in his life."</p> + +<p>"Not yet, dear lady," answered Lovel. "At present leave him alone."</p> + +<p>"To-night, when he comes to my room," answered the lady; "that perhaps +is best."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps seemed glad of a reprieve. She went back to her sofa, +sighing heavily.</p> + +<p>"Feel how I tremble!" she said, giving her hands to Norman. "It is +strange, but nothing ever shook my nerves so till this lady came across +the seas. Oh, Norman! that was a weary day for us."</p> + +<p>"But most of all for her."</p> + +<p>"True, true. Poor soul, I shall not sleep till she is pardoned. If she +is proven guilty of witchcraft, it was not of a harmful sort, though we +have been made very unhappy by it. Elizabeth, child, you are worn out; +take my arm and we will go to our chambers, for I, too, am weary. Be +hopeful, Norman; I will surely speak to the governor before he goes to +rest."</p> + +<p>But the lady was doomed to disappointment. All that night Sir William +remained in his library, with the door locked. In the morning the gentle +wife claimed admittance, and he let her in, smiling sadly upon her as +she entered.</p> + +<p>"My husband, this has been a weary night. How mournful and pale you +look! Surely, it is not because you have doomed that poor woman?"</p> + +<p>"She was doomed before her case came before me. God knows, dear wife, I +would gladly save her if my conscience permitted."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps sat down on a cushioned stool at her husband's feet, resting +her hand lightly on his knee. Her sweet, gracious face, formed a +striking contrast with the haggard whiteness of his.</p> + +<p>"Nay, sweetheart; you will be more merciful than the judges," she +pleaded. "They are naturally stern and hard—but you—"</p> + +<p>"Must be stern also, or betray my trust," he answered. "If I pardon this +woman, who enlists your sympathy so much more than others, because of +her beauty and gentle breeding, what will be said of me—that I withhold +mercy from the ignorant crones and common-place witches who have +perished, and give it to a gentlewoman because of her fair face? If they +were held worthy of punishment for setting a few cows wild, and +scattering mischief among their neighbors mostly pertaining to the body +alone, how much more severely should this woman be dealt with who +fastens her witchcraft on the soul! Have you marked the progress of her +sorcery on the young man under our roof, who still clings to her as if +she were part of his own being—on the maiden you love so, Elizabeth +Parris, whose very life seems to have been half shrunk up under the evil +influence which she struggles against in vain?"</p> + +<p>"Nay," answered the lady, with an arch smile, "so far as Elizabeth is +concerned, I think the witch that most troubles her is Jealousy. Indeed, +indeed I do! It is the dark-browed beauty, who says so little, that +seems most deeply affected. Yet she exonerates this woman entirely. As +for Lovel, he is generous and good to every one: impetuous in his +likings, he is always indignant if he suspects oppression or injustice. +Had this Barbara Stafford come among us without mystery, and been left +unnoticed, he would have cared little about her."</p> + +<p>Sir William looked at his wife thoughtfully while she was speaking, and +a deeper shade came over his face. She was so frank, so sweetly +generous, that he felt conscience-stricken at having given these trivial +reasons for withholding mercy from Barbara Stafford while those, so much +deeper and more potent, lay buried in his own bosom.</p> + +<p>He took her two hands between his, and pressed them with nervous energy. +"My wife, bear with me—neither give way to anger nor fear—and I will +tell you why it is impossible that this woman can receive a pardon at my +hands. Even as it has enthralled the souls of these young persons, her +wonderful power has bewitched your husband. Since that hour when she +stood near me at the altar, and the night when she lay for one moment +against my heart, I have had no rest. Nay, sweet wife, do not turn pale, +or draw these hands from mine. What power there is in mortal man to +resist the evil one I have striven for, but in vain. Absent or present +this woman is forever in my mind, standing, as it were, like the ghost +of some buried love between us two."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps gave a sharp cry, and wresting her hands from his grasp +buried her face in them.</p> + +<p>"Between us two? Alas! alas! I felt this but would not believe it."</p> + +<p>"Nay, sweetheart, be calm. Is your husband a man to yield up his love, +or his integrity, to the evil one, come in what form he may? Of my own +free will I have never looked upon this woman, or spoken to her but once +in my life."</p> + +<p>"I know it, I know it," moaned the unhappy lady.</p> + +<p>"But she is always here," continued Sir William, laying a hand on his +heart. "She haunts me. I cannot drive her image away. Sleeping and +waking I am shadow-haunted."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps gazed on her husband in pale dismay. At last she cried +out—"Oh, my God! my God! help him—help me, for he loves this woman."</p> + +<p>"Be calm, and let me tell every thing. In this matter I would not have a +single reservation. What I say will give you pain, but my conscience +must clear itself. Since I first saw this woman, something that I cannot +describe—a feeling so intangible that it is in vain I strive to grasp +it—divides me from—it is hard to speak, and I would rather perish than +wound you, my wife—but it seems to point out my union with you as +a—a—I cannot utter it. God help us both! This witch in her prison +poisons my heart with feelings that I can neither repel nor describe. +Either she or I must perish before my soul is free again."</p> + +<p>Lady Phipps sat gazing on him in affright; her eyes widened, her face +contracted. "Oh, my husband! has it come to this?" she cried out in +bitter anguish; "and I was pleading for her life. Poor, poor Elizabeth! +it was thus her young heart suffered. What can I do? How ought I to +act?"</p> + +<p>"Let us be still, and crave help of God," said the governor, solemnly. +"I have been asking such questions of the Lord all night, and my resolve +was firm."</p> + +<p>Awed by the thrilling earnestness of his voice Lady Phipps bowed her +head and fell into a painful reverie, half thought, half prayer. When +she looked up a sweet calmness shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Still, my husband, I say pardon this woman, and let her go beyond the +seas."</p> + +<p>"That she may render other men wretched as I am?" exclaimed Sir William. +"Nay, do not plead for her. The evidence of her sorcery is here, in my +bosom. This clamorous pity, which will not let me rest, is a part of it. +Knowing what I know, feeling the entire justice of her condemnation, I +have but one course before me."</p> + +<p>"And the woman must die?" exclaimed Lady Phipps, piteously, forgetting +her own wrongs in the flood of compassion that filled her heart.</p> + +<p>A shudder ran through Sir William's strong frame as he repeated her +words: "The woman must die!"</p> + +<p>"Take time—only take a few more hours for consideration," pleaded the +self-sacrificing wife. "It is like sending her into eternity when you +banish her across the ocean. Do that, and so let her pass out of our +lives."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I will do nothing. Think you, child, that this heart does not +tempt me enough? Must your sweet magnanimity urge on its weakness? Hark! +that is Samuel Parris claiming admittance. I will not see him. Of all +others, I will not see him!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but he is a good man—a just and merciful man," pleaded the wife.</p> + +<p>"I will not see him, nevertheless, nor any one till to-morrow is over. +Bring my overcoat and hat. I will go through the back entrance to the +stables and so escape him."</p> + +<p>"Here is the coat and hat as you cast them off yesterday. I am glad of +this. The fresh air may put merciful thoughts in your heart. Which way +will you ride? We will not give up the hope that some good angel will +urge you back with a merciful resolve." The lady spoke rapidly and with +tears swelling into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I shall ride to Providence, nor return under some days. Farewell! God +be with you, and forgive her."</p> + +<p>Sir William went away in haste, without other farewell.</p> + +<p>It was a full hour before Lady Phipps left the library.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE FOREIGN PACKAGE.</h3> + + +<p>After Sir William's departure a package was brought to his house bearing +a foreign postmark, and sealed with unusual formality. It was for +Barbara Stafford, directed to the care of Sir William Phipps, and had +doubtless come over in the ship which Norman had seen the day before +buffeting its course shoreward through the storm.</p> + +<p>When this package was brought to Lady Phipps she held it irresolute for +some minutes. An idea flashed across her mind that it contained some +hint of that unhappy woman's life, and a wild impulse rose in her heart +to read it. But such thoughts could find no resting-place in her pure +nature. She called to Norman Lovel, gave him the package, and bade him +take it at once to the prison.</p> + +<p>Norman placed the package in his bosom, drew his cloak over it, and went +forth one of the heaviest-hearted men ever called upon to undertake a +cruel labor of love. He had stayed away from the prison purposely, +hoping that the governor might yet return; but when the night stole on +with such ruthless certainty, he was preparing to visit the prisoner +with the heart-rending assurance that Sir William Phipps had uttered his +irrevocable decree. There was no hope for her. On the morrow she must +die. Filled with such trouble as youth seldom knows, he took the package +in silence, and went his way.</p> + +<p>Norman found Barbara Stafford in her dungeon reading in a prayer-book +which the authorities had permitted her to receive with other articles +of her own property from her trunks in the farm-house. She looked up as +Norman entered, and met his despairing glance with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"I have been expecting you," she said.</p> + +<p>"And now I come to say—"</p> + +<p>He could not utter the word, but stood before her dumb with anguish.</p> + +<p>"That I must suffer to-morrow. Do not grieve; I expected it," she said, +with sweet sadness.</p> + +<p>"It is true. The governor is inexorable."</p> + +<p>Never to his dying day did he forget the expression of that face when he +told Barbara how hopeless his suit had been. It was like that of a +grieved angel, calm and mournful, but holy with resignation. It seemed +as if her soul were repeating the words of our Saviour, "Father, forgive +them, for they know not what they do!"</p> + +<p>Norman sat down by her, but could not speak. He had come himself with +the terrible tidings, hoping to soften her fate by words of soothing and +consolation, but the occasion was too overpowering; he could only sit at +her feet and gaze wistfully into her eyes for the comfort he had lost +all power to give.</p> + +<p>After a time the doomed woman made a gentle attempt to soothe him, and +calm the anguish, which was the more terrible because of its stillness. +But the very sound of her voice thrilled him with pain. She saw that he +could not speak. Her hand fell gently on his head, and bending over him +she whispered:</p> + +<p>"My son, remember how few years lie between this home and that meeting +which will be all joy. Nay, do not weep so, or you will make me wish to +live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, would to God that I could die for you!" cried the young man in a +burst of passionate grief.</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush! In this world one meets with many things harder to endure +than death. When that comes we may hope for such sweet pity as you give +me now; but there exist sorrows which must be borne in silence, to which +even a violent exit from life is happiness. Do not mourn for me, now, +dear friend, for I have learned to suffer and be patient. Come, cheer +up. I must find that smile on your face before we part to-night. See how +your grief has disturbed me. I had almost forgotten to inquire after +that sweet child, Elizabeth Parris, for in the greatest peril I did not +forget that the young girl, my innocent enemy, was borne from the court +insensible. Nay, do not shake that head, but tell me how much you love +this pretty creature. My time is short, but I may yet have power to +brighten your lives."</p> + +<p>"There will be nothing bright for me after you are gone!" was the +mournful answer.</p> + +<p>"Nay, but I will make my very memory a blessing to you both. You must +wed this girl, for she loves you dearly."</p> + +<p>"I know it," answered the young man, lifting his head and gazing on his +doomed friend through a blinding rush of tears. "And I loved her +before—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush! You love her now—ever will love her. There is one thing, +Norman, which I think would make me die happier."</p> + +<p>"Any thing that I can do?" he questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; before I—before to-morrow it would comfort me to feel certain of +your marriage with Elizabeth Parris."</p> + +<p>"What! now, in this gloomy place, can you think of that?"</p> + +<p>"But it is not so very gloomy. I am prepared. Now, I remember, where is +the leather case which I entrusted to your keeping that day when you +claimed me from the soldiers in Salem? I trust it is in safety, for when +I am gone its contents shall be yours; and they are of value."</p> + +<p>"I brought the case with me, under my cloak, thinking that it might +contain gold which you could use."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you will find gold there after I am gone. Keep it with the rest."</p> + +<p>"Dear friend, you will break my heart with this cruel kindness."</p> + +<p>"What! I? No! no! I wish to make you very happy."</p> + +<p>"Lady, in my grief I forgot every thing. Here is a package which came +over from England in a ship which has just arrived."</p> + +<p>Barbara started, and a sudden color came to her face. The excitement was +but momentary. She received the package from Norman's hand without +looking at it.</p> + +<p>"Like all things else it comes too late," she said, quietly; "still I +thank you."</p> + +<p>That moment a turnkey opened her dungeon door, and peered in with a +wistful, inquiring look; over his shoulders appeared a thin face, sharp, +and grayish pale, whose black eyes wandered through the dungeon with a +sort of timid eagerness, as if he searched, and yet shrunk from some +object.</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford saw the face, and stood up with a mournful smile on her +lip; thus she remained, waiting, till Samuel Parris came in, and paused +before her, like the ghost of some pale friar that had wandered from its +substance.</p> + +<p>"Samuel Parris, my kind host, my stern accuser," said Barbara Stafford. +"Alas! old man, you seem more dreary than I; no wonder: my troubles will +be over to-morrow; but yours—oh! God forgive you, Samuel Parris! May +the God of heaven help you to forgive yourself!"