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-I -<l..JBaBB 
 
DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
Daughter of Witches 
 
 A ROMANCE 
 
 BT 
 
 JOANNA E. WOOD 
 
 A0THOR OF 
 TIIK UNTIMPBBMD WIND,» ' JPDITU MOOKK,' JBTO. 
 
 + 
 
 n 
 
 W. J. GAGE & COMPANY 
 
 Luansp 
 TORONTO 
 
}ooc/, 3, r 
 
 JJoo 
 
 Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the office of the 
 Miniater of Agriculture, by W. J. Gaqb & Co. (Limited), in the 
 year one thousand nine hundred. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 rthe 
 the 
 
 Miss Temperance Tribbey stood at the back door 
 of the old Lansing house, shading her eyes with 
 one hand as she looked towards the gate to discover 
 why Grip, the chained-up mastiff, was barking so 
 viciously. 
 
 The great wooden spoon, which she held in her 
 other hand, was dripping with red syrup, and showed 
 that Temperance was preserving fruit. To the eyes 
 of the initiated there were other signs of her occupa- 
 tion. Notably a dangerous expression in her eyes. 
 The warmth of the stove was apt to extend to Miss 
 Tribbey's temper at such times. 
 
 Sidney Martin, coming up the avenue-like lane to 
 the farm-house, did not observe Miss Tribbey stand- 
 ing at the back door, although she saw him; and, 
 therefore, much to his own future detriment and 
 present prejudice in Miss Tribbey's eyes, he went 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Lo the front door, under its heavy pillared porch, and 
 knocked. After he had vanished round the corner 
 of the house towards the ill-chosen door, Miss Trib- 
 bey waited impatiently for the knock, calculating 
 whether she could safely leave her fruit on the fire 
 whilst she answered it. 
 
 The knock did not come. Muffled by the heavy 
 door, its feeble echo was absorbed by the big tooms 
 between the front door and the kitchen. 
 
 " Well ! " said Temperance, " has he gone to 
 Heaven all alive, like fish goes to market, or is he 
 got a stroke ? " 
 
 The cat arched its back against Miss Tribbey's 
 skirts and so shirked the reply which clearly devolved 
 upon it, there being no other living creature visible 
 in the big kitchen. 
 
 " It's as bad as consumpting to have a man hang- 
 ing over a body's head like this," continued Tem- 
 perance. " My palpitations is coming on ! If I'm 
 took with them and that fruit on the fire, along of 
 a man not knowing enough to knock ! " 
 
 The fruit in the big copper kv'^ttle began to rise 
 insidiously towards the brim. 
 
 " I'll just go and take a speck at him through the 
 shutters," said she. 
 
 She crossed the kitchen, but ere she left it, long 
 housewifely habit made her " give a look to the stove." 
 The burnished copper kettle was domed by a great 
 crimson bubble, raised sphere-like by the steam. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Wy soul ! " said Temperance, and took a flight 
 across the kitchen, hfting the heavy pot with one 
 sweep from the fire to the floor. The dome quivered, 
 rose a fraction and collapsed in a mass of rosy foam. 
 
 The crisis was past, and just then the expected 
 knock came. 
 
 Temperance drew a long breath. 
 
 " There ! " she said, " ll.at jell's done for ! I'll have 
 to stand palavering with some agent chap or book- 
 canvasser with my jell a-setting there gettin' all mud- 
 died up." 
 
 This reflection bore her company to the front door, 
 which she opened with an air of calm surprise. Miss 
 Tribbey knew her manners. 
 
 " Well, I declare ! " she said. " Have you been 
 here long ? " 
 
 " No — came this very minute," said Sidney in his 
 soft, penetrating voice. 
 
 " Oh, the liar ! " said Miss Tribbey to herself, scan- 
 dalized. 
 
 " It's beautiful here," he continued. " That field of 
 yellow grain there is worth a journey to see." 
 
 C Poor crittur," Miss Tribbey said in relating this 
 afterwards. "Poor, ignorant crittur! Not knowing 
 it's a burning, heart-sick shame to see grain that 
 premnture ripe with the hay standing in win'rows in 
 the field, before his eyes.") 
 
 " Ahem ! " said Miss Tribbey, her visitor showing 
 signs of relapsing again into that reverie which had 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 made the interval of waiting seem as nothing to him, 
 unconscious as he was of the narrowly averted 
 tragedy with Miss Tribbey's fruit. 
 
 But face to face with her ho was too sensitive 
 not to recognize her impatience with his dallying 
 mood. He roused himself and turned towards her 
 with a frank and boyish smile. 
 
 " I'm bothering you," he said, " and doubtless keep- 
 ing you from something important." 
 
 " I'm making jell," said she briefly, her attitude 
 growing tense. 
 
 " Have you heard Mr. Lansing speak of Sidney 
 Martin .'' " he asked. "In reference to his coming to 
 stay here this summer? I'm Sidney Martin, and I 
 want to come, if it is convenient to receive me, the 
 beginning of next week, and " 
 
 " Come where ? " demanded Temperance. 
 
 " Here," said Sidney, a little embarrassed. 
 
 " To this house ? 
 
 " Yes," said Sidney, looking at her with the con- 
 fidence in his eyes of one who, loving his fellow- 
 creatures more than life, expects and anticipates their 
 love in return ; one does not often see this expres- 
 sion, but one often sees the residuum left after the 
 ignorance it bespeaks has been melled and mingled 
 by experience. 
 
 " Mr. Lansing is over at the unction sale at Abiron 
 Ranger's," said Temperance. " You'll excuse me, my 
 jell's a-waitin' for me. and whatever time other folks 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. $ 
 
 has to waste I've notjc! You'll excuse me! I know 
 nothing about boarders and sich ! " 
 
 " Boarders," said Sidney in alarm, looking about 
 for signs of the enemy. " Do you take boarders? " 
 
 " It would seem so now," said Temperance, cut- 
 tingly. " It would sertingly seem so." 
 
 " Oh, bless you ! " said Sidney. " I'm not a 
 boarder! I'm a visitor. There's a great difference, 
 isn't there? I'm the son of old Sidney Martin, the 
 county clerk who went away to Boston and married 
 there. You have hc;\rd of him, haven't you?" 
 
 " Yes, I have," said Temperance, throwing one end 
 of her apron over her head to shield off the sun. 
 " Yes, I have, though I was in short petticoats and 
 my hair in a pig-tail when it happened. He went 
 to Bosting and married rich, didn't he ? " 
 
 " He married in Boston," said Sidney. " Where 
 is Mr. Ranger's ? " 
 
 " Abiron Ranger lives two miles down the road, 
 across to the right," said Temperance. " He died a 
 week ago Wednesday, and there's an unction sale 
 there to-day. There's goin' to be a divide up. The 
 widow wants her thirds. A very pushin' woman 
 Mis' Ranger is." 
 
 " Two miles more," said Sidney, with someming 
 like a sigh. 
 
 Miss Tribbey's keen eyes noted that he was white 
 as from recent illness. 
 
 "Won't you set down a spell and hev' a glass 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 of milk ? " she asked ; " set down in the shade there, 
 and I'll get it in a jiffy. What's the sense of stand- 
 ing in a blazing sun like this ? " 
 
 She whisked off and presently returned with the 
 milk and a plate of New England cookies. 
 
 " I've got to go back to my jell," she said. " When 
 you get ready to go just put the things on the 
 porch. My soul ! I was took when you began talk- 
 ing about boarders. For I've said, and said often, 
 ' If boarders comes, I go.' But visitors ! We've 
 always heaps of company, and I'll go bail no house 
 1 do for'll ever be took short of things to put on 
 the table ; the most unexpectcflest company that ever 
 drove up that avenue was always set down to a 
 liberal table ; when you go down the road about a 
 mile, just look towards the right, and you'll see a 
 brown frame-house, with a lightning-rod on it. 
 That's Abiron Ranger's. Cut across the fields. It's 
 shorter." 
 
 " Thanks," said Sidney ; " what delicious milk." 
 
 " Yes — Boss don't give chalk and water, she don't," 
 said Miss Tribbey, and went off to her kitclien. 
 
 "A poor, slim- jack of a man," she soliloquised, 
 ladling out her jelly. " ^ly soul ! There's a mighty 
 difference between him and Lanty — but there — his 
 kind don't grow on every bush. Clear Lansing he is, 
 through and through, and there never was no runts 
 among the Lansings." 
 
 For a few minutes Sidney rested in the porch, his 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 eyes dwelling upon the undulating grain before hira. 
 To one more experienced in these matters, its bur- 
 nished gold would have told sad tales of the terrible 
 drouth which had scorched the country side, but 
 to him it appeared the very emblem of peace and 
 plenty. 
 
 What field of the cloth of gold was ever equal 
 in splendour to this? 
 
 He rose and passed down the dusty road. Upon 
 one hand the panicles of an oat field whispered 
 together, upon the other stretched the barren dis- 
 tances of a field known far and near as Mullein 
 Meadow, these weeds and hard shiny goat grass 
 being all that grew upon it. 
 
 Sidney did not grasp the significance of its pic- 
 turesque grey boulders, nor think how dear a pos- 
 session it was at the price of the taxes upon it. 
 After Mullein Meadow came a little wood, thick 
 with underbrush, in the shadow of which a few 
 brackens were yet green ; and fronting the wood 
 a hayfield, with a patch of buckwheat in full bloom 
 in one corner, showing against the dim greenness of 
 the hay like a fragrant white handkerchief fallen 
 from an rngel's hand. 
 
 Sidney cut across the hayfield to where a glistening 
 point glimmered in the sunshine, above a sloping 
 roof set on brown walls. 
 
 " ' How curious. How real ! ' " he said to himself. 
 " * Underfoot the divine soil — Overhead the sun,' " 
 
8 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 He reached the enclosure in which the house 
 stood, and paused at the gate to watch the groups of 
 men discussing their purchases, for the sale was over. 
 
 Presently, his interest urging him, he entered, and 
 mingled with the others, having the fanciful idea he 
 would know his father's old friend by intuition. His 
 eyes softened as he looked at the weather-beaten 
 faces and hard-wrought hands of these men. The 
 memory of the golden grain was dimmed a little, 
 and he saw bands of men bending above their toil 
 beneath stern skies, " storing yearly little dues of 
 wheat, and wine, and oil." But that vision was illy 
 entertained in his sanguine, idealistic imagination. It 
 was dismissed to give place once more to the " free 
 farmer " of song and story, and as if to bear witness 
 to this latter picture, a young man detached himself 
 somewhat impatiently from a group of his fellows, 
 and advancing towards where Sidney stood, flung 
 himself across a mettlesome roan which was tugging 
 viciously at its bridle as it stood tied beneath a tree. 
 
 The young man's face was flushed, he was blue- 
 eyed and debonair, his yellow hair tossed back care- 
 lessly above his brow ; a wide, flapping felt hat 
 rested on the back of his head. His features were 
 large and strongly carved. His mouth, seen red 
 through his tow-coloured moustache, had all the 
 sweetness of a woman's and much of the deviltry 
 of a rake's. But his face did not look vicious, only 
 dangerous. His strong, lean hand curbed his horse 
 
 i 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 9 
 
 easily ; he turned in his saddle to call to those whom 
 he had just left. 
 
 "If anyone wants a last word he knows where 
 to find me," he cried. 
 
 "Yes," someone said, giving a coarse laugh; 
 " near some pair of apron strings." 
 
 " What did you say ? " demanded Lanty Lansing, 
 urging his horse near the group. 
 
 "Nothing; O, nothing, Lanty," said the speaker 
 irritatingly, whilst Lanty's horse circled the group 
 crab-fashion. 
 
 " Don't let me keep you," went on tne man, and 
 Sidney saw he was heavy, black-browed and strongly 
 built. " Don't let me keep you. Is it the little 
 yellow-haired one or the other.? I like the little 
 one best myself, Miss " 
 
 " Keep my cousins' names out of your mouth," said 
 Lanty, his quick temper in a flame, " or I'll break 
 your neck for you." 
 
 "If all's true that's told for true, you're better 
 at breaking hearts than necks. There's a little girl 
 over Newton way — but there ! I'll tell no tales ; but 
 to say you're going to have both your cousins! 
 You're a Mormon, Lanty, that's what you are." 
 
 " Be quiet ! Be quiet ! " some of the men said. 
 " Good-bye, Lanty, better be off ; he don't mean 
 nothing." 
 
 But the big man, sure of the prestige of his size, 
 thinking, evidently, that Lanty would not dismount, 
 
to 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 was not to be^silenced. Perhaps he was hardly quite 
 sober. He was a machine agent in the neighbour- 
 hood, and had bidden unsuccessfully against Lanty 
 for a horse. His next words took him too far. 
 
 " I ain't sayin* anything to put his back up ! All 
 I say is that them cousins of his can smile at other 
 folks as well as at him, and why shouldn't they ? I 
 
 don't like a girl no less because she " He never 
 
 finished. 
 
 Lanty was off his horse like a flash. His fist 
 caught the big man under the jaw, lifting him almost 
 off his feet and sending him crashing down. Lanty 
 waited with hands clenched for him to rise. The 
 crowd swayed, those close at hand giving way, those 
 upon the outskirts pressing forward. The horse, so 
 suddenly released, reared and swung round on its 
 hind l^s, and just then Sidney saw a tall, finely- 
 formed young woman appear almost under the plung- 
 ing horse, twist a strong hand in the bridle, and 
 wring both curb and snaffle so viciously that the 
 beast gave his head to her guidance. She wheeled 
 it towards Lanty. 
 
 " Lanty," she said, laying her free hand upon 
 his arm ; " Lanty." 
 
 "Go into the house, Vashti," he said. "What 
 are you domg here ? " 
 
 " You are not going to fight," she said, " zvith him? " 
 
 Lansing was silent ; she continued : " Go home, 
 Lanty, please " 
 
 ( 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 II 
 
 Some of the older men had closed around the 
 man, who was just rising to his feet. The first mad 
 impetus of battle was cooling in Lansing's veins, 
 and just then another girl pushed through the group 
 of men to his side. A slight, graceful creature, with 
 the Lansing blue eyes and fair skin, and sweet lips, 
 she was trembling — white. 
 
 " Lanty," she said, with terror in her eyes, " has 
 he hurt you } You frighten me horribly." 
 
 His eyes rested upon her, self-reproach making 
 them eloquent. 
 
 He took the reins from the tall girl's hand, look- 
 ing always at the whi'je, appealing face of the other. 
 
 " I'm a bit of a fool," he said ; " but he spoke of 
 
 you two and " he paused ; " I'll be over to-night," 
 
 he said, and rode away. 
 
 Vashti Lansing's hand and wrist were wrenched, 
 and already beginning to swell ; the rearing horse 
 had not been so easily subdued after all ; but 
 physical pain was a slight thing to her just then. 
 
 " Come," she said to her cousin. " There's father 
 coming out. Don't tell him ; let some one else. 
 There are always plenty ready to talk." 
 
 So the two girls went into the house, and Sidney^ 
 Martin stood gazing after them, rapt in the vision of J 
 a magnificently made woman curbing and subduing | \J 
 a rearing horse. Surely a type of the eternal divinity I 
 of womanhood, striving against the evil that men do,y 
 
 Sidney Martin, dreamer of dreams, cherisher of 
 
T 
 
 It 
 
 ji JJAUGHTLR OF WITCHli.6. 
 
 ideals, delicate and supra-sensitive, was subjugated 
 for ever by love of that splendid piece of vitality — 
 that woman whom even at this moment he likened 
 to the Venus de Milo — whose magnificent energy 
 and forceful grace recalled so vividly the Winged 
 Victory of Samothrace. With a throb he remem- 
 bered the beauty of that headless masterpiece, where 
 it stands in the cool greyness of the Louvre, the 
 inexplicable sense of triumphant effort expressed in 
 its heroic pose. How many aspiring souls have 
 gathered fresh courage from its mutilated majesty, 
 where it stands at the head of the wide stairs! And 
 here in the New England hills he had fouLid a 
 woman who might have been its original. The great 
 sculptors had not dreamed then, when they created 
 these Goddesses of stone ; even unto this day, it 
 seemed, they walked the earth, radiant in strength 
 and beauty. How fitting that their statues should 
 be given wings, to typify the splendid spirit prisoned 
 in the imperial clay! 
 
 Sidney watched the girls enter the house and 
 followed them involuntarily. As he passed the 
 bully who had been knocked down, he saw there 
 was a lump like an egg already adorning his jaw. 
 
 " Serves him right ! " said gentle Sidney Martin to 
 himself. 
 
 A little farther on half-a-dozen men stood talking 
 together ; one, whom Sidney took to be the auc- 
 tioneer, was saying meaningly : — 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
 " It's a bad business bidding for what you don't 
 want" 
 
 " Yes," said one of the group, laboriously keeping 
 up the joke. " Yes — for it's apt to be knocked down 
 to you, and then you've got it on your hands." 
 
 " On your jaw, you mean," said the auctioneer 
 smartly ; whereat a laugh went up. Clearly Lanty 
 Lansing had partizans here. 
 
 As Sidney reached the doorway within which the 
 girls had vanished, a grey-haired man stepped forth 
 from it. 
 
 " Mr. Lansing ? " said Sidney, confidently. 
 
 His intuitions had not played him false. 
 
 " I am Sidney Martin," he continued, but got no 
 further with his self-introduction. 
 
 " I'm right glad to see you," said old Lansing 
 heartily, " right glad to see you ! So you're old Sid's 
 son? Well, you don't favour him no more than 
 my grirl favours me! I was struck all of a heap 
 when Dr. Clement told me he knew old Sid's son 
 in Bosting ; says I, ' If that younker is like his father 
 I should say he'd have a liking for the fields, even 
 if he is Bosting born and bred.* But there! How 
 did you come ? Is your things at the station ? How 
 long is it since old Sid died ? A nice old boy was 
 Sid! And he had a talent for finding wood-chucks 
 that beat the dickens." 
 
 " I lost my father four years ago," said Sidney — 
 " he often spoke of you." 
 
■■ 
 
 14 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 II TM 
 
 I'll warrant he did," said old Lansing, " and my 
 girls know old Sid as well as their next door neigh- 
 bour. Sid weren't one of the sort to go back on 
 old times — girls " — raising his voice — " girls ! " 
 
 The two girls reappeared side by side. 
 
 " This is Mr. Martin," said the old man ; " Old Sid 
 Martin's son." 
 
 The girls gave him characteristic salutations. 
 Vashti's inclination was stately, with all the plastic 
 grace of her beautiful form expressed in it. Mabella, 
 to whose cheeks the soft rose had returned, bestowed 
 upon him the tantalizing salutation of the born 
 coquette, piquant, confident, but withal reserved. 
 
 " My daughter Vashti," continued Mr. Lansing. 
 "My niece Mabella"— and then— " Where's Lanty?" 
 
 " He has gone home," said Vashti ; her voice was 
 soft and full ; a rarity in that region, and a heritage 
 from the Lansings of old. 
 
 " That's too bad ! It's my nephew — Lansing 
 Lansing," he went on to Sidney, " the last of the 
 Lansings." 
 
 " He's coming over to-night," said Mabella. 
 
 " You'll see him then ; there are only four Lans- 
 ings left now. An old man, a young one, and two 
 girls. Well, it's a good old stock and that's plenty 
 for a fresh graft. Well, well! How's Miss* Ranger 
 feeling, girls ? Are you ready to go home ? " 
 
 "Yes — quite. She's more cheerful," said Vashti. 
 "Shall we get ready?" 
 
 t 
 
I 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 "5 
 
 "Yes." Then turning to Sidney: "Where did 
 you say your things were ? " 
 
 Sidney had no time for explanations up to this 
 moment. 
 
 " I've been staying at Brixton," he said ; " and 
 this afternoon I thought I would come over and ask 
 when I might come, ais you had been so good as 
 to invite me; so I came by train from Brixton, and 
 walked to Lansing Farm, and there I saw a lady 
 who directed me here." 
 
 " Temperance," said the two girls, and looked at 
 each other. 
 
 " She gfave me some delightful milk and her opinion 
 of boarders," said Sidney, smiling. 
 
 Mabella's laugh rang out like the call of a bird. 
 
 "Go and get ready, girls," said Mr. Lansing, " and 
 I'll fetch the horses around." 
 
 The girls went indoors, first telling Sidney they 
 would not be long. He went to the side of an old 
 well and sat down upon the edge, looking into its 
 cool depths ; far, far down, he could see the distorted 
 vision of his own face. A fat toad hopped lazily 
 about the st.nes in the moist coolness of the well 
 mouth. The wooden handle of the windlass was 
 worn by many palms — as the creeds of the world 
 are fretted and attenuated by the very eagerness of 
 those who seek the Living Waters by their aid. Hop- 
 vines grew over the house and Phoebe birds fluttered 
 through their rustUng leaves. The men stared 
 
i6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 curiously at the stranger by the well, to whom pre- 
 sently came the two girls again, in flat, wide hats. 
 
 " How brave you are ! " he said to Vashti, rising 
 at their approach. He was more than ordinarily tall, 
 but Vashti's stately head was well above his shoulder. 
 
 " How brave you are ! That beast of a horse 
 looked frightful as it stood rearing above you! I 
 thought you would be killed." 
 
 " I am not afraid of many things," said Vashti, 
 soberly. Yet there was that leaping within her breast 
 which sometimes frij^htened her sorely. 
 
