Chapter V: Part 5

Mean-while the days glided on, and the period was at hand when the fatal sentence of the law was to be executed. The nineteenth of August had been assigned for the death of Burroughs and three of his associates, who had been condemned on the same grounds. One female also had been selected, to complete the sacrifice. For these unhappy individuals there was no hope of escape; the public voice had condemned them, as well as the iniquitous court before which they were tried; and they prepared, with christian resignation, for the doom which could not be averted. Miss Lyford's sentence had been assigned one day later, as the case was deemed one of solemn and peculiar interest; and moreover it was the policy of the court to impress the public mind with the enormity of the crime of witchcraft, by repeating the tragedy in its most awful and startling forms. The only hope that remained for Mary, was in those secret movements of her friends, which, in their complicated and delicate machinery, might be frustrated by the severance of a single cord. Her brother had acquainted her with the outlines of the plan, but she had little faith in a prospect which seemed so visionary and hopeless. Neither had Lyford any great confidence in its success, and every day had meditated some new expedient to accomplish her deliverance--but it was all in vain. No other hope appeared; and when the eighteenth of August had arrived, Mary was still in the custody of Harris, and that vigilant officer and his three assistants, were the sleepless sentinels at their post of dishonor and shame.

CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.

'Accursed be the hour that gave me birth! Why was I born for this? Oh, thou insulted, yet forbearing God! if thine avenging justice pursues me to the lowest perdition, it will not outrun my crimes. Why did I hunt the innocent without cause, and heap on my soul such mountains of guilt? Oh, hide me, earth! bury me in thy deepest graves, if they will but shelter me from a raging conscience and a frowning God! How shall I save the innocent blood? how shall my feet, which have run so swiftly in the way of evil, turn back into the path of peace? These hands have built that fatal scaffold, on which innocence and virtue must perish! Oh, might I die in her stead! Oh, that my blood might expiate my guilt! Vain hope! the weight of mountains, the fires of the second death can neither crush nor consume me. Mine is an undying death, mine an unquenchable flame!'

Such were the exclamations of the wretched Trellison, as he stood on that fatal hill with the scaffold which, the day before, had been erected under a tree, directly in his view. He was now fully awake to a consciousness of his crimes: he had betrayed into the hands of the law, one of the most innocent and virtuous of her sex, and was about to witness the awful consummation of his guilt. He had opened the door, but it was beyond his power to shut it. If he avowed the truth, his single testimony could not avail against the host of witnesses which his own arts had procured, and whose evidence, if now confronted by his, would in self-defence be combined to involve himself as well as Miss Lyford in ruin and death. In this condition, he thought of every possible method to avert the impending fate of Miss Lyford; but every avenue seemed to be closed; and after wandering up and down the hill for several hours, in the utmost horror and distraction of mind, he finally determined to follow her to the scaffold, and there avow his guilt, and invoke every power within his reach, to save her from the threatened doom.

It is often a mournful duty to display the workings of an accusing conscience. The picture may warn us to shun the incipient stages of guilt, and turn back into the current of reason and reflection the wild and turbulent elements of excited passion. Too often, alas! we plunge into the very vortex of ruin, ere we are conscious that we have passed the boundaries of virtue. Such is the influence of pride, self-love, and self-esteem, that the first discovery of guilt and danger, often comes too late to save us from the final plunge. This was preëminently the case with Trellison: with hasty and violent feelings, unguarded by reason, and driven by every wave of passion, he had mistaken his own purposes of revenge for zeal in the cause of religion, and had so blended his own selfish designs with an imagined regard for the honor of his Maker, as to conceal from himself his actual guilt, until its fatal effects stared him in the face, and revealed the depths of iniquity in which he was ingulfed.

When the next morning dawned, crowds of people were seen gathering round the spot, where the dreadful sacrifice which public fanaticism demanded, was to be made. Rev. George Burroughs and three other individuals, named Willard, Proctor, and Jacobs, together with one female, were taken from prison and conducted by the sheriff to the place of execution. The scene was one of appalling interest; and as the unhappy victims passed through the streets, loud murmurs of disapprobation were heard from many individuals, who believed they were mainly indebted for these tragical events to Boston interference, and who were indignant that Salem should be the chosen theatre for the display of these bloody scenes. The venerable Higginson, with several of his most influential parishioners, utterly refused all part in these proceedings, while his associate in the ministry, Mr. Noyes, fully coöperated with Parris, Mather, and Stoughton, in all the length and breadth of this fatal delusion. When the hour of execution drew near, the public murmur became more loud and distinct, so much so as to excite alarm lest the purposes of justice might be frustrated. But at this moment Cotton Mather appeared on the ground, on horseback, and by the circulation of new proofs of Satan's promises and covenants with these unhappy persons, effectually silenced the voice of sympathy and the din of opposition. As the dreadful scene proceeded, Burroughs was seen kneeling on the scaffold in prayer, in which he solemnly appealed to his Maker for his uprightness of heart and his entire innocence of the crime for which he was called to die. He prayed fervently for himself and his hapless associates, thus performing in his last hours the kind offices of his sacred profession, and administering consolation to his fellow sufferers. Neither did he forget those bitter enemies who had brought him to this scene of horror; but earnestly supplicated their forgiveness from God, as he himself heartily forgave them.