</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris sat down upon a stool. He had come to persuade Barbara +Stafford into saving herself by confession, for her coming death +troubled him sorely; but when he saw her standing there, so calm and +pale, like a queen—no, like that grander thing, a brave, delicate +woman, who knows how to die like a woman—he had no voice wherewith to +tempt her weakness, or win on her conscience; but sat down, with trouble +in his eyes, gazing on her in silence.</p> + +<p>"Old man," said Barbara, smiling, oh! how mournfully, "if you came to +encourage me to support my weakness through the dark scene of to-morrow, +I thank you."</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the old man, "I came to exhort thee to confession."</p> + +<p>Barbara made a faint movement with her hand.</p> + +<p>"Without that," continued the minister, "there is no hope. Governor +Phipps has left his home, that his heart may be no longer wrung with our +importunities, for I, even I, and Elizabeth my daughter—nay, the very +wife of his bosom—have been on our knees before him to no avail. Now, +that death treads so closely on our words, we, who have been thy honest +accusers, would fain see thee sent safely beyond seas, rather than this +fearful sentence should be fulfilled."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford bent her face, shrouding it with both hands, while a +flood of soft, sweet tears rained from her eyes. It was comforting to +know that even these, her bitter enemies, had relented a little.</p> + +<p>"Old man," she said, with gentle dignity, "I have nothing to confess +connected with the crime of which you charge me."</p> + +<p>"But without confession there can be no forgiveness; of that rest +assured," pleaded the minister.</p> + +<p>"Nor can I ask forgiveness for a crime which has never been committed. +Old man, I thank you for this kind intent, but it can be of no avail. I +am a weak woman, it is true, and shrink from suffering, but that which +God permits I will strive to endure with befitting courage."</p> + +<p>"Unhappy woman," said the minister, regarding her with a look of intense +compassion, "can nothing be done to persuade thee? Wouldst thou die and +leave doubt on the soul of an old man who never meant evil by thee?"</p> + +<p>The minister's voice was low and entreating. He seemed about to weep. +Barbara went close to him.</p> + +<p>"If it will avail to make you happier," she said, gently, "I can say of +a truth that I believe you have dealt honestly with me, and when death +comes, I, the victim and the sufferer, hold you free from all blame. If +I have in any thing brought trouble under your roof, forgive me now +before we part forever."</p> + +<p>As she stood thus, bowed forward, with both hands up to her temples, +there was something in the attitude, and in the very depth of her sobs, +that struck the old man with compassion. He stood up, and with his +withered hands attempted to put back the hair from her face, as if she +had been a little girl whose grief he pitied.</p> + +<p>"Would to God thou hadst never crossed my path," he said; "or that I had +now the power to save as it has been given me to destroy."</p> + +<p>"Do not mourn for me, or blame yourself," answered the lady. "If it +seems hard to die, it was harder still to live. Give me your blessing, +Samuel Parris, for, despite the fate that threatens me, I do think you a +Christian. So let us part in peace."</p> + +<p>The old man lifted his hands, and blessed the woman he had destroyed.</p> + +<p>Barbara turned to Norman Lovel. "Go with this good old man," she said. +"He is heavy-hearted to-night. Speak kindly to him, and come early in +the morning. You will stay with me to the last."</p> + +<p>"To the last!" answered the young man. Then he and the minister went +out, leaving Barbara Stafford alone.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + +<h3>STRANGE TIDINGS.</h3> + + +<p>When the footsteps of her visitors died away in the ante-room, she +became conscious of the package which Norman Lovel had given her, and +going up to a window sunk deep in the wall, and dim with dust, she broke +the seal and began to read its contents. All at once her face lighted +up. She read one passage over and over again, clasped her hand in a +delirium of sudden gladness, and cried out in her prison:</p> + +<p>"Thank God! oh, thank my God that I have lived to know this! But to +learn it now, with only a few hours of life. Father of heaven, grant me +a little time—just a little time, in which I may taste all the fulness +of this great blessing!"</p> + +<p>She walked the room up and down, seized with a wild desire to go free. +Her bonds for the first time seemed insupportable. The sound of a +turnkey near her door drew her that way. She beat against the massive +oak with her hand, calling aloud. A heavy key grated in its lock, and +the man came in.</p> + +<p>"Go," she said, handing him a piece of money; "send a messenger after +the minister, Samuel Parris, who has left me but now. Say that I would +speak with him at once. Lose no time, I beseech you."</p> + +<p>The man closed the door, turned the key in its lock, and Barbara was +alone again—alone, with what different thoughts to those that had +occupied her when Lovel came in! Thrilling excitement, eager hope, a +wild commotion of feelings forbade all connected thoughts. She walked +the floor—she clasped and unclasped her hands—words of tender +endearment dropped from her lips. Mine mine! mine! The baby that they +told me was dead—so beautiful! so generous! Ah, after this wonderful +blessing I should be ready to die. But now the fear of death is +terrible. All the life within me rises up to reject it. I would live to +a good old age. He, my son—my own dear son—should watch the gray hair +stealing over my head, and love me all the better for them. It must be +pleasant to grow old in the sight of one's child. This is why he loved +me so. I could not understand it—nor could he. How I longed to kiss him +as he knelt before me not an hour since! To-morrow I shall see him +again. To-morrow—oh, my God! what is to happen then!</p> + +<p>She paused in her walk, and stood in the middle of the floor, struck +dumb and white by a terrible thought. How fate mocked her! This +revelation, which had thrilled her whole being with new-born joy, was +after all only a temptation to entice her from the sacrifice she had +resolved to make. On all sides events seemed forcing her on to death. +Now, when life might have been so sweet, she must turn resolutely away +from it, and meet her awful fate. Pale still, dumb with mighty anguish, +Barbara fell upon her knees and prayed. All things conspired against +her. Death, that she had considered with such resignation an hour +before, was now surrounded with the bitterness of revolt. Her heart +yearned for the life which it still rejected.</p> + +<p>She knelt and prayed, wringing her hands and crying on God for help—not +to escape her doom, but to bear it now that existence had been made so +precious. She arose firm and resolute, but not calm—that she could +never be again. The struggle in her soul was terrible; but the spirit of +self-abnegation grew strong within her, and would prevail.</p> + +<p>When Samuel Parris entered the dungeon again, he scarcely recognized the +prisoner; her cheeks were scarlet, her eyes like stars. A hundred lives +seemed to have been crowded into that one hour.</p> + +<p>Barbara went up to the minister, and took his hand with an eager grasp.</p> + +<p>"A little while ago," she said, "you asked me to confess, and I refused. +I have now recalled you for that very purpose. I had intended to die and +make no sign, but that resolve is broken up. Sit down, Samuel Parris, +and listen to me."</p> + +<p>"I listen," said the old man.</p> + +<p>"It is not of this idle charge of witchcraft that I wish to speak," she +said, hurriedly; "but of myself, my life, my history. Can you listen +with patience?"</p> + +<p>"With patience, and in all charity," was the solemn reply.</p> + +<p>"But first I must have a promise—your solemn promise before God—that +what I say to you shall not be revealed to any living soul till after my +death. Samuel Parris, will you give me this promise? Remember it is a +dying woman who asks it."</p> + +<p>"Even if it prove a confession of guilt that you wish to make before me +as a minister of the Most High, there would be no wrong in the promise; +therefore I will give it."</p> + +<p>"But there is no confession of sin to wound your ear or trouble your +conscience; that which I have to say need not draw a blush to my own +face, or a frown from yours. Have I your promise?"</p> + +<p>"I have promised already," said the minister.</p> + +<p>"Solemnly and before the God of heaven?"</p> + +<p>"Every promise that a just man makes is registered in heaven. Lady, thou +canst trust me. Never yet have I broken faith with man or woman."</p> + +<p>"I can trust you—and I will. Samuel Parris, look at me."</p> + +<p>Barbara unwound the lace scarf that was usually twisted about her head +like a turban, and the waves of magnificent hair thus fully exposed fell +loose upon her shoulders. Throwing all these golden tresses back from +her forehead with a sweep of her two hands, she turned her face full +upon the minister.</p> + +<p>"Samuel Parris, do you know me?" The old man looked at her in dumb +bewilderment. The scarlet burning in her cheeks, the splendor of her +eyes, made his heart leap toward a full recognition. He could not +answer, but stood gazing upon her with a strange, doubtful look. She +dropped her hands; the hair fell in curling masses down her back. Her +face drooped forward. She was disappointed that he did not recognize her +at once.</p> + +<p>The thin features of Samuel Parris kindled up, first with doubt, then +with fear, and again with positive conviction.</p> + +<p>Her attitude and the disposal of her hair revealed her to him.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris stood dumb and pale, gazing at her resolutely.</p> + +<p>Neither of the two spoke. They looked in each other's eyes afraid: at +last the minister found voice.</p> + +<p>"Alive!" he said, "alive! and here? Oh! my God, my God, what has thy +servant done that he should see this day?"</p> + +<p>"You know me then, Samuel Parris? You know me then?"</p> + +<p>"Alas! alas!" The old man wrung his hands in wild excitement.</p> + +<p>"And now you understand my presence here, my anguish and my silence?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! God forgive us!—God forgive us!" moaned the old man.</p> + +<p>"You thought me dead, Samuel Parris: would that it had been so, but the +unhappy cannot die when they wish."</p> + +<p>"And thou art condemned to death! we, the wrongers and the sinful, have +done this. But it is not too late, it shall not be too late."</p> + +<p>The old man started toward the door, but Barbara laid her hand on his +arm. "I have your promise, Samuel Parris."</p> + +<p>The old man fell back against the wall as if he had been shot.</p> + +<p>"Henceforth my fate rests in my own hands," said the lady, with gentle +firmness. "If I revealed myself to you it was not to save this poor +life, but because in no other way can justice be done to the living."</p> + +<p>"But it must not be," cried the minister, wringing his hands. "Woman, +woman, why did you not confide in me from the first?"</p> + +<p>"And thus ruin him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy! mercy! how hard it is to act rightly!" cried the old man.</p> + +<p>"Sit down by me here on this bench," said Barbara, kindly. "I have no +better seat to offer you. Sit down, old friend, and be calm as I am."</p> + +<p>The old man obeyed her, and, lifting his haggard eyes to her face, gazed +upon her with the helplessness of a child.</p> + +<p>She had become almost calm: a gracious dew overspread her forehead and +the light of a holy resolve shone in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I must tell you every thing," she said, "for after I am gone you will +take my duties up and bear them forward for my sake."</p> + +<p>"Speak on: I listen," answered the old man in a broken-hearted voice.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> + +<h3>BARBARA STAFFORD'S STORY.</h3> + + +<p>Barbara Stafford covered her face with both hands, for a moment pressing +her temples hard, as if she hoped thus to still the crowd of thoughts +under which her brain struggled.</p> + +<p>"Let me begin years back when you performed the marriage rite which has +been the glory and bitterness of my life," she commenced at last, in a +low, forced voice that betrayed the painful effort she was making. "My +father was a proud man, as you know, but how much reason he had for this +lofty ancestral pride no one on this side of the Atlantic ever guessed. +He was, in fact, when we came to this country, the next heir to one of +the richest earldoms in England—one of those few titles that fall alike +to male and female heirs. My paternal grandmother was then living, and +his near connection with her honors was but little known. After my +mother's death—her maiden name was Barbara Stafford, that which I now +bear as a disguise—we came to America, urged by curiosity to see a +country so grand and wild, so full of wonderful promise.</p> + +<p>"I was young then, scarcely more than sixteen. We were thrown +together—you know who I mean—even here I would not mention his name +and wound the honor for which I am ready to die. We loved each other +with the first bright passion of youth, with the enduring love which +fills a whole life with bliss or a perpetual weight of pain. We were +young, rash, mad. I knew how hopeless it was to attempt winning my +father's consent. The noble youth your solemn voice made my husband was +his equal or the equal of any man who ever drew breath; but he was +poor—a man of the people, a working man, though educated with the best, +in intellect and energy equal to those who build up dynasties. My father +was struck dumb with his audacity, when he asked my hand in marriage. So +embittered was he with this outrage to his pride that he hastened to +leave the country. But for a few days, contrary winds held him +weather-bound. Then driven to despair, we fled to you, my husband's old +friend.</p> + +<p>"Do not shrink and moan so. It was a holy union you sanctified that +night. I have suffered, oh, how terribly, since, but never regretted it, +never shall regret it even in my death-throes.</p> + +<p>"During three weeks after that ride through the forest when I returned +to Boston a happy bride—for, spite of all, I was happy—we met in +secret and arranged that he should follow me to England, and there, +before the whole world, demand me of my father. We sailed. Hidden away +in an inferior part of the vessel, he went with us, never appearing on +deck till after night-fall and keeping his presence in the ship a secret +from my father.</p> + +<p>"We reached England at last and went up to London, where my father threw +me into a whirl of fashionable life, hoping thus to win my thoughts from +the man who was my husband. I resisted: the pleasures of society were +worse than nothing to me, and I thus once more incurred my father's +anger. Samuel Parris, you know the man who was my husband, his pride of +character, his indomitable integrity. Holding my father's objections +trivial and insulting to his manhood, he had swept them aside in scorn: +it was only for my sake that he consented to concealment for a single +hour. When he saw that the result of this secrecy was my +humiliation—that I was forced to act a falsehood before the world—he +put every other thought aside and resolved to declare our marriage and +endure its consequences as he best might.