 Sidney's eyes dilated with eagerness as he drank 
 in the suave beauty of her statuesque shape. It was 
 a beauty which appealed to him keenly. Divorced 
 from all minor attributes, it depended securely upon 
 form and line alone ; colour, environment, counted as 
 nothing in its harmonious whole. But one of the 
 flexile wrists was swollen and stiff. 
 
 "You are hurt," he cried, forgetting that to keen 
 eyes his anxiety might seem absurd. " You are hurt ! 
 That horse ! " 
 
 She coloured a little — slowly — it was like the 
 reflection of a rosy cloud on marble. 
 
 " Yes, it is twisted, I think." 
 
 He looked at it and shuddered. It gave him a 
 sense of absolute physical nausea to see suffering. 
 He had had a strange bringing-up by a visionary 
 mother, who, absorbed in a vision of the Pain of the 
 world, had impressed her morbid ideas upon hei 
 
! 
 
 A DAUGHTRR OF WITCHES. 
 
 17 
 
 child, until now, in manhood, he was as sensitive to 
 even the abstract idea of pain as the eye is to dust. 
 Before real suffering his whole being shrank. At 
 that moment Mr. Lansing drove up in the democrat 
 waggon; but a change which was very apparent 
 had come over his countenance. 
 
 Vashti and Mabella looked at each other and 
 nodded apprehensively. 
 
 " Get in, girls," said the old man in abrupt, authori- 
 tative tones. " Come up beside me here," he said 
 to Sidney. 
 
 They drove through the yard in silence, old 
 Lansing nodding good-bye curtly to his neighbours. 
 The moment they were on the road he turned to 
 the two girls : 
 
 "What's this I hear?" he demanded. "Lanty 
 has been fighting again ! Verily ' he that slayeth with 
 the sword shall perish by the sword.' It's a scandal." 
 
 " It wasn't a sword ; 'twas his fist," said Mabella 
 sotto voce. 
 
 " He only knocked the man down," said Vashti, 
 " and he needed it" 
 
 "You're a judge of such things, evidently," said 
 her father irately. "I say it's a disgrace to be a 
 common brawler — ^to " 
 
 Mabella spoke up eagerly. "Oh, but uncle," she 
 said. " The man said something about Vashti and 
 me — I don't know what, but not pleasant, and " 
 
 "He did, did he.'" demanded the old man, his 
 
t| A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 l^fL^ growing strangely like I.anty's in its anger. 
 "He did. Wait till I see him! I'll break every 
 bone in his body if I catch him " ; he cut the horses 
 viciously with his whip. " Only wait." Evidently 
 he had forgotten his doctrine of peace. As a sky 
 is lighted by an after-glow into the beauty of dawn, 
 so old Lansing's face illumined by his wrath was 
 youthful once more. 
 
 " He spoke slightingly of you, did he ! The " 
 
 He choked down an unscriptural epithet. 
 
 Mabella nudged Vashti glec'fuUy. Sidney managed 
 to give the girls a look of sympathetic congratulation 
 over his shoulder. But Vashti's face was still sombre. 
 She knew her father far too well to think he would 
 be consistently inconsistent. Lanty would have his 
 bad half-hour, irrespective of this raging. The Lans- 
 ings were essentially illogical. It was a common 
 saying in the neighbourhood, that calculating upon 
 a Lansing was like catching a flea: when you 
 thought you had him he wasn't there! 
 
 " What did you think when Dr. Clement gave you 
 my invitation ? " asked old Lansing. 
 
 " I was simply delighted," said Sidney ; " you 
 know I did not feel that I would be coming among 
 strangers. My dear old dad spoke very often of 
 the Lansings, and you in particular." 
 
 "Yes — he wanted sister Mabella, her mother 
 there ; we quarrelled, sister and me, over that matter. 
 She would have her cousin Reuben and nobody 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 »f 
 
 else. Poor things! Neither the one nor the other 
 of 'em lived long. We Lansings arc great on marry- 
 ing cousins," he said half apf)logetically, suddenly 
 remembering it was this young man's father who 
 had been slighted. 
 
 Both the girls blushed, but the blush died unseen 
 upon the cheeks of each. For neither searched the 
 countenance of the other. How blindly we stumble 
 towards our own desires — unheeding the others who 
 seek the same treasure till a hand plucks it away 
 from before us, and then with empty hands we 
 brush the mists from our eyes, and see how, led 
 by fatuous delusion through perilous places, we have 
 come to the ashes! But the ashes are never so 
 dead that eager breath may not blow them into 
 that Phoenix flame whence Hope is born. 
 
 " My father told me all the old stories of his 
 boyhood," said Sidney. "I have heard of all your 
 adventures together." 
 
 " So have we," said Mabella. " Do you know 
 the story of how a streamer of crape was tied upon 
 the door of the old church the night the Indepen- 
 dents opened theirs ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Sidney, laughing. " My 
 I'ather related that exploit of Mr. Lansing's many 
 a time." 
 
 Both girls laughed aloud, at least Mabella did, 
 and Vashti's full, soft laughter echoed through it 
 like the call of a wood dove. 
 
mmmt. 
 
 90 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ii! 
 
 "My uncie," said Mabella, with emphasis, "has 
 told us how your father did it." 
 
 "Tut — tut," said old Lansing, not ill pleaesd. 
 " Not worth repeating — school-boy capers." 
 
 Afterwards in comparing notes the girls and 
 Sidney found that in every instance the teller of 
 the story had given the other the hero's role to 
 play. A generous thing, surely. Yet, like all true 
 generosity, not barren. For in the imaginations of 
 all these young people, this Damon and Pythias of 
 the New England hills shared a dual glory for 
 deeds of " derring do " against scholastic authority 
 and ghostly reverence; and their names went 
 down to i)Osterity as mighty hunters of the wood- 
 chuck. 
 
 " Must you really go back to Brixton to-Tiight } " 
 asked Vashti of Sidney, as they alighted from the 
 democrat waggon. The man trembled as he looked 
 upon her, so strongly had her individuality impressed 
 him. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "I must go back to-night, but," 
 he added, not concealing iiis eagerness, " I shall 
 return." 
 
 " Whenever you can, and the sooner the better," 
 said old Lansing, interrupting him. 
 
 " Monday, then," said Sidney. 
 
 " Monday be it," replied the old man, pleased 
 with his eagerness. "You want to get browned up 
 a bit," he added. " Have you been ill .? " 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ai 
 
 " Grippe — in the winter," Sidney Martin said, 
 suddenly feeling ashamed of acknowledging it — 
 before that splendid creature whose presence 
 seemed such a reproach to all less superbly well 
 than herself. It was a bad sign, had Sidney been 
 looking for such subtleties, that Vashti's magnifi- 
 cence of physique impressed him as a reproach 
 against imperfection, rather than as a triumph of 
 the race. It was so with her always. She gave 
 others a chilling sense of what the human " might 
 have been " rather than an inspiring perception of 
 what the human " might be." Surely the spirit 
 is subtly strong, giving each individual an aura of 
 his own which may stimulate those who enter it 
 like the piney ozone of the mountains, or stifle 
 them as does the miasmic breath of a morass. 
 
 " Well — if you must really go " said Mabella. 
 
 Qi 
 
 hupper was over — a supper presided over by 
 Temperance Tribbey, and justifying thoroughly her 
 remarks upon her capability as a purveyor. Sidney 
 was taking leave at the front door preparatory to 
 his departure for the station. 
 
 " Yes — don't keep him any longer, girls. He'll 
 miss his train. It is sun-down now ; another dry 
 sun-down at that! It's killing weather. Well, good 
 bye — we'll look for you Monday." 
 
 "Yes, on Monday," said Mabella's treble. 
 
 " On Monday," echoed Vashti's contralto. 
 
 "On Monday," repeated Sidney, raising his hat 
 
22 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 and turning away, and the voices of the three blent 
 even as their lives were to do. 
 
 At the gate Sidney turned ; Mabella had vanished 
 promptly to adorn herself against the arrival of 
 Lanty. The old man had gone off to the stables. 
 
 Vashti stood alone, her figure erect beside the 
 Corinthian pillar of the old colonial porch. The rigid 
 line of the column accentuated the melting curves 
 of shoulder and hip. Lighted by the yellow after- 
 glow she seemed transfigured to his glamoured 
 fancy. He bared his head, and the goddess raised 
 her hand in farewell. He passed down the road 
 in a dream, hardly noting Lanty, as he rode past 
 him to where Vashti waited in the after-glow. 
 
•I 
 
 CHAPTER TI. 
 
 He was to see her daily during the summer, breathe 
 the same air with her, commune with her famiharly, 
 and in a measure share the same experiences. This 
 had been all Sidney Martin's thought, from the 
 time he left Vashti Lansing haloed by the yellow 
 after-glow, until the Monday following, when he 
 entered the avenue leading up to the Lansing house. 
 
 This time he and his belongings had been driven 
 over from Brixton. The drive had been long— a 
 good ten miles, over dusty mountain roads, between 
 fields crisped and parched by the pitiless sun; but 
 at every turn of the road Sidney's fanciful imagina- 
 tion had figured forth a radiant form which 
 beckoned him on. How sweet the welcoming sign 
 would be when the farewell gesture had been so 
 gracious! And now he had arrived. When, where 
 would he see her first? Would the glory of the 
 setting sun have left her face.? Would she — ^and 
 then he saw her. 
 
 In the wide angle made by the wing of the 
 house there grew a great mass of hollyhocks, per- 
 
M 
 
 A DAUGHTEl OF WITCHES. 
 
 i! 
 
 fumeless, passionless flowers, fit for the garden of 
 Proserpine. They were in full bloom. Not the pin- 
 cushiony, double flowers of the " improved " — save 
 the mark! — hollyhock, but the exquisite, transparent, 
 cup-like single ones. In every shade, from crimson 
 to pink, from salmon to white, from lemon to a 
 rich wine colour, they grew tliere, stiff, stately, 
 severe, their greyish green foliage softening the bril- 
 liancy of their blossoms. Scores of yellowish-white 
 butterflies fluttered about them, sometimes entering 
 boldly to the heart of the flowers, sometimes poising 
 upon the button-like buds which crowned the taper- 
 ing stems. And in the midst of this pure sweetness 
 stood Vashti. 
 
 Sidney sprang from tlie musty carriage and went 
 towards her, going, as it seemed to him, into a more 
 exalted atmosphere at a step. 
 
 And as he saw her then, he saw her ever after- 
 wards — not, perhaps, wholly as man looks at woman, 
 rather as the enthusiast views perfection, as the 
 devotee adores the Faith made visible. He saw her 
 not as an individual woman, but as the glorious 
 typification of her sex. 
 
 Ah, mysterious medley of mind and body! Ah, 
 pitiful delusion which suggests a sequence of spirit 
 and shape! 
 
 She gave him her hand cordially enough, not a 
 small hand, but one exquisitely proportioned to her 
 stature. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 as 
 
 " We are so glad to see you," she said. " Father 
 is in the far-away meadow at the hay ; Mabella will 
 be here in a moment." 
 
 "Is your hand better } " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, oh quite ! " she rephed, pleased that he 
 had remembered. 
 
 Temperance and the driver carried the trunk up- 
 stairs ; the driver departed and Temperance came 
 to greet Sidney. It was afternoon, and Temperance 
 was busy at her patchwork. She sewed dexterously 
 while she talked. 
 
 " Terrible weather, ain't it ? " she began. " My 
 soul ! Seems to me the Lord's clean forgot us 
 here. The paint on the shed's fair blistered, and 
 the cat's thin with the heat. The grain's done for, 
 and the hay's no better'n rakings, and as for the 
 roots — well, there'll be none if it don't rain, and do 
 it quick, too. ' Drink, and praise God,' the preacher's 
 got painted on his well by the way, and the well's 
 been dry these live weeks. Look at that sky! It's 
 dry as bass-wood. My chickings is going about 
 with their mouths open, and there's nothing in the 
 ponds but weeds and frogs. They say frogs grow 
 in water, but I never seen the beat of the frogs 
 this year. They say the Frenchers eats 'em. It's 
 a pity our men couldn't learn, and we'd pay a sight 
 less for butchers' meat. My soul ! " — Temperance's 
 lecture upon the drought was brought to an abrupt 
 conclusion. Mabella, not seeing Sidney standing in 
 
l'< 
 
 i6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 the shadow, had come stealing up behind Miss 
 Tribbey, and suddenly seizing her round the waist 
 swung her round in a breathless whirl. 
 
 " My soul ! " said Miss Tribbey again, releasing 
 herself violently, and feeling her head and patting 
 her person mechanically, as if to be certain she was 
 intact. "You ain't bridle-wise yet, M'bella. It's 
 cur'us you don't seem to get sense." 
 
 Mabella laughed. 
 
 Miss Tribbey continued with an ill-sustained show 
 of bad temper, " You kin laugh, but it's discouragin'." 
 
 " It is," agreed Mabella blithely. " I'm like Nathan 
 Peck." 
 
 " Go 'long with you ! " said Temperance, tossing 
 her head. " Nathcui ain't none too brainy, but I 
 never seen any such carryin's on as them with him ! " 
 
 Temperance beat a retreat to the kitchen. Mabella 
 laughing turned to Vashti, and for the first time 
 caught sight of Sidney. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said with a little gasp ; then pulling 
 herself together, advanced with outstretched hand. 
 The ready rose dyed her cheek. She looked like 
 some pretty culprit child. Her eyes were blue as a 
 gentian flower — " Lansing blue " the neighbours 
 called them. Her mouth expressed all the sweetness 
 of a i^\ne and loving nature. Her air was full of 
 V'T.h • ;, iPt/ She seemed the incarnation of sum- 
 . ^r /o Ln. Theie was something in her manner, 
 w., of iK-.ulous excitement — as of one not yet 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 27 
 
 knowing life's secret, but in sight of the mystery, 
 eager yet afraid of passing its portal. 
 
 Sidney was greatly won by her pretty air of 
 deprecation, which mutely apologized for the small 
 whirlwind she had created by her entrance. 
 
 " Come," said Vashti to Sidney. " It's too bad 
 to keep you standing here." So they left the holly- 
 hocks. 
 
 " Who is Nathan Peck ? " asked Sidney of Mabella. 
 
 " Temperance Tribbey's beau," she said with a little 
 laugh. " They've been keeping company for nine- 
 teen years." 
 
 " Don't they know their own minds yet ? " 
 
 " Nathan does, but Temperance doesn't believe in 
 being hasty," said Vashti with what, in a less majestic 
 creature, might have been a sneer. 
 
 " And to tell the truth she doesn't want to leave 
 us," said Mabella, who invariably found the best 
 motive for other people's actions. " She's the dearest 
 old thing!" 
 
 " Father declares," said Vashti, " that you are to 
 do exactly as you like. He's working at the hay. 
 They're working late now and we take them out 
 something to eat at four o'clock. If you would like 
 to come with us " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Sidney, " I should like it of all 
 things." 
 
 " Well, we'll be going in half an hour or so. But 
 wouldn't you like to see your room? It's the east 
 
I 
 
 i8 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 chamber. Go up the stairs and turn to the right ; 
 it's the second door." 
 
 " Thanks," said Sidney. " I would like to get rid 
 of the dust a bit." 
 
 He went up the dusky oak stair. The house 
 was carefully darkened to keep out the heat and to 
 discourage the flies. He found his room easily. His 
 trunk was there. The air was fragrant with the per- 
 fume from a nosegay of sweet peas and mignonette 
 which stood in a willow-pattern bowl of old blue. 
 Associating each gracious deed with her gracious 
 presence, he said to himself : 
 
 " Vashti — Queen Vashti — has been here." Then 
 he murmured to himself, " Vashti ! " 
 
 " The first sweet name that led 
 Him down Love's ways." 
 
 When he descended in flannels a little later, he 
 found the two girls waiting on the porch. Vashti 
 was sitting on the steps. Mabella was leading a 
 long-suffering cat up and down by its forepaws, a 
 mode of progression which evidently did not please 
 the cat, whose tail switched viciously at each step. 
 It was released as Sydney stepped out of the hall, 
 and relieved its feelings by deliberately walking over 
 and scratching the old collie's nose, as he lay sleepily 
 waiting for the signal to start. The collie, rudely 
 awakened from his dream, sneezed and turned an 
 appealing look at Mabella, who caught him by his 
 feathery ears and expressed her sympathy in words 
 
 
A DAUGJiiHR OF WITCHES. 
 
 39 
 
 somewhat unintelligible to the human intellect, but 
 evidently well understood by Bunker. 
 
 " Don't forget them cups," called Temperance after 
 them. "And don't spill all that milk afore you get 
 there. It won't make the crops grow." Then she 
 betook herself indoors, to muse upon the advisability 
 of making hot biscuits for supper, and to commune 
 with herself upon the absurdity of men who wore 
 flannel trousers. 
 
 " My soul ! " she said, in recounting the experience 
 to one of her neighbours, " it gave me a turn when 
 I saw him in them white things. First off, I says, 
 ' He's forgot to dress himself.' Then I saw they 
 was white trousers. Poor crittur! He needs some- 
 thing to set himself off ; he's poor looking alongside 
 of Lanty." 
 
 But Miss Tribbey's judgment was not to be trusted 
 in respect to masculine good looks, her one unit of 
 comparison being yellow-haired Lanty Lansing, who, 
 tall, broad-shouldered and straight-limbed, was a man 
 among a thousand. Sidney Martin had his fair share 
 of good looks. Under any circumstances it would 
 have been impossible to take him for anything but 
 a gentleman, a gentleman by breeding, education, 
 and natural taste. He, too, was tall like Lanty, but 
 much more slender. He had grey eyes — the dreamy 
 eyes of Endymion, slender, nervous hands, and grace- 
 ful gestures. He walked with something of a 
 scholar's stoop, and had the pallor of the student 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
30 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 Above all, his face was irradiate with kindliness 
 towards every living thing. His eyes had the dilating 
 pupils of those who are dreamers of dreams. It 
 might be that the ideal would take him greater 
 lengths than the truth. About his mouth lay always 
 a touch of pity — pity for the world about him, which, 
 to his eyes, was so blind to the true good, so bent 
 upon burdening itself with baleful creeds which dis 
 integrated the universal brotherhood of man. 
 
 The three young people, escorted by the collie, 
 left the house, and turning away from the road, pro- 
 ceeded along a lane which was really a continuation 
 of the avenue without the grateful shade of the 
 trees. The dusty way was strewn with fragrant hay 
 which had fallen from the waggons on their way 
 to the bams. They passed the two broad, shallow 
 ponds, overgrown, as Miss Tribbey had said, with 
 water-weeds and bulrushes. Only a shallow, un- 
 wholesome little pool of water remained in each ; 
 thirsty birds fluttered about the margin, and, as the 
 three passed, the frogs plunged into the water from 
 every side. The collie walked sedately into the 
 middle of one of the pools, then came and shook 
 himself beside Mabella, spattering her skirts. 
 
 The heat was breathless ; the earth, beneath the 
 inquisition of the sun, suffered but was mute. And 
 presently they saw the hay- makers, the two sweating 
 horses in the mower, the man tossing the windrows 
 into coils. A great oak tree stood solitary in one 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCIIES. 
 
 3" 
 
 ss 
 
 g 
 t 
 
 r 
 
 'S 
 
 corner, and thither the girls directed their steps; a 
 brown earthen jug of water, covered by the men's 
 coats, stood in its shadow. Mabella took off her 
 sunbonnet and waved it wildly by one string. One 
 of the men sent back an answering shout, and tossed 
 a forkful of hay into the air. The sun glinted from 
 the burnished steel of the fork to the yellow hair 
 of its wielder. 
 
 "That's Lanty," said Mabella to Sidney, with a 
 certain shy personal pride in her accent. 
 
 " Our cousin, Lansing Lansing," amended Vashti. 
 
 " Does he live with you } " asked SicTney. 
 
 " No ! Oh, no ! He has a farm of his own, but 
 his haying is all done, and he has come over to 
 help Dad." 
 
 " The farmers help each other here, when they 
 can," said Mabella. 
 
 Sidney felt enthusiasm surge within his bieast ; \ 
 was not this practical communism.? .— ' 
 
 The men had left their work and were coming 
 towards them. 
 
 " That's Nathan Peck," said Mabella, " on the left." 
 
 Sidney saw him ; a serious, sunburnt man, with 
 mild, light-coloured eyes and straight, straggly hair. 
 He was very thin, and wore a woollen muffler around 
 his neck. 
 
 " Do you see that scarf ? Temperance gave him 
 that three years ago ; he's never been seen without 
 it since." Mabella whispered this hastily to Sidney. 
 
;l M 
 
 3« 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ^1 
 
 " Warm devotion, isn't it ? " inquired Sidney as he 
 rose to go and meet his host. 
 
 " Isn't he fun ? " asked Mabella of Vashti. 
 
 " It all depends on taste," said Vashti, indifferently. 
 
 Mabella did not hear her. She was gazing at her 
 
 cousin Lanty as he came towards her some yards 
 
 in advance of the others. Clad in blue jeans, with 
 
 his shirt open at the throat and his sleeves rolled up 
 
 to the elbow, Lanty was a man to win ninety-nine 
 
 women out of a hundred. The odd woman would 
 
 see, perhaps, too gieat a capacity for enjoyment in 
 
 I his face; too little of self restraint, too much 
 
 \ generosity, too little cool judgment; but if she were 
 
 \ discerning enough, she might pierce yet deeper to 
 
 I that natural nobility of character which, through miry 
 
 'places and sloughs of despond, would yet trium- 
 
 /phantly set Lanty Lansing upon the solid rock of 
 
 \men's respect. 
 