Thus perished the persecuted Burroughs and his unhappy companions. They died as outcasts from God and man, their very names regarded with scorn and horror, and their persons execrated as the vilest of the vile. Time has lifted the veil; the storm of reproach has passed away; the shadows of the invisible world, in which they were seen to move as dark and mysterious forms enlisted in the service of Satan, and doing his will, have given place to the sunshine of Reason and Truth. The white robes of innocence and virtue now adorn them in the eye of every beholder, and that foul stain stamps with its darkest hues, the memories of Stoughton, Sewall, Gedney, and Cotton Mather.

Let it not be supposed there were no redeeming traits in the characters of these men. It was a superstitious age, and the delusions which were now abroad, had fastened with immense power upon the community at large; but this, though it may be urged in mitigation of their offences, was no valid excuse. They had unerring and sufficient maps in the experience of the past. They had the sure word of God. They had reason and common sense, which, impartial and unperverted, might have shown them the madness and cruelty of their course. These guides were consulted too late; and we have it recorded of Judge Sewall, that he deeply repented of his agency in these painful scenes, and publicly deplored his errors in the presence of the members of the South Church, presenting his own example as a warning to future magistrates to avoid that fatal rock, on which justice and mercy had alike suffered shipwreck.

It is probable Stoughton and Mather carried this delusion in part to their graves; and it is scarcely possible to contemplate these characters with complacency. There is no monument along the track of succeeding years, which redeems their memory from its deserved reproach. Mather was learned and industrious beyond any man of that age in New England; but he was credulous to the last degree; of a bold and fiery temper, deeply tinctured with fanaticism, rash in his judgment, severe in his rebukes, and overbearing in his conduct. A cloud rests upon his memory, through which Charity herself can scarcely discern the faint rays of real piety, which, notwithstanding all his errors, probably existed in his heart. Stoughton was, if possible, still more deeply implicated in these cruel proceedings, and the remark of an eminent historian of Harvard College is undoubtedly just, that 'upon no individual did the responsibility of the sad consummation of that excitement rest more heavily, than upon William Stoughton.'

The next day was to be signalized by the death of Miss Lyford. The public feeling was now so far subdued, that there was little danger to be apprehended from the populace. If the death of Burroughs had excited so little commotion, it was concluded there would be no interruption to any future proceedings of the like character. Moreover, there was a general belief that few cases of witchcraft had been more clearly defined, and the singular language which had been addressed to her from the woods, and was heard by others, was considered entirely conclusive in her case. There had been no attempt to trace the cause of this strange proceeding, but it was at once attributed to mysterious and spiritual agents; yet Lyford suspected what afterwards proved true, that a female from Hadley, who knew his sister's history and was in the confidence of her grandfather, had been employed by Trellison in this work of deception; but he had no means of proving such a plot, and any attempt to implicate Trellison, who was now in high favor with the ruling powers, would probably recoil on himself, and lessen the chances of his sister's escape.

No access to Miss Lyford had been for some time permitted, except to her brother, and even this indulgence was now prohibited. Trellison found means, however, to convey to her a full confession of his guilt, his determination to avow it publicly, and if possible to stay the proceedings. He earnestly begged her forgiveness, and assured her that he wished to live no longer than to make a public vindication of her character, and save her if possible from her impending doom. This communication was not received till late in the evening, and it being impossible to obtain the favor of a light, or to procure the least office of kindness from her keepers, Mary was, of course, wholly ignorant of its contents. Her mind, also, was so fully occupied with the plans now in progress for her deliverance, that she was the less anxious to know its purport, and placing the paper in her bosom, the incident was nearly forgotten.

Trellison was involved in difficulties which so distracted his mind, that he was unable to devise any probable means, by which Miss Lyford's fate could be averted. His confessions and retractions, if made, he knew would only be regarded as new proof of her Satanic arts, and he now thought it safer to make his appeal to the populace and enlist their sympathies, than to attempt to stay a warrant which had been already issued, and could only be revoked by the Governor. Still he was unsettled in his plans, except that in the failure of all other means, he resolved to vindicate her at the scaffold, though it might cost him his life. The truth was, his convictions and remorse had arrived too late; and in the existing state of public feeling there was no proper light, in which evidence could be fairly seen; or if seen, its legitimate power could not at that time be felt. Strange as it may seem, the reports circulated by Cotton Mather on the preceding day had maddened the populace, and made them insatiate of blood. It was now believed that the death of Miss Lyford was essential to the public peace, and there was probably no moment in the progress of this delusion, when it ran higher, or was more terrible in its control over every generous feeling, than at this period.

Meanwhile, it was on the extravagance of this delusion that Miss Lyford's friends relied for her deliverance. The very feeling which Trellison feared would render his confessions unavailing, they were willing to provoke as the best means of her salvation. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson no longer made any appeal in her behalf. Strale was in Boston, apparently unconcerned and unaffected, while Lyford alone kept his post near his sister, the only visible friend, from whom she could expect countenance or support.