</p> + +<p>"I remember the morning well. My father was at home in our town +residence, surrounded by all the pomp of state and subserviency of +well-trained menials. The knowledge that my young husband had a painful +duty to perform excited all that was courageous or noble in my nature, +and I felt a certain sublime animation in the thought of standing by his +side while he proclaimed me his lawful wife. I was young, and loved my +husband so dearly that the disobedience of which we had both been guilty +seemed trivial compared with the complete happiness of our union. Since +then I have learned how fatally domestic rebellion may root itself into +a human life. The day came. My father was in his library. Every thing +had gone well with him since our return. He stood high at court, was a +favorite in society, and all his projects of aggrandizement, some of +them bearing upon my fate in life, seemed to promise a happy fulfilment. +He did not dream of the impediment my marriage would cast in the way of +his ambition. Up to that time he had no idea that William was in +England, or that my liking for him had amounted to more than a passing +folly.</p> + +<p>"Half an hour before the time appointed for our mutual declaration, my +father sent for me. I found him in brilliant spirits and almost +caressingly kind. He met me with unusual affection, kissed me with +smiling lips, and proclaimed triumphantly that a noble suitor had just +left him, and that it was my own fault if I did not become a duchess +within the month.</p> + +<p>"I might have met this announcement with some courage had my husband +been there with his strong will and calm self-reliance; as it was I +could only tremble in my father's arms and shrink guiltily from his +caresses. He looked for blushes and found me pale as snow, for I knew +that this offer, so gratifying to his pride, would give tenfold +bitterness to his disappointment.</p> + +<p>"While I stood mute and cold, dreading to speak, William was announced. +I dared not look at my father, but knew, from his suppressed breathing, +that he was silent only from intense rage. You saw William in his youth, +and know how grand was his presence, how distinguished his bearing. If +nobility was ever written upon a human form, it shone out in native +splendor there. Approaching me as if he had been an emperor and I his +mate, this man of humble birth took my hand in his, and, with simple but +most touching earnestness, confessed his fault in making me his wife.</p> + +<p>"Dumb and white with wrath, my father attempted to annihilate him with a +look, at which my heart rose in proud rebellion, and I felt the hot +blood in my cheek. But William was self-poised, and bore himself with a +sort of brave humility that should have disarmed even rage itself.</p> + +<p>"'If I have done wrong in stealing this dear one from you,' he said, 'we +have both suffered more than you will believe. If there is any penalty +that you can impose—any probation that will atone for an act, which +though wrong we cannot repent of—name it, and if human effort can win a +blessing from your lips it shall yet be deserved.'</p> + +<p>"My father stood before us, towering haughtily upward in his outraged +pride; his face was ashen with the white heat of smothered wrath. He was +always a man of few words, but those which fell from his lips then +burned into my memory like living coals.</p> + +<p>"'Go, earn a station high as that of my daughter; back it with wealth +such as makes her one of the richest women in England. Then, and not +till then, ask her at my hands.'</p> + +<p>"'If I do earn a title, and honorably gain such wealth, will you give +her to me with a free will and generous blessing?' asked the young man +in a voice that vibrated with intense feeling. 'In the brave acts or +persistent efforts of some strong man, once unknown, the nobility of +every illustrious house in England is rooted. To win her, and know that +she is mine without dishonor, I will undertake impossibilities; if I +succeed, or fail, you shall yet acknowledge, proud sir, that I deserved +your daughter.'</p> + +<p>"'When that time comes, claim her at my hands,' answered my father, with +cutting unbelief in his look and voice. 'But till then she remains under +my authority, and bearing the name she has secretly dishonored. Barbara, +if this young man is your husband, take leave of him now, for never, +till his boasted promise is fulfilled, shall you meet again.'</p> + +<p>"I fell at that haughty man's feet, shivering with dread, cold with +terror.</p> + +<p>"'Not that—oh, father! father! not that!' I cried out in the depths of +my anguish. 'Have mercy upon us. If we part I shall perish. Give me any +punishment you will, but let us suffer together.'</p> + +<p>"But for a haughty sense of high breeding my father would have spurned +me from his feet. Still I clung around his knees, and without violence +he could not fling me off. My arms were softly unclasped from those iron +limbs. For one blissful moment I was strained to my husband's bosom. His +tears fell upon my face.</p> + +<p>"'Barbara, take hope. I will claim you, even as this proud noble +mockingly suggests. Be patient! Have faith in me! One kiss; one more, +and now farewell!'</p> + +<p>"My heart gave a frightened leap in my bosom. A cry froze on my lips, +and all was dark.</p> + +<p>"This was in broad daylight; the sun streamed in upon us through the +gold and crimson tints of stained glass. When I became conscious, stars +were shining dimly through the curtains of my chamber window. I was +alone; faint, weary, and almost dead. Samuel Parris, I never saw my +husband again till he stood before the altar of that church taking the +sacrament from your hands."</p> + +<p>The minister groaned heavily, but did not speak.</p> + +<p>"He had left me insensible—left England, and gone no one would tell me +where. My father was dumb regarding him. If he wrote letters, they never +reached me."</p> + +<p>"But he wrote them. As God liveth, William Phipps wrote to his young +wife again and again, but received no answer. He told me so with his own +lips," cried the minister. "It was for her he toiled and thought ever on +the broad ocean, and while wresting treasures from the deep where they +had been engulfed for centuries. He went back to England, possessed of +enormous wealth, and received a title at the king's hand for the +wonderful energy with which he had dragged silver and gold from the +bosom of the ocean, discovering their hiding-place almost by a miracle. +But all that he had done turned to dust in his hands, for when he went +to that proud old man and demanded his wife, the stern father answered +that she was dead."</p> + +<p>"Did he mourn her, Samuel Parris? tell me, truly, did William Phipps +mourn the death of his wife, or had he learned to live without her?"</p> + +<p>Parris looked up, with rebuking fire in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Woman, thou knowest that he loved thee, even to human sinfulness. When +William Phipps came back to this country, broken-hearted and alone, he +was but the shadow of the brave youth whose hand I joined with thine +that fatal night."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," pleaded Barbara, with plaintive humility. "I loved him, +and am but a weak woman. Think how hard it was to yearn so for one word +of comfort, and never dare ask it."</p> + +<p>"Unhappy woman! thine has been a hard lot," cried the minister, clasping +both her hands in his, and weeping over them like a child.</p> + +<p>"Tell me again, kind old man—for I am so near death that it cannot harm +me to know—did he in truth mourn my loss?"</p> + +<p>"Poor martyr! he has never ceased to grieve over the ruin of his love."</p> + +<p>"Then he did love me, dearly?"</p> + +<p>"So dearly, that I thought he would have died deploring thy loss."</p> + +<p>Barbara drew a deep breath, and tears swelled heavily under her drooping +eyelids.</p> + +<p>"But he married another!" she said, with an effort.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but he was still faithful to the love of his youth. It was but the +ruin of a heart which William Phipps gave in his second marriage. He +said this to me on the night when I was summoned to perform the +ceremony."</p> + +<p>"Did he say this?"</p> + +<p>"Of a verity he did. It was like whispering it to his own heart, for I +alone held his secret. In the future he hoped that tender friendship +might warm into love; but I had buried the wife of my bosom, and knew +how vain was the hope."</p> + +<p>Barbara's eyes were fastened on the old man's face. She drank up his +words eagerly. A smile parted her lips; a flush of roses warmed her +cheeks. Then a shadow swept over her, and bending her head in gentle +humility she murmured:</p> + +<p>"Poor, poor lady!"</p> + +<p>For a moment both Parris and the lady sat together in silence. Then +Barbara looked up with a sad smile, and went on with her story.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + +<h3>A MOTHER.</h3> + + +<p>"Time wore on, and I became a mother. With the first gleam of maternal +hopes, such as thrilled my whole being with new-born happiness, I was +hastened into the country; and, in a remote estate seldom visited by the +family, gave birth to a son. My life was in great peril; a fever set in, +and for a week I wandered unconsciously on the very brink of the grave, +delirious, and sometimes wild. When reason came back, my father was +there: he told me that my child was dead.</p> + +<p>"Alas, old man! mine was a dreary life after that. Honors and wealth +were showered on my father. By the death of his mother he became Earl of +Sefton, and one of the wealthiest peers in England; but all this was +embittered by the fact that I, who must inherit all these privileges, +was wedded to a man, as he persisted in believing, so utterly beneath +me. This thought seemed to pursue him like a demon. At times my very +presence appeared hateful to him; there was never affectionate +companionship between us. He was content that I should remain in the +solitude of the estate to which I had been consigned almost as a +prisoner, and I, still hoping against hope, was willing to live in +seclusion till my husband should claim me. For, strange as it may +appear, I had faith in the accomplishment of his promise, wild as it +seemed.</p> + +<p>"One day—it was in the second year of my solitary life—Lord Sefton +came down to the country, after the rising of parliament; and for the +first time since the death of my child was announced to me spoke of +William Phipps.</p> + +<p>"'Read this,' he said, placing a newspaper before me, 'and thank God +that the disgrace of your connection with that man is unknown.'</p> + +<p>"I unfolded the paper. It contained a paragraph copied from an American +letter, dated two months back.</p> + +<p>"How I read this paragraph through—the agony of fear that possessed +me—I cannot tell; but every word of the cruel statement reached my +heart. My husband was dead—lost at sea! I was a widow.</p> + +<p>"This mournful knowledge broke up my life. Even my father was terrified +by the state of dejection into which I fell. Thinking that it was only +the promptings of compassion that induced him to take me away from +England, I was grateful. We travelled for years through Europe, into +Egypt and the Holy Land. Sometimes we rested in one place for months and +months together; then again we would make long sea-voyages, and visit +places far remote from the usual course of English travel. Among other +countries we went to Bermuda and the West India islands, taking with us, +on our return, a young person, whose history I have no time to give, but +with whom my after-life has been strangely associated.</p> + +<p>"We returned to England only a year ago. My father was an old man then. +I had left youth forever behind, and with it, all hopes of such +happiness as a woman's heart craves most. We had long since ceased to +talk of the past. It was a sealed subject between us, but as my father +drew near the grave, he became more tender and gentle in our +companionship.</p> + +<p>"A few weeks after we returned to London, Lord Sefton was taken ill. The +disease ran its course rapidly, and in three days he was on his +death-bed. God forgive the old man! With his last breath he told me of +the terrible fraud that had been practised upon me. My husband was +living. He had achieved all that seemed audacious in his promise, and +had been in England years before to claim his wife. Then another fraud +was perpetrated, and they told him that I was dead.</p> + +<p>"My father made this confession in broken gasps. I had no details, and +could scarcely gather the facts out of his imperfect speech. Something +more he would have told me, but death was inexorable, and the secret +died on his white lips.</p> + +<p>"Thus, striving to retrieve the evil his pride had occasioned, my father +died and I became a peeress in my own right, the inheritor of more +wealth than I knew how to use. But, far above all, was the certainty +that my husband was alive, and had kept the noble promise of his youth.</p> + +<p>"At last, my father, whose pride had widowed me while yet scarcely more +than a child, was laid with the cold and proud of his ancestors, dust +with their dust, and I, the inheritor of his estates, the lady of a +proud line, thought nothing of these things, but, urged by one wild +wish, turned from his very grave and set forth for America, searching +for the husband of my youth—the father of that child which had blessed +me for an hour and disappeared, but whose tomb I had never seen.</p> + +<p>"Thus, full of hope, I pursued my voyage, counting every hour as a loss +till I once more saw the man who had been dearer to me when I thought +him beneath the waves than all the earth beside. Never had a voyage +seemed so long, and yet the wind was fair. How I wished the good ship +that bore us had wings! When a storm blew up hurling us westward, I +rejoiced, for through danger we should reach him the sooner. When a calm +overtook us my heart was restless with impatience. So much of life had +been spent away from him that I grudged each moment as a treasure +forfeited.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I loved him, myself, and all the world! I had worshipped him as +a girl—you know a little how much. But what was that to the holy +affection of mature womanhood, to the yearning tenderness that filled my +soul and kindled up every bright idea in my brain that it might do him +homage? I thought of the change years must have made in him—not to +regret that he was no longer young, but feeling how much grander he +would be with age on his brow and a consciousness of power in his +bearing.</p> + +<p>"On the passage I had thought of myself differently. Sometimes I would +look at my hands and wonder if they had lost any thing of the symmetry +and whiteness he once so much admired. When I found a few silver hairs +dimming the tresses he had praised for their golden hue, it would make +me sad; for love grows timid sometimes as it deepens, and though I cared +not for his departed youth, every grace that had fled with mine was +remembered with regret. But I recalled his last words and had faith in +him. For his sake I would have gifted myself with perpetual youth and +immortal beauty. There was no good thing on earth or in heaven that I +would not gladly have brought him.</p> + +<p>"Had it been possible, I would have gathered up sunlit colors from the +sky and those rare tints that sparkle in the ocean for his sake. I had +never given much thought to the titles and possessions which had fallen +to me, but now they grew precious in my estimation, for all that I had +was his.