 Well — ^you're a sight for sore eyes," he said, 
 flinging himself at the feet of his cousins. " It's 
 worth working for to get over to the shade — and 
 you." 
 
 His first words had seemed to address Mabella; 
 his glance took in both his cousins, and each girl 
 took the meaning of the words home to her heart, 
 and doled out a niggard portion to the other. 
 Mabella's confidence had given place to a shy eager- 
 ness to please the man she loved. Her eyes dwelt 
 upon him, eager to catch each glance, and she felt 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 31 
 
 that as often as his eyes lighted upon her an un- 
 conscious tenderness deepened his voice. 
 
 The situation was perfectly apparent to Sidney 
 when he arrived with old Lansing a moment later. 
 Yet Vashti Lansing's blinded eyes saw nothing of it. 
 Rapt in a superb egotism, she erred much in under- 
 estimating her fellows. A more dangerous thing, 
 perhaps, than to over-estimate ourselves. Some in- 
 stinct made her aware of the splendour of her form ; 
 besides that, the women of her race had all been 
 mageful creatures She had an unfaltering belief 
 in the potentiality of her own will. Long ago they 
 had burned one of her forbears as a witch-woman. 
 They said she caused her spirit to enter into her 
 victims and commit crimes, crimes which were naively 
 calculated to tend to the worldly advantage of the 
 witch. Vashti thought of her martyred ancestress 
 often ; she herself sometimes felt a weird sensation 
 as of illimitable will power, as of an intelligence apart 
 from her normal mind, an intelligence which wormed 
 out the secrets of those about her, and made the 
 fixed regard of her large full eyes terrible. The 
 film of vanity dimmed them somewhat, but when 
 some rude hand should rend that veil away, their, 
 regard might be blasting. 
 
 Lanty's wide hat was cast with apparent careless- 
 ness upon the grass between him and Mabella ; their 
 fingers were interlaced beneath it, or, rather, Mabella'a 
 trembling fingers nestled in Lanty's palm. He held 
 
 I 
 
1.1 
 
 r4 i 
 
 
 l\ i 
 
 34 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 them tighter and tighter. A little tremor from her 
 heart communicated with his heart as the electric 
 spark traverses the cable. At the same instant they 
 looked at each other, and read life's meanings in each 
 other's eyes. For the moment — unfaltering, steadfast, 
 penetrating — blue eyes met the blue. There was 
 the pause of a heart-beat. Then Mabella's filmed 
 with sudden self-consciousness, and triumph lighted 
 the man's bolder eyes. Mabella almost wrenched her 
 hand free and raised it involuntarily to where her 
 heart, grown too great with its treasure of love, 
 throbbed heavily. Lanty rose to his feet, bareheaded 
 in the sunshine, blinded by the glory and promise 
 of the love he had seen in those kindred eyes. He 
 stood for a moment looking down at her ; she 
 looked back at him. Her lips were tremulous, but 
 there was an appealing trust in their sweetness. 
 Lanty could not trust himself farther. 
 
 " I'll be off to my hay," he said in vibrant tones. 
 " I hope to see a great deal of you," he added, 
 turning to Sidney. " You must come over and see 
 me ; whenever you want a horse to ride, there's one 
 at your disposal. Good-bye, girls, till supper time. 
 Good-bye, Mabella." She looked at him, and he 
 went off to his work, scarce believing in his own 
 happiness, seeng all golden about him, all fair before 
 him — and this passed amid a group of people, 
 one at least of whom should have had sharp eyes. 
 
 One person indeed had noted all — Nathan Peck's 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 35 
 
 light eyes were eloquent of mute sympathy. He, 
 good soul, loved bustling Temperance Tribbey with 
 all his being. Whilst Lanty and Mabella had rested 
 with their hands clasped beneath the old wide hat, 
 Nathan's gnarled fingers had caressed the ends of 
 his muffler. Temperance was i Iways and invariably 
 right, that went without saying, and yet — nineteen 
 years! — surely she was a little hard on them both? 
 Nathan rose with something like a sigh, and pro- 
 ceeded to his work thoughtfully. Sidney talked to 
 Mr. Lansing and feasted his eyes on the suave grace 
 of his daughter. Mabella, her heart too full for 
 careless speech, rose, and, under pretence of chasing 
 the collie, contrived to start down the lane alone. 
 As she reached the bend which would hide her from 
 Lanty, she turned. He was leaning upon his fork, 
 gazing after her. She waved her hand swiftly to 
 him, then turned abruptly and proceeded upon her 
 way, a demure little figure in her pink sunbonnet. 
 
 Life stretched before her in a new aspect; the 
 gate was opened, but the way was unfamiliar, and 
 her feet faltered before it. She arrived home very 
 soon, and sought Temperance in the kitchen. 
 
 Temperance was watering her geraniums in the 
 window, and thinking a small kitchen of her own 
 would be more cosy than the great kitchen of 
 Lansing House. 
 
 " Temperance," said Mabella, catching hold of a 
 corner of Miss Tribbey 's apron, " Temperance, you 
 
w 
 
 36 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 weren't cross this afternoon when I pulled you 
 about?" 
 
 Miss Temperance looked at her, and set dew ae 
 old tea-pot which she used as a watering-can. 
 
 " Say ? " insisted Mabella, pleating up the corner 
 of the apron. 
 
 " What ails the child } " said Temperance — a 
 sudden memory of Mabella's childhood coming to 
 her, again she saw her a yellow-haired baby with 
 irresistible ways. 
 
 " But did you mind ? " asked Mabella, her lips 
 beginning to quiver. 
 
 " Bless it ! No, indeed. My lamb, what kind of 
 a cross old stick do you think I am ? " 
 
 " Temperance, are* you very fond of Nathan ? " 
 
 " My soul ! " said Temperance. " What next — 
 Nathan ? " 
 
 " Because you ought to be if you're not," said 
 Mabella. " Oh, you ought to be. When a person 
 cares about one you ought to love them — love them 
 with all your soul. It's so little to give in return ; 
 so-- — " and then Mabella was in Miss Tribbey's 
 arms, crying as if her heart would break. 
 
 And blustering Miss Tribbey petted her and 
 quieted her, and got her out of the way before Vashti 
 and Sidney entered with the dishes from the field, 
 taking her upstairs and putting her to bed as she 
 had done long before when Mabella was a little 
 motherless baby. 
 
A DAUGHTER 01* WITCHES. 
 
 37 
 
 "You lay still there," said Temperance, pausing 
 by the door. "You lay still there, and I'll fetch 
 up your tea." 
 
 "You're a dear," said Mabella with a catch in 
 her voice. 
 
 Miss Tribbey departed. Wise in her kind old 
 fashion she asked no questions. Miss Tribbey had 
 been young in years like Mabella once, and her 
 heart was young yet. 
 
 " Pore girl ! " said Temperance to herself, resum- 
 ing the watering of her geraniums. " Pore Mabella ! 
 She ain't got no mother." 
 
 Perhaps all the dew which fell upon the geraniums 
 did not come from the old tea-pot. Miss Tribbey's 
 mother had been alive when lanky Nathan Peck 
 began "keeping company" with Temperance. Up- 
 stairs in a certain box there yet were quilts that 
 she had " patched " in anticipation of the wedding 
 which Miss Tribbey's sense of duty had deferred all 
 these years. 
 
 Miss Tribbey sighed, and went and cajrefully con- 
 sidered her countenance in the little square of 
 greenish glass which served as a mirror in her kitchen. 
 She turned away" with something like a sob in her 
 throat. " I'm losin' my looks," she said. Then after 
 a moment's pause she drew herself a little more erect, 
 and going to a drawer put on a huge and fresh white 
 apron. She was meeting the ravages of Time with the 
 defences at her disposal. Brave Temperance! 
 
I 
 
 38 
 
 A DAUGHTER Ul* WITCHES. 
 
 When some two hours later Nathan Peck entered 
 for his supper with the others, he thought that never, 
 surely in all the world, could there be a more soul- 
 satisfying sight than his " Temp'rins." 
 
 " She beats all the young 'uns yet, by jing, if she 
 don't ! " he said to himself as he soused himself 
 with soap and water by the door before he came in. 
 
 " Here's the comb, Nat," said Temperance, handing 
 him that useful article. He took it, combed his 
 straggly hair straight down over his eyes, and then 
 looked at Temperance appealingly through the 
 ragged fringe. 
 
 Temperance's heart was very soft to-night. She 
 took the comb and parted his hair. When she had 
 finished, she let the palm of her hand smooth over 
 the top and rest an instant. He caught it, and the 
 two looked at each other. What were years and 
 hard-wrought hands to them ? They saw themselves 
 young and beautiful in each other's eyes. That 
 sufficed them. 
 
 Meanwhile Lanty had passed through the kitchen 
 to the front porch, and not finding Mabella there 
 had come back to the kitchen. 
 
 "Well, Temperance," he said cheerily, "how's 
 the world using you.? And Temperance — where's 
 Mabella?" 
 
 " She's layin* down," said Temperance ; " she had 
 a sort o' spell when she came in and I made her 
 go to bed." 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 39 
 
 " What kind of a spell ? " demanded Lanty, his 
 heart standing still. 
 
 "Nerves," said Miss Tribbey briefly, avoiding the 
 anxious blue eyes of her favourite. She did not know 
 how far matters had gone, nor how clear an under- 
 standing there was between the young people. Miss 
 Tribbey was too staunch a woman to betray her 
 sex even in a good cause (and the making of a 
 match between these two Miss Tribbey regarded as 
 a distinctly good cause). 
 
 " Is it — is it her head ? " asked Lanty miserably. 
 
 Miss Temperance eyed him severely — but she had 
 misjudged her own strength. 
 
 " It's jist nothin* but nerves," she said — " girls* 
 nerves ; they're naterally nervous, girls is, and M'bella 
 ain't one of your coarse-grained sort She's easily 
 upset and tender-hearted as a chicken. My soul! 
 how all the brute beasts love her and how she sets 
 store by them. I tell you that girl can't pass a hen 
 without sayin' something pleasant to it. She'll be 
 all right to-morrow ; but Lanty " — she quickened her 
 speech as they heard steps coming to the kitchen — 
 " Lanty, she's got no mother." 
 
 Lanty caught her hand — ^" I'll be everything to her, 
 if she'll let me," he said. 
 
 Then the others came in. Vashti, her father, and 
 Sidney from the porch, and Nathan from the back 
 doorsteps, where he had been hugging his happiness 
 by himself. 
 
40 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Where's M'bella ? " demanded her uncle as they 
 sat down. Vashti looked at Temperance for the 
 answer. 
 
 " She's Id^ m . )wn — got a headache with the 
 heat." 
 
 Nathan looked up with such sparkling intelligence 
 that Miss Tribbey was forced to reduce him by a 
 look. So he obi ;. a: ...,..■'' rill expression from his face 
 and fell to his supptr t;).' j gusto. 
 
 " Well, I declare," said ;lu. old man ; " she must 
 be terrible bad if h'^ couldii ^.y up for Mr. Mar^ 
 tin's first meal with us." 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't mind me," said Sidney hastily, 
 " and I do wish you would call me something a 
 little more familiar than ' Mr. Martin.' My father 
 always called me Sid." 
 
 " Sid you are, then," said old Lansing heartily ; 
 "it's mighty handy, that name. If there's anything 
 I hate it's a name a mile long. Nothing like a short 
 name for a dog or a person, I say. For horses and 
 sich it don't matter much, but when you want t' call 
 a dog there's nothing like a good plain name." The 
 old man ran on garrulously, now and then arresting 
 himself to say the others were quiet. Considering that 
 their quietude was somewhat compulsory, as he talked 
 all the time, it was rather astonishing he found it 
 food for comment. 
 
 "Well — M'bella do miss considerable," he said; 
 "she's always got something to say, M'bella has. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 4« 
 
 Sometimes 'taint over-wise, but it's always well-mean- 
 ing. M'bella ain't one of your bristle- tongued women. 
 I tell you I've known women with rougher tongues 
 than a cat's." 
 
 " Men's tongues is a good deal like dogs', I notice," 
 said Miss Temperance scathingly — "that long they 
 can't keep 'em between their teeth. Mighty loose 
 hung, men's tongues is." 
 
 " When is the Special Meeting, father ? " asked 
 Vashti. Sidney thought how gratefully her soft voice 
 sounded across the strident tones of her father and 
 Temperance. 
 
 "Wednesday night," he answered. "You'll go, 
 Sid.? And you'll be there, Lansing?" The last 
 words were spoken in a tone which challenged denial, i 
 But Lanty was in a mood of Quakerish peace. He ^ 
 simply nodded. Old Lansing looked very pleased. 
 
 " Special meeting ! " said Sidney. " What for ? 
 What sort of meeting ? " 
 
 " To pray for rain," said Vashti. " If we do not 
 have rain, the poor people will be ruined and all of 
 us will suffer. Already the hay is lost; we should 
 have had the meeting earlier." 
 
 " Then you think — ^you believe — ^you believe the 
 meeting will do good ? " 
 
 " I believe in the answer to prayer," she said a little 
 coldly ; " my father is senior deacon in the church." 
 
 This seemed hardly a reason for her personal 
 beliefs, but Sidney did not say so. 
 
 / 
 
 ill 
 
4» 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 A 
 
 ¥.■ 
 
 He began to see her in a new light — a noble 
 
 /daughter of a tottering faith. And as one admires 
 
 I the devotion of a daughter to an unworthy parent, 
 
 I so he admired Vashti in this guise also. The loyalty 
 
 i which made her blind to the faults of a creed was 
 
 i perhaps more admirable than a clearer vision which 
 
 / would have made her a renegade to the faith of her 
 
 fathers. So Sidney Martin thought as they sat out 
 
 on the front porch, watching the fireflies flitting in 
 
 the darkness, living sparks of light, and listening to 
 
 the cadence of Lanty's violin as he played snatches 
 
 of old love songs, putting his heart into them — for a 
 
 little time before he had heard a window softly raised, 
 
 and he knew that Mabella, too timorous to meet 
 
 him face to face yet, was listening to and drinking in 
 
 the message of his music 
 
4^ 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " You never can wash your hands clean in dirty 
 water," said Temperance to Nathan, " no more'n you 
 can wash a floor with a dirty mop. Throw dirt and 
 the wind'll carry it back m your own eyes. You 
 can't splash mud without gettin' spattered yourself." 
 Thereupon Temperance rattled her dishes violently 
 with an energy almost offensive. Her remarks were 
 in the nature of a parable intended to impress upon 
 her admirer her superiority to, and contempt for, 
 ill-natured gossip. 
 
 Nathan bowed his head to the blast, waited till 
 the noisy agitation in the dishpan had subsided a 
 little, and then continued to disburden himself of 
 the news he had gathered during the two days which 
 had elapsed since he had seen Temperance. 
 
 " Mrs. Snyder has been took again, I saw Sam and 
 he says she's real miserable." 
 
 " You don't say ! " said Temperance, fairly inter- 
 ested now. " She has a sight of sickness. 
 
 "Well, she was took down three days ago," said 
 
44 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Nathan, repeating himself. Having no details to 
 give, he uttered this remark with emphasis, as of 
 one giving forth a brand new idea. 
 
 " It's just a year ago this very month since she 
 was took down before," went on Miss Tribbey, utter- 
 ing her reflection aloud as she was wont to do when 
 she had only the cat for auditor. " I remember par- 
 ticularly well because I was making currant jell at 
 the time, and Mame Settle was here and she was 
 helping dish it out, and she burned her hand, and 
 she said she was goin' to set up with Mrs. Snyder 
 that night, and she said she wouldn't get drowsy 
 with that hand keepin' her company. Yes, 'twas this 
 very month." 
 
 Temperance having successfully proved her pro^ 
 position in regard to the date of Mrs. Snyder's 
 former illness, returned with renewed vim to her 
 dishes. 
 
 " It's curious how disease comes back," said Nathan 
 reflectively. " There's my grandfather, he died two 
 years before the church was opened, and he had 
 quinsy regular every spring, and Aunt Maria had 
 her erysipelas in March every year regular as sugar 
 making, and old Joseph Muir had his strokes always 
 in July. I can mind that well, his funeral came just 
 in hayin', for it rained terrible when we was comin' 
 back from the buryin' and someone said, ' Lucky 
 is the corpse that the rain rains on,' and old Ab. 
 Ranger said he guessed luck didn't cut much figger 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 45 
 
 i 
 
 with a corpse anyhow, and for his part he'd a sight 
 ruther had his hay dry in the barn as wet in the 
 field. It seemed kind of unfeehn'." 
 
 Nathan rose to throw out the dish water for 
 Temperance, a gallantly he always permitted him- 
 self when he spent the evening with her. So anxious 
 was he not to miss this pleasure that he usually made 
 a number of false starts, drawing upon himself a 
 kindly rebuke for fidgeting " like a hen with its head 
 off." Nevertheless Temperance secretly counted 
 upon this bit of attention as much as Nathan did. 
 He was returning with the empty pan when suddenly 
 he stopped. 
 
 " Gee ! " he said, a strong word giving evidence 
 of excitement. " I clean forgot to tell you the news. 
 Len Simpson's dead." Temperance sat down heavily 
 in a chair. 
 
 " My soul ! " she said. Nathan continued with ora- 
 torical importance, feeling that for once he had made 
 a hit. 
 
 " Yes, we was puttin' up petitions in Mrs. Didymus's 
 hen house to-day. She's gone cracked on fancy 
 chickings and keepin' the breeds separate and sich 
 nonsense, and we was petitionin' it off and the 
 bound girl said Mister Didymus had been called 
 over to Simpson's terrible suddent, and he stayed to 
 dinner, and he writ a telegraph and sent it off by 
 young Len to Brixton. He died in Boston, and I 
 don't know if the telegraph was to send home The 
 
4tf 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Body or not. But anyhow, Mister Didymus was 
 terrible affected." 
 
 " And so he ought to be, remembering all things," 
 said Temperance. " Poor Len — well, when he was 
 keepin' company with Martha Didymus I thought 
 he was the only young fellar I ever saw that could 
 hold a candle to Lanty. Well, well, and Martha's 
 been dead and gone these three years. Pore Mart, 
 died of heart-break, I always said, and so Len's dead 
 in Bosting ! What was he doin' there ? " 
 
 " They say," said Nathan, telling the tidings shame- 
 facedly, as became their import. " They say he was 
 play actin'." 
 
 " Oh, pore Len," said Temperance. " To fall to 
 that! And I've heard many a one say that there 
 never was a man far or near could draw as straight 
 a furrow as Len nor build a better stack. Play 
 actin'!" 
 
 Just then Mr. Lansing came out to the kitchen. 
 
 "It's m.ost time to start," he said. "We'll take 
 the democrat — comin' to help hook up, Nat ? " 
 
 Nathan followed him to the stables. 
 
 Temperance went to get ready for the prayer-meet- 
 ing for rain. 
 
 The two girls and Sidney were sitting on the grass 
 in the sweet, old-fashioned garden, where verbenas 
 elbowed sweet clover, and sweet peas climbed over 
 and weighed down the homely Provence roses, where 
 mignonette grew self-sown in the sandy paths and 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
A DAUGHTER Of WITCHES. 
 
 47 
 
 marigolds lifted saucy faces to the sun unbidden; 
 where in one corner grew marjoram and thyme and 
 peppergrass, lemon balm, spearmint and rue. The 
 far-away parents of these plants had shed their seed 
 in old grange gardens in England. The Lansings 
 had long ago left their country for conscience sake, 
 bravely making the bitter choice between Faith and 
 Fatherland. 
 
 The three young people, waiting in the delicious 
 drowsiness of the summer twilight, were environed 
 in an atmosphere of suppressed but el'ctrical emotioa 
 
 Sidney Martin felt within him all the eagerness 
 of first love. Every faculty of his delicate, emo- 
 tional temperament was tense with the delight of 
 the Vision given to his eyes How (ould he ever 
 dream that the moths of the mind would fray its 
 fabric or the sharp teeth of disillusion tear it.-* And 
 indeed for him it remained for ever splendid with 
 the golden broideries of his loving imagination. 
 Vashti dreamed — even as the mighty sibyls of old 
 brooded over their dreams, conscious of their beauty, 
 and filled with the desire to see them accomplished 
 — finding her visions trebly precious because they 
 were her very own, the offspring of her own heart, 
 the begetting of her own brain, the desire of her 
 own will. 
 
 She knew that Lanty did not love her passionately, 
 but to this strange woman there was an added charm 
 in the thought that she must do battle for the love 
 
! I 
 
 
 i ! 
 
 48 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 she craved. Her whole soul rose to the combat, 
 which she might have gained had she not made a 
 fatal error in overlooking the real issue, which was 
 not to make Lanty love her, but to make him cease 
 loving Mabella. 
 
