and you in wheelwright lore, Master Hobbs, than in feats of arms. As for me, I can point a fowling piece, or a rifle, with no trembling hand, and at sword play I used not to count myself the worst of our militia,” and the inn keeper drew himself up proudly, and made one or two passes at an imaginary foe.
“Now that you know my errand, enough is spoken of it for the time,” I said. “Tell me, what bodes this talk of evils abroad in the land; of spirits and witchcraft? The red snow I count not for much, having seen the same happening in the north of France once on a time. ’Tis but passing; a mist of tiny Arctic plants, a flight of forest insects, even a glint of red sun through a hidden cloud may cause it.”
“Nay,” came in deep tones from Dr. Clarke. “Talk not lightly, young man, of that which you wot little. Know you, that this day I have been called in to minister to Elizabeth Parris, and Abigaile Williams, the daughter and niece, respectively, of our good Dominie, Samuel Parris. Verily the children be possessed by witches of the air, for their actions were most strange. They bore no marks, yet they continually cried out that witches ever thrust pins in their flesh. And Mistress Parris told me how pins were cast up from the children’s throats, though I saw not the instruments of torture, they having been removed before my arrival. Sometimes the children were at peace, and, on a sudden they would cry out that the witches were at them again though at no time were the spirits visible to me.”
“How did you then learn who the witches were?” I asked in some curiosity.
“ ’Twas easily done,” replied the physician, “for in their fits the children cried out the names of those who were tormenting them. They spoke of Tituba, an Indian servant in the same house with them, and of one, Marie de Guilfort, a maid, living not far off. These two, they said, had appeared to them, and thrust pins and needles into their bodies.”
“And what was done with the two thus accused?” said I.
“What would you have?” interposed Willis. “The law of our Colony prescribes death for all who, whether male or female, practice witchcraft.”
“Even so,” went on Dr. Clarke. “These two, having been named as witches, and Mistress Parris, affirming on oath, for the children, the witches were seized by the constables, and now lie in Salem gaol. To-morrow is the trial day in the Oyer and Terminer Court. And, if further proof was needed that the two were witches, this scarlet snow is more than enough.”
“That will pass,” I said, yet I wondered, with a strange feeling in my heart, what evils might portend. Little did I guess what perilous times were ahead; when no man’s nor no woman’s life was safe. When the false fear of witchcraft stalked abroad in the land like a horrid spectre, slaying, burning, hanging and crushing.
“See!” cried Hobbs, the wheelwright, pointing to the window.
The red glow outside was fading away, and the moon shone peacefully on the fast whitening snow. Slowly the angry red died out, seeming to sink down into the earth, and with it went some of the fears of those in the room.
“ ’Tis wonderful! Never before did my eyes behold such a feat of witchcraft,” said the inn keeper.
Then, as we watched, the scarlet covering disappeared entirely, leaving the scene as peaceful as the day had been stormy. It was close on to nine o’clock now, and Dr. Clarke and the wheelwright began to make plans for going home.
“I suppose, Hobbs, that you do not mind going around by the mill with me?” suggested the physician. “ ’Tis at best a lonesome place, and, though I have no fears, still one man may be no proof against witches. What say you, Hobbs?”
“If I go by the mill with you,” protested the wheelwright, “I will have to pass alone over the bridge whereon, only to-day, Tituba was taken. Nay, Dr. Clarke, I’ll go by the back road to my home, if it please you.”
“But, Hobbs,” urged the man of physic, “the road over the bridge is bathed in moonlight, besides----”
“Enough, I’ll not go,” replied the other. “Was it not near the mill that the other witch was observed to be plucking flowers last summer? Who knows but she has cast a spell over the place?”
Verily the two would never have screwed up courage to go home, had not Willis urged that he was about to close his tavern. So they were forced to make a start.
I peered out of the window to see which ways they took. Dr. Clarke continued in his endeavor to convince Hobbs that the road by the mill was the best, but the wheelwright was stubborn. Suddenly he turned and ran across the snow toward his home. Left there alone in the night, the physician faced about also, and, glancing behind him, as if he feared to see the Devil, he sped on toward the mill.
I was tired and sleepy after my ride, so, with a word to Willis I lost no time seeking my chamber; one of the few that the tavern boasted of. My head was filled with plans for leading men once more to battle. For I loved the strife of war, the clash of steel on steel, the smell of powder, and the shouts of foes and comrades. Well, I was soon to have my fill of it, though I dreamed not that I would have to fight with such foes as presently beset me.
The sun was shining when I arose in the morning, to dash cold water on my face and hands from an ice-ribbed basin in the corner, for the night had been cold, and there was no heat in the room. Yet when I emerged I found the sunlit air warm, and it seemed as if Nature had forgotten her fierce, boisterous mood of yesterday. Willis greeted me as I came from the stable, whither I had gone to see that Kit had had her full measure of corn.
“ ’Tis little you can do to-day,” he said, “for this cursed witchcraft has so laid hold of men that talk of war and fighting will scarce interest them now, even though the battle be against their mortal foes, the French and Indians.
“A magistrate and a jury will try the two witches to-day at the court house. Since you have nothing better to do come there with me. ’Twill be a sight, I warrant, you have never seen before. Nor have I, though stories of how, in days gone by, witches were tried in Boston have come down to me from my father.”
“Who are the two called witches?” I asked, when breakfast, for which I had a great relish, was finished. While I fastened on my sword, preparing to follow the inn keeper, he answered me.
“One, the elder woman,” he said, “is Tituba, an Indian slave, and there is little doubt that she is a witch. I make no bones but she is familiar with Satan, for I dare not look her in the eyes, yet I count myself afraid of little on this earth. The other, were she not a witch, I could well be sorry for, as she is beautiful to look upon; a girl almost. Yet it but proves how the evil one can use even beauty to gain his ends. Marie de Guilfort is the name of the young witch. She is a French Huguenot, who, with her cousin, Lucille de Guilfort, and the latter’s father, M. Louis de Guilfort, came to Salem some five years back. The old man died, not being able to withstand the rigors of our winters, and the two girls have since lived alone, with an old servant to see after their wants. Both of them are more than passing fair to look upon. Is it not a pity that in such a body, in one so young and lovely, there should be a soul sold to Satan?”
“You saw the purchase made, then?” I asked with some spirit, for I did not like the positive tone of Willis.
“What purchase?”
“Of the soul of the one you call Marie de Guilfort?”
“No man did,” he answered, half angrily. “Yet it cannot be doubted. For did not the child say that Marie tormented her with pins? And how could these be thrust, Marie not being present, unless the Devil helped her?”
I shrugged my shoulders, for I thought it was little use to argue with a mind that laid stress on such points.
“Will the child’s testimony, and that of the mother, be enough to convict the girl of witchcraft?” I went on, rather curious to know how they managed such affairs in New England.
“There will be other witnesses,” said Willis, “and enough to bring the matter to a close.” We were at the court house steps now, and I ceased my talk to observe what was going on.
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