</p> + +<p>"We came in sight of the coast in the midst of an awful storm, and +buffeted by the elements that seemed striving to force me back from my +fate. I thought nothing of that. The tedious voyage was over. The land +which he governed hove in sight. In a day—in an hour—it was possible +to see him. The thought filled me with wild impatience. For the universe +I could not have remained on board that ship one half-hour after she +cast her anchor.</p> + +<p>"The captain and crew expostulated with me, but it was impossible to +heed their reasonings with the shore in sight. Careless of danger and +with my heart fairly singing with secret hopes, I descended into that +boat, with the waves leaping and roaring around it. I had no fear, after +suffering so much; it seemed impossible to die within reach of him. You +know the rest: it was your hand that dragged me from the breakers, yours +and Norman's.</p> + +<p>"God sent you to the shore that day, Samuel Parris. I felt it then, I +feel it now. Had the waves swallowed me I should have died with a sweet +hope in my heart, and the struggle would have been hard. But now that +all is lost—nay, nay, I shudder yet!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST WISH.</h3> + + +<p>"I awoke in sight of the spot where we had first met, in hearing of the +waves that had borne us, twenty-two years before, a happy pair, across +the ocean. All the dear, old memories came back to me then—the night +when we rode through the forest to your dwelling, and were sacredly +wedded under its roof—the secrecy, the doubt, the happiness, and the +love unutterable which bound me, the daughter of a proud earldom, to the +fate of a being rendered greater still by the energies and strength +which make the nobility of manhood.</p> + +<p>"Full of these thoughts, rich in the holy love that runs like a golden +thread from time into eternity, I waited in that old farm-house, to +which exhaustion confined me, for the hour when I could tell my husband +all that I had suffered—all that I had hoped, since the pride of my +father forced us asunder. But while I was resting in the sweet hush of a +new hope, with the sound of the far-off waters reaching me like a +perpetual promise, content with the dear certainty that he was close at +hand, a cruel blow was preparing for me. I was resting in peace, with a +new life before me, and sweet hopes singing at my heart, when a lady +came to my presence, a fair woman, whose smiles made my heart ache under +their sweet welcome. She came with offers of hospitality and cordial +good-will—came in the plenitude of her rich happiness to invite the +storm-tossed stranger to share the luxuries of her home—to share the +society and protection of her husband, Sir William Phipps, Governor of +Massachusetts!</p> + +<p>"I fainted at the lady's feet, but kept my secret safe. She left me +smitten to the soul with a great blow, for which I was utterly +unprepared. Old man, you would pity me could you guess at the anguish, +the terrible, terrible desolation that followed this interview with my +husband's second wife!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, me!" said Samuel Parris, dropping the hands that had covered his +face—"oh, me! I do pity you. And it was I that married you both—he, so +noble, so grand of character—you, so bright and good. God have mercy +upon us!"</p> + +<p>"At last," continued Barbara, "my decision was made. I could not force +myself to wrest happiness from others, or build my home on the ruins of +an honorable household. I would return to my native land, and tread the +ashen desert of life which must yet be mine, for I was strong, and could +not die. Utterly, utterly wretched, for his sake and hers I would take +up this penance of life, and endure its loneliness silently to the end. +But I could not bring myself to this all at once. There came moments +when my soul rose up in arms for its rights, and the love of my youth +grew mighty in its own behalf: but it is easier to suffer than inflict +suffering, better to endure than avenge. I resolved to see my husband, +and after that decide.</p> + +<p>"I went to the North Church, where he stood by its altar in the pride of +his state and the humility of his faith, and was baptized for another +life. Then it was, Samuel Parris, that a resolve of perfect +self-abnegation possessed me—then it was that I almost wrested the +consecrated wine from your hands, and made a vow which I have kept even +unto death—a vow to remain dead to the man who had been my husband, to +leave him forever, and go away into utter loneliness.</p> + +<p>"But I could not remain dumb within reach of his presence—I could not +see him in domestic converse with another without such anguish as makes +the breath we draw a torture. For one instant he—mistaking me for +her—held me to his heart. Oh, my God, I had need of thy help then! My +resolve grew faint; but that insensibility came, I should have betrayed +myself. Stung with agony, wounded to the soul, I fled from him—fled +through the wilderness to your dwelling; and there—oh! my God! help to +do away the evil—there the mystery spread from my own heart through +your household. You had seen without recognizing me, and I supposed +myself safe till a ship should come. But the instincts of memory filled +you with unrest, and you mistook them for supernatural influences; your +child grew wild with wounded love. So my suffering bore poisonous +fruits, and were tortured into proofs of witchcraft, and for that I am +to die!</p> + +<p>"My friend, is it a subject of wonder now that my presence thrilled both +him and you with a mysterious influence? Is it strange that shadowy +memories haunted my footsteps wherever they turned? Can you guess how I +suffered, how terribly I was tempted? And for all this I must die!"</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris started to his feet; his eyes were wild, his face haggard.</p> + +<p>"Die! die! And is self-sacrifice like this rewarded by murder? Unhappy +lady, sweet martyr, no. I will follow the governor; he must learn the +truth; you shall not die! In this case magnanimity is suicide."</p> + +<p>Barbara Stafford laid her hand on his arm. "I should have kept all this +a secret, and died unknown and unregretted, but for the strange +intelligence that reached me from England in the package Norman Lovel +just brought to my prison. Samuel Parris, I am a mother! My son did not +perish, as they made me believe. They took him from me, in my delirium, +and put him out to nurse near London under a false name. Afterwards he +was placed at school, and in his youth sent to America. For three years +he has been under the roof of his own father. Not two hours ago he knelt +here at my feet and bemoaned my fate. After the cruel work of to-morrow +he will be Earl of Sefton—before that, if you will yield to the wish of +a woman standing close to her grave, he shall become the husband of your +child. It was for this I summoned you—for this I laid bare a heart that +meant to carry its secret to the grave. Look up, my good friend, and +smile. What matters it that a few years are taken from either of our +lives so long as our children are made the happier by it? Our +children—our children! Oh, my friend, my friend! it is of no use +deceiving you. I should so like to live, that he might know that I am +his mother. Pity me! pity me! You have been a parent for years, and I so +little time. Husband and son both left behind, and I must die to-morrow! +Oh, it is hard to bear!"</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris covered his face with both hands, and tears streamed over +his withered fingers. "Oh, God! teach me how to act," he prayed; "help +me to save this wronged woman, or permit thy servant to depart with +her!"</p> + +<p>Barbara drew the withered hands from his face, and held them firmly. +"Nay, do not weep, old friend; pray earnestly, however, that I may be +prepared for death—life is impossible! I was weak a moment since. +Forget it. I but ask strength to endure."</p> + +<p>"But thou shalt not die. He can save thee—and shall."</p> + +<p>"But how?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell him the truth!"</p> + +<p>"Against that solemn promise?"</p> + +<p>"It was ignorantly given."</p> + +<p>"Nay," she said, "I forbid you to interfere in this. I am content to +suffer the penalty awarded by the court. Others, innocent as I, have +suffered death, and to me sleep will be sweet, even in the grave."</p> + +<p>But Samuel Parris would not be persuaded: he put her hands away. Now +Barbara Stafford stood up with a gesture of command.</p> + +<p>"Old man, you are a minister of the Most High: tell me if a vow, taken +with the sacred wine and strengthened by the breaking of holy bread, can +be put aside because death stands in the way? This vow I have +taken—never to reveal myself to William Phipps, never to claim him or +recognize him, and to its sanctity you, with your own hands, +administered. In the name of the Most High God, who heard us both, I +charge silence upon you now and forever!"</p> + +<p>The old man groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>"Be comforted! be comforted, my friend! to-morrow terminates the poor +tragedy of a life which has had but little of happiness in it. When I am +gone my husband will feel the shadow, which he could not comprehend, +lifted from his path. It must no longer darken the noble aims of his +existence. What is the life of one person compared with the happiness of +so many? Until you are assured that I am no more, William Phipps must +never guess that his wife lived to perish for his well-being."</p> + +<p>Parris lifted his head, and gazed upon her in silent wonder. To his +imaginative nature there was a grandeur in this resolve which bordered +on the marvellous.</p> + +<p>"Woman," he said, at last, "art thou tempting me to falsehood? If thou +diest on the morrow, while there is a possibility of salvation, I—even +Samuel Parris—am thy murderer."</p> + +<p>"Not so, old man. The law has convicted me of a heinous crime—sentenced +me to a death from which there is no escape, save by the betrayal of a +secret which will heap dishonor and misery on an innocent woman, and a +man whose happiness is a thousand times more precious than the life I am +willing to give. Were it otherwise, what would existence be to one who +has lost all hope, save that which seems to have dawned on my last +moments, only to mock them? But that justice might be secured to my son, +I had gone to the doom which awaits me with sealed lips. Remember that I +voluntarily bound myself to secrecy by an oath taken before Almighty +God, who can alone absolve me from it. Do not, therefore, attempt to +decide between me and my Maker. I will not be pardoned at the cost you +would have me pay for life. Think you I could hurl <i>him</i> from the +profound respect with which men hold him—or her, that gentle, happy +woman, from her place in his home, to shame and undeserved reproach? No, +no, old man. Death is a thousand times sweeter to me than life at the +price of misery like that. Once more I charge you keep sacred the +promise you have given."</p> + +<p>"I will, I will," cried the old man, subdued and saddened by the solemn +eloquence of her look and words. "Deal with me as thou wilt, woman, or +angel—I know not which to call thee—that which thou hast entrusted to +me I will surely keep to the last."</p> + +<p>"Nay, it must be kept always; and revealed only to William Phipps and +my—own son. In this package is full evidence of Norman's birth and +parentage. All other heirs are dead, and none are left to dispute his +rights: simple proofs of my death will be sufficient. No one will ever +know how his mother perished, or connect the Countess of Sefton with +Barbara Stafford."</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris took the package which Barbara held out, and thrust it +into his bosom, bowing his head low for answer to her solemn +injunctions.</p> + +<p>"Now," continued Barbara, "I will task your kindness once more, and have +done. My friend, while there is yet time, bring your daughter hither, +with my son—the young man they call Norman Lovel. Before I go they must +be wedded, else some new trouble may arise to separate them."</p> + +<p>"Even as thou wishest it shall be done," answered the old man, taking +his hat and staff. "I who have wrought so much evil would fain make +atonement—so far as a weak mortal can."</p> + +<p>Parris went to the door, but came back again, struck with a sudden +objection.</p> + +<p>"But Sir William Phipps—the young man being his son—might hereafter +blame me as ambitious for my child," he said.</p> + +<p>"Have no fear," answered the lady. "When I am dead, he will thank you +for giving me this one gleam of happiness. Norman, when he knows that it +was his mother who blessed him—and he must learn this hereafter—will +look on his young wife with double tenderness."</p> + +<p>"And must it now be kept secret from him?"</p> + +<p>"Even so, or to-morrow would break his heart."</p> + +<p>The old man went out. He had not far to go, for Elizabeth had +accompanied him to the jail, afraid to be separated from him for a +moment, and hoping, poor child, to obtain forgiveness for the honest +evidence she had borne against the unhappy prisoner before the death +hour. She that moment sat shivering in the jailor's room, waiting to be +summoned into Barbara's dungeon. Norman Lovel was by her side, but she +refused to be comforted even by the voice of her lover, who would not +leave her till the minister came. Thus, hand in hand, they were found +together when the old man entered the room, where they sat; and +solemnly, as if he had been summoning them to a funeral, bade them +follow him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE PRISON WEDDING.</h3> + + +<p>That was a gloomy, almost terrible wedding. There those young people +stood waiting for the ceremony, pale as death, their trembling hands +linked together, shivering with nervous chills, as if it were a doom of +judgment about to be pronounced upon them, rather than those sacred +words which should make love immortal.</p> + +<p>When she entered the dungeon, Elizabeth had cast herself at Barbara's +feet, and meekly begged the pardon that young heart would never grant +itself. All the doubt and bitterness which had blinded her so long were +swept away. The true-hearted young creature would have found courage to +die in the place of her victim, and think that too little atonement for +the evil she had done. But, alas! alas! the power of restitution is not +always vouchsafed to our crimes or our mistakes in this world. The +inexorable law had seized upon its victim, and Elizabeth Parris might +moan her life away in unavailing regret without aiding her, or +arresting, for one moment, the doom that was darkly closing around her.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Barbara, lifting the wretched girl from her feet and resting +that beautiful head on her bosom; "it is not your fault that I am here, +simple child; destiny wove its own cruel links around me. Do not mourn +for the harmless part assigned to you in the tragedy which will close +to-morrow. The evidence you gave was true in all its parts. If +superstition blinded my judges, the fault rests with them only, my +daughter."</p> + +<p>A strange thrill connected the two women as Barbara uttered the word +daughter. Elizabeth lifted her blue eyes with a sudden glow of pleasure, +and the prisoner kissed her twice upon the white forehead, as if she +were sealing that young heart for its baptism of love.