 Mabella's face, in the soft dusk, wore an exalted 
 expression of purity and tremulous happiness. There 
 were soft shadows beneath her eyes, and her hands 
 trembled as she plucked a flower to fragments. 
 Her hidden happiness had so winged her spirit that 
 her slight body was sorely tired by its eagerness. 
 She started at each sound, and smiled at nothing. 
 Sweet Mabella Lansing did not dream that these 
 eyes of hers had already betrayed her precious secret, 
 but they had been read by a kindly heart. Sidney 
 Martin thought he never in his life had seen anything 
 so sweet as this girl's face, lit by the first illumina- 
 tion of love's torch. An epicure in the senses, he 
 realized keenly the delicacy of this phase of young 
 life — like the velvet sheen upon a flower freshly un- 
 folded, like the bloom upon the grape, like the down 
 upon a butterfly's wing, lovely, but destroyed by 
 a touch. Beneath this evanescent charm he knew 
 there was deep, true feeling, but he sighed to think 
 that the world might mar its unconsciousness. 
 
 Sidney Martin had no place in his musings for 
 God, yet in the face of Mabella Lansing he saw a 
 purity, a love, a look of young delight so holy, that 
 almost he was persuaded to think of a Divinity 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 49 
 
 beyond that of human nature. But he said to him- 
 self, " After all how sweet a thing human nature is ; 
 how cruel to seek to believe in that ancient smirch, 
 called original sin. Has sin part or place in this 
 girl, or in Vashti, Queen Vashti, with the marvellous 
 eyes and the splendid calm presence? Vashti, who 
 
 looks at life so calmly, so benignly " and so on, 
 
 for begin where he would, his thoughts reverted to 
 Vashti. She was first and last with him for ever. 
 The Alpha and Omega of his life. 
 
 But these things were all inarticulate, and in the 
 old scented garden the three talked of other things. 
 The girls were telling Sidney the story of the Lans- 
 ing Legacy. 
 
 Long, long before, when the Lansings were by 
 far the most numerous family in the country side, 
 when a Lansing preached in the church, when a 
 Lansing taught in the little school, where Lansing 
 children outnumbered all the others put together, the 
 doyen of the family was a quaint old man — Abel 
 Lansing. He was very old, a living link between 
 the generations, and spok'-, as one having authority, 
 of the days of old. Although a bachelor, he was 
 yet patriarchal in his rule over the wide family con- 
 nection, and they brought him their disputes to be 
 adjusted, and came to him to be consoled in their 
 griefs. When they were prosperous, he preserved 
 their humility by reminding them of the case of 
 Jeshurun, " who waxed fat and kicked/' and the dire 
 
i« 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 results of that conduct; when they complained of 
 I>overty or hardship, he told them they should be 
 thankful for the mercies vouchsafed to them, con- 
 trasting their lot with that of their fathers, who 
 threshed their scanty crops with a flail upon the ice, 
 in lieu of a threshing floor, carrieu guns as well as 
 bibles in church, and ate their hearts out yearning 
 for the far-off hedges of England when they had not 
 yet grown to love their sombre hills of refuge. 
 
 He was very eloquent, evidently both with God 
 and man. It was his prayer, so tradition said, which 
 brought the great black frost to an end, and it was 
 a prayer of his, addressed to human ears, which 
 stayed the hand of vengeance, when uplifted against 
 captive Indians. How excusable vengeance would 
 have been in this case, and how well mercy was 
 repaid, is known to all who have read of the 
 troublous times of old. 
 
 In fullness of years, old Abel Lansing died, and 
 dying, left all he had to the poor of the parish, 
 save and excepting a hoard of broad Spanish pieces. 
 How he had come by these dollars no one knew. 
 The commonly accepted idea was that they had 
 been brought from England by the first Lansing, and 
 kept sacredly in case of some great need. Be that 
 as it may, there they were, stored in the drawer 
 of the old oak coffer which had been made in 
 England by hands long dead. 
 
 And Abel Lansing's will directed that to each 
 
A DAUGHTER Of WITCHES, 
 
 $« 
 
 Lansing there should be given one piece, and in the 
 quaint phraseology of the times, Abel had set down 
 the conditions of his gift. The recipients were 
 bidden to guard the coin zealously and never to part 
 with it save in extremis — to buy bread, save life or 
 defend the Faith. 
 
 And strangely enough, when the money was por- 
 tioned out, it was found that for each broad silver 
 piece there was a Lansing, and for each Lansing a 
 broad silver piece. No more and no less. And the 
 country folk, hardly yet divorced from belief in the 
 black art, with the unholy smoke of the burned 
 witches still stinging their eyes, looked at each other 
 curiously when they spoke of the circumstances. 
 
 Oh, what an eloquent human history might be 
 written out, if the tale of each of these coins was 
 known! What an encyclopaedia of human joys and 
 sorrows! For no Lansing lightly parted with his 
 Spanish dollar, upon the possession of which the luck 
 of the Lansings depended. They were exchanged as 
 gages of love between Lansing lovers. They were 
 given Lansing babies to " bite on," when they began 
 cutting their teeth. They had been laid upon dead 
 eyes. They had been saved from burning houses at 
 the peril of life. And dead hands had been un- 
 closed to show one held clasped even in the death 
 pang. 
 
 Vashti drew hers from her pocket, and showed it 
 to Sidn^, 
 
 P 
 
Sa 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ''\' 1 1 
 
 1 i 
 
 I 
 
 Mabella took hers from a little leather bag which 
 hung about her neck. When Mabella's mother had 
 died in want and penury, she had given her three 
 year old baby the piece and told her to hold it 
 fast and show it to Uncle when he came, for at last 
 the brother had consented to see his sister. He 
 was late in yielding his stubborn will, but when 
 once he was on the road a fury of haste possessed 
 him to see the sister from whom he had parted 
 in anger. But his haste perhaps defeated itself, and 
 perhaps Fate, which is always ironic, wished to add 
 another ingredient to the bitter cup old Lansing had 
 been at such pains to prepare for his own lips. His 
 harness broke, his horse fell lame by the way, the 
 clouds came down, and the mists rose from the earth 
 and befogged him, and when he finally arrived at 
 the bleak little house it was to find his sister dead, 
 and a yellow-haired baby, who tottered still in her 
 walk, but yet had baby wisdom enough to give him 
 the shining silver piece and say "from Mudder." 
 Lansing looked at the baby, and at the coin in his 
 hand, and passed through the open door where an 
 inert head as yellow as the baby's lay upon the 
 pillow. He had come tardily with forgiveness; 
 he had arrived to find his sister dead, and to be 
 offered the symbol of the Lansing luck by an orphan 
 child. 
 
 Well — that was but one of the Lansing dollars. 
 
 Of all old Abel Lansing's hoard there remained 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 53 
 
 but four pieces — of all that family which had pos- 
 sessed almost tribal dignity there were only four left 
 
 " Are you ready ? " shouted old Lansing. 
 
 The three young people went round to where the 
 democrat wagon stood with its two big bays. 
 Nathan and Temperance stood beside the horse 
 block ; as they appeared Temperance climbed nimbly 
 into the back seat, and Nathan, adorned as usual with 
 his muffler, placed himself in front; the two girls 
 joined Temperance, and Sidney mounted beside Mr. 
 Lansing and Nathan. So they set out, leaving the 
 old house solitary in the deepening night. 
 
 As they drove along the country road the burnt 
 odours of the dried up herbage came to them, giving 
 even in the dark a hint of the need for rain. 
 
 " Has Nathan told you the news ? '" asked Tem- 
 perance of Mr. Lansing. " Len Simpson's dead." 
 
 " Oh, Temperance ! " said Mabella. 
 
 " Where — when ? " said Vashti. 
 
 Temperance was silent, and Nathan, in the manner 
 of those who have greatness thrust upon them, re- 
 commenced his parable. 
 
 " Oh, poor Len ! " said Mabella, wiping her eyes. 
 
 " It's very sad for his people," said Vashti. " First 
 to be disgraced by him, and then to hear of his 
 death like this — well — he was a bad lot." 
 
 " Oh, Vashti," said Mabella, passionately, " how 
 can you?. And him just dead. His mother'U be 
 heartbrokeiL" 
 
! i 
 
 54 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 "I did not say anything but what everybody 
 knows," said Vashti, coldly. " He drank, didn't he ? 
 And he broke Mart Didymus's heart ? I thought you 
 were fond of her? It's true he's dead, but we've 
 all got to die; he should have remembered while 
 he was living that he had to die some day. I don't 
 believe in making saints of people after they're dead. 
 Let them live well and they'll die well, and people 
 will speak well of them." 
 
 "That depends," said Temperance with a snort. 
 " Some people ain't given to speak well of their 
 neighbours living or dead." 
 
 "And some people," said Vashti coolly, "speak 
 too much, and too often always." 
 
 " Hold your peace," said her father sternly. " Did 
 you say The Body was being brought home ? " he 
 asked Nathan. 
 
 "Yes, or leastways, that's the idea, but no one 
 knows for certain." 
 
 "Lanty will take it terribly hard," said the old 
 man musingly. " He and Len Simpson ran together 
 always till Len went off, and Lanty never took up 
 with anyone else like he did with Len." 
 
 Sidney had been a little chilled by Vashti's atti- 
 tude towards the death of this young fellow. But 
 with the persistent delusion of the idealist he did 
 not call it hardness of heart, but "a lofty rectitude 
 of judgment"; himself incapable of pronouncing a 
 hard word against a human being, he yet did not 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 ss 
 
 perceive what manner of woman this was. He 
 thought only what severe and lofty standards she 
 must have, how inexorable her acceptance of self- 
 wrought consequences was, and he said to himself 
 that he must purify himself as by fire, ere he dared 
 approach the altar of her lips. 
 
 Old Mr. Lansing mused aloud upon Len, and his 
 family, and his death. 
 
 " Well," he said, " poor Len was always his own 
 worst enemy. Did you hear if he was reconciled 
 before he died ? " 
 
 " Reconciled," ah surely, surely that is the word ; 
 not converted, nor regenerated, nor saved, but re- 
 conciled — ^reconciled to the great purposes of Nature, 
 to the great intention of the Maker; so infinitely 
 good beside our petty hopes of personal salvation. 
 Reconinled to that mighty law which " sweetly and 
 strongly ordereth all things." Reconciled to give our 
 earthly bodies back to mother earth, our spirits back 
 to the Universal Bosom; to render the Eternal Pur- 
 pose stronger by the atom of our personal will. 
 
 The church to which they were going, and which 
 was even now in sight, was a large frame building, 
 whose grey, weather-beaten walls were clouded by 
 darker stains of moisture and moss. Virginia creeper 
 garlanded the porch wherein the worshippers put off 
 their coats, their smiles and, so far as might be, the 
 old Adam, before entering the church proper. Tall 
 elms overshadowed the roof, their lowest branches 
 
Nil 
 
 S6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I 
 
 scraping eerily across the shingles with every breath 
 of wind, a sound which, in a mind properly attuned 
 to spiritual things, might easily typify the tooth and 
 nail methods of the Devil in his assault upon holy 
 things. Indeed the weird sighings and scrapings of 
 these trees had had their share in hastening sinners 
 to the anxious seat, and in precipitating those already 
 there to deeper depths of penitential fear. 
 
 Behind the church, in decent array, the modest 
 tomb-stones of God's acre were marshalled. What a 
 nucleus of human emotion is such a church — ^with 
 its living within and its dead without, like children 
 clustered about the skirts of their mother. Surely, 
 surely, it is, at least, a beautiful thing, this " sure 
 and certain hope of a glorious resurrection " — the 
 hope which had sustained so many weary old hearts 
 in this congregation, when one after another their 
 loved ones went from them to be cradled in Mother 
 Earth! 
 
 Well — Religion they say has grown too scant a 
 robe for human reason. Through its rents is seen 
 the glorious nakedness of science ; yet surely the 
 strongest of us must feel a tender reverence for the 
 faith typified by such a church as this. The home 
 of simple faith, where simple folk found peace. 
 
 In sect this Church was one of those independent 
 bodies of which there are so many in America, which 
 having retained the severe rectitude of the Puritans 
 are yet leavened with evangelical tenderness, and 
 
 ik 
 
 csjraafWgBgaagg 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 57 
 
 vivified by evangelical zeal. It approximated perhaps 
 more closely to the Congregational Body than any 
 other, and was self-governing and self-sustaining. 
 As the Chicago people date everything from " The 
 Fire" so Dole people dated all their reminiscences 
 from the " Opening " of the " Church," which meant 
 the dedication of the present church, which, in old Mr. 
 Lansing's boyhood, had replaced the humbler log 
 building of earlier days. The minister was chosen 
 for life, and was by far the most important personage 
 of the community. No one disputed his pre- 
 eminence, and public opinion was moulded by his 
 mind. The ministers tilled their gardens, lived simply 
 as their fellows, and beyond a black coat on Sunday, 
 \vore no insignia of office ; yet that office wrapped 
 them in a mantle of distinction. There was no laugh- 
 ing at holy things in Dole. No Dole children heard 
 the minister and his sermons criticized. The shadow 
 of the great Unseen rested above the humble church 
 and hallowed it. 
 
 Mr. Didymus was an old, old man, and his white- 
 headed wife was bowed and frail. The death of 
 their only daughter, Martha, had been a bitter blow. 
 Outwardly they strove to manifest the resignation 
 of God's anointed. At night when they sat alone 
 they held each other's hands, and wept over the 
 bits of needlework the girl had left. 
 
 Deacon Simpson was a stern and upright man. 
 No one recognised more clearly than he, that his 
 
58 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 son Len was no fit mate for brown-haired Martha 
 Didymus. And yet, he loved his boy. 
 
 The two young people accepted the judgment upon 
 them. Len's sullen acceptance of the inevitable was 
 broken by fits of hot-headed rebellion against the 
 decorum of the community, which evidently regarded 
 this bitter dispensation as his just due, yet he never 
 gave up hope until pale Martha Didymus told him 
 to go his way. Then indeed he departed upon his 
 solitary road, and an evil one it seemed to village 
 eyes. 
 
 Poor Martha! Duty may excite one to an excess 
 of courage, but it cannot sustain. She " peaked and 
 pined," and the end of it for her was that she was 
 overtaken by sleep before her time, and went to 
 take her place in the silent congregation. 
 
 " Ask Mr. Didymus about Len," said Vashti to 
 her father, catching his sleeve, and detaining him for 
 a moment, as he was about to lead the horses into 
 the sheds. 
 
 " Yes — if I have a chance," said her father, and 
 he raised his voice to speak to young Ranger. 
 
 " Well, Ab, what hev' you been doin' to-day } " 
 
 " Hoeing," said the shock-headed young chap 
 laconically. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Lansing approvingly, " it's about 
 all one can do for the roots in weather like this, 
 and a good thing it is too. You know the old sayin*, 
 ' You can draw more water with a hoe ftian with a 
 
 l! I 
 
i; 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 59 
 
 That'i 
 
 'specially when the wells 
 
 bucket* 
 all dry." 
 
 The two moved away together and Vashti turned 
 to the others. Temperance had left to talk to Sue 
 Winder, one of her great cronies. Lanty had joined 
 Mabella and Sidney. 
 
 " I'm glad to see you here, Lanty." 
 
 The full diapason of Vashti's voice made the little 
 phrase beautiful. It seemed to Sidney she was like 
 some heavenly hostess bidding wanderers welcome 
 to holy places. 
 
 " You have heard of poor Len ? " 
 
 " Yes, ill news flies fast," he said. His brows were 
 knit by honest pain ; and regret, which manlike he 
 strove to hide, made his eyes sombre. 
 
 " Are they bringing him home ? " 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Simpson left for Boston by the six 
 o'clock train from Brixton." 
 
 Despite himself Lanty's lips quivered. Mabella 
 ventured in th© dusk to touch his hand comfortingly. 
 Her intuitional tenderness was revealed in the simple 
 gesture. He looked at her, unveiling the sadness of 
 his soul to her eyes, and in her answering look he 
 saw comprehension and consolation. As if by one 
 impulse their eyes sought the comer where the 
 slender white obelisk marked the grave of Martha ; 
 and having singled it out, where it stood like an 
 ominous finger-post on love's road, they once again 
 steadfastly regarded each other, each one saying in 
 
VM 
 
 60 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 1 
 
 the heart, " Till death." And another thought came 
 to each. They mourned for Len, but she rejoiced. 
 Perhaps it was unorthodox, but these two, in the 
 first tenderness of their unspoken love, felt sure that 
 Len did not enter the dark unwelcomed. 
 
 Night was coming swiftly on — a " black-browed 
 night " indeed. The faces of the four young people 
 shone out palely from the environing gloom. 
 
 It was a solitary moment. Sidney sighed involun- 
 tarily. He felt a little lonely. Regretting almost 
 that he could claim no personal share in the grief 
 for Len. Vashti heard his sigh and looked at him. 
 By a capricious impulse she willed to make him 
 hers — to make him admire her. She smiled — and 
 let her smile die slowly. As a fitful flame glows for 
 a moment making a barren hearth bright ere it 
 gathers itself into the embers again, so this gentle 
 smile changed all the scene to Sidney's eyes. His 
 heart was already captive, but it was now weighted 
 with a heavier shackle. 
 
 / Vashti Lansing saw clearly the effect of her smile, 
 and a mad impulse came upon her to laugh aloud 
 in triumph. Every now and then she felt within 
 her the throes of an evil dominant will. Such a ^ '^ 
 as, planted in the breast of sovereigns, makes millii 
 
 It was time 
 
 weep. J 
 to enter. 
 
 began to jingk 
 
 Come to our pew, Lanty," whispered Mabella, 
 
 ;, 
 
 softly. 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 <t 
 
 V 
 
 " Yes, dear," he answered, and both blushed ; and 
 thus they entered the church. 
 
 Vashti walked slowly up the aisle, looking neither 
 to the right hand nor to the left, but seeing all. I low 
 white and calm she was, Sidney thought — but often 
 lava lies beneath the snow. 
 
 The deacons entered ; tall, spare men, stern-faced 
 and unsympathetic they seemed, yet in their hearts 
 they thought of the one of their number who was 
 journeying through the night to where his son lay 
 dead. White haired Mr, Didymus rose in his place 
 and stretched out his tremulous hands above his con- 
 gregation. 
 
 " Let us pray," he said, and after a solemn pause 
 addressed himself to the unseen. 
 
 The greater part of the congregation knelt, the 
 deacons stood erect, as did Lanty and Sidney, 
 although a thought crossed the mind of each of the 
 young men that it would have been sweet to kneel 
 beside the woman he loved. 
 
 As Sidney looked about him a great pity for these 
 people filled his heart ; the kneeling figures appealed 
 to him poignantly ; from his point of view they were 
 less like children gathered about a father, than serfs 
 bending beneath a yoke, which was none the less 
 heavy because it was the creation of their own ima- 
 gmation. The shoulders of the kneeling figures had 
 nvoluntaiily fallen into the pose of their daily toil ; 
 .here was the droop of the ploughman over his 
 
I 
 
 62 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 li 
 
 I 
 f'l 
 
 i* 
 
 plough ; of the tiller over the hoe ; of the carpenter 
 over his plane. It was as if, even in prayer, they 
 wrought at a hard furrow. And the women's 
 shoulders ! What woeful eloquence in these bent 
 forms bowed beneath the dual burden of motherhood 
 and toil. What patient endurance was manifest 
 beneath the uncouth lines of their alpaca and calico 
 dresses ! 
 
 From the shoulders his gaze fastened upon the 
 pairs of hands clasped upon the pew backs. Such 
 toil-worn hands. It seemed to him the fingers were 
 great in proportion to the palm, as if they wrought 
 always, and received never. Surely he was growing 
 morbid } And then all the latent pathos in the scene 
 gathered in his heart. All the dumb half unconscious 
 endurance about him pleaded to be made articulate ; 
 and as one with unbelieving heart may join in a 
 litany with fervent lips, so Sidney strove to second 
 each petition of the long prayer. 
 
 Old Mr. Didymus had long been a spiritual am- 
 bassador and he was not unskilled in diplomacy. 
 His prayer was a skilful and not inartistic mingling 
 of adoration, petition, compliment and thanks, adroitly 
 expressed in the words of the Sovereign he addressed, 
 or in phrases filched from His inspired ones. And 
 mid their burning sands, and under their blazing 
 skies, these Eastern followers had not failed to ap- 
 preciate the blessings of rain. 
 
 " O, Thou who in the wilderness did rain down 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 63 
 
 the corn of heaven, that Thy children might eat 
 and be filled ; Thou who brought streams out of the 
 rock and caused waters to run down like rivers that 
 their thirst might be quenched, and that they might 
 be preserved alive — Thou of whom it wa:: said of 
 old : ' Thou visitest the earth and waterest it ; Thou 
 greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is 
 full of water ; Thou waterest the ridges thereof 
 abundantly ; Thou settlest the furrows thereof ; Thou 
 makest it soft with showers ; Thou blessest the 
 springing thereof ; Thou crownest the year with Thy 
 goodness' — Hear us! We beseech Thee! Thou 
 causest it to rain on the earth where no man is — 
 on the wilderness wherein is no man — cause it also 
 to rain upon us. Thou causest it to rain alike upon 
 the just and the unjust, let us not hang midway 
 between Thine anger and Thy lo^fte. Remember Thy 
 promise to pour water upon him that is thirsty, and 
 floods upon the dry ground. Thou, O God! didst 
 once send ' a plentiful rain whereby Thou didst con- 
 firm Thine inheritance when it was weary ' ; deny us 
 not a like consolation, we faint beneath the hot frown 
 of Thine anger. Let Thy shadow comfort us ! As 
 the thirsty hart panteth for the waterbrooks, we long 
 for Thy blessing. Before man was upon the earth 
 Thou caused a mist to rise up from the earth and 
 watered the whole face of the earth ; continue Thy 
 mercy to us, who, sharing Adam's fall are yet 
 heirs to the Redemption. Slay not us in Thine 
 
)■ i: 
 
 64 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 anger, O Lord ! Behold, we are athirst ! Give Thou 
 us to drink. Are there any vanities of the Gentiles 
 that can cause rain? Or can the Heaven give 
 showers ? Art not Thou He — O Lord our God ? 
 Therefore we will wait upon Thee, for Thou hast 
 made all these things. When Elijah strove against 
 the sorcerers of Baal didst Thou not hear him .^ Like 
 unto him we are cast down before Thee. O grant 
 us our prayer! Show to us also the little cloud like 
 a man's hand that comforted the land of Ahab. 
 Grant that we, too, by faith shall hear * the sound 
 of abundance of rain ! ' " 
 
 He paused. There was a moment of tense silence. 
 " And Thine shall be the glory. Amen," he faltered 
 forth brokenly. He had no further words ; the ad- 
 vocate had pleaded for his cause. He waited the 
 voice of the judge. There followed a longer pause 
 fraught with the emotion of a great need. 
 