There is that in human calamity, which, unsoothed by the voice of sympathy, and unrelieved by the kind offices of friendship, falls with a withering and consuming power on the heart. When such calamity is frequent and long continued, even the ties of kindred and affection are often sundered, and the unhappy sufferer, though conscious of rectitude, finds himself sinking in despondency, solitary and desolate, and his only support is drawn from the hope of a better world. Such emphatically was the condition of those who were proscribed for their supposed sorceries. Cut off from the sympathies of their fellow men, exposed to insult, violence, and death, and at last consigned to the scaffold, they were spectacles of unrelieved sorrow and wretchedness, of which the world can furnish few examples. But these unhappy victims did not forget their obligations to their fellow men and to God. They almost uniformly died in the spirit of forgiveness; and if, as the scoffer and the infidel allege, there be no hereafter, no review of character and responsibility, no discrimination between good and bad beyond this fleeting world, no probationary life here, and no retributory condition hereafter, then indeed is our faith vain, our works of love and charity are vain, and an unbroken gloom rests on the territories of the grave!

But the infidel forgets that the same chance which placed him in this world may not yet have exhausted its power. If it can move the world in its orbit, regulate the seasons, and govern, by irrepealable law, the motions of unnumbered suns and worlds, it may, for aught he can tell, act upon his future being; it may redeem the vital principle from the ashes of the tomb, and cast it among some new elements of life, which may be perfectly adapted to the work of retribution. Let him then beware of a theory which provides no security for his future happiness, while it reserves the right to perpetuate his being for ever; let him turn his eye to that even balance, in which his actions will be weighed, and bring home to his heart the consolations which nothing but the gospel, approved, accepted, and trusted, can supply.

CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.

On the evening of the nineteenth of August, a little schooner, which had occasionally stopped at the port of Salem, on trading voyages up and down the coast, entered the harbor. She was called the 'Water Witch,' a fore-and-aft vessel of beautiful model and fine proportions. Whenever she was seen coming up the bay, crowds of people assembled to witness her movements. She was always kept in the best condition, and her nicely-trimmed sails, the perfect symmetry of her spars, her graceful attitudes on the water, and above all, her rapid and varied motions, procured for Captain Ringbolt, who commanded her, an enviable and well-deserved reputation.

When the Water Witch appeared, it was always expected the next day would be one of extensive traffic, particularly among the country maidens of the neighborhood. Captain Ringbolt always had a good supply of laces, brocades, muslins, and all sorts of fashionable ornaments; and his very showy assortment was generally disposed of to good advantage. How he obtained his merchandise was sometimes a mystery; but the Salem ladies were careful not to inquire too curiously into the matter; they were quite willing Captain Ringbolt should have his own way; and, as he was uniformly courteous and obliging, any suspicions would certainly be inexpedient, and perhaps unjust. It was rather wonderful, however, that so much charity was extended towards this gentleman, considering the very strict morals of the Puritans, and the rigid honesty with which they were accustomed to discharge their pecuniary obligations. The gallant captain generally told a good story, and, as our narrative all along supposes, there was no want of credulity among the people.

As the Water Witch dropped her anchor, Somers stood on the beach, watching her motions with deep interest and evident anxiety; one of his neighbors, named Bolton, who was also one of Miss Lyford's guards, having obtained leave of absence for an hour, was strolling near him, and remarked the closeness of his survey. Somers, absorbed in his own reflections, did not notice Bolton, till he touched him on the shoulder and said: 'What now, Somers? you are looking sharp for Ringbolt; what kind of traffic do you mean to drive with him?'

'Is this you, Bolton?' said Somers, in some confusion; but in a moment recovering himself, he added: 'These are perilous times, neighbor; the witch proceedings have stopped all business, and I thought, as there are not many fire-arms in town, if I could get all the pistols Ringbolt has, it might be a little speculation.'

'This Captain Ringbolt will soon grow rich,' said Bolton, 'if my guesses are right; he was here only two weeks ago, and sold all his cargo in two days. But he may come to a bad market now, unless he waits for better times before he sells his goods; he is a shrewd man, however, and sells things for a good price, when nobody else can sell at all. I wish I knew where he gets his articles. Neighbor Somers, I shall have nothing to do after the witches are hung; you know this captain--I wish you would try to get me a berth on board for the next voyage.'

'You are no more fit for a sailor, Bolton, than a monkey is to furl a topsail. Captain Ringbolt would tumble you overboard before you got ten leagues from land. You had better stay where you are, and find honester business than any I ever knew you to be employed about.'

'You are sharp this evening, Somers. You will one day be convinced that the man who watches criminals is doing a great favor to the community. But I cannot think what has brought Ringbolt back so soon; his vessel is light; I think he must have intended to be here this morning, and see how the devil hangs up his friends.'

'They had better send to the devil for a sheriff. And you, Bolton, are nearly right: a man must be more than half a devil, to be engaged in such business.'