</p> + +<p>"Norman, come hither, and take your wife from my arms," said the +prisoner, turning her face, all glowing with generous exaltation, on the +young secretary. "I give her to you. Love her—trust her; and remember +on this earth God has no more precious gift for any man than the love of +a good woman."</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel came forward and took Elizabeth gently from the arms that +supported her.</p> + +<p>"What is it you ask of us?" he said, addressing Barbara in a trembling +voice. "I, for one, am ready for any thing."</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Barbara, "I ask but that your happiness shall be assured +before I leave you."</p> + +<p>The young man shook his head.</p> + +<p>"There will be little happiness for us after that," was his sorrowful +answer; "but it will be some consolation if we can mourn together."</p> + +<p>"Norman, you love this girl?"</p> + +<p>"Better than my life—better than any being on earth, save one, who, +living or dead, will ever share my heart with her."</p> + +<p>Tears swelled into Barbara Stafford's voice before she could answer.</p> + +<p>"You will not grudge me a place in his memory?" she said, turning to +Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>"Oh! If it were to save your life, I would give him up! I would—I +would!" sobbed Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>"It will make the few hours left to me almost happy, if you become his +wife now," said Barbara, placing her hand on the little book which lay +near her.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, your father has consented that it shall be even as I wish. +Do you love this man well enough to wed him in the gloom of a prison?"</p> + +<p>"Do I love him! But that I loved him so madly you would never have been +in this strait," cried the girl.</p> + +<p>"Then let it be as I wish, dear child. Love makes its own sunshine even +in a dungeon. Norman, take her hand. Samuel Parris, they are ready."</p> + +<p>The old minister, who stood leaning against the wall, came forward +silently, took the two hands reached out to him in his firm clasp, and +in a few, deep, solemn words, made Elizabeth Parris Norman Lovel's wife. +Just as the ceremony was completed a cloud passed over the sun, and its +light, filtering dimly through the iron bars which grated the window, +shed a weird gloom over the group of persons so strangely brought +together. While the newly-wedded pair stood hand in hand, pale as death, +and scarcely daring to feel happy. Barbara went to her pallet-bed, and +took a leathern case from beneath the pillow. This she unlocked with a +key suspended to her neck, and opening it revealed the contents. A +quantity of bank notes, bills of exchange, and gold, lay in one +compartment; from the other she took the coronet of diamonds, which had +been mentioned as the witch-crown at her trial, and placed it on the +head of the bride.</p> + +<p>"It is my gift to your wife, Norman," she said, addressing the young man +with subdued tenderness. "Before long you will both prize it for +something more than its value. Here are other jewels for the bosom and +arms. My sweet child, may the heart which beats under them prove happier +far than their poor owner has been. Some day you will know why she gives +them to you."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth shrunk, and almost cried out with terror, as the coronet +settled down upon the waves of her hair, for, spite of herself, thrills +of superstition shook her disturbed nerves, and it seemed as if the +prisoner were crowning her with coals of fire. But the sweet voice of +Barbara Stafford soothed all fear away, and the bride received this +princely gift with her head drooping in meek thankfulness under its +starry crown.</p> + +<p>Lovel was astonished and bewildered. As he turned to gaze upon his bride +the sun broke out, and streaming through the window set the coronet on +fire with rainbow hues. "Lady, lady, I know the value of these things. +We must not accept them," he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"What will they be worth to me after to-morrow?" answered Barbara.</p> + +<p>"But would you have us profit by the awful crime which your enemies will +perpetrate?" he persisted.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she said; "it must be so. The gold for yourself—the jewels for +your wife. I will not be disputed in this."</p> + +<p>"Oh, lady! I shall never have the heart to wear them," said Elizabeth; +"they burn my temples even now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, you will learn to wear them for my sake; and because I +loved you—for my sake, remember."</p> + +<p>"Oh! this kindness is breaking my heart!" sobbed the bride. "Only +reproach me, and I can bear it better."</p> + +<p>"Reproach you! Come, come, we will lock the gems in their case again," +said Barbara, smoothing Elizabeth's golden tresses with her hands, as +she took off the coronet. "They do seem like a mockery in a dungeon. +When this dark passage of our lives is over, they will not seem so out +of place."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, Barbara locked the leathern casket again and, taking its +key from her neck, gave both to Samuel Parris.</p> + +<p>"When you go forth take them with you," she said; "but they must not be +otherwise disposed of."</p> + +<p>Parris took the case in silence. He knew, far better than the others, +how sacredly these young people would hold her wishes hereafter.</p> + +<p>"Now, my child, farewell! We must not see each other again on this +earth," said the prisoner, kissing Elizabeth on the forehead. "When we +do meet, be able to look in my face and say, 'I have been a faithful and +good wife to the man who blessed me with his love.'"</p> + +<p>Bathed in tears, and trembling under the solemn effect of these words, +Elizabeth left the dungeon with her father. Lovel remained behind.</p> + +<p>When they were alone, Barbara stood before her son. Slowly her eyes +filled with the intense love which up to that moment she had suppressed +in her heart. She reached forth her arms and, without understanding the +power of natural affection that urged him on, Norman wound his arms +around her neck, and resting her head on his shoulder, broke into a +passion of grief that shook his whole frame. She trembled in his arms, +not with sorrow, but thrilled with a joy so intense that it lifted her +into a state of wonderful exaltation.</p> + +<p>"He loves me completely, with more than filial devotion, and yet knows +nothing of our kinship—never dreams that I—even I—am his mother," she +thought. "After this one moment I should of a truth be ready to die, for +the bliss of a life-time falls upon me now."</p> + +<p>But that craving affection which never was, and never will be, fully +satisfied in a loving woman's heart, demanded an assurance of this +feeling in words. She drew her head back, and looked into Norman's face.</p> + +<p>"And you love me?" she said, passing her hand over his hair in an +unconscious caress. "My noble boy, you love me!"</p> + +<p>"If I could but explain how much, and with what pure, pure affection! +Surely the Catholics must worship their saints as I worship you. My love +for you is made up of tenderness and prayer. I shall never kneel to my +God hereafter without feeling that you are near him."</p> + +<p>"And near you, also, my—my friend. If spirits are ever permitted to +retrace their steps in the eternal progress, no grief shall ever reach +you that I will not be near to soothe."</p> + +<p>"My heart will feel your presence, and take comfort from it, sweet +mother."</p> + +<p>"Mother! boy—boy! Why did you call me mother?"</p> + +<p>"If I did so, the word escaped my lips unconsciously. Forgive it."</p> + +<p>"Forgive it—yes, yes, my son, I can forgive it, for the word has a +sweet sound."</p> + +<p>"You called me son," said Norman, gazing on her with a sad smile.</p> + +<p>"Did I? That sprung from the word mother. I would gladly hear it from +those lips again. Norman, I once had a child—a sweet babe, which was +taken from me long before it could pronounce the word mother, and no +one, even by accident, ever called me by that dear name till now."</p> + +<p>"Mother! mother!" repeated the young man, pausing on each word, as if to +drink in its hidden music. "It is very strange, but ever since I first +saw you that word has been constantly whispered in my heart. I never +thought of it before, save as a sound full of regrets. To me, an orphan +from the first, it had no other meaning."</p> + +<p>"But now—now you love it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; now it has depth and significance. A tender significance, which +makes my heart swell, and fills my eyes with tears. Lady, I am glad the +word escaped me, since it does not wound or offend you, for it has +unlocked my heart. I could rest your head on my bosom thus, and weep my +life away with yours."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Barbara, "if God would be merciful, and let us die so."</p> + +<p>"Or permit you to live. How beautiful existence would be for us all!"</p> + +<p>Instantly, the holy tenderness that had trembled on Barbara's features +went out from her face. Her head rested like marble on the young man's +shoulders. The thought of what must happen to-morrow broke through her +exaltation, and froze her into ice.</p> + +<p>"Go," she said, in a husky whisper. "Go! your wife is waiting. Take her +out of this place—from the town itself. You must not be near me when +the time comes. I shall be better alone."</p> + +<p>"Not near you!" exclaimed the young man. "Though my heart break—and I +feel that it must—you shall not drive me from your side."</p> + +<p>"But it will take away my strength. I shall falter at the last moment. +Boy, can you not see how weak I am?"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke out of its husky whispers; she shivered from head to +foot, and held out her shaking hands that he might clasp them.</p> + +<p>Norman folded her close in his arms till the trembling subsided. Then +she was firm again, but cold as stone.</p> + +<p>"Go, now," she said. "Here we part forever. To-morrow, if I am to perish +as a Christian woman, with the example of our blessed Saviour before me, +I must meet the agonies of death alone. With you standing near me, my +friend, it would be to die twice. Nay, take your arms from around me. I +am stronger standing alone. But—but your hand still; let me hold that +to the last."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that it had the power to lead you from this horrible place!"</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush! we must not think of that. Farewell! farewell!"</p> + +<p>The last words were spoken on whispers, that came like a breath of +frosted air from her lips.</p> + +<p>"Farewell!" cried the young man, wringing her cold hand. "My God! my +God! this is indeed like parting with a mother."</p> + +<p>Norman moved toward the door, and struck its oaken planks blindly with +his hand, thus summoning the turnkey. Barbara followed him a single +step, her blue eyes strained with anguish, her lips moving like snow +stirred by the wind.</p> + +<p>A key turned in its lock; a heavy bolt was drawn. The door slowly +opened. Then her voice broke out in a sharp cry.</p> + +<p>"Norman!"</p> + +<p>The young man turned and received her in his arms. She laid her hand +faintly on his shoulder again.</p> + +<p>"My—my friend, kiss me before I die."</p> + +<p>Norman pressed his lips upon her forehead. She drew a deep breath, the +pallor of her face broke away, leaving it calm and still. She sunk from +his arms to the floor, and he left her kneeling there, so close to her +God that she did not know when he left the dungeon.</p> + +<p>Norman Lovel found his bride and her father waiting for him in an +ante-room of the prison.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris had resumed all his vigor of mind. When a duty was to be +performed he was prompt and energetic enough.</p> + +<p>"Young man," he said to Norman, when the poor fellow came in, white and +haggard with suffering, "we have not a moment to spare. Leave this child +to me; but that I am old and feeble, the duty of saving the grand woman +in yonder should be mine. But on an errand like this, strength and +endurance are wanted. Go to the governor's stable, mount his fleetest +horse, and hie thee with full speed on the road to Providence. Sir +William is heavy-hearted, and perchance may stop on the way, but pause +not to eat or draw breath till he is found. Then say to him—'Thy old +friend, Samuel Parris, having the fear of God before his eyes, desires +thee to come back at once to Boston, that a great crime and a terrible +murder may be prevented.' Say to him that the woman condemned to die on +the morrow has privately confessed every thing; setting forth her own +innocence, and the wrong that has been done her. Tell him to trust in +the faith of an old man who, like Paul, has had his eyes unsealed in the +very midst of his blind persecutions, and come back to save the +innocent. If he hesitates, or falters, tell him that it is to save his +own soul from eternal remorse that I command him to retrace his steps."</p> + +<p>Norman listened eagerly. "Is there hope in this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Hope for us all. Life for her!" was the answer.</p> + +<p>Norman snatched Elizabeth to his bosom, and sprang to the door.</p> + +<p>"I will reach him. Be sure I will reach him," he cried, almost with a +shout of triumph; and he dashed away on what was in truth an errand of +life and death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE ICE COVE.</h3> + + +<p>In the progress of generations, much that was wild and beautiful about +the city of Boston has been entirely obliterated. Lovely eminences and +picturesque ravines have been levelled into common-place wharves and +streets. Streams, that crept through the hills, to lose their crystal +brightness in the turbulent waters of the harbor, have been turned +aside, or literally choked up. Bunker Hill was crowned with primeval +forest-trees at the time of our story. Dorchester Heights was here and +there dotted with a clearing, and all the curving line of the shore, +which now bristles, like a dense forest, with shipping, was wild, and +beautiful in its wildness.</p> + +<p>There was one lovely spot on the beach, of which a perfect view could +only be obtained from the harbor. Here, a forest stream of some depth +stole softly out of the woods, concentrating its crystal waves in a +little bay, sheltered by overhanging trees, then sweeping into the +harbor, where it mingled with the waves of the ocean, and became, like +them, opal-tinted under the broad sunshine.</p> + +<p>This cove had been selected for the place of Barbara Stafford's +execution. Even in the depth of winter it was not wholly devoid of +beauty. Its surface, clear to the edge of the cove, was sheeted with +ice, as yet untouched by a human foot, and pure as the spring from which +that stream took its source. The cove was crescent shaped, and locked in +by two curving promontories dense with evergreens, drooping under ten +thousand garlands of snow. As the beach curved inward, these hemlocks +and pines grew thinner, and in their place beech trees, maples, and +sturdy oaks, pencilled their naked branches against the sky, and sent +forth a low, chiming music, inexpressibly mournful, for every twig and +fibre was encrusted with frozen rain, and struck together with a sort of +rythm. Here and there, along the margin of the shore, logs, covered with +fleeces of rich green moss, thrust themselves out from the snow, and +clusters of laurel broke its white surface with the brilliant greenness +of their leaves.