 Sidney's heart ached for these people ; a thousand 
 inarticulate pleas entered the wide gate of his sym- 
 pathies and demanded utterance at his lips. A sultry 
 breath entered the open window fraught with the 
 odour of parched earth and burnt-up grass. The 
 old priest and his three grey-haired elders, standing 
 amid the kneeling people, seemed to him like brave 
 standards ready to prop up a falling faith till its 
 ruin crushed them, willing sacrifices for the people ; 
 they were mute, but their very presence standing 
 thus was eloquent. Surely the God of their Fathers 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 65 
 
 would remember the children of these men who had 
 indeed " given up all and followed Him " out to the 
 western wilderness ? Long ago he had led forth His 
 people out of Egypt. They had murmured against 
 Him yet He had not left them to perish in their 
 sins; was the hand that had given water from the 
 rock and corn from Heaven empty now? 
 
 Long ago the great progressive miracle of Nature's 
 processes was inaugurated ; were the wheels of God's 
 machinery clogged ? 
 
 A shrill, trembling treble voice rose brokenly. For 
 a few ineloquent phrases it continued, and then died 
 away in sobs expressive of mortal need. It was Tom 
 Shinar's wife ; their farm was to be sold at mortgage 
 sale in the autumn. Mary Shinar had gone herself 
 to plead with the lawyer in Brixton through whom 
 the mortgage had been placed. Mary sat on the 
 edge of a chair in an agony of nervousness whilst 
 the perky clerk went in to state her business, and 
 the lawyer came out of his comfortable office and 
 told her they could stay on the farm "till the crop 
 was off the ground," he did not know the terrible 
 irony of his mercy. 
 
 In the light of ordinary day Tom Shinar and his 
 wife bore themselves as bravely as possible. Their 
 neighbours asked them questions as to next year's 
 crops to force them to betray what was a secret only 
 by courtesy. All the community knew the facts of 
 the case, and when Tom, forced into a corner by 
 
 5 
 
36 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 questions, said " he lowed he'd be movin' in fall," 
 every man knew what he meant. When Mary, in a like 
 position, said she " reckoned they wouldn't have to 
 bank up the cellar that winter, 'cos Tom was think- 
 ing of changing," the women said to each other after- 
 wards : " They're to be sold out in October — Mr. Ellis 
 is takin' the farm." 
 
 A mortgage sale is an ordinary enough event, and 
 the prospect of one not so unique as to require 
 dwelling on, but the sight of Mary Shinar's face 
 as she let it fall between her hands after her abor- 
 tive prayer, decided the fate of Sidney Martin. The 
 sound of a woman's trembling tones was the touch 
 which sent Sidney over the brink of the pit Fate 
 had prepared for him. The last echo of her shrill 
 voice died away — a sob filled the room of the wonted 
 Amen. The sob did not die till it filled Sidney 
 Martin with fatal inspiration ; again he agonized in 
 one of his childish visions when the Pain of the 
 world, exaggerated by his morbid mother's teachings, 
 seemed to environ him with the tortures of hell. His 
 supra-sensitive personal atmosphere was surcharged 
 with electrical currents of pain and need and want, 
 defeated effort, dead hope, fruitless '< attling, and these 
 discharging themselves in his bursting heart, filled 
 it with exquisite agony. His spirit battled against 
 his imagination and rushed to his lips. 
 
 He began to speak. No one in that congregation 
 could ever recall one word or phrase of Sidney 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 67 
 
 Martin's prayer for rain. As the "poor, poor dumb 
 mouths " of Caesar's wounds lent Antony eloquence, 
 so each line and careworn furrow upon the counte- 
 nances of those about him sped the speech of Sidney 
 Martin. 
 
 The women sobbed aloud, the men felt their heavy 
 souls lifted up. Lanty, whose ardent nature made 
 him peculiarly susceptible to the charm of eloquence, 
 fell upon his knees involuntarily. Mabella felt a 
 pleader powerful enough to win their cause was here 
 amid the stricken congregation, and Vashti felt once 
 again a wildly exultant throb of her own power which 
 had won such a man. 
 
 Yet — ^what manner of prayer was this ? Herein 
 were no phrasings from Holy Writ ; no humble 
 appeals to a pitying Christ, a personal God. 
 
 Sidney Martin, standing amid this congregation of \ 
 orthodox souls, was pouring forth what was neither \ 
 more nor less than a pantheistic invocation to the 
 Spirits of Nature, bidding them be beneficent ; i 
 addressing them with Shelleyan adoration, and with 
 as strong a sense of their existence as ever inspired 
 Shelley's immortal verse. And thus within these 
 walls wherein was preached naught but " Christ and 
 Him crucified," Sidney Martin addressed himself to 
 " Nature — all sufficing Power," and did it, moved by^ / 
 no irreverence, stimulated by the same needs which 
 had wrung forth the few pleading words from pious 
 Maiy Shinar. And whilst he, in bitterness of spirit,' 
 
 5* 
 

 
 II 
 
 5 ^ 
 
 i i 
 
 i 
 
 68 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
 V 
 
 realized afterwards the grotesquerie of his action, yet 
 
 those who were his hearers that night, and for many 
 
 times afterwards, never saw the great gulf fixed 
 
 between his adorations and their beliefs. And is it 
 
 not a hopeful and solemn thing to find the Faith in 
 
 a living Christ so closely allied to honest reverence for 
 
 nature ? To find Nature so close akin to God that 
 
 I their worshippers may interchange their petitions ? 
 
 It is very significant that — significant as all things are 
 
 of the immutable and sacred Brotherhood of Man. 
 
 ' Christian, Deist, Buddhist, Atheist, by whatsoever 
 
 '[ name we choose to call ourselves, we are all bound 
 
 ] together by the thongs of human needs and aspira- 
 
 \tions. 
 
 How vain to seek to deny that kinship. How futile 
 to strive to blot out the family resemblance betwixt 
 our prayers and theirs! 
 
 For malgre himself man prays always. His mere 
 existence is a prayer against the darkness and the 
 chaos of the void. 
 
 Sidney's voice rose thrillingly through the tense 
 silence. He had that God-like gift — natural elo- 
 quence, and under its spell his hearers forgot in part 
 their woes, and began to take heart of hope whilst 
 he plead with Mother Nature not to be a step-dame 
 to her sons, and besought the " beloved Brotherhood," 
 earth, air and ocean, to withdraw no portion of their 
 wonted bounty. 
 
 As his eloquence carried his listeners beyond their 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 69 
 
 fears, it bore himself beyond their ken, till suddenly 
 alight upon the highest pinnacle of thought, he paused 
 to look beyond — hoping to behold 
 
 " Yet purer peaks, touched with unearthlier fire, 
 In sudden prospect virginally new. 
 But on the lone last height he sighs, 'tis cold, 
 And clouds shut out the view." 
 
 Sidney saw but a misty void peopled with the 
 spectral shapes of his doubts, which gibbered 
 nebulously through the veil at him. Speech died 
 upon his lips. His voice, arrested midway in a 
 phrase, seemed still to ring in the listening ears. It 
 was as if one paused in an impassioned plea, to hear 
 the answer rendered ere the plea was finished. 
 
 And the answer came. 
 
 A long sighing flaw of wind swept about the 
 church, cool and sweet, and ere it died awaj^ rain 
 was falling. 
 
 "Amen," said every pair of lips in the church 
 save the pale, quivering lips of Sidney Martin. The 
 coincident arrival of the longed-for blessing added the 
 finishing touch to his nervousness. He rose from the 
 pew into which he had sunk for a moment and 
 swiftly passed down the aisle, hearing, ere he reached 
 the door, the first lines of the hymn of Hallelujah, 
 which went up from the grateful hearts behind him. 
 His whole being revolted against his recent action. 
 
 The rain beat down violently ; the parched earth 
 seemed to sigh audibly with delight, and within the 
 church all the voices vibrant with justified faith 
 
70 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 seemed to mock at his depression. He could not 
 explain his action to himself. What explanation then 
 was possible to these simple folk ? 
 
 Could he say to them — to Vashti — (he named her 
 name in his thoughts, determined not to spare him- 
 self). Could he say to Vashti, " I do not believe 
 in your God — nor in the man Christ Jesus, nor in 
 prayer. Yet I stood in the church and asked a bless- 
 ing. I defiled your fane with unbelieving feet. I do 
 not know why I did it"? It was weak that, cer- 
 tainly! He imagined the scorn in her clear eyes; 
 now eyes in which scorn is so readily imaginable are 
 not the best eyes — but he did not think that. What 
 was he to do? He had been weak. He must now 
 be strong in his weakness. 
 
 The church door opened, one and all emerged 
 upon the long verandah-like porch, and gathered 
 round him, shaking hands with him. 
 
 " The Spirit indeed filled you this night. Brother," 
 said white-haired Mr. Didymus. 
 
 " Yes — ^you wrestled powerfully," said Mr. Lansing. 
 
 " It done me good that prayer of your'n," said Tom 
 Shinar, and the words meant much. 
 
 "We have much to thank you for," said Vashti's 
 sweet tones, and for the first time he looked up, 
 and when he met her approving eyes, the garments 
 of his shame clung tighter to him. 
 
 Mabella gave him her hand a moment and looked 
 at him shyly. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 7« 
 
 Lanty stood a little aloof. He was a good young 
 chap with honest impulses and a wholesome life, but 
 he never felt quite at ease with parsons. Lanty 
 placed them on too high a pedestal, and after having 
 placed them there found it strained his neck to let 
 his gaze dwell on them. He had a very humble 
 estimate of his own capacity for religion. He was 
 reverent enough, but he had been known to smile 
 at the peculiarities of pious people, and had once or 
 twice been heard making derogatory comparison 
 betwixt precept and practice as illustrated in the lives 
 of certain r 'Stable church members. 
 
 " Well," said Temperance energetically to Sue 
 Winder. "Well! I'm sure I never so much as 
 'spicioned he had the gift of tongues! AftJer them 
 white pants! ! He talked real knowin' about the 
 fields and sich, but to home he don't seem to know 
 a mangel-wurzel from a beet, nor beets from carrits." 
 
 " There's no tellin'," said Sue, who was somewhat 
 of a mystic in her way. " P'raps 'twas The Power 
 give him knowledge and reason." 
 
 " Well — I don't know," said Temperance, " but if 
 he stands with that eavetrough a-runnin' onto him 
 much longer it'll give him rheumatics." 
 
 " Temp'rins is powerful worldly," said Sue regret- 
 fully to Mary Shinar as Temperance left her side 
 to warn Sidney. Her experienced eyes saw his 
 deathly pallor ; she deflected her course towards Mr. 
 Lansing where he stood among the worthies of the 
 
 
 !i^( 
 
u 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 "I* 
 
 I 
 
 
 congregation giving a rapid resumk of Sidney's his. 
 tory so far as he knew it. 
 
 Temperance was a privileged person. She broke 
 in upon the conclave with scant excuse. 
 
 " Mr. Martin is fair dead beat," she said without 
 preface. " He's got a look on his face for sickness. 
 He'd better be took home. Nat, will you fetch round 
 the demicrit ? " 
 
 Nat departed. Temperance strode over to Sidney. 
 
 " If you'd come in out of the rain you wouldn't 
 get wet," she said, as if she was speaking to a child ; 
 " we're goin' home direckly, and there's no good 
 running after rheumatics; they'll catch on to you 
 soon enough and stick in your bones worse nor 
 burrs in your hair." 
 
 Sidney moved to the back of the porch and leaned 
 wearily against the church. 
 
 " It seems to me he'll get middlin' wet driving 
 home anyhow," said Mr. Lansing. 
 
 " Do you think I came to a prayer-meeting for 
 rain without umbrellas ? " snorted Temperance. 
 " Them and the waterproofs is under the seats." 
 
 There was silence. 
 
 A demonstration of faith so profound was not 
 easily gotten over. 
 
 Graceless Lanty sniggered aloud. 
 
 The listeners felt themselves scandalized. 
 
 "Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Ranger, openly 
 shocked. 
 
 XV 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 73 
 
 " Did you bring your umbrell and your storm 
 hood ? " asked Temperance. 
 
 " No," snapped Mrs. Ranger, remembering her new 
 crape. 
 
 " That's a pity," said Temperance ' ^olly, " seeing 
 you've got your new bunnit on — ^when you knew what 
 we came here for." 
 
 In the parlance of the village, Temperance and 
 Mrs. Ranger " loved each other like rats and poison." 
 
 Nat arrived with the democrat — jubilant over " his 
 Temp'rins' " foresight. " That's what I call Faith," 
 he said, handing out the coverings. 
 
 " I'm glad he told us," whispered Lanty to Mabella 
 "if he hadn't-— I'd have thought 'twas your water- 
 proofs." 
 
 And Mabella, though she was a pious little soul, 
 could not help smiling rosily out of the waterproof 
 hood at her lover's wit, and what with the smile, and 
 the ends of her yellow hair poking out of the dark 
 hood, and Eer soft chin tilted up to permit of 
 fastening a stubborn button, Lanty had much to 
 do to abstain from sealing her his then and there 
 before all the congregation. 
 
 All was at length arranged, and Temperance went 
 off with her party dry beneath the umbrellas. The 
 rest of the congregation took their drenching in 
 good part. They were not going to complain of 
 rain in one while I 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 it ■ 
 
I ': 
 
 74 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1 i i 
 
 l!ri I 
 
 The next day dawned with pale rain-bleached skies 
 and fresh sweet odours of reanimated vegetation, 
 but it dawned heavily for Sidney Martin. During 
 the drive home from the church the evening before 
 they had alt been somewhat silent. 
 
 " Arte you studyin' for the ministry ? " old Mr. 
 Lansing had asked. 
 
 "No — oh no," said Sidney, flushing unseen in 
 the dark. 
 
 " It seems like you had a call," said old Lansing, 
 wishing he had not said quite so positively at the 
 church that his visitor was qualifying for the service 
 of God, and certainly from Mr. Lansing's point of 
 view he was justified in his assertion. 
 
 Young men in delicate health who could pray as 
 Sidney Martin had prayed seemed to be the real 
 ministerial material. 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to be the minister ? " asked 
 Vashti. 
 
 People in Dole usually employed the definite 
 article in referring to men* of the cloth. To the 
 
 il 
 
 I 
 
 :ll 
 
A DAUGHTER OI' WITCHES. 
 
 75 
 
 "a" 
 
 Dole mind it smacked of irreverence to say 
 minister, as if there were herds of them as there is 
 of common clay. 
 
 There was a soup(^on of surprise in Vashti's tones. 
 How quickly the acid of deception permeates the 
 fabric of thought! 
 
 " I have no call to the ministry," answered Sidney 
 — employing the slang of the cult glibly to please 
 the woman whom he loved. 
 
 " But if you felt you were called you would let 
 nothing stand in your way — would you ? " 
 
 " No," said Sidney, glad of an opportunity to say 
 an honest word frankly. " No." 
 
 There was little else said. When they came to 
 the cross-road Mr. Lansing halted and Nathan Peck 
 got out of the waggon to walk down the Brixton 
 road the quarter of a mile to where he lived with 
 his mother. 
 
 He stood a lank ungraceful shape in the gloom. 
 
 " Here, Nat," said Temperance, " take my 
 umbrell." 
 
 "Not by a jugful," he said. "Why, Temp'rins! 
 you'd be soaked clean through." 
 
 " Temperance can come under my umbrella," said 
 Mabella, divining the pleasure it would give Tem- 
 perance to yield up hers to Nathan. 
 
 " I've got my muffler on," said Nathan stoutly. 
 
 " Here ! " said Temperance, a trifle imperatively. 
 "Good-night, Nat" 
 
 1^1 
 
■^ 
 
 1 
 
 76 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 t 
 
 Tne bays pulling at the lieins started forward 
 and Nat was left with the umbrella. 
 
 " Would you care to offer a few words of thanks 
 for the vouchsafed blessing ? " asked Mr. Lansing, 
 with a laudable desire to make his saintly guest com- 
 fortable, entering the hor.se after putting the bays in 
 their stable. 
 
 " Blessing ! " echoed Temperance irascibly. " He's 
 had enough of blessings this night, I'm thinkin' ; 
 it's boneset tea he needs now." 
 
 " Woman ! " said Mr. Lansing. Vashti looked her 
 cold displeasure. The word and the look did not 
 disturb Temperance. 
 
 " Lend a hand, M'bella," said she ; " we'll go and 
 get them yarbs." 
 
 " Oh — thank you. Miss Tribbey," said Sidney, 
 feeling strangely comforted by this motherly old 
 xnaid's attentions. " But " 
 
 Temperance cut him short, looking at him with 
 grim kindness and heeding his protest not at all. 
 
 * Your face is as pale as buttermilk," she began. 
 " .^ow what you'll do is to go upstairs and go to 
 b(;d. Mind shut your window down, for rain after a 
 dj-ought i« te'-rihlc penetratin'. When this bone-set 
 tea has drawed Mr. Lansing 'ill bring it up to you." 
 
 Mabella was bustling about getting a lamp to go 
 to the garret for the herbs. 
 
 " You are very good," Sidney said to her as one 
 might praise a willing child. 
 
 ill 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 11 
 
 " Light heart makes hght foot," said Temperance 
 oracularly, Mabella smiled brightly and blushed. 
 
 Vashti standing with the dark folds of her cloak 
 slipping down about her superb figure, noted the 
 blush, and connecting it with the eagerness of 
 Mabella's aid to Temperance concluded that Mabella 
 was casting eyes upon Sidney. Vashti's eyes grew 
 deep and sombre. A pale smile curled her sculp- 
 tural lips ; such a smile as Mona Lisa wears in her 
 portraits. 
 
 Mabella's coquetries against her power! Bah! a 
 sneer flickered across her countenance, erasing ex- 
 pression from it as acid cleans metal of stain. But 
 she was shaken with silent rage at the mere idea. 
 She let her white lids fall over her full eyes for a 
 moment ; then crossed to where Sidney stood. She 
 alway seemed to move slowly, because of her long 
 gliding paces, which in reality bore her swiftly 
 forward. She looked into his eyes. " I am so sorry," 
 she said — her voice, always beautiful, sei'med to his 
 greedy ears more than exquisite now — 
 
 " I am oO sorry you are not well. You will go 
 upstairs, won't you, and take what Temperance 
 sends you ? You are not suffering ? " 
 
 Her wonderful eyes seemed wells of womanly 
 concern for him. They searched his as if eager to 
 be assured that there was no other ill troubling him 
 than was apparent. A happy tremor thrilled his 
 heart, 
 
78 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 E5i ' 
 
 \ I 
 
 " I shall be quite well, I hope, in the morning," 
 he said. " I have bad headaches sometimes. This 
 is the beginning of one I suppose." 
 
 He shivered with cold. 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, " you must go away at once. 
 I'm afraid you feel worse than you will admit. If 
 it was only your head I might help to cure it ; but 
 really you had better go — " she looked at him — 
 was it compellingly or pleadingly ? " Go," she half 
 whispered, with obvious entreaty in her eyes ; then 
 she veiled it with a smile of mock deprecation, as 
 if — his heart stood still with delight — as if she was 
 loathe to see him go — yet for his sake wished it. 
 Temperance and Mabella having been to the garret 
 where the herbs were hung to dry, re-entered the 
 kitchen in time to hear Vashti's good-night words. 
 
 " It's a dea^ easier," said Temperance, in the 
 course of a circumstantial account of the occurrence 
 later on. " It's a deal easier to say ' Go ' with a 
 dying-duck expression, turning up the whites of 
 your e\es, than to go yourself up them stairs and 
 that pesky ladder to the garret for yarbs." 
 
 Foflanately Sidney never knew of Temperance's 
 profane criticisms upon his goddess. 
 
 " Yes — I will go," he said to Vashti. He spoke 
 vaguely, as of one hardly awake to the realities about 
 him ; and indeed he was stunned by the glory that 
 suddenly had shone in upon him when her feigned 
 solicitude made his heart leap. 
 
 
 * 
 
A DAUGHTER 01- WlTCHEfj. 
 
 79 
 
 " Vou are very good " he said. 
 