'It is a truly godly business,' said Bolton, 'and I wonder at your language, Somers; if these witches will serve their master, they must take such wages as he gives them; and the wages of sin is death. The sheriff deserves the thanks of all pious persons for his courage and zeal in the cause.'

'I wonder they had not employed you in the business,' said Somers; 'you talk like one who has no great compassion for a reputed witch, guilty or not guilty.'

'I am too sinful to be thus employed,' returned Bolton. 'I am not worthy, Somers, even to walk in the footsteps of those holy men, who are now purging the land of its sin and shame.'

'You are worthy,' replied Somers, 'to have a rope fastened to your neck, and to be swung from a gallows as high as Haman's. What a wretch you are, Bolton, to see the innocent murdered around you, and exult in their death!'

'You must take care of your language, Somers, if you would save your own neck; there is to be another hanging to-morrow, and when that is over we shall want other victims; and your chance is getting to be a fair one. Why, if Mr. Parris, or Mr. Noyes, had heard half what you have said to me, you would be in prison this very night!'

'As to my own chance, it will be hard business to hang me up; but no thanks to you, Bolton, if it is not done to-morrow. You are under a strange delusion, and I must allow something for that. You were a good neighbor once, and I hope will be so again; but the time looks very distant to me. I am down this afternoon to get the first chance at Captain Ringbolt's assortment. Pistols, according to my way of thinking, will be in good demand; and I want something to defend myself with, and to put a shot or two into you, in case you should be an informer. At any rate, I am determined to have a first-rate pair for myself. You know I have some skill in the use of them. Will you go on board?'

'Not I,' said Bolton; 'I never go where pistols and powder are about, except when I use them in the holy cause. I hope you will think no more of what I said, Somers; you know I would not betray a friend.'

'There is no telling what you may do in such times as these; but there is little danger, so long as you are within reach of my pistol; beyond that, I would not trust you an hour. By the way, Bolton, have you no fears that Satan may carry you off, while you are hanging up his subjects? I wonder he does not appear in their behalf. If I believed as much as you do, I would not dare to stand guard over Miss Lyford.'

'I have weapons to fight him that you know nothing of, Somers. I have had some glimpses of him at twilight, but he saw me clothed in such armor that he dared not approach. I once met this same Apollyon in the day-time, but only a small part of his dragon form was visible; and when I held up the holy gospels, he vanished into thin air.'

'If you should be called to grapple with him in person,' returned Somers, 'you would be more likely to make a treaty with him than to show fight. I am not sure, but it would be well for you to see what terms you can make with him; for I am well assured he will have his own terms by and by, and carry you off;--not that you are worth even the devil's acceptance, but because he is sent to look after such as you.'

At that moment Captain Ringbolt landed, and Bolton walked off, not exactly at his ease; for he knew that the honest and sturdy Somers was a dangerous enemy to such characters as he knew himself to possess; besides, it was time to resume his station as guard to Miss Lyford. 'I shall be released to-morrow,' thought he, 'and then I will make peace with Somers, and see if I cannot muster a little pity for the witch, and this will be sure to win his favor.'

Meanwhile, Somers went on board the Water Witch with Captain Ringbolt, and, entering the cabin, they conferred a short time, and soon settled the plan of operations. The crew of the schooner were entirely ignorant of Ringbolt's intended movements; and though a little suspicious that the voyage to Salem was not exactly of a trading character, they were so well trained and disciplined as perfectly to understand that nothing was to be said, even among themselves; all they had to do was to obey the orders of their superior.

Captain Ringbolt sent up his usual notices, which were posted in the streets, with an additional clause, stating that on account of the great event, which he trusted all godly persons would wish to behold on the morrow, he should not expose his goods for sale, till the day after, when, at the usual time and place, a most valuable assortment of articles, selected with great care, would be offered for sale. He returned thanks for the patronage he had received in past times, and assured the good people of Salem that no efforts would be wanting to merit their confidence, and meet the wishes of the public.

Somers walked away in sad contemplation on that state of things which seemed to make one delusion necessary to counteract and dispel another, which was far worse and more dangerous. But he was not quite satisfied with himself, especially with the kind of deception he had practiced on Bolton. The die, however, was cast. He implored pardon for the part he now felt compelled to act, and while he believed the extremity of the case, in the main, justified his course, yet it was so uncongenial to his feelings, and so opposite to the whole tenor of his life, that he was not a little disquieted by the scruples that oppressed him. He had a wife and one child. They were his earthly solace and hope, and his precautions, and those of Strale, had provided for their safety. For himself, the result was uncertain, but every possible contingency was guarded against, so far as human sagacity could foresee, or human skill provide.

The twilight had now fallen on the village and its surrounding scenes. The shadows deepened into uncommon gloom, as if Nature were spreading a funeral pall for the dead, and mourning over her deluded children and her own disregarded voice. Well might she sympathize in the sad desolation around her! Her own mighty impulses of gratitude and affection were silenced and suppressed by the mighty fabric of fanaticism and delusion, which occupied the throne of the intellect and the heart. Who shall assure us, that such scenes will never recur? Where, in the weak and erring temper of man, do we find a guarantee that bloodshed and crime, the fruit of other delusions, shall not again desolate the land? Let us not boast of the dignity of Reason, the victories of Science, and the golden age of taste and refinement. These are often the soil in which the worst delusions spring up and cover the land with a foliage so rank and poisonous, that the moral atmosphere is filled with pestilence and death.