</p> + +<p>Little preparation had been deemed necessary for the cruel work which +was to render that lovely spot a place of horror. A cart path had been +widened through the woods, that the troop of soldiers which were to +guard the unhappy woman from her prison might pass easily forward with +their victim; and where the ice grew thin, as it approached the restless +waves of the ocean, some planks had been laid down, that the guard might +be in no danger of sharing the fate assigned to that helpless woman. +Samuel Parris had pleaded with the sheriff, who possessed some +discretion in the matter, and obtained the latest hour possible for the +execution. But those winter days were short, and people came from a +great distance to see a fellow-creature murdered in the face of high +heaven, so four o'clock was the latest moment that the sheriff could be +prevailed upon to name.</p> + +<p>At twelve the whole shore far back into the woods was lined with human +beings, though the day was unusually cold, and the wind moaned through +the forest, and shook the icy tree-boughs with a sound which seemed like +the whispers of weird spirits. As the time wore on, this crowd deepened, +and grew blacker. The snow crust, even into the woods, was trampled +down. Some, more eager than the rest, moved forward on to the ice, while +little boys and men, more reckless than their fellows, climbed the +trees, sending showers of shivered crystals upon the throng below. As +usual in such crowds, many Indians were seen huddled close in their +blankets, waiting with stolid patience for the death-scene to commence. +On one of the crescent-like promontories which formed the cove, a large +number of these savages had gathered, and stood under the sheltering +hemlocks, looking on. Near them, and yet apart, was a young girl of +remarkable beauty, with an eagle's plume in her small felt hat, which +but half concealed the abundance of her hair, which was of that bluish +black seldom found disconnected with the highest type of a peculiar kind +of beauty. If the Indians near her seemed indifferent, she was keen and +vigilant enough. Wrapped in a foreign shawl glowing with rich colors, +she stood leaning against a young tree, attentive to every thing that +passed. Once a young man came softly up behind her, and spoke in a +whisper—</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>The girl started, but did not turn or seem to notice that any one was +behind her. She only answered:</p> + +<p>"I hear, Metacomet. Speak on."</p> + +<p>"I have been three times to her prison, in as many disguises, but they +will not let me in."</p> + +<p>"Then she is unprepared? All attempts to warn her have failed?"</p> + +<p>"All! She has no hope that a friend is near."</p> + +<p>"Then we have but to act with more courage and caution," answered the +girl.</p> + +<p>"Mahaska!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Metacomet."</p> + +<p>"If Moneto has need of me, and I fall, go to the woods with my people; +be their prophetess and queen. Do not let our white foes drive them from +the face of the earth."</p> + +<p>"I will live with them or die for them!" was the firm answer.</p> + +<p>Her promise received no rejoinder, and when Abigail Williams looked +around to learn the cause of this silence, Metacomet was gone.</p> + +<p>It was now close upon four o'clock, and the tramp of men marching in +solid masses came with painful distinctness from the woods. Still it was +some time before the awful cortege appeared, and Abigail Williams, who +was searching both the forest and the ocean with keen glances, saw that +a ship had drifted down the harbor, and lay at no great distance from +the cove, as if its crew were anxious to witness the execution. This +seemed a hazardous undertaking, for there had been a storm the day +before, and the waves swelled heavily shoreward.</p> + +<p>But that awful sound from the forest came louder and nearer. Along the +cart path, plainly visible now, appeared file after file of armed men, +and in their midst that woman, clad in a voluminous robe of black silk, +with a lace scarf, wrapped turban-wise, on her head. Her pale hands were +folded upon her bosom, and tied there as men bind felons.</p> + +<p>Those who have seen Guido's picture of Beatrice Cenci can have some idea +of the face that snowy lace and black robe but served to render more +deathly pale—a face so eloquent of hopeless sorrow, that those who came +to gloat upon the woman's agony grew heavy-hearted as they looked upon +her.</p> + +<p>Thus Barbara Stafford was brought through the dense multitude of men, +women, and even little children, who surged up from the forest, and out +upon the ice, jostling each other, wrangling for every foot of space, +eager as hounds for the hunted deer, and only kept from laying hands on +the prisoner by the soldiers, who forced them back with charged +bayonets.</p> + +<p>At last they brought the unhappy woman out upon the ice, beyond the line +of soldiers; outside of which no one was allowed to pass. Then a picture +was formed, full of solemn grandeur, and inexpressibly mournful. Behind, +was the forest, stretching drearily into the distance, while its margin +swarmed blackly with human life, jostling, heaving, crowding the shore +and the ice, till forced back by that line of glittering bayonets.</p> + +<p>Before them was a lake of crystal, stretching into turbulent waters of +the harbor. In the near distance, riding the swell of incoming waves, +lay the ship with its anchor up, and its sails unfurling one by one, as +it would seem, without human aid. Beyond all this bent the horizon with +the wintry sun slanting toward it in gleams of amber-tinted flame, while +great ocean waves, heaving in from the chase of a spent storm, rushed +shoreward, and hurled themselves against the ice, which trembled and +bent under each shock.</p> + +<p>This was the picture revealed on that winter's day. Snow upon the +earth—cold sunshine in the skies—brightness and death; funereal +stillness in the crowd, and the cold winds wailing over all. In the +midst—midway between the ocean and the forest—that woman stood alone, +waiting for death. The soldiers had unbound her hands—for that little +chance of life was to be granted her. Still she kept them folded on her +bosom, and stood motionless; her eyes strained wide with terror, fixed +on the great waves that came heaving toward her, and her white lips +apart, as if some cry of agony had torn them asunder never to be closed +again.</p> + +<p>Two men, wearing tall, conical hats, and with pistols in their leathern +belts, came softly up behind her, seized both her arms, and attempted to +drag her forward. She gave a sharp cry, and held back, resisting them. +The waves were even then heaving up the ice beneath her feet. Before her +was a yawning hollow of greenish water, scooped out like a monstrous +grave, into which those men were attempting to hurl her headlong. She +broke from them and turned to flee—turned upon a double line of +soldiers with bayonets levelled against her. These iron-hearted men +grasped her again, and dragged her to the verge of the ice. Then, above +all this horror, her gentle nature and womanly pride rose against their +rude handling.</p> + +<p>"Let me go alone," she implored; "I will not falter."</p> + +<p>The guard knew that there was no chance of escape; and perhaps even +their cruel natures shrank from hurling that noble creature so rudely to +death. After a moment's pause they released her arms, and fell back.</p> + +<p>Slowly and firmly she walked forward. The ice cracked under her feet, +sending out bright, silvery lines, with each tread. Then it swelled +upward with a sudden heave, broke, and with one plunge hurled her into +the vortex of a wave that leaped upon her like a wild beast, and carried +her off.</p> + +<p>All this had been so sudden that the multitude could hardly believe that +she was gone. Some, who had been near enough to look upon her face, +wept, and crowded back, shrinking at the very last from a sight they had +courted an hour before. Others grumbled that the agony of the scene had +been so brief; and some cursed the witch aloud, hoping that the waves +would toss her well before she died. These hard-hearted ones seemed for +a time to have their wish, for when the disturbed waters swelled back, +the fragment of ice on which the wretched woman had fallen was hurled +out to sea. Her face was turned upward to the sunshine, and it seemed as +if unseen spirits were guiding her frail support.</p> + +<p>"Look! look how the witch floats!" shouted the crowd. "Devils are +holding her up; you can see them buffet the water."</p> + +<p>Sure enough, two dark objects rose on each side of the woman, and seemed +to be guiding her frail support through the turbulent waves.</p> + +<p>"Shoot! shoot! Has any one a silver ball? else the witch will escape!" +cried a voice from the crowd. But the soldiers, appalled by what they +believed to be the close presence of the evil one, stood dumb and +motionless.</p> + +<p>While the general attention was fixed upon this one object, a boat shot +out from the right hand promontory, rowed by six men, and, struggling +fiercely against the waves, moved toward the fragment of ice to which +the woman was clinging.</p> + +<p>"Look! look! A boat rowed by Indians! The red devils will save her! Fire +upon them—fire on her!"</p> + +<p>A dozen guns were uplifted. The click of their ponderous locks sounded +fearfully distinct, for a deadly stillness had fallen on the multitude. +But on the moment a tumult arose in the crowd, from which the Indians +had cautiously separated themselves. With the leap of panthers they +sprung upon the soldiers, and failing to wrench the muskets from their +hands, flung them headlong to the ice. Then making a sudden dash through +the crowd the savages plunged into the forest, leaving wild commotion +behind. While the tumult raged fiercest, half a dozen guns went off at +random, and others were fired blindly as the soldiers scrambled up from +the ice. But they failed to reach the boat, which moved steadily toward +the mass of black drapery, now visible, now submerged in the water. An +almost superhuman sweep of the oars brought that toiling craft close to +the wretched woman, who clung, cold and senseless, to that crumbling +fragment of ice. While the boat rocked like an egg-shell on the waves, +the tall figure of a man rose upright among the oarsmen, made a +desperate leap into the water, and tore that deathly form from its hold +on the ice. Aided by the two Indians who had swam from their covert +under the sheeted ice, and bravely kept the fragment which bore Barbara +Stafford from submerging, he lifted her to the strong arms stretched +down to help him, and clambered into the boat. There, upon a pile of +blankets, she lay, white as snow, and cold as the ice that clung to her +wet garments. The young man stooped to make sure that she was not quite +dead, when a bullet hurtled out from the shore and struck him in the +side. A wild leap in the air—a cry, sharp and clear as the yell of a +wounded eagle, and Metacomet fell, bathed in blood, by the woman he had +served so faithfully.</p> + +<p>Now the tumult on the shore raged with fearful vehemence. Shouts and +shrieks of cruel triumph swept over the waters. A boat was pushed across +the ice, and shot out into the harbor, giving chase to the fugitives. +The dying chief lifted himself up and saw this new danger. He struggled +for speech, but fell back gasping for breath.</p> + +<p>Wahpee dropped his oar and attempted to staunch the blood which flowed +in a crimson stream down his side.</p> + +<p>"Let me die—but save her!" shouted the young man, in his last agony. +"Pull for the ship—or never dare to look for your chief up yonder!"</p> + +<p>The savage sprang to his oar—and now the strength of fifty men seemed +urging the boat forward. It fairly leaped through the water. Panting for +breath, straining those sinewy arms till the muscles stood out like +whip-cords, the savages bent to their desperate work, and by main +strength distanced their pursuers. The ship's crew gathered on the deck +watched this pursuit, and stood ready to aid the fugitives. A rope +ladder was flung over the side of the vessel. Up its knotted cordage the +savages toiled, carrying the rescued woman with them. They laid her on +the deck, leaped like wild deer into the boat again, and pulled for the +promontory they had left. The good ship, hired to do this merciful work +by the last gold Metacomet possessed, was ready, with her anchor up, and +with her sails all set. As the savages leaped down her side, she bore on +her way, almost sinking the boatful of armed men that had daringly +crossed her bows. In a desperate effort to save themselves these men +allowed the craft, in which the dying chief lay, to gain a safe +distance, and approach the promontory. But now a storm of bullets swept +over it from the shore. Two of the oarsmen fell headlong to the water; +another lay upon his face in the bottom of the boat. Still the little +craft cut its way through all danger.</p> + +<p>Abigail Williams stood on a strip of white sand at the extreme point of +the promontory. Curving around the inner crescent of the bay, the +soldiers were crowding back from the ice which was breaking up under +their feet, but with their guns still levelled, and their bayonets +flashing like tongues of flame in the sunbeams that slanted across them.</p> + +<p>When the fugitives drew near the promontory, Abigail stood directly +within range of the guns. Metacomet had lifted himself to a sitting +posture, and saw her, through the blinding agonies of death. Then, with +his last strength, he pointed her out, and, speaking to a chief who +still kept to his oar unharmed, cried with his last breath—</p> + +<p>"She is my sister—the daughter of your king; take her to the forest. +Obey her—pro—"</p> + +<p>He broke off. A shot struck the chief to whom he appealed. Concentrating +all the life that was in him in one hoarse shout of defiance, which +filled his mouth with blood, the son of King Philip fulfilled the +destiny of his race, and fell dead upon the bodies of his slain friends.</p> + +<p>Cold as stone, and white as a corpse, Abigail Williams stood upon the +beach while this awful scene was enacted, and saw her brother fall. +Again the soldiers levelled their guns for another volley, heedless of +her danger—heedless of every thing. Right in the pathway of the bullets +levelled at the boat, she stood. They flew over her head—they fell like +rain in the water; and at last, one more merciful than the rest, pierced +her through the heart. She fell without a moan, just as the savages, +landing under a shower of hurtling lead, carried the body of their chief +from the boat in open defiance, and bore him into the forest.</p> + +<p>While the shot that killed that unhappy girl was still ringing in the +air, two horsemen rode fiercely into the crowd, scattering it right and +left, till their horses dashed out in bold relief on the ice in front of +the soldiers. One was a gray-headed old man, who reeled in his saddle, +and looked wildly from the soldiers to the water without the power to +utter a word. The other, young and strong of purpose but wild with +apprehension, called out in a voice so full of horror that it could +scarcely be heard:</p> + +<p>"Magistrates and soldiers! where is the woman you came here to murder? I +bring her full pardon, signed by our governor, Sir William Phipps."</p> + +<p>The sheriff came close to Norman Lovel's horse. "It is too late; she has +gone."