 " Ah, no — " said Vashti simply, but her eyes were 
 eloquent. Girlish coquetries became subtle sorceries 
 as she employed them. 
 
 The boneset tea had been duly despatched, but 
 morning found him racked by an intolerable head- 
 ache, that acme of nervous pain of which only supra- 
 sensitive folk know. He half staggered as he 
 sought the porch. 
 
 Temperance came to him presently. 
 
 " How do you feel this mornin' ? " she asked. 
 
 He looked at her, his blood-shot eyes dizzy with 
 pain. 
 
 " I'm not over well," he said. " My head " 
 
 " I'll bring your breakfast here," said Temperance 
 and departed. He sat down upon the porch step 
 and leaned against the pillar, the same against which 
 Vashti had stood that night in the afterglow. The 
 thought was pleasant, but it was better to open his 
 eyes and see standing before him, strong and calm, 
 the Queen of his dreams. 
 
 " Don't rise," she said. " Is it your head 1 " 
 
 " Yes," he said, half closing his eyes again, for 
 her form seemed to be reeling across his vision 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What do you do for these headaches ? " asked 
 Va.shti. 
 
 " Oh, bromides and endurance." he said. 
 
 " Weil— wait till you breakfast and I'll try it I 
 
 I. 
 I 
 
 : 
 
■II 
 
 8o 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 11! 
 
 n ■; 
 
 can cure it," said Vashti. "Here is Temperance 
 coming." 
 
 Temperance and her tray arrived at the moment. 
 Temperance put it down on the step and went 
 down the sandy garden paths whilst he ate, pulling 
 up a weed there, straightening a flower here. 
 Mabella came out to the porch, or rather came and 
 stood in the wide doorway a moment. Mabella had 
 on her pink dress — at that time in the morning! 
 Vashti's eyes grew sombre for an instant ; she liked 
 battle, but not presumption, and surely if, from what- 
 ever motive, she chose to smile upon Sidney, it was 
 not for Mabella to oppose herself and her charms 
 to her will. 
 
 Temperance came back for the tray, which she 
 found untouched, save for the tea which Sidney 
 had drunk so eagerly. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Lansing ? " asked Sidney, as 
 Temperance stood holding the tray under one arm 
 with its edge resting upon her hip. " He will think 
 I am very lazy." 
 
 " He's gone over to Brixton to find out when The 
 Body will arrive," saic' Temperance. 
 
 Poor Len ! In life he had been " that Len 
 Simpson," and jot one of his neighbours would have 
 crossed the threshold to greet him, unless prompted 
 by that curiosity which leads us to pry into the mis- 
 deeds of others. Now he was a Body, and more than 
 one of the Dole people had left early like Mr. Lansing 
 

 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 8i 
 
 upon the odd chance of meeting his corpse at 
 Brixton. 
 
 Ah, poor, inconsistent humanity which fills dead 
 hands with flowers and denies eager palms one rose, 
 and doubtless these things must be. Yet we can 
 imagine that a higher race than we might well make 
 mock of our too severe judgments — our uncompre- 
 hending judgments, and our tardy tendernesses. 
 
 " You will make your passes for Mr. Martin, won't 
 /ou, Vashti ? " said Mabella, " and Temperance and I 
 will see that you are left quiet. Vashti is a witch, 
 you know," she continued to Sidney ; " she will 
 steal your headache with the tips of her fingers." 
 
 Temperance snorted and entered the house without 
 more ado. 
 
 Mabella nodded and smiled and followed her. 
 
 " I can't abear them passes and performances," 
 said Temperance to Mabella. " It gives me the 
 shivers. Vashti commenced on me onct when I 
 had neuralgia and I was asettin' there thinkin' when 
 I got better I'd make some new pillars out of the 
 f^eese feathers, and all at onct Vashti's eyes began 
 to grow bigger and bigger — just like a cat's. They're 
 cat gpreen Vashti's eyes is, call 'em what you like — 
 and her hands apassin' over my forrit was just like 
 cat's paws, afeelin' and afeelin' before it digs its 
 claws in. My! I expected every minnit to feel 'em 
 m my brains, and with it all I was that sleepy. No, 
 for me I'll stick to ciimfire and sich." 
 
82 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 f 
 
 " Who's a silly, Temperance ? " demanded Mabella, 
 
 " You ain't bridle-wise yet," said Temperance, using 
 her accustomed formula of rebuke. And Mabella 
 laughed aloud in defiance of reproof. The girl's 
 heart sang in her breast, for when Lanty helped her 
 into her water-proof the night before he had 
 whispered — 
 
 " At seven to-morrow night in Mullein meadow." 
 
 She had smiled consent. 
 
 Would this long day never pass? 
 
 Vashti and Sidney were thus left solitary upon 
 the shaded porch. 
 
 " Can you really cure headaches ? " he said. 
 
 " We will see," she answered. " But I think you 
 had better sit in that chair." He sat down in the 
 rocking-chair she indicated. It was very low. As 
 she knelt up the top step before it her head was 
 on a level W' '\ his. How beautiful she was, he 
 thouglit. How divine the strong white column of 
 her throat, exposed down to the little hollow which 
 the French call Love's bed, creased softly by the 
 rings of Venus' necklace. 
 
 " I wouldn't think much if I were you," she said, 
 " or at least, not of many things." 
 
 " I will thmk of you," he said, feeling venturesome 
 as an indulged child. 
 
 " Ah," she said ; " your cure will be quick," and 
 then bending gracefully forward she began making 
 simple strokes across his forehead, letting her finger- 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 H 
 
 tips touch lightly together between his eyebrows, 
 and drawing them softly, as if with a persuasive 
 sweep, to either side. There was much magnetism 
 in that splendid frame of hers, and much potency 
 in her will, and much subtle suggestion in those 
 caressing finger-tips. 
 
 " Close your eyes if the light wearies them," she 
 said softly, but he strove to keep them open to 
 catch glimpses of her regal face, between the passages 
 of the hands, so calm in the tensity of its expression. 
 After a little while his eyelids began to weigh heavily 
 upon his eyes. 
 
 The grey — or was it green ? — orbs watching him 
 flashed between the moving fingers like the sun 
 through bars of ivory. He still watched their gleam 
 intently ; seen fitfully thus their radiance grew 
 brighter, brighter, till it blasted vision. 
 
 " Close your eyes," he heard a voice say, as from 
 far, far away. 
 
 " You will be tired," he muttered, stirring, but his 
 eyes closed. His head fell back against the back 
 of the chair, and strong Vashti Lansing sank back 
 also, pale and trembling. 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, speaking numbly to herself — 
 " Oh ! how long it was. I thought he would never 
 sleep — I,' she paused and looked at the sleeping 
 man with pale wrath upon her face ; " to think he 
 should have resisted so — I " — she leaned back, worn 
 out, it seemed, and regarded Sidney with venomous, 
 
 6* 
 
84 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 half-closed eyes, and he slept, and sleeping, smiled 
 — for his last thoughts had been of her. 
 
 The time which had seemed so long to Vashti 
 had passed like the dream of a moment to him — 
 a dream in which her form had filled the stage of 
 his mind, yet not so completely as to exclude some 
 struggles of the entrapped intelligence against the 
 narcotic of her waving hands. The trained mind 
 by mere mechanical instinct had striven against the 
 encroaching numbness, but Sidney's volition had 
 been consciously passive, and the intelligence left 
 to struggle alone was tangled in the web of dreams. 
 Vashti sat listlessly upon the step for some time — 
 like a sleek, beautiful cat watching a mouse. Then 
 she rose and went within doors to perform her shave 
 of the household duties very languidly. 
 
 The three women dined alone at twelve o'clock, 
 for Mr. Lansing had not returned, and Sidney still 
 slept. After dinner Vashti disappeared, going to 
 her room and throwing herself heavily upon her old- 
 fashioned couch ; she also slept. 
 
 Active Temperance fell to her patchwork so soon 
 as her dinner dishes were done, sitting, a comfortable, 
 homely figure, in her calico dress and white apron. 
 Now pursing her lips as she pleated in the seams 
 firmly between her finger and thumb ; now relaxing 
 into grim smiles at her thoughts, but always doing 
 with all her might the task in hand. 
 
 Mabella essayed her crochet, tried to read, re- 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 85 
 
 arranged her hair till her arms ached from holding 
 them up, and found with all these employments the 
 afternoon insupportably long. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon Vashti, cool 
 and calm, descended the stairs and went out upon 
 the porch. As she crossed the threshold, Sidney, 
 lying still as she had left him hours before in the 
 low chair, opened is eyes and looked up into her 
 face. She returned the look — neither for a moment 
 spoke. A sudden deep hush seemed to have fallen 
 upon, about them. Had he awakened from his 
 dream, or had she entered it to make the dream 
 world real with her presence .? About them was all 
 the shadowy verddtre of trees and vines. Sidney 
 had forgotten where he was — all earthly circum- 
 stances faded before the great fact of her presence. 
 He was conscious only that he was Man, and that 
 Woman, glorified and like unto the gods for beauty, 
 stood before him. Were they then gods together ? 
 
 " Is your head better ? " she asked ; her full tones 
 did not jar upon the eloquent silence, but her words 
 reminded him that he was mortal. 
 
 " I had forgotten it," he said. " I must think 
 before I can tell." 
 
 She laughed — just one or two notes fluted forth, 
 but in their cadence was the soul of m isic. It was 
 as if mirth, self-wrought, bubbled up beneath the 
 dignity of this stately creature, as the living spring 
 laps against the marble basin which surrounds it; 
 
86 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 and as the tinkle of the spring has more in it than 
 melody, so Vashti Lansing's laughter was instinct 
 with more than amusement. There was in it the 
 thrill of triumph, the timbre of mockery, and the 
 subtlety of invitation. 
 
 " Then," she said, " we will take it for granted 
 that it is better. You are like father and the thistles 
 in his fingers. He often tells me how he has been 
 tormented by some thistle, and when I go to take 
 it out, he has to sea/ch the fingers of each hand 
 before he can find out where it is. He sometimes 
 cannot even tell which hand it's in." 
 
 " Well," said Sidney ; " I am like your father. I've 
 lost my head." 
 
 " But if it ached," said she ; " it was a happy loss." 
 
 " I hope it will be a happy loss," he said wistfully. 
 
 She smiled gently and let fall her eyelids ; no 
 flicker of colour touched her cheeks, nor was there 
 any suggestion of shyness in her countenance. Thus 
 a goddess might veil her eyes that her purposes 
 might not be read until such time as she willed to 
 reveal them. 
 
 Mabella heard voices upon the porch and came 
 flying out. 
 
 Sidney could not find it in his hectrt to be im- 
 patient w'th this bright-faced girl, whose heart was 
 so full of tenderness to all living things that little 
 loving syllables crept into her daily speech, and 
 " dear " dropped from her lips as gently and naturally 
 
 ^ 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 87 
 
 as the petals of a flower fall upon the grass, and as 
 the flower petals bri{]jhten for a little the weed at 
 the flower's foot, so Mabella's sweet ways gladdened 
 the hearts of those about her. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Martin," she said, " so you are awake ! 
 Was I a true prophet? Yes — I'm sure of it! 
 Vashti's finger-tips did steal the ache, didn't they ? 
 They're too clever to be safe with one's purse. But 
 see — have you had anything to eat ? No ? Why, 
 Vashti," in tones of quick concern, • " he must be 
 faint for want of something to eat." She was gone 
 in a moment. With Mabella to know a want was 
 to endeavour to supply it. Ere there was time for 
 further speech between Sidney and Vashti, Temper- 
 ance had come out. Her shrewd, kindly face 
 banished the last shreds of his dreams. The pearl 
 portal closed upon the fair imageries of his imagina- 
 tion and he awoke, and with his first really waking 
 thought the events of the night before ranged them- 
 selves before his mental vision. As he lay awake 
 in the night he had decided that come what may 
 he must put on a bold front before the awkward 
 situation he had created for himself. But if the 
 courage which springs from conscious righteousness 
 is cumulative, the courage which is evolved from 
 the necessities of a false position is self-disintegrating. 
 Sidney felt bitterly that he feared the face of his 
 fellows. 
 
 " Eat something," said Temperance, urging the 
 
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 88 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 bread and milk upon him; "eat something. When 
 I was took with the M'lary I never shook it off a 
 bit till I begun to eat. It's them citified messes that 
 has spoiled yer stummick. Picks of this and dabs of 
 that, and not knowin' even if it's home-fed pork, 
 or pork that's made its livin' rootin* in snake pastures, 
 that you're eatin'. My soul! It goes agin me to 
 think of it ; but there, what kin ye expect from people 
 that eats their dinners as I've heard tell at six 
 o'clock at night ^ " 
 
 Sidney ate his portion humbly whilst Temperance 
 harangued him. He looked up at her, smiling in 
 a way which transfigured his grave, thin face. 
 
 "I'm a bothiir to you, am I not, Miss Tribbey? 
 But it's my bringing up that's responsible for my 
 sins, I assure you. My intentions are good, and I'm 
 sure between your cooking and your kindness I 
 shall be a proverb for fatness before I go away." 
 
 " Soft words butter no parsnips," said Temperance 
 with affected indifference. " Fair words won't fill a 
 flour-barrel, nor talking do you as much good as 
 eatin*," with which she marched off greatly delighted. 
 Mabella seeing a chance to tease her, followed: 
 
 " If you make eyes at Mr. Martin like that I'll tell 
 Nathan Peck," Sidney heard her say. 
 
 "My soul! Mabella, you've no sense, but, mind 
 you, it's true every word I said. I tell you I ain't 
 often in town, but when I am I eat their messes 
 with long teeth." 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 89 
 
 Sidney moved his camp from the porch to the 
 hammock which was suspended between two apple 
 trees in the comer of the garden. Mabella brought 
 out her sewing, and Vashti her netting, and Sidney 
 spent the remnant of the waning afternoon watching 
 the suave movements of Vashti's arm as, holding 
 her work with one foot, she sent her wooden mesh 
 dexterously into the loops of a hammock such as he 
 was lying in ; and at length the shadows lengthened 
 on the grass, and Temperance called that supper 
 was ready. 
 
 Mabella Lansing never forgot that repast. It 
 was the passover partaken of whilst she was girded 
 to go forth from girlhood to womanhood, from a 
 paradise of ignorance to the knowledge of good and 
 evil. The anticipation of a new love made these 
 time-tried ones doubly dear. She forgot to eat 
 and dwelt lingeringly upon the faces about her; 
 faces which had shone kindly upon her since she was 
 a little child. The time which had crept so slowly 
 on the dial all day long now seemed to hasten on, 
 as if to some longed-for hour which was to bring a 
 great new blessing in its span. 
 
 In retrospect of "the sweet years, the dear and 
 wished-for years," do we not all single out from 
 them one hour becrowned above all others ; one 
 hour in marking which the sands of memory's glass 
 run goldenly ? Amidst the dead sweetness of buried 
 hours is there not always one whose rose is amaran- 
 
90 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 !l 
 
 thine? One, which in the garlands of the past 
 retains ever the perfume of the living flower, shaming 
 the faint scent of dead delights? One hour in 
 which the wings of our spirits touched others and 
 both burst forth in flame ? And the chrism of this 
 hour was visible upon the brow of Mabella Lansing. 
 She was sealed as one worthy of initiation into its 
 fateful mysteries. How far away she seemed from 
 those about her ; their voices came to her faintly 
 as farewells across the widening strip of water which 
 parts the ship from shore. 
 
 " Did you find out about Len Simpson's funeral ? " 
 asked Vashti of her father. 
 
 "Yes — the buryin's to-morrow, and it seems Len 
 was terrible well thought of amongst the play-actin' 
 folk, and they've sent up a hull load of flowers along 
 with the body, and there's a depitation comin' to- 
 morrow to the buryin' and they say there's con- 
 siderable money comin' to Len and of course his 
 father'll get it. I don't know if he'll buy that spring 
 medder of Mr, Ellis, or if he'll pay the mortgage 
 on the old place, but anyhow it'll be a big lift to him." 
 " Why, is it as much as that ? " asked Vashti 
 incredulously. 
 
 " So they say," said her father. 
 " Lands sake ! " said Temperance. " It seems like 
 blood-money to me. Pore Len ! " 
 
 As they all rose from the table, Mabella managed 
 to slip away to her room, to spend the few moments 
 
 
 it 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 91 
 
 before her tryst, alone. She looked cut of her 
 window and saw afar amid the boulders of Mullein 
 meadow a form she knew, and the next moment 
 she fled breathlessly from the front porch. A more 
 sophisticated woman would have waited till the 
 trysting time had come, but Mabella's heart was 
 her helm in those days and she followed its guiding 
 blindly, and it turned towards Lanty waiting there 
 for her. For her. O ! the intoxication of the 
 thought ! O ! the gladness of the earth ! the delight 
 of feeling life pulsing through young veins! 
 
 And thus it was that as Lanty paced back and 
 forth in patient impatience within a little space 
 hedged in by great boulders, his heart suddenly 
 thrilled within him as the needle trembles towards 
 the unseen magnet ; he looked up at the evening 
 sky as one might look upon whom the spirit was 
 descending, and then, turning instinctively, he saw 
 a shy figure standing between two great boulders. 
 He cast his hat to the ground and went towards her, 
 bare browed, and, holding out his arms, uttered a 
 sound of delight. Was it a prayer — a name, or a 
 plea .'* And with a little happy, frightened cry of 
 " Lansing, Lansing," Mabella fled to liim. Nestling 
 close to his throbbing heart, close indeed, as if she 
 was fain to hide even from these tender eyes, which, 
 dimmed with great joy, looked upon her so worship- 
 pingly. There are certain greetings and farewells 
 which may not be writ out in words, and these un- 
 
9« 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 translatable messages winged their way from heart 
 to heart between these two. 
 
 The grey heaven bent above them as if in bene- 
 diction. The stern outlines of the old boulders 
 faded into the dusk which seemed to enwrap them 
 as if eager to mitigate their severity. The soft 
 gjreys of the barren landscape, the tender paleness 
 of the sky, seemed to hold the two lovers in a mystic 
 embrace, ^isolating them in the radiance of their 
 own love, even as the circumstances of a United 
 Destiny were to hedge these two for ever from the 
 world. There were jagged stones hidden by the 
 tender mists of twilight, and bitter herbs and thistles 
 grew unseen about them, but to their eyes the barren 
 reaches of Mullein meadow blossomed like a rose. 
 Doubtless, they two, like all we mortals, would some 
 day "fall upon the thorns of life and bleed, but 
 together surely no terror would overcome them nor 
 any despair make its home in their hearts, so long 
 as across the chasms in the life-road they could 
 touch each other's hands. The first rapture of their 
 meeting vanished, as a bird soaring in the blue dis- 
 appears from vision, which yet does not feel a 
 sense of loss, because though the eye sees not the 
 heart knows that afar in the empyrean the trium- 
 phant wings still beat 
 
 " Mabella — my Mabella. You love me } " 
 " Oh, so much, so very much — and, Lanty, you 
 like me?" 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 93 
 
 " Like ! Oh, Mabella, since that day in the hay- 
 field when I kneiv, you can't imagine what life has 
 seemed to me since then — surely it is ages ago, and 
 how I have thought of you! Dear, I can't say all 
 I mean — but you know — Mabella, yon know, don't 
 you, sweetheart?" 
 
 " I hope so," she said sweetly, and then, with the 
 inconsequence of women, her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Lanty — you — you will be good to me ? " 
 
 " May God treat me as I treat you," said Lanty 
 solemnly. 
 
 There was a pause, such a pause as when the 
 sacramental wine dies upon the palate. 
 
 " I did not doubt you, Lanty." 
 
 " No, sweet one," he said ; " I understand all 
 about it. I will be good to you and take care of 
 you, and, oh, my own dear girl, I am so happy." 
 
 "And I " 
 
 And then lighter talk possessed them, and they 
 recounted incidents, which, with the happy egotism 
 of lovers, they chose to consider as important events 
 because they had a special significance for them. 
 The path to love is like a sea voyage. There are 
 always more remarkable occurrences and extraor- 
 dinary coincidences in one's own experience than in 
 anyone else's, and these two were no exception to 
 the rule. They discovered that upon several notable 
 occasions they had been thinking exactly the same 
 thing, and upon other occasions each had known 
 
 ; \ 
 
 -IS 
 
 It. 
 
94 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 \*i 
 
 \^ 
 
 exactly what the other was going to say before the 
 words were uttered, and they talked on until they 
 were environed in an atmosphere of wonder and 
 awe, and looked upon each other startk^d by the 
 recognition of their superiority, and the world was 
 but a little place compared with the vastness of each 
 other's eyes. 
 
 The dusk crept closer to them, the wings of night 
 waved nearer and nearer, and Mabella, resting in 
 Lanty's arms, sought his eyes for all light, and as 
 they stood thus two other pairs of eyes watched 
 them. 
 
 When Mabella had disappeared so promptly after 
 supper, suspicion had stirred uneasily in Vashti's 
 heart. 
 
 " Do you want me to help with the dishes .•' " she 
 asked Temperance ; " Mabella seems to have gotten 
 herself out of sight." 
 
 " No," said Temperance, who was expecting 
 Nathan, " I'll finish up that handful of dishes and 
 everything else there is to do in half an hour." 
 
 Vashti betook herself to the garden expecting to 
 find Mabella and Sidney there. 
 
 Both were gone. 
 