As the evening advanced, the different agents in the events about to take place, were all at their posts. Strale occupied the cottage of Somers. Lyford was at Mr. Ellerson's, Somers was in attendance upon Strale, and the Water Witch, with furled sails, was resting quietly on the bosom of the river, while her vigilant crew, with a double watch, waited the orders of their master.

It was late, the same night, when Trellison left Salem for Boston. His subsequent reflections had determined him to see Governor Phipps, make his confessions, and procure, if possible, a reprieve or pardon. In case of failure in his application, he could return in season to make his last effort at the scaffold. But new difficulties awaited him. Sir William was absent from town, and would not return for several days. There was no delegated authority to which application could be made, and his lady, who at the hazard of her life once saved a condemned individual, dared not and indeed could not interpose. The night was spent in anxious consultations, and ended with the conviction that his only chance of success was a public confession, and an appeal to the multitude.

CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.

Harris, the jailer of Miss Lyford, we have before remarked, was extremely superstitious. The other persons on guard were nearly as much so as their superior. The characters of these men had been thoroughly studied by Strale and his friends, and they were satisfied an experiment might be made on their credulity and superstition, with reasonable hope of success. The idea very generally prevailed, that all who were active in the witch prosecutions were exposed to fiery assaults from Satan. On this account, it was deemed a religious duty to guard the prisoners with the greatest possible care, and the most resolute men were selected for this purpose.

The jailer was often apprehensive that Satan might appear in defence of his prisoners. He thought it very possible that a part of the compact might be that they should be delivered in the moment of their greatest peril. He often spoke of some probable encounter with the devil, for it was hardly possible that so faithful a servant of God should remain unmolested, while subverting the kingdom of Satan on earth. In conversation with Bolton and his associates, he often warned them to prepare for such an encounter, and told them of the best methods to beat off the Serpent, should he be so bold as to attack them. Harris thought his spiritual armor was impregnable, and his prowess irresistible, and though as yet he had no opportunity of signalizing his courage by a pitched battle with any of the demons around him, yet he boasted of one or two skirmishes in which the Adversary, though he shook his dragon head and gnashed his teeth, was finally glad to make his retreat. The courageous jailer did not use his worldly weapons, but he always confronted his enemy with passages of scripture, and, in the last resort, employed the most powerful spiritual weapon which he said never failed, and that was prayer. Harris was not much given to this exercise, for its potency, he insisted, was weakened by too frequent repetition; consequently, he kept this weapon for the last extremity, and never employed it, when other expedients would answer.

This view of Harris' character applied to Bolton and the other guards of Miss Lyford, so far as superstition was concerned, but Harris was quite their superior in other respects. He was powerful and bold, and in grappling with flesh and blood, few men could stand before him; but he was quite deceived in supposing himself a match for the imaginary demons around him. No man was more likely to make good his retreat, if he had occular demonstration of the presence of these mysterious beings.

About ten o'clock in the evening, Lyford requested the privilege of visiting his sister for the last time. He was rudely repulsed by Harris and the guard, who said they were forbidden to admit any person on any pretence whatever.

'Hitherto,' said Lyford, 'you have permitted me to visit my afflicted sister, and if she be guilty, and as much so as you allege, she is still my sister, and nature pleads in her behalf. I trust you will permit me to go in.'

'It is vain to ask,' said Harris; 'the permission you had from the Governor has been revoked, and you cannot go in.'

'Will you take no responsibility in the matter?' said Lyford, 'and let me pass for the last time?'

'None whatever,' was the reply. 'Our orders are positive, and we cannot permit you to go in.'

'Mr. Harris,' returned Lyford, 'you say my sister has made a compact with Satan; if so, I trust he will appear in her behalf; for, bad as he is, I would trust him for humanity sooner than such wretches as you. If he possesses any power, I believe he will now exert it. I was informed he was seen in the chamber of the sheriff last night, in a threatening attitude, so that he was hardly able to proceed in his dreadful work to-day. Moreover, I am told by others, that he is excited to uncommon rage, and will not any longer tolerate the murder of his friends.'

Harris seemed startled by these remarks, and as the night was excessively dark, and the train of reflection which Lyford had awakened was not the most agreeable, the jailer began to fortify his courage by repeating passages from the Bible, and calling upon the guard to unite with him in this holy employment, assuring them that Satan would not dare to appear in the face of such rebukes as the holy scriptures contained.

'Look,' said Bolton, 'see, Mr. Harris, what terrible shape is that coming towards us?' The startled jailer cast his eyes in the direction pointed out by Bolton, and he saw, gleaming through the shade, a figure, which his terrified imagination instantly formed into that of a dragon. From his horns, streams of fire were spouting, and a sound like the hissing of a hundred serpents, rushed on the ear. A moment more, and volumes of fire poured from his mouth, discovering by their light, the hideous and distorted features of a demon, while with slow and solemn pace he advanced towards the house.