</p> + +<p>With a groan that left his white lips in a single heave of agony, Samuel +Parris dropped from his horse. He had fainted quite away.</p> + +<p>"Not dead, peradventure, but yonder!" cried the sheriff, pointing to the +vessel which was still clearly visible. "A party of Indians, led by the +young man who defended her at the trial, rescued the sorceress—stark or +living; I cannot affirm which."</p> + +<p>"And she is gone safe—she is in that ship?" cried the young man, +starting up exultingly in his stirrups, and gazing after the vessel with +a great outburst of thankfulness. "God forever bless the man that saved +her!"</p> + +<p>"The pestilent heathen is dead, and half his boat's crew with him," +answered the sheriff, with a grim smile. "We gave them three volleys. +See—their boat is drifting this way, bottom upwards, riddled through +and through. They got off to the forest with the body of their leader; +but I have sent a company after them."</p> + +<p>"Recall that company, I command you, on the authority of Sir William +Phipps! I would myself stand by the body of this young man, were it +permitted, and do him the reverence his bravery has earned. March your +soldiers back to the city, good master sheriff; they are no longer +wanted here."</p> + +<p>The sheriff received this order with a stiff bow, and turned away to +muster his men.</p> + +<p>Then for the first time Lovel discovered that Samuel Parris was lying +prone upon the ice insensible, with scattered locks of gray hair blown +across his face. The young man got down from his saddle at once, and +dropping on one knee lifted the old man in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Has no one a drop of brandy?" he inquired in great alarm. "See how cold +and pale he is!"</p> + +<p>A flask of spirits was handed over his shoulder by one of the +by-standers. Lovel poured some of its contents by force into those cold +lips, and after a little the minister revived.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my son, God is against us! She is dead! dead!" murmured the old +man. Great tears rose and swelled in his eyes, choking his voice; but +the anguish he could not speak swept over his face.</p> + +<p>"She is safe, father; she has escaped! Lift your eyes, and they can yet +discern the ship which carries her out of danger."</p> + +<p>"Art thou sure—quite sure, Norman?" cried the old man, clasping his +hands in an ecstasy of gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Here are those who saw her borne up the sides of the vessel."</p> + +<p>"Let us go home, my son. Elizabeth will be sorely anxious," said the old +man, struggling to his feet. "But you avouch for this? a mistake would +be terrible."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Dear lady! She is out of their reach at last, and I much fear +neither you nor I will ever see her face again."</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay; but I have great need of rest and thought. Let us go home."</p> + +<p>Norman helped the old man to his saddle, and the two rode slowly away, +following the soldiers. When the sun went down that night, not a human +form could be seen along all that trampled shore save one, so cold and +beautiful, that but for the garments and those masses of rich, black +hair, it might have been chiselled from parian marble. Thus, partly on +the sand, partly on the crusted snow, all that was left of that unhappy +girl, called Abigail Williams, lay, till the sun set behind those naked +trees and the moon arose. Then out of the black depths of the +wilderness, came the figure of an old woman, toiling through the snow, +and almost bent double. She sat down by the lifeless girl, and attempted +to lift her head; but it resisted her hands, and fell back on the snow +like marble. Then poor old Tituba stretched out her withered limbs by +the side of her dead charge, and winding her arms around that cold form +broke into a funereal chant, so sad, so thrillingly mournful, that it +wailed through the whispers of those naked tree-boughs with the anguish +of a soul in pain. Then along the track she had made in the snow came a +file of Indians, whose death-chant swelled with hers into a wild, fierce +music. They lifted the young girl from the ground, and bore her away, +filling the winter's night with that weird chant as they went. Behind +them, following meekly along the beaten path, the lone Indian woman +crept, her slow footsteps faltering with age. Still her feeble voice +sent forth its death-wail, and thus like a shadow she disappeared.</p> + +<p>In a hollow lined with crusted snow and overhung with naked +forest-trees, they had laid the young chief Metacomet upon a rude bier +formed of evergreen branches, with the foliage fresh upon them. By his +side they placed the sister whose life had been broken up so fatally by +his kingly ambition. Then these savages, chiefless and wanderers forever +more, lifted the bier, and turned their footsteps toward Mount Hope, +where the brother and sister were laid in one grave, the last of a +kingly and most persecuted race.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2> + +<h3>CLOSING SCENES.</h3> + + +<p>Samuel Parris kept his word faithfully; for added to his own promise was +the sacramental oath taken by Barbara Stafford, which he dared not force +her to break. But the secret confided to him lay heavily on his +conscience, and the struggle there wore away his strength. For a whole +year he avoided his old friend the governor, and refused to visit his +house, even when Elizabeth became its permanent inmate as Norman Lovel's +wife. But at last there came a period when the old man went mournfully +to the house he had shunned. This time, he was summoned there to attend, +not a wedding, but a funeral—Lady Phipps had laid down a life all +sunshine, and gone suddenly into the valley and shadow of death. When +Samuel Parris rode up to that stately mansion, he found its pillars +draped with black, and a hatchment over the front entrance. These +emblems of grief struck him with singular feelings of blended grief and +thankfulness. His eyes filled with tears of regret for the gentle woman +who had gone; but his heart beat free once more, and a grievous load +fell from it, when his foot passed that threshold. In an hour after his +arrival at the mansion, a funeral cortege went forth from its portals +which surpassed any thing known to the colony in its exceeding solemnity +and worldly grandeur. In the procession, Samuel Parris rode with his +friend; and, for the first time since Barbara Stafford's escape, the two +men sat hand in hand, yielding to the old sympathy, and united by the +old love. Both mourned the dead with sincere grief; but it was observed +of Samuel Parris, that a gentle hopefulness had settled on his face, and +there was something in his voice, when he prayed, that thrilled the +hearer with strange accents of thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>When the coffin, palled with black velvet, and rich with silver, was +placed before the altar where William Phipps had partaken of his first +sacrament, Parris knelt beside it, in violation of all usage, and +prayed, for some moments, silently; but as if he were in absolute +communion with the dead. Then he arose, like one reassured, and with +benign calmness went through the funeral ceremonies.</p> + +<p>That night the gubernatorial mansion was indeed a house of mourning. +Elizabeth, clad in black from head to foot, glided from room to room, +like a troubled spirit. Every other instant tears would fill her +beautiful eyes, and she would creep close to Lovel's side, under the +pretence of comforting him. The governor spent those first sad hours in +his own room, and Samuel Parris sat musing in the library. He thought of +the poor lady who was gone—of her bright cheerfulness, her beauty, and +gracious manners. All her life she had been the favorite of fortune and +of circumstances. But Samuel Parris well knew that she had never wholly +and entirely possessed the heart of that strong, great man, whose entire +nature was, in fact, beyond her comprehension. Affection, care, +indulgences, he had given her, and with these things she was content. +But the great happiness of married life—that of being mated, heart and +intellect, in one noble union—she could not have comprehended. She was +quite ready to worship her husband's greatness, without understanding +it; but blind worship satisfies no man entirely. In order to be +thoroughly loved he must be understood.</p> + +<p>Samuel Parris did not reason in this way. It would have seemed cruel, +thus coldly, and under that roof, to analyze the life that had just +passed away; but he had a solemn duty to perform, and welcomed such +thoughts as promised to make the result a happy one. For three days the +minister remained the guest of his bereaved friend. All the kind +relations of pupil and tutor came back to them. In his sincere grief, +the governor loved to fall back upon that highly cultivated and generous +nature for sympathy and Christian comfort, and both were given him +entirely.</p> + +<p>A few hours before that appointed for his return home, the old man +quietly followed Sir William into his library, and closed the door.</p> + +<p>"William," he said, laying his hand on the governor's arm, "William, my +son, sit down by the window here; I have something to say to you."</p> + +<p>Sir William smiled kindly and sat down, a little surprised by the old +man's nervous manner.</p> + +<p>"William, thou rememberest that night when thou camest to my house with +that young girl?"</p> + +<p>"Remember!" answered Sir William, shrinking visibly, as if some +heart-wound had been touched. "Think you, my friend, that I ever forget +it for a single hour? After the terrible grief of losing her I am +prepared for any thing."</p> + +<p>"But she is not lost, William Phipps."</p> + +<p>Sir William started up. It was wonderful to see that noble form so +agitated.</p> + +<p>"Not lost, old man? I am no longer a boy, and you see how thickly gray +hairs are creeping over my head; but I cannot bear to hear her +mentioned. I know that in heaven nothing perishes; but this earth lost +all its bloom for me when she died. Talk of something else. I would not +have the old grief overwhelm my regret for the sweet wife we buried +three days ago. It shakes my very soul even to think of that crowning +sorrow of my youth. Oh! Parris; she was one of the grandest, most +generous, and loving creatures that ever lived. I could weep like a +child with the bare memory of what I lost and suffered. I can say this +to you now, my faithful friend, without injury to any one. What a life +mine would have been, had she lived to share it with me. Now that I am +alone, these thoughts crowd upon me. I cannot help it, force them back +as I will."</p> + +<p>"But I say unto thee, William Phipps, the woman to whom I married thee +that night is alive. Thou hast seen her—held her in thy arms. When thy +hand signed the pardon for Barbara Stafford, it saved the wife of thy +youth!"</p> + +<p>"Barbara Stafford? Old friend, do not mock me; I cannot bear it. You are +an imaginative man, I know, and harbor strange fancies; but do not let +them fire a hope in me which after-truth will quench. You look serious, +and wonderfully calm; notwithstanding, I think you are insane, Samuel +Parris."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, the woman who was tried, condemned, and would have +suffered for sorcery, but for the interposition of friends more generous +than we were, was and is thy wife."</p> + +<p>"Was and is my wife? Are you mad, or am I?"</p> + +<p>"William! William! look up! how white thou art! Let me wipe the drops +from thy forehead. Nay, nay; these strong hands should not quiver thus. +Let them clasp mine. That is well; now look into these eyes, William, +and read my story there. As the Lord liveth, and as I am his servant, +the wife of thy youth is still living—still loves thee as woman never +before loved man. Dost thou believe me?"</p> + +<p>A wonderful expression swept the strong man's face, an ecstasy of hope +broke into his eyes, and parted his lips with such smiles as no human +being had seen there before.</p> + +<p>"I do! I do! My wife—my fair young bride. Why, Parris, that stern man +parted us in less than a year. Living! loving! and I—are these tears, +Samuel Parris? Am I a boy again?"</p> + +<p>"There, there, my son; drive all these doubts away; for this life has +joy for thee yet, and for her. I tell thee, my son, thy wife, who called +herself Barbara Stafford, is a mate for thee, heart and soul, or for any +man living."</p> + +<p>"My love! my wife! Now I understand how it came about that this heart +was so disturbed. But why did she keep away from me?"</p> + +<p>"The father, who told thee that thy wife was dead, when thou soughtest +her, practised a double deception, and, till his death, she believed +herself a widow."</p> + +<p>"But she was undeceived, and loved me still?" cried Sir William.</p> + +<p>"She came to this country in search of her husband, and found him +married to another."</p> + +<p>"My poor wife! That was terrible! I understand: she would not claim me; +but was ready to suffer doubt, contumely, death, rather than harm her +husband. I was not faithless to her. God is my judge, in this soul I was +not faithless. She knew how I had been deceived? She did not hate me?"</p> + +<p>"Hate! nay, nay; does hate ever produce actions like hers?"</p> + +<p>Sir William Phipps arose; his eyes bright, his face radiant. Even Samuel +Parris gazed on him in wonder. Was that the grave, stern man, who had +seemed so long incapable of a strong emotion?</p> + +<p>"My friend, we will go to her. Where shall we search?"</p> + +<p>"She is in England, Sir William; one of the first ladies in that proud +land—a countess in her own right—the possessor of great wealth."</p> + +<p>"She is my wife! that is all I ask or care," exclaimed Sir William. "Old +friend, a ship lies in the harbor; when will she sail?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow. I went forth to inquire this morning."</p> + +<p>"I will send at once and bespeak the cabin. You must go with me."</p> + +<p>"Aye, truly; but there is something else which thou must hear before we +start. Her son and thine is under this roof!"</p> + +<p>"Her son and mine? Is it my wife you speak of? That fair girl who loved +me so?"</p> + +<p>"Even her."</p> + +<p>"A child, and I never knew it! Oh! Father of mercies! this makes life +too precious! A son? Did you say it was a son, and under this roof? Not +the young man I have loved so—not Norman Lovel?"</p> + +<p>"Truly, thy heart divines aright. The youth is her son and yours."</p> + +<p>"My son! my son! Where is he? Bring Norman hither. Why, it was her soul +I saw and loved in his young face. And she knew this? Knew it, and gave +him up rather than harm her husband! Old friend, who shall dare to say, +after this, that women are on a level with us? or affirm that they never +perform the work of angels? And she is now my wife! I have but to stand +before her, and she will forgive the unintentional wrong which put +another in her place. Samuel Parris, in the joy of this moment, I had +forgotten the new-made grave up yonder, where that good and gentle woman +lies. Yet I think she, who was all goodness, might forgive me if she +knew how I have suffered. Is my son coming, and his wife? So you and I +are made nearer by the love which unites our children. I am glad of it. +Is that Norman's step? Norman! Norman!"