 Sidney, so soon as Vashti's personal influence was 
 disturbed by the presence of others, fell again into 
 a chaos of self-communings, and the devil which 
 lurked there drove him forth into the wilderness ; 
 walking with the hopeless desire of escaping from 
 
 
A DAUGIITER OF WITCHES. 
 
 95 
 
 himself he, ere long, found he was amid the barren- 
 ness of Mullein meadow. He wandered up and 
 down amid its grotesque boulders till suddenly there 
 came to him a sense of trespass. 
 
 " Put off thy shoes from off thy feet for the place 
 whereon thou standest is holy ground," his intuitions 
 whispered to him. He raised his eyes — looked out 
 from his own heart and saw Lanty with Mabella 
 within his arms, her eyes raised to his radiant 
 with the ineffable trust of first love. Sidney 
 stood spellbound, his heart aching within him. 
 How sorely he envied the title-deeds to this 
 enchanted country they had found, and possessed 
 by divine right. Surely that meek man Moses 
 endured sore agony as, foot-weary after long 
 wandering, he looked upon the promised land, 
 and looked only. It is indeed bitter to look at 
 happiness through another man's eyes. 
 
 Sidney lingered some little time, till of their sacred 
 talk one syllable came to him clearly ; then he 
 realized the sacrilege of listening, and departed ; 
 but surely the sky was very dark towards which he 
 turned. Yet as he searched the sombre clouds 
 before him the needle-like rays of a tiny star shone 
 out environed by the darkness, and Sidney lighted 
 a little lamp of hope at its beam. 
 
 When Vashti found the garden empty as last 
 year's nests she never paused, but turning fled up 
 to the little garret cupola whose windowed sides 
 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 gave a view for a long distance in every direction, 
 and hardly had she climbed to this eyrie before she 
 saw two figures in Mullein meadow. 
 
 That was enough. 
 
 Vashti did not wait to study the picture in detail. 
 Gathering her skirts in her hand she sped down the 
 stairs through the garden and down the road like 
 a whirlwind. Her thwarted will shook her whole 
 being as a birch trembles in the breeze. Mabclla 
 had dared! When she had smiled upon him! As 
 Vashti ran down the road she promised herself that 
 she would give both Sidney and Mabella a lesson, 
 Mabella would be presuming to Lanty next! So 
 Vashti soliloquised within her angry soul as she 
 climbed the stone fence of Mullein meadow and crept 
 noiselessly towards where she expected to find 
 Mabella and Sidney. She advanced stealthily, paying 
 all heed to caution, and after duly ensconcing herself 
 behind a boulder which she knew commanded a view 
 of the little hollow she looked — and saw .... and 
 controlled herself sufficiently not to scream aloud in 
 rage ; but vitriolic anger seethed within her heart, 
 and for the time denied outlet, burned and cankered 
 and tortured the breast which contained it. The 
 first desire of her dominant nature w^s to fling herself 
 before them in a wild accession of rage, and open 
 upon them the floodgates of speech, but Vashti 
 Lansing was not without a heritage of self-controL 
 Long ago when her ancestress had been on trial for 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 97 
 
 witchery, cruel persuasion had been used to make 
 her speak — in vain. The torment of the modem 
 Vashti was greater and keener, inasmuch as it came 
 from within ; alas ! we are told, it is that which 
 dehleth ; every proud drop of blood in Vashti's veins 
 urged her to mocking speech ; beneath the iron 
 curb of her will she was mute, but the victory cost 
 dear. So as Lilith, the snake-wife of Adam, may 
 have lain in the shadows of Paradise watching the 
 happiness of God-given Eve, Vashti Lansing stayed 
 and watched sombrely, ominously, the joy of these 
 two, and cursed them, vowing them evil, and 
 promising the devil within her the glut of a full 
 revenge — revenge for what? 
 
 Lanty had never given her cause to think he 
 loved her, and Mabella had only veiled her love 
 with shyness, not hidden it with guile — but — Vashti 
 Lansing was supremely illogical. They had trans- 
 gressed the unwritten statutes of her will. Did not 
 that suffice to make them sinners above all others? — 
 besides, like the poison which festers in the already 
 wide wound, she realized in those moments of 
 supreme mental activity that she loved Lanty, as 
 women such as she love men, tigerishly, selfishly — 
 Ah! they should suffer even as she suffered! She 
 dropped her face in her hands, enduring the mortal 
 agony of her baulked will, her misplaced, evil love, 
 her bruised self-confidence, and shattering rage. 
 And when she raised her head once more the scene 
 
 7 
 
 l«ii 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 had grown dark, the grassy stage whereon two 
 mortals had lately mimed it in the guise of gods 
 was empty, and she was alone. 
 
 She rose slowly to her feet wringing her hands 
 in mute wrath. She looked around at the dreary 
 field wherein she had endured such agony. Oh, that 
 some yet more bitter blight than barrenness might 
 fall upon it — some pest of noxious plants, some 
 plague of poisonous serpents; oh, that she knew a 
 curse potent enough to blast the grass upon which 
 they had stood! But nature sanctifies herself; our 
 curses are useless against her righteousness and rattle 
 back upon our own heads like peas cast against a 
 breast-plate of steel 
 
 She entered the house calmly as was her wont. 
 Within her heart was a Hades of rage; upon her 
 brow the glamoured eyes of Sidney Martin saw the 
 spectral gleam of the star of promise. 
 
99 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I 
 
 Sally, the small bondmaiden of Mrs. Didymus, 
 stood at the garden gate of the parsonage. 
 
 No smoke curled up from the parsonage chimney, 
 for the kitchen fire was out, Sally being much too 
 occupied with other affairs to attend to her work 
 that day. Work, in Sally's estimation, was the one 
 superfluous thing in the world, and that she should be 
 harassed with sweeping, and tormented with dish- 
 washing, seemed to her an extraordinary and unjust 
 dispensation. Sally had passed the first twelve years 
 of her life in the slums, and her unregenerate soul 
 yearned to return to the delights of dirt and idleness. 
 
 "Wouldn't I just love t' go back t' P'ueberry 
 Alley ! " she said to Mrs. Didymus. " Wouldn't I 
 just! My! I'd preach t' 'em!" 
 
 Mrs. Didymus' regret over Sally's first aspiration 
 was quite lost sight of in her delight at the latter 
 idea. She thought of "the little maid of Samaria," 
 and smiled benignly upon Sally. 
 
 " That is well said," she answered ; " some day, 
 perhaps, you may cairy the tidings. Little children 
 
 7* 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 'V. ^ 
 
 m 
 
lOO 
 
 A D AUGHT Eh OF WITCHES. 
 
 Ill 
 
 have before now worked miracles. But over-con- 
 fidence is a dangerous thing. You must not be too 
 hasty, Sally ; do you feel prepared ? " 
 
 " Do I } Don't I jest } Sakes, I could tell 'em more 
 about Hellfire and Damnation than ever they've heard 
 of in all their boiti days. Do I feel prepared? 
 Ruther! I'd just like old Lank Smith t' step up t' 
 me, and begin aswearin', I'd let him hear a word 
 or two that 'd astonish him. He thinks he can 
 swear 1 " 
 
 " Sally," said poor gentle Mrs. Didymus, hardly 
 able to believe her ears, " Sally ! Never let me hear 
 you talk so agaia The gospel is a Gospel of 
 Peace." 
 
 "Gorspel o' Peace," said Sally, looking at Mrs. 
 Didymus pityingly, " Gorspel o' Peace ! Laws, mum, 
 you are green! What chance d'ye think a Gorspel 
 o' Peace 'ud have in Blueberry Alley.? It's night 
 sticks they needs there. Why, when I was a kid " 
 (Sally had turned thirteen, but talked as if she was 
 fifty) " there was missionars out o' count came to 
 Blueberry Alley, but they mostly left a sight quicker 
 than they came. There was a young priest came 
 there, though, and the first day he went through the 
 Alley the boys started t' have fun with him. 
 Scrappin' Johnstone picked up a handful of dirt and 
 hit him in the ear with it, and the priest got very 
 pale, and he sez, ' It sez in the Scripter t' turn the 
 other cheek t' the smitei,' and with that he turned 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 lOI 
 
 f 
 
 hisself round, and Scrappin' Johnstone, thinking he 
 had got a snap, let him have some soft mud on the 
 other side. The whole Alley was on hand by that 
 time. I was there. I mind I had a row myself a 
 minnet after; but, anyhow, after Johnstone throwed 
 the second handful he stood grinning in the priest's 
 face, and the priest he got sickly white, and sez very 
 quiet like, ' the Scripter sez t' turn the other cheek 
 t' the smiter, and I've done that,' sez he, ' but,' sez 
 he, ' it don't say nothin' as to what you're t' do after 
 that,' and with that he pitched into Scrappin' John- 
 stone. He batted him over the head, and clipped 
 him on the jaw, and biffed him back of the ear, and 
 knocked him down, and stood him up and knocked 
 him down again, then he laid him in the gutter, and 
 stood over him, and told him he should behave 
 hisself more gentle t' folks, and that fightin' was a 
 sin, and that he shouldn't take advantage of strangers, 
 and then he gave Johnstone and the Alley an invite 
 t' come round and hear him preach in the chapel. 
 The whole Alley's Catholic now. Gorspel o' Peace! 
 That ain't the sort o' pursuasion Blueberry Alley 
 needs." 
 
 Mrs. Didymus groaned in spirit, and held her peace, 
 absolutely afraid of Sally's reminiscences. Sally and 
 her ways were a terrible trial to the parsonage house- 
 hold, but good Mrs. Didymus could not contemplate 
 the idea of permitting Sally to return to such an 
 evil place as Blueberry Alley. 
 
 1 
 
 I ! 
 
I03 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 m 
 
 Sally was not well regarded in Dole, at least by 
 the elect. 
 
 " One man can take a horse to the water, but 
 twenty can't make him drink," was a saying fre- 
 quently applied to Sally. This, being interpreted, 
 meant that Mrs. Didymus could bring Sally to church, 
 but that her authority, reinforced by the Dole frowns 
 in the aggregate, could not make her behave herself 
 whilst there. 
 
 " Sally," Mrs. Didymus would say, striving to 
 temper severity with persuasive gentleness, " Sally! 
 why do you behave so } " 
 
 " I dunno, mum," Sally would reply reflectively. 
 
 " But why don't you try to do better .-' Mrs. 
 Ranger was terribly shocked by you to-day; she 
 never took her eyes off our pew. What were you 
 doing?" 
 
 " Nuthin* ; she stared at me, so I stared at her, 
 and now and then I'd cross my eyes at her for 
 variety. Laws! I had the greatest mind in the world 
 t' get up and turn round so's she could see my back. 
 She seemed anxious t' look clean through me. Mrs. 
 Ranger! Who's she I'd like t' know? I'd rather 
 be a door-keeper in thy house, than eat fresh dough- 
 nuts with Mrs. Ranger," concluded Sally, piously loyal. 
 
 " Sally," said Mrs. Didymus, forgetting the main 
 issue in the magnitude of the new offence, " that 
 sounds terribly profane. I know you don't mean to 
 be so, but don't use Scripture words like that." 
 
\'\ 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 103 
 
 " You're tired, mum, go and lie down, and I'll cover 
 you up," said Sally, imperturbably. 
 
 " But, Sally, I'm very serious about this." 
 
 " Yes, I know, mum. Your head's real bad, ain't 
 it? Lie down and I'll make you a cup of tea. 
 Would you like a hot soapstone to your feet ? " 
 
 Mrs. Didymus desired Sally's sanctification — she 
 was offered hot soapstone for her feet. 
 
 Sally's assumption that rebuke sprang from illness 
 was a very baffling thing to contend with, and Mrs. 
 Didymus usually retired from the discussion beaten, 
 to torment herself by wondering miserably if she 
 was doing her duty by Sally. 
 
 If that worthy was not high in the estimation of 
 the elders in Dole, she at least reigned supreme over 
 the children. The bad ones she fought with and 
 overcame, and the good ones she demoralized. 
 
 When Ted Ranger endeavoured to amuse himself 
 by pulling Sally's tow-coloured hair, he received such 
 a scratching that he never forgot it, nor did the vil- 
 lage for some time to come, for he bore Sally's sign- 
 manual upon his cheeks for weeks. When Mary 
 Shinar's fifteen-year-old , brother heard of this, and 
 deigned to consider Sally a foe worthy of his 
 prowess, the whole school gathered to watch the 
 combat which ensued promptly when Jed Shinar 
 called her a " Charity Orphan." 
 
 Sally precipitated herself upon him with such fury 
 that he nearly fled from the first onslaught, and was 
 
 ■11 
 
 ii 
 

 104 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 extremely glad when the appearance of Mr. Didymus 
 put a stop to the proceedings. 
 
 Jed's nose was bleeding, and mentally he was con- 
 siderably flustered. Sally's hair was on end and her 
 clothes were torn, but her self-possession was intact 
 
 She retreated, led by the scandalized Mr. Didymus, 
 but her fighting blood was up, and she called out 
 opprobrious epithets to Jed till she was out of hear- 
 ing — compliments which Jed's inherent and cultivated 
 respect for the preacher forbade his returning in kind. 
 
 " He called me a Charity Orphing," she vouchsafed 
 in explanation, when haled before Mrs. Didymus. 
 " Now I know I'm a orphing, and I'm glad of it. 
 Fathers and motherses mostly whacks the life out of 
 you. But I won't have no freckle-faced kid calling 
 me a ' Charity Orphing! ' Not if I'm well." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Didymus remembered the gruesome 
 stories of demoniac possession, and breathed more 
 freely when Sally left the room. 
 
 Upon the day of poor Len Simpson's funeral, 
 Sally swung in luxurious idleness on the parsonage 
 gate. Mrs. Didymus had gone early to the house 
 of mourning. 
 
 Sally's tow-coloured hair, which was kept cropped 
 to within five inches of her head, stood out like 
 quills upon the fretful porcupine. Ever since Sally 
 had seen a stray circus poster, with the picture of 
 the beautiful Albino lady, with her outstanding locks, 
 she had determined to arrange her own coiffure in 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 105 
 
 like manner, upon the first favourable opportunity. 
 So this morning she had rubbed her hair well with 
 yellow soap, and combed it straight out, with a result 
 which surpassed her anticipations. 
 
 About her waist there was a line of more or less 
 white material. This marked the hiatus between her 
 skirt and its bodice — a peculiarity of Sally's ensemble. 
 When she stooped over, this white strip widened, 
 giving one a horrible premonition that she was about 
 to break asunder. When she stood erect, it frilled 
 out around her like a misplaced ruff. Sally had 
 bandied words amiably with every one who passed 
 to the funeral, and when Sidney Martin almost stood 
 still in his astonishment at her appearance, she was 
 ready to g^eet him affably and volubly. 
 
 " Hello ! " she said. " You're the Boston chap that 
 prayed the rain down, aren't you ? " 
 
 Sidney coloured quickly. The sting of his thoughts 
 pressed home by the gamines impertinent speech. 
 
 " Oh, don't be bashful," said Sally ; " Mrs. Didy- 
 mus says it was a powerful effort! " She uttered the 
 last two words with impish precision 
 
 " And who are you .? " asked Sidney, feeling he 
 must carry the war into the other camp. 
 
 " Me — ^well, you ain't been long in Dole, or you'd 
 know me. I'm the maid of all works at the parson's." 
 Then she harked back to the old theme. " So you 
 really prayed in the church. My! You don't look 
 as if you used bad words. Say, I thought there was 
 
io6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 some acters comin' t' the funeral? That's what I 
 fixed myself up for. Say, how d'ye like my hair?" 
 Sidney, despite his sad thoughts, could not forbear 
 laughing as he replied : 
 
 " It's great, it's really great! " 
 
 '* So I thought myself," said Sally complacently ; 
 then she added confidentially, " It's great for style, 
 but 'taint much for comfort I wonder when the 
 acters '11 come. How d'ye s'pose they'll be dressed? 
 When I was a kid in Blueberry Alley, I once went 
 t' see Uncle Tom's Cabin. It was fine when Elizer 
 went across the ice. My! it did jiggle. If you had 
 been there, I s'pose you could have prayed it solid ? " 
 
 An intolerable pang, absurdly disproportionate to 
 its genesis, pierced Sidney's soul. His supra-sensi- 
 tive nature was keyed to its highest pitch. The 
 lightest touch upon the tense strings of his emotions 
 nigh rent his being. 
 
 He turned swiftly away from the grotesque little 
 figure, from the village street, from the house about 
 which the vehicles were gathered thickly. An open 
 road lay ready to his feet, and he took it, uncon^ 
 sdous of its direction. 
 
 " There ! " called Sally after him, " I've made you 
 mad and I didn't mean to a bit. That's always the 
 way with you religious people! You can't take a 
 joke. It's maybe good for the soul, but it's mighty 
 bad on the temper, religion is! And sakes! You 
 mustn't mind me. I can't help being cheeky, "tis 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 107 
 
 my nature to.' " She finishel with irate mockery, 
 as the distance widened between them, and he did 
 not reply. She was still looking after him, as he 
 reached the abrupt bend in the road, and there he 
 turned and bade her farewell in a gesture of unmis- 
 takable kindliness. 
 
 " Well ! " said Sally, arresting her nonchalant 
 swinging, with a jerk, " well, he ain't cross-grained, 
 that's serting — Laws, I wish 1 had a civil tongue, 
 but I hain't, so Sigh no more, my honey," with which 
 she broke into a darkey song. 
 
 Sidney Martin went blindly along the path which 
 chance had chosen for him, led by no other instinct 
 save the old pathetic one, which prompts wounded 
 creatures to crawl away to suffer unseen. Long ago, 
 the human was equally sensitive, equally reticent ; 
 we are so no longer, but lay bare the plague spots 
 on our soul with shameless candour. 
 
 But the nearer we are to God and Nature, the 
 more prone we are to flee away into the bosom 
 of the stillness, there to agonize alone ; and not in 
 vain do we put our trust in its tender sublimity. 
 Nature never did betray the heart that loved her. 
 
 When Sidney paused, arrested more by an in- 
 creasing sense of physical effort, which encroached 
 upon his bitter self-communings, than by any con- 
 scious volition, he found himself upon a little wooded 
 hill high above Dole. 
 
 Behind him stretched the whispering galleries of 
 
 m 
 
io8 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 \ 
 
 the wood, before him lay Dole, all its insignificance 
 revealed. 
 
 The bird in the air is but a speck to our eyes ; 
 but how completely the position is reversed when 
 from its airy altitude it deigns to stay its soaring 
 wings and look beneath! 
 
 The greatest cities upon earth become but incon- 
 sequent masses when viewed from above. To 
 Sidney's eyes, Dole looked scarce big enough to 
 hold a heart-ache, yet how keenly its atoms felt! 
 
 And how little it disturbed the quiet heavens, the 
 serene hills, all the suffering in the valley! This 
 thought which, in one less in love with nature, might 
 have unsealed fresh founts of bitterness, brought to 
 Sidney's soul a beneficent sense of ultimate peace 
 and strength. To him, one of Nature's own children, 
 the mother tongue was very eloquent. And even 
 in this hour of tense personal perplexity, he was able 
 to gather some measure of consolation from tliG 
 thought that in the end the jarring discordances of 
 individual life would be absorbed into the grand sym- 
 phonic song of Nature. 
 
 Nature is often impiously charged with unsympa- 
 thetic indifference, by those who would wish to see all 
 the heaven clouded over by their sorrow, a new deluge 
 upon the earth because of their tears. But Sidney 
 regarded his mother with reverent eyes, seeing in 
 her seeming impassivity to his pain but a manifes- 
 tation of the strenuous patience with which she waited 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 109 
 
 to be renewed, looking towards that day when once 
 again she would shine forth in all her pristine beauty, 
 as she had been when first she was the bride of the 
 sun. 
 
 " Scarred, and torn, and pierced, defiled, disfigured 
 and defaced by human hands, she yet smiles, and 
 waits." So he said to himself. Truly Nature is 
 justified of her children. 
 
 B'linging himself down upon the grass Sidney strove 
 to find some gateway of escape from the awkward- 
 ness of his position, and gradually the accumulated 
 nervousness of the last few days died away. 
 
 Nature's beautiful breast seemed to pulsate visibly 
 and audibly beneath him, and he grew calm. 
 
 And so he lay for some time, and then slowly 
 but imperatively other thoughts grew and gathered 
 in his heart. The great primitive Want — spontaneous 
 as it flamed up in the heart of the first man, resist- 
 less as its co-equal. Time, pinioned with the impulses 
 of ages, sped by the impetus of aeons — rose within 
 him, Knitting together all his strengths, all his weak- 
 nesses, into one desire. 
 
 He rose to his feet ; surely his very bodily stature 
 was greater } 
 
 He looked about upon the hills with brotherly 
 eyes ; deep in their bosoms baneath the grass the 
 old elemental fires still slept. They could sympathize 
 with him. 
 
 "Vashti — Vashti," he murmured. Out of his 
 
 ^3 
 
 
 !! 
 
110 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 wildered musings there had grown the dream of tlie 
 woman he loved, as the phcenix draws from out 
 the ashes. 
 