'Get thee behind me, Satan!' said the agitated Harris. He then looked round for a moment, with a bewildered and uncertain gaze. Lyford had disappeared; Bolton and his companions had fled like the wind. Harris then closed his eyes, and fell on his knees, uttering a hurried and tremulous prayer. Looking up again, the fearful apparition still advanced, and when in the light that was blazing all around, Harris caught sight of his cloven foot, the unhappy jailer no longer doubted that Satan in person was at hand, in behalf of Miss Lyford. The Bible dropped from his hands, the voice of prayer died on his lips. Steel and pistol were of no avail. No other weapon remained, and taking to his heels, the unlucky Harris deserted his post, and fled like a racer for his life, into the depths of the forest. Looking for a moment from behind a tree, he saw the fiery dragon enter the house. Then, redoubling his speed, he pushed on over bushes, fences and brooks, until he plunged into a ditch, from which, after floundering about for an hour, he made shift to get, weary and exhausted, upon its neighboring bank. Even here he dared not open his eyes, lest the terrible image, in its lurid flames, should once more haunt his vision; but falling on his knees, he devoutly returned thanks, for the strength he had received to flee from the destroyer.

Meanwhile, the faithful Somers rushed into the house, and with a single stroke of his axe, broke in the door of Miss Lyford's chamber, and then bearing her down stairs, he placed her in a wagon, which had been provided at a little distance, for the occasion. Walter having divested himself of his dragon's dress, left the horns, the cloven foot and the black robe in the jailer's room, and with Lyford, hastened to the beach, where Somers and Mary had already arrived, and in a few moments, they were all safely on board the Water Witch. The wife and child of Somers had been sent on board, early in the evening, and when the next morning dawned, they were ten leagues from Salem harbor, on their way to Virginia.

The scheme which had been so completely successful was entirely the invention of Strale; its details were arranged with the utmost precision and care, and it was executed with an admirable degree of coolness and skill. Gunpowder in its various adaptations produced the fire. The burning of tobacco caused the smoke, which seemed to proceed from his breath. His face blackened and disfigured, a black gown thrown over his shoulders, and leather sandals in the form of cloven feet, completed the disguise.

It was not surprising that a device, which in ordinary circumstances would have been equally foolish and hopeless, should be, in the present state of public feeling, perfectly adapted to its end. It was then supposed that visible appearances from the world of spirits were not uncommon, and the disordered fancies of men created innumerable apparitions and shapes of evil, which the senses gifted with supernatural acuteness, were enabled to discern among the grosser forms of the material world.

The chronicle we have consulted does not reveal the process by which the mode of Miss Lyford's escape was concealed from the public eye. Yet it contains some hints on this point which are reserved for our next chapter, and it also intimates that many secrets were kept by the men in power, which, had they been disclosed, would have covered the actors in these tragedies with confusion and shame, and finished at once the work of persecution and death.

CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.

The morning dawned with a most welcome radiance upon the haggard and exhausted Harris, as he lay on the bank of a muddy brook, from which, after his desperate efforts in the ditch, he had no strength to retreat. But he soon felt the refreshing influence of the morning air, and as he cast his eye over the different and well-known objects around him, his scattered senses began to return and his courage to revive. He saw in the miserable plight of his dress and the bruises on his limbs that he had been foiled in his great battle with the adversary; but he hoped that after all Satan had been so much annoyed by his prayers and quotations, that he had fled out of the region. He dared not, however, venture back into the house, until he saw Bolton coming towards him, who having fled at the first onset, was not so stupified with terror as his friend Harris. Bolton, however, looked as if he had passed a comfortless night. He had been separated from the other guards, who had sought their own safety, and at last found shelter in a cottage, distant from town, where he remained till morning.

'How came you, Bolton, to leave me to fight the battle alone?' exclaimed Harris.

'Because, I am no match for the devil,' said Bolton; 'and you, Harris--did you stand your ground?'

'Stand it? Yes, long after you had left it, and it was not till the monster was directly upon me, that I began to retreat.'

'Retreat! you retreat?' said Bolton; 'why, you said the devil would flee at the first word you uttered. I am afraid, Harris, you are not so much of a saint as you thought.'

'Saint!' replied the indignant Harris, 'it would take an army of saints to drive off such a dragon as he who assaulted me. I tell you, Bolton, if I had not been a saint I should have been consumed by the flames that surrounded me. But thank God, I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion!'

'Shall we venture into the house?' said Bolton; 'it is now clear daylight, and as dragons are abroad only in the night, I think we may go in with safety.'

'I will go,' said Harris; 'my courage revives, and methinks I could even face the dragon again. Oh! Bolton, it is a great thing to have a good conscience!'

'It is a better thing, so far as safety is concerned, to have nimble feet,' replied Bolton. 'I believe you and I, Harris, must trust more to these than to any special friendship with conscience.'

'We are both sinners, Bolton, and saints too, I hope,' said Harris; 'but look, every thing seems natural about the house; there is no mark of fire or brimstone. I have faith to believe that last prayer of mine was not fruitless.'