</p> + +<p>The young man heard Sir William's voice, so clear and animated that it +thrilled him with pleasure. He entered the library, and saw the governor +standing near the table, so changed and brightened by the happiness that +filled his whole being that the young man gazed on him in silent +astonishment. Sir William came toward him, and, pressing a hand on each +of his son's shoulders, looked in his face.</p> + +<p>"Norman! Norman!"</p> + +<p>His voice failed. For the first time in his life, the young man saw +tears in his father's eyes; still, a grand, joyous smile broke through +them.</p> + +<p>"Norman! my—my—" Sir William's voice broke, and his chest heaved; he +threw his arms around the young man, and strained him to his heart. +"Boy, boy, I am your father!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"My father! mine!" repeated the young man. "Oh! that it were so in name, +as it has been in kindness! Father! how sweet the name sounds!"</p> + +<p>"Repeat it again, my son; for before God and man you are my son. I did +not know that human language could be so beautiful!"</p> + +<p>Norman released himself gently from the clasp of his father's arms, and +stood before him, lost in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Has your heart no voice? does your lips refuse to call me father?" +questioned Sir William, in tones that thrilled through and through the +son.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, forgive me; but I am bewildered," he said. "You call me son +for the first time, having acted more than a father's part by me for +many a year. Is it your will that I henceforth call you by the dear name +I have never known? If so, from my heart of hearts I thank you."</p> + +<p>Sir William saw that he was not fully understood; but impatient +affection foiled all explanation. He could only affirm, with imploring +tenderness, what he had already said.</p> + +<p>"Norman, it is a truth. Receive it into your heart at once. You are my +lawfully-born son—a part of my own young life—the child of a love +perfect as mortal beings ever knew. It is no adoption I offer. By law +and right you, from this day, take position before the world as my son +and heir."</p> + +<p>"But—but my mother; who was my mother? Not the sweet lady whose death +we mourn?" questioned Norman, seized with a sudden pang, "or I should +have known this before."</p> + +<p>"My son, it is not an hour since I learned it myself," answered Sir +William. "Ask this man, my old and faithful friend, who married me to +your mother."</p> + +<p>The young man's face cleared; his heart flung off the painful dread that +had seized upon it.</p> + +<p>"Father! father!" he cried, reaching forth his arms; "tell me who my +mother was. Have I seen her? Was she ever known as Barbara Stafford? It +is impossible, and yet my soul claims her."</p> + +<p>"Boy," answered Sir William, and his voice took sweet solemnity as he +spoke, "this lady is my wife and your mother! Do not question me so +earnestly with those eyes; I have no dishonor to proclaim, no wilful +wrong to atone for. This good man will tell you more than I have yet +learned. Sit down here, close by my side, and we will listen together; +but first bring my daughter, your wife; we must have no secrets from +her."</p> + +<p>Before Norman could reach the library door, it was opened, and Elizabeth +came in. Weary of her loneliness in the desolated rooms her friend and +almost mother had filled with so much cheerfulness, she ventured into +the library, and now stole softly to her father's side, and took a seat +by him, anxious to share every moment of his company during the short +time that he would remain in the house. She saw, by the agitated faces +around her, that some unusual subject was under discussion, and sat down +in silence. The minister took her hand, smiled faintly upon her, and +began his story.</p> + +<p>The next morning, a ship cleared from the harbor of Boston. Its cabin +was taken entirely for Governor Phipps, his secretary, and the lovely +young wife, whose beauty had been the admiration of every one who found +access to the gubernatorial mansion. A fourth person in this party was +Samuel Parris, minister of the gospel from Salem.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> + +<h3>OVER THE WATER.</h3> + + +<p>In the loveliest county of Old England stood one of those fine baronial +castles that have outlived the ravages of many a rebellion. It had not +only defied all ordinary causes of decay, but grown beautiful from time, +which loves to make up for its own depredations by the embellishments +which nature is sure to supply as it draws art slowly back to its own +bosom.</p> + +<p>In this noble mansion, surrounded by a tenantry that worshipped her, and +retainers who had grown old in those majestic walls, the Countess of +Sefton performed the duties of a station that required no ordinary +ability; and, despite the sufferings which we know of, performed them +well. She was one of those who grow lofty and strong by suffering. Had +that woman thought only of herself, or most frequently of herself, she +would have died broken-hearted, or dwindled down into the sentimental +nothingness to which sorrow often levels a weak mind. But Barbara +Stafford—for we like that name best—strove to forget herself, her +troubles, and her wrongs, in a benevolent effort to serve her +fellow-creatures. She allowed herself no time for useless lamentation, +but gave all her energies and vast wealth for the good of suffering +humanity. Pleasant cottages arose, like enchantment, all over her vast +estates; school-houses reared their modern fronts among the moss-grown +buildings of past times. Wherever industry could be encouraged by +rewards, it was generously fostered. With so many human beings depending +upon her efforts for their advancement in life, she held the sorrows +that always lay heavy at her heart in abeyance, and stilled the +yearnings of a loving nature by constant self-abnegation.</p> + +<p>Barbara lived a solitary life so far as intercourse with her peers went. +She neither sought nor greatly avoided the society which would have +crowded around her. Having spent so much of her life abroad, she had few +acquaintances in England, and made none after her return from America. +Twice she received letters from that country, directed in a stiff, +cramped hand, which always left her in a state of depression for days +after she read them. But a gracious calmness would gently sweep these +sad memories away, and she went on steadily with her life, twining hope +into prayer, and waiting God's time for her deliverance.</p> + +<p>Barbara loved the stately edifice, which had been repaired and +beautified by her grandmother. Indeed, hers was a nature to love every +thing good and beautiful. Her rooms were full of pictures, statues, and +rare objects collected in her travels. The gardens and broad +pleasure-grounds around her mansion glowed with flowers, which clustered +thickest and brightest beneath the windows of her private apartments. +Sorrow had neither rendered her austere nor indifferent. She loved the +grand old forest-trees which waved in groups upon the lawn, and every +tiny blossom that gemmed the turf at their roots. The pretty birds that +flashed from thicket to tree-bough found a welcome in her heart, heavy +as it was at times. She strove, with Christian fortitude, to replace the +husband and son lost to her, by the gentle beauties of nature; and, +desolated as she was, life had its sunny side even for her.</p> + +<p>One morning this noble woman—the more noble that she was so +womanly—sat alone in a little breakfast-room which overlooked a vista +of the park, and nearer yet a flower-garden radiant with June roses and +such sister flowers as link spring to summer. That morning she was weary +and heavy-hearted; her mind wandered far away in spite of herself, and a +strange yearning to look upon the two faces dearest to her in life +seized upon her. She sat gazing out upon the flowers, with unconscious +tears rolling down her cheeks, when a servant knocked at the door, and, +receiving no answer, came in.</p> + +<p>"My lady, a note from a gentleman who waits below: two others, with a +lovely young lady, are with him; but he is the only one who asks to see +you."</p> + +<p>Barbara reached forth her hand wearily, and took the note thus presented +from the salver. She did not look at the address, but tore the seal +apart, and read one word—William Phipps—all the rest ran together, and +she could distinguish nothing. With her lips apart, and the paper +shaking in her hands, she sat a full minute gazing upon the name without +seeing it. The voice of the servant aroused her.</p> + +<p>"My lady, is there an answer?"</p> + +<p>"Wait."</p> + +<p>The voice in which this one word was uttered scarcely rose above a +whisper. Barbara swept one hand across her forehead again and again, +clearing her confused vision. At last she read—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I am here, my wife—here, with our son and our old friend +Samuel Parris. Will you receive me? Can you forgive me?</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">William Phipps.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>When Barbara Stafford arose, and turned her face toward the servant, it +was so radiant that the man stared at her in amazement; but she gave no +other expression of the ecstasy of joy that swelled even to pain in her +heart.</p> + +<p>"Show the gentleman up to this room," she said. "I will see him here."</p> + +<p>The servant went out, closing the door after him; and there Barbara +stood, in the centre of the room, with one hand supported by the carved +woodwork of her chair, and the other pressed to her bosom, waiting for +the one blissful moment which would be enough to repay all her sorrows, +all her anguish of suspense. She heard the first sound of his footstep, +and her heart, that had stood still up to that moment, beat fast and +loud. The door opened, and the husband of her youth stood on the +threshold. She could not speak; she did not move—but that look was +enough. His strong arms saved her from falling. Her head was pressed to +his bosom; she felt his kisses on her forehead; but no words were +spoken—a few sobs, a name brokenly uttered, a rain of tears falling +delicious and still, like dew upon thirsty roses—then this man and +woman sat down, hand in hand, looking at each other.</p> + +<p>They were no longer young; he found threads of gray in those golden +tresses, and traces of time around the loveliness of her mouth. But what +of that? Those who love each other go out from their youth soul-bound, +and time has no change which does not deepen and sanctify that true +affection which can perish only with the soul's immortality.</p> + +<p>After a few moments of this delicious silence Barbara spoke:</p> + +<p>"Our son, William; is he here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my wife, and waiting impatiently. But not yet. Even he must not +break upon our heaven so soon."</p> + +<p>Beyond the crowning happiness of these few minutes we will not go.</p> + + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="T_B_PETERSON_AND_BROTHERS_PUBLICATIONS" id="T_B_PETERSON_AND_BROTHERS_PUBLICATIONS"></a>T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS</h2> + +<h3>NEW BOOKS ISSUED EVERY WEEK.</h3> + +<p>Comprising the most entertaining and absorbing Works published, suitable +for the Parlor, Library, Sitting Room, Railroad or Steamboat Reading, by +the best writers in the world.</p> + + +<h3>MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Reigning Belle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Noble Woman<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palaces and Prisons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Married in Haste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wives and Widows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ruby Gray's Strategy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Curse of Gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mabel's Mistake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doubly False<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Soldiers' Orphans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent Struggles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Rejected Wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Wife's Secret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mary Derwent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fashion and Famine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Old Homestead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Heiress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gold Brick<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH'S WORKS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Artist's Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Noble Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost Heir of Linlithgow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tried for her Life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruel as the Grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Maiden Widow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Family Doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prince of Darkness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bride's Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Changed Brides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How He Won Her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fallen Pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Christmas Guest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Widow's Son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bride of Llewellyn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Fortune Seeker<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Fatal Marriage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Deserted Wife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bridal Eve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Lost Heiress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Two Sisters<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lady of the Isle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Three Beauties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vivia; or the Secret of Power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Missing Bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Labor Won<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Gipsy's Prophecy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunted Homestead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wife's Victory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allworth Abbey<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Mother-in-Law<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retribution<br /></span> +<span class="i0">India; Pearl of Pearl River<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Curse of Clifton<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discarded Daughter<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>RIDDELL'S MODEL ARCHITECT.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>Riddell's Model Architect. With 22 large full page colored +illustrations, and 44 plates of ground plans, with plans, +specifications, costs of building, etc.</p></blockquote> + + +<h3>PETERSON'S MAGAZINE<br /> +EVERY LADY SHOULD HAVE IT.<br /> +Prospectus for 1873!!<br /> +THE CHEAPEST AND BEST.</h3> + + +<p>PETERSON'S MAGAZINE has the best Original Stories of any of the lady's +books, the best Colored Fashion Plates, the best Receipts, the best +Steel Engravings, &c., &c. 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