 He looked again upon the village. Slowly, slowly 
 winding along its ways, he saw a black stream of 
 people and slow-stepping horses — Len Simpson's last 
 journey through the familiar little streets. A chill 
 shuddered through Sidney's veins. He hnd looked 
 athwart the smiling champaigns of Love's country, 
 and sullying its fairness he saw the black lake of 
 mourners from which the sombre stream was flowing 
 to the churchyard — saw it slowly gather there as the 
 waters of a lake in a new basin. Here and there it 
 had left stains along its course, as incurious or 
 hurried units in the procession deflected towards their 
 homes without waiting for the final solemnities. 
 
 It wrung Sidney's heart to think she was there in 
 the gloom, whilst he, absorbed in selfish introspection, 
 was aloof in the glory of the Sun. He must go down 
 to her at once. 
 
 How little his generous soul dreamed that there 
 was painful symbolism in that descent of his! That 
 he poised upon the pinnacles, whilst she grovelled 
 in the dust of her own desires, he never imagined. 
 Indeed throughout all his life a merciful veil hung 
 between these two, and hid the real Vashti from his 
 loving eyes. 
 
 " Why didn't you come to the funeral } " asked 
 Vashti, as he came upon them at the church gate. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 iii 
 
 " I went for an- hour's quiet thought upon the hill." 
 he said. " I had need of it." 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to see the grave ? " she asked 
 
 The latest grave was always " the " grave in Dole. 
 
 "Yes," he said, half dreamily. She led the way 
 through the groups of men and women, who let the 
 words die upon their lips as their glances followed 
 the pair. There was little comment made, for Dole 
 people were not prone to commit themselves, but 
 they looked after Vashti and Sidney, and then into 
 each other's eyes, and resumed their interrupted con- 
 versations — feeling all had been said which required 
 to be said, when a young man and woman deliberately 
 singled themselves out from the others. Vashti 
 Lansing was most contemptuous of the trivial usages 
 of the people among whom she had been born and 
 bred ; but she estimated very correctly their weight 
 in the social system in which she had a place. And 
 in this respect she showed wisdom. 
 
 She threaded her way swiftly among the graves, 
 but in her abrupt avoidance of the mounds there 
 was more indication of impatience at the obstacles 
 presented than of tenderness towards the sleepers, 
 whose coverlets, though heaped so high, could not 
 keep them warm. 
 
 And presently they reached the corner, where, 
 like a wan finger pointing reproachfully at the sky, 
 shone the white obelisk above Martha Didymus' 
 brown head. ^ 
 
m : 
 
 TI* 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 The white shaft cast a slender shadow athwart a 
 new-made grave at its side. 
 
 The red earth of the newly heaped grave was 
 all but hidden with flowers, and a huge wreath had 
 been liung upon the white stone ; it had shpped 
 clown beneath the name of the dead girl, and hiding 
 the rest of the inscription showed the one word 
 " Martha " garlanded with flowers. Might one not 
 dream that in the meadows of Elysium the young 
 girl bedecked herself with fadeless flowers against 
 the coming of her lover? Beside the two graves 
 stood a group of clean-shaved, well-dressed men. 
 Accustomed to mime in all guises, real grief found 
 them awkward but sincere. 
 
 As Sidney and Vashti drew near they looked at 
 the pair with interest. Vashti's striking personality 
 had been singled out immediately from the throng 
 of villagers at the funeral, but the eyes, accustomed 
 to scan audiences, knew that Sidney had not been 
 present. 
 
 " A friend of his ? " asked a pale, handsome-faced 
 man, with iron grey hair. 
 
 " No — but I have heard his story," said Sidney, in 
 his soft, gentle voice. 
 
 " Well — he only asked for one thing — to be buried 
 besifle her," said the actor ; then looking at the 
 others he took off his hat, and in a voice, remem- 
 bered yet for its melody in two continents, he re- 
 peated the matchless dirge. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 113 
 
 " Fear no more tlie heat o' the sun, 
 Nor the furious winter rages." 
 
 Slowly, solemnly the beautiful words were uttered. 
 Their music mingled with the melody of his per- 
 fect voice, making them more than eloquent 
 
 " Fear not slander, censure rash, 
 Thou hast finished joy and moan." 
 
 The words seemed almost personal in their appli- 
 cation. The last word was voiced ; slowly the little 
 group turned away, following the man whose own 
 life was clouded by so terrible a tragedy. Sidney 
 stood bareheaded by Vashti, beside the two dead 
 lovers, thinking that Len Simpson had been indeed 
 honoured. To have Shakespeare's words syllabled 
 above his grave is surely to the actor what the salute 
 of the guns is to the soldier. 
 
 " Come," said Vashti softly. She was too politic 
 to stay longer. No wise woman scandalizes the com- 
 munity in which she dwells. They advanced towards 
 the others again, to find the tongues buzzing. There 
 was a commotion amid the groups of women, which 
 indicated that something out of the common order 
 had occurred, which was indeed the case. For 
 Mabella Lansing, unnoticed by the throng which was 
 watching the actors openly and Vashti and Sidney 
 furtively, had driven away with Lanty in his top 
 buggy. 
 
 Here was daring with a vengeance ! 
 
 w 
 
 '\ 
 
tu 
 
 A DAUGHTER OP WITCHES. 
 
 \y w 
 
 Vx V 
 
 %\\ 
 
 vt:^\ 
 
 Even Temperance Tribbey looked rather more grim 
 than usual as she stood with Vashti waiting for tlie 
 democrat to be brought round. 
 
 Fat Httle Mrs. Wither came gushing and bubbling 
 up to Temperance with an affectation of confidential 
 sympathy. 
 
 " My ! I hope Mr. Lansing won't be long bringing 
 the horses." 
 
 " Do you want a ride } " politely asked Miss 
 Tribbey, as if oblivious of the fact that Mrs. Wither 
 was that day driving her new buggfy for the first time, 
 and that her destination was diametrically opposed 
 to the way the Lansings would take. 
 
 "Want a ride! Sakes, no," said Mrs. Wither, 
 tossing her head. " But ain't you terrible anxious } 
 I kin feel for you." 
 
 " Anxious about what ? " asked Miss Tribbey coldly, 
 eyeing Mrs. Wither steadily. 
 
 Mrs. Wither faded back into the crowd, giggling 
 nervously. 
 
 " That Temperance Tribbey is the queerest 
 woman ! " she said to Mrs. Ranger as she passed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Vashti had been engaged upon the 
 other hand by Mrs. Smilie, who was large, motherly 
 looking, but dangerous. She had a way of envelop- 
 ing her victims in a conversational embrace, and 
 when she released them they were usually limp. Any 
 information they had possessed prior to the meeting 
 having been passed on to Mrs. Smilie. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 t»S 
 
 But Vashti had refused the combat ; having done 
 so, however, with such a sorrowfully resigned expres- 
 sion that Mrs. Smilie felt her to be void of offence, 
 and said afterwards : 
 
 " I was real sorry for Vashti Lansing. She was 
 real humiliated. To think Mabella 'ud act up that 
 way. Vashti looked really concerned ; she's got a 
 lot of sense, Vashti Lansing has! My heart jest 
 ached fer her." 
 
 Mrs. Smilie's heart was always aching for some- 
 body, but it did not tell much upon her general health. 
 
 As Nathan Peck, a sufficiently ridiculous figure in 
 his suit of black diagonal, with the muffler super- 
 imposed, helped Temperance into the democrat, he 
 squeezed her hand awkwardly, but avoided meeting 
 her eyes ; and she studiously looked over his head. 
 Thus they acknowledged their mutual regret over 
 Mabella's action. 
 
 Old Mr. Lansing was furious. 
 
 " Why couldn't you stay with your cousin ? " he 
 demanded of Vashti. " Going off buggy-riding from 
 a funeral! ! A fine speculation she's made of 
 herself." 
 
 " I haven't seen Mabella since we left home," said 
 Vashti softly, then she added deprecatingly : 
 
 "It's- Mabella's way." 
 
 " Then it's a d d bad way," said old Lansing, 
 
 and then nearly choked with rage to think he had 
 sworn in his Sunday black, which was so eloquent 
 
 8* 
 
 ^ 
 
ii6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 li!' 
 
 a reminder of his deaconship. He cut the fat 
 bays across the haunches in a way that surprised 
 them. 
 
 "Just wait till I see Lanty! And let her keep 
 out of my sight ! " 
 
 Sudden tears filled Vashti's eyes. She was sick 
 at the heart with jealous pain. Sidney caught the 
 glimmer of the tear, and felt a great throb of pity 
 for this stately creature, who, fixed in her rectitude 
 and digfnity, could yet weep over thoughtless 
 Mabella's little escapade. Needless to say Sidney 
 saw nothing very dreadful in the two lovers driving 
 home together ; indeed, from the glimpse he had had 
 of Lanty's face, he had no doubt but that after the 
 burial of his friend, Lanty was in sore need of 
 his sweetheart's consolation. 
 
 " Dear ! " said Vashti, " I do hope Mabella will go 
 straight home." 
 
 " I guess you hope more'n you expect, then," said 
 her father irately. 
 
 Vashti sighed. 
 
 Miss Tribbey sniflFed. The sniff expressed scorn, 
 but it was wrongly applied by at least two of her 
 hearers. 
 
 Miss Tribbey had no delusions about Vashti, and 
 she knew the girl was doing all she could to irritate 
 her father against her cousin. 
 
 " M'bella's young and foolish," said Temperance 
 grimly, but with apologetic intent in her voice 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 117 
 
 Vashti gave her a venomous side glance and sighed 
 again. 
 
 " It's the French grandmother coming out in her. 
 Gee! It takes ages to kill a taint, and then every 
 now and then it crops out," said old Lansing. 
 
 "Yes," said Vashti, "that's what Mrs. Smilie said. 
 ' It's the French in her,' she said." The moment 
 Vashti uttered this she bit her lips angrily, for a 
 swift change passed over her father's face, and she 
 knew she had made a mistake. 
 
 " She did, did she ? " roared old Lansing, purpling 
 with rage. " She did ? The idea of these mongrel 
 Smilies setting up their tongues about the Lansings. 
 Lord ! I mind well her father drove about the 
 country collecting ashes for a soap factory. She ain't 
 fit to black Mabella's shoes — ^that woman. What did 
 she do when she quarrelled with Mrs. Parr? Went 
 and threw kittens down her well, and they most all 
 died before they found out 'twas the water. She'll 
 
 talk about the Lansings, will she " 
 
 Old Lansing rarely began to gossip, but, when 
 once fairly started, the revelations he made were 
 rather startling. He continued until they reached 
 home. 
 
 Lanty and Mabella walked side by side up and 
 down the wide sandy path from the front door to 
 the garden gate. A look of deep and grave happi- 
 ness shone upon their faces ; both were looking at 
 their future from the same standpoint. There was a 
 
 
 % 
 
xi8 
 
 A DA WG If TEH OF WITCHES. 
 
 hint of timorousness upon the girl's face, an occa- 
 sional tremor of her sweet mouth, which told that 
 all terrors were not banished from the Unknown, into 
 whose realms the man at her side was to lead her; 
 but hallowing her face there was that divine trust 
 which transfigured the Maid Mary into the Madonna. 
 
 " I am going to speak to uncle now," said Lanty, 
 " and if he is pleased we will go for a drive after 
 supper to-night." 
 
 " Yes," she said ; then " Lanty." He looked at 
 her; she uttered no other word; her eyes slowly 
 filled with tears. 
 
 "Mabella, you trust me?" 
 
 " Absolutely," she said, and the tears, brimmed over 
 by a tender smile, glistened upon her cheeks. 
 
 " My angel," he said, and gave her a look of 
 adoration, then turned away, and went striding round 
 to the side of the house where the' others were 
 alighting from the democrat waggon. Old Lansing 
 looked up sharply as Lanty drew near. Something 
 in the young man's face held him silent an instant. 
 
 " I'm coming round to the barn with you," said 
 Lanty ; " I want to speak to you." 
 
 Sidney turning away heard the last words. He 
 could not forbear a look of sympathetic comprehen- 
 sion. Lanty flushed to the eyes, and from that 
 moment was a staunch and faithful ally to Sidney. 
 
A DAUGHTER Of WITCHES. 
 
 119 
 
 " She's up on the landing," said Temperance, as, 
 a few minutes after, Lanty, pale and eager, entered 
 the kitchen. Lanty had not spoken — nor did he now, 
 but he went up to Temperance, put his hand upon 
 her shoulder, and gave her a hearty kiss. Then he 
 turned and went up the back stairs three at a time. 
 Through the back hall to the great dusky silent 
 landing, and there a little figure waited trembling. 
 
 " What ^" she began, and then her quivering lips 
 
 were silent. 
 
 "It's all right," said Lanty, in a voice he hardly 
 recognised as his own. " You are mine — mine." 
 
 She laid her face against his breast and there was 
 silence between them. And whilst they supped of 
 Beatitude, proud Vashti Lansing, f>ale as old ivory, 
 was walking up and down the path their happy feet 
 had trodden such a short while before, tasting the very 
 bitterne.^.« of Marah, but compelling her proud lips to 
 tell Sidney Martin the story of their French ancestress. 
 
 Vashti Lansing had more than one heritage from 
 the murdered witch wife. The courage which had 
 kept the old Vashti calm and contemptuous before the 
 fagots, upheld the modern Vashti in her time of 
 torture. It is the fashion to sneer at grandfathers— 
 among those who have none. Nevertheless, the fact 
 remains that there are very few Esaus, although there 
 are always plenty of Jacobs, ready to buy birth- 
 rights if money will do it. 
 
 It is a good sign if a family guards its traditions 
 
t20 
 
 A DAUGHTER OP WITCHES, 
 
 m 1. 
 
 I 
 
 carefully. The types presented in these oral picture 
 galleries are sometimes not the best types, but they 
 at least shine forth distinctly from their background, 
 and be their light clear or lurid it is by these beacons 
 that we are guided back to the beginnings of charac- 
 ter. How much more eloquent and rich a language 
 is in its meaning to us when we know its toot words! 
 that we are guided back to the beginnings of charac- 
 ter when we can comprehend its genesis, and trace 
 the subtle transmutation of one characteristic into 
 another ; the change of physical courage into moral 
 strength, or perchance — the retrogression of simple 
 tastes to penuriousness, or the substitution of intellec- 
 tual enthusijLsm for the fires of ardent passions. 
 Family tradition is the alphabet of all history ! What 
 contrasts are presented amid the pictures thus pre- 
 served! And surely there was never greater differ- 
 ence between two ancestors of one house than existed 
 between old Abel Lansing, the donor of the Lansing 
 legacy, and beautiful Germaine Lansing, the wife of 
 pious Jason Lansing. Jason Lansing had wooed and 
 won and wedded his wife whilst he was in England 
 doing the errands of the little colony of wanderers 
 beyond the sea. How his choice fell upon frivolous 
 Germaine, why she accepted her grim lover, none 
 G*n guess ; but certain it is they were an ill-matched 
 p5,ir. Our sympathies are inclined towards the gay 
 iiitle Frenchwoman who sang her chansons of love 
 and ladies' lattices in the very ears of the elders, 
 
A DAUGHTEA OF WITCHES. 
 
 131 
 
 and rustled her brocades beneath the disdainful noses 
 of their winsey-clad wives; but the community in 
 which she lived regarded her advent in their midst 
 as a " dispensation " of a peculiar and trying type. 
 Jason Lansing could only sustain his good opinion 
 of himself by remembering that even the patriarchs 
 had not displayed entire good judgment in the 
 bestowal of their affections. Her memory still sur- 
 vived among the Lansings — a frail ghost hung with 
 scornful garlands of forbidden frivolity, and when 
 any of the name outraged the traditional proprieties, 
 it was said that the cloven hoof of French levity was 
 showing itself once more. And with such tales as 
 these, Vashti Lansing beguiled the dewy twilight 
 hours for Sidney Martin, and stole his heart away, 
 whilst her own burned and yearned for a love 
 denied it 
 
 li 
 
tiff 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 h ;i 
 
 i 
 
 
 s^ 
 
 After the day when, alone upon the hillside, Sidney 
 watched Len Simpson's funeral wind along the 
 narrow ways of Dole, there ensued for him a sweet 
 calm interlude — a tranquil period, yet surcharged with 
 potentialities. 
 
 It was the space between the casting of the grain 
 into the ground and the first blade. At such a time 
 there is no stir upon the surface of the earth, yet 
 in its brown bosom the vital germinal growths are 
 beginning; the husk of individuality is bursting, 
 the tap-root of deeper sympathy is searching for 
 sustenance ; and at last upon some happy morning 
 a green glow gladdens the sky, and we say : " Lo, 
 the new grain ! " and offer thanks for the promise of 
 the gracious harvest. 
 
 But all the after-vigour of the plant depends upon 
 that silent time in the darkness. So the whole fabric 
 of Sidney's after-life was built up from the beginnings 
 made in that uneventful month, whose days are 
 difficult to chronicle, as beads which slip adown the 
 string and mingle with each other arc to count. It 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 123 
 
 passed like a lover's dream to Sidney, to be re- 
 membered afterwards as a season of peace and 
 happiness whose source and sense eluded analysis. 
 
 The calm happiness which encompassed the lives 
 of Mabella and Lanty lay like a benediction upon 
 the house, and the hearts beneath its benison rested 
 for the moment like a congregation hushed after the 
 last Amen, and not yet surrendered again to the 
 worldly cares and sordid joys which wait without 
 the sanctuary doors. 
 
 But as one of the peaceful congregation may 
 writhe in the hair shirt of personal perplexity, so 
 Vashti Lansing beneath her calm smile suffered 
 agonies in those days. 
 
 Is there any torture more poignant than the cry 
 of " Peace, Peace " when there is no Peace ? 
 
 She was very pale, the insolently perfect oval of 
 her face had fined a little, there was a hint of a 
 break in the suave curve of her cheek, and this, 
 albeit an imperfection, lent her beauty a new and 
 subtle charm of appeal. 
 
 She was very quiet, too, and now and then a 
 tender wistfulness dimmed her eyes, softening the 
 majesty of her brow alluringly. When Sidney saw 
 this he felt his heart go out to her more strongly 
 than ever. 
 
 " Unconsciously," he said to himself, " her sweet, 
 strong nature covets the joy of loving and being 
 loved"; and there welled up within him that in- 
 
 .^»'. 
 
 ^i.: 
 
i^ 
 
 n,; , 
 
 Vr > 
 
 134 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 dulgent and protective tenderness which all good 
 men feel for the women they love. 
 
 Vashti Lansing had never appeared so gentle, 
 so womanly, so good, as at this juncture when all 
 the evil within her was rising, and gathering, and 
 forming into malevolent purposes. Some deadly 
 creatures take to themselves the semblance of 
 flowers that they may sting their victims unaware. 
 
 Mabella and Lanty were together continually. It 
 was very pretty to see her shy eagerness for his 
 coming, his open happiness at her presence. Tem- 
 perance was always busy with her housework, to 
 which was added now the cutting and hemming of 
 Mabella's household linen. For Temperance had 
 long saved egg-money and butter-money for such 
 an emergency, and, delighted at the prospective 
 union of her two favourites, she fell to the work 
 eagerly. Mabella tried to help, but her usually busy 
 fingers were rather idle during those first halcyon 
 days. She let her hands fall in her lap with the 
 needle between her fingers, and slipped away into 
 a dream, leaving all earthly considerations far behind. 
 If a word or a smile reminded her that mortals were 
 peeping into her paradise, she would rise and steal 
 away to the little shadowy room, from the windows 
 of which she had seen him waiting in Mullein 
 meadow, and there, chiding herself for over great 
 delight, she would strive to bring down her great 
 joy to the basis of every-day fact. "We love each 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ««5 
 
 other," she would say, stating the fact in bold terms, 
 " we love each other," and by the time she had said 
 it twice her face would shine again with the glory 
 of the thought, and the words ceased to become 
 words to her, and became only the sighing of Love's 
 mouth. What a simple figure Mabella Lansing 
 presents upon the little stage whereon these people 
 trod, beside the splendid and forceful personality 
 of her cousin Vashti! What an ordinary and 
 commonplace product of ordinary and common- 
 place conditions Lanty Lansing seems beside Sidney 
 Martin, supersensitive, morbidly idealistic, a Sir 
 Galahad, bearing the white flower o! a stainless life 
 and giving it into the hands of a wicked woman to 
 work her will upon it! 
 
 Yet though the love of Mabella and Lanty was 
 but " the homespun dream of simple folk," still the 
 very gladness of it makes it precious in this world, 
 where even the divine passion has grown a little 
 hum-drum, and where the ashes lie whitely up>on 
 the divine fires. 
 
 But perhaps the world will shake off its lethargy 
 when the new century begins, and even now there 
 may be smiling in his cradle the Shakespeare whose 
 breath shall blow the embers again into flame. 
 Surely it is simple, natural kindly souls like Mabella 
 and Lanty who perpetuate fidelity, honour and 
 trust upon the earth; and eager, pure, unselfish 
 souls like Sidney Martin who transmit the glorious 
 

 m 
 
 iii: 
 
 ;, 
 
 II 
 
 t36 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 impetus of aspiration from one generation to 
 another. 
 
 It is hands like theirs which crown the years with 
 enduring chaplets, and brush from the brow of the 
 aging century the dishonouring garland of senile 
 sins which are like toadstools, the efflorescence of 
 decay. 
 
 Old Mr. Lansing having become better acquainted 
 with S-.dney, had ceased to regard him as " company," 
 and had relapsed comfortably into his own ways. 
 Reading his weekly paper, gossiping with Nathan 
 Peck (who