As the jailer uttered this, they entered the door, and the first objects they saw were the horns, cloak and appurtenances of Strale. A note was seen on the table, and Harris hastily opening it, read as follows:

'The bird has flown. Faithful guards, what account will ye give
of your stewardship? Thanks to your superstition and folly, they
have given us that, which we sought in vain from your sense of
justice and humanity. The wicked flee when no man pursueth. If ye
tremble and flee before the painted symbol of Satan, what will ye
do when you meet the arch Enemy face to face?

WALTER STRALE.'

'So then we have run away from a shadow, and the devil was this Walter Strale! I thought the scoundrel was in Boston, and had given up the witch. I would as soon be hung myself, as have this thing known.'

'But it must be known,' said Bolton; 'how else can we give account of the lady's escape? We must see the magistrates, tell them the facts, and take their advice.'

'There is no other way,' returned Harris; 'it is a dreadful alternative, but I hardly think they will wish to betray us on their own account; it would cover them with disgrace as well as us.'

So saying, they proceeded to the house of one of the magistrates, who called in the sheriff and one of his assistants. After a full conference, they decided to report that the escape of Miss Lyford was effected by violence. The injury done to the door would support this view of the case, and the absence of Strale and Lyford, and the sudden departure of the Water Witch would furnish a plausible story, and allay the anger of the populace.

It was now eleven o'clock, and the population of Salem and its neighborhood, near and remote, were assembled on the hill, to witness another act in the tragedies of the times. The scaffold was overshadowed by a tree, whose graceful figure and verdant branches had long attracted the youth and maidens of the vicinity in their summer rambles, and under its pleasant shade, many a whisper of affection and many a secret of innocence and love, had been breathed to willing ears and confiding hearts.

Near this spot stood the unhappy Trellison; around and before him, and stretching away to the base of the hill, a silent and solemn multitude were waiting the arrival of the officers of the law and their hapless victim. On his right, the beautiful town was reposing in the brightness and calm of a clear summer day; but to the eye of man, a strange and startling gloom had fallen upon a scene, which up to this fatal period, had been radiant in the fairest forms of beauty and loveliness. One spot only riveted the gaze of Trellison, and as his eye explored the shaded avenue, along which the sad procession must pass, the ashy paleness of his victim's countenance, the neglected ringlets that once with magic power had played upon her neck of spotless white, and the slender figure whose graceful proportions had charmed every beholder, completely filled his imagination, and threw over his face the gloom of despair. The heavy moments rolled on, and at length the hour of twelve was announced by the under sheriff, while neither officer nor prisoner appeared. A beam of hope now lighted the eye of Trellison; he knew some unseen power had suspended or averted the fatal sentence, and with unutterable emotions, he saw the sheriff at last ascend the platform to explain the mysterious absence of the prisoner. The multitude gathered around, while the officer declared, as he said, with grief and shame inexpressible, that Miss Lyford had been withdrawn by violence; that Ringbolt and the crew of the Water Witch, in concert with Strale, had effected by stratagem and force, the escape of the criminal, and thus the law was defrauded of its demands, and the majesty of Heaven of a sacrifice, which would have done much to vindicate its insulted honor, and defeat the machinations of the devil. The people were exhorted to go home, and if any of them felt encouraged in the practice of these wicked arts, by the escape of Miss Lyford, they might be assured the law would not relax its demands, nor the officers of justice their vigilance, but the land must, at all hazards, be purged of Satan and his devices. They were also charged to pray that the mischievous and wicked maiden who had escaped, might be overtaken by the Divine vengeance, and punished for her sorceries.

At that moment, Trellison mounted the scaffold. His face, which till now had worn the livid hue of death, was covered by the flush of emotion. Every eye in that immense assemblage was fixed upon him. As he flung off his cap and threw back his disordered hair, he seemed moved by an impulse little less than divine. In a few moments his aspect became composed, and in a calm and clear voice he gave utterance to the feelings which moved his inmost soul.

'Heaven, to-day, has interposed,' said this master of the assembly, 'and spared the innocent blood. Why slept thy thunders, oh Jehovah! when the dire machination entered my heart? when I cursed the innocent victim and laid snares for her life? Thou didst turn back upon my soul a tide of guilt and horror, which would have drowned me in destruction and perdition, and now thou hast checked its rage, and given me space to proclaim the innocence of that victim, whom thou hast this day saved from the altar of Moloch. Hear me, magistrates and men, and ye ministers of an insulted God! hear me, old age, middle life and youth! I proclaim in your ears that the maiden who has this day escaped death, was guiltless of the crime for which she was condemned to die! Deceived by my own heart, mistaking the bitter passion of revenge for zeal in the service of my Maker, it was this hand that brought down the threatened ruin upon that child of innocence and love. The fetters that bound me in delusion and shame are broken for ever. But who shall wash our guilty hands from the blood we have shed? Who shall reanimate the cold forms that but yesterday lived and breathed in our midst? Here, from this fatal hill, shall go down a memorial through all departing generations, which shall brand us for ever. The winds that sweep over these valleys and rocks shall testify against us. Yonder tree, riven by lightning, and blasted to its very roots, shall testify against us. This mount of offence, on which we now stand, shall testify against us. For me, I go from this place, to solitude, penitence and prayer. Go you to the like solemn offices, and bless your Maker, as I do, that this vial of wrath has been stayed. Hold back your hands from blood; already it cries for vengeance from the ground. Be grateful, as I am, that we are not yet pursued by his avenging hand, or smitten by the thunders of his wrath.'

The speaker descended from the scaffold. As he passed through the spell-bound and awe-struck multitude, no one molested him. He lingered for a moment on the edge of the forest, and then waving his hand, as if he would again impress the solemn truths he had uttered, on the minds of the audience, he disappeared among the tress. An unbroken silence reigned for a few moments through all that vast assembly, and the first words that were spoken, were an expression of thankfulness that the innocent maiden had escaped; but the solemn impressions of the day failed to arrest the mighty torrent of superstition that was now rushing over the land. There were not wanting those who attributed this change in Trellison to the power of her magic arts. This belief gained ground, as Trellison was never more seen in public, and his retreat was undiscovered and unknown. The delusion still prevailed; other scenes of blood were witnessed; and history, faithful to its trust, has branded that age and its men of power and influence with an infamy which must abide upon them for ever.

CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.

The Water Witch glided on her way with fine breezes and in gallant trim, as if conscious of her beauty and the charm she spread over the waters. In truth, this gem of the ocean was a sort of idol with Capt. Ringbolt, who declared he could never survive her loss. He insisted that her like had never before floated on the sea, and that when her day of service was over, old Neptune would give her a tomb in some bed of coral and pearls, and send up a pillar of foam in perpetual commemoration of this graceful jewel in his crown. Her passengers, however, were occupied with far graver thoughts. The first interview between Strale and Mary was too simple and impressive to be here described. It is enough to say, that a remembrance of the dangers and distresses of the last few months, while it bound them to each other by the strongest ties, led them also to united and devout thanksgivings to that divine Being who had preserved them through all.

The voyage to Virginia was soon accomplished. Capt. Ringbolt, whose kind offices were so essential to the safety of Miss Lyford, and without whose agency the project for her deliverance must have failed, was well rewarded for his services. It is but just to say, however, that his humanity and generosity prompted him to assist in the undertaking without any stipulated recompense. He had no fear that his trade would be essentially disturbed, as he was confident a state of things so unnatural must soon pass away. Yet for a time he thought it prudent to keep up his traffic along the southern coast, where his business might still be prosecuted with success.

A few days after the arrival of the party at Virginia, they found a vessel for England, in which they determined to embark. Having established Somers in a small house, and furnished him with means to cultivate a good farm, Walter and Lyford, with Mary, sailed for Europe. The voyage was prosperous, and in two months from their embarkation they reached the shores of France, and soon entered its gay metropolis, where in the family of Mr. Strale, Mary Lyford found the affection of parents, and gave in return the love and gratitude of a child. All the scenes of their past history were related by Walter, and in a few weeks, with the full consent of his parents, he led Mary to the nuptial altar. Their happiness was now complete. Years of love and tranquillity glided away, untarnished by the lapse of time, consecrated by a visible communion with God, and the life of christian faith.

The same enlightened and devoted piety which resisted the force of the wildest superstition, was equally victorious over the gayeties and follies of Paris. They were placed in circumstances where the attractions of the world, its distinctions and honors, were freely offered them; but they chose to live as pilgrims and strangers on the earth, looking for a better country, even a heavenly. After a few years' residence in Paris, they removed to Bremen, the original home of Mr. Strale, where Walter, highly distinguished for his literary character, filled one of the most important civil offices, and diffused around him the best influences of the christian faith, adorned and supported by a truly christian example.

Mr. Lyford returned to New England. He loved the land of the pilgrims; and notwithstanding its follies and crimes, it was still the home of his heart. He had seen among the friends of his sister one whom his judgment not less than his fancy recommended to his affections. It was his first, his long cherished, and ever constant love. On his arrival at Virginia he addressed a letter to Miss Elliott, in which he disclosed his attachment, and begged she would reciprocate a love which could be none but hers. This communication was not wholly unexpected; for their early sympathies, and the high esteem in which Lyford had ever been held, had long before this awakened responsive affection in her own heart. Soon after, he appeared in Boston, and was united in marriage to one who was the pride of her family, and whose charms of person and manners were only excelled by those of Miss Lyford.

It was one of the first objects of Lyford on his return to New England, to seek the unhappy Trellison, and convey to him the free forgiveness of his sister, and her sincere desires for his usefulness and happiness here and hereafter. He was particularly charged by Mary to perform this act of christian charity; for the letter of Trellison, which she read on board the Water Witch, made a deep impression on her mind. She well knew the gloomy fanaticism of his temper, and was anxious to mitigate as far as possible, the anguish and horror which had overwhelmed him. Bitterness and revenge had no abode in the bosom of Miss Lyford; and though she had previously written to Trellison and assured him of her forgiveness, she was not satisfied till she could know from her brother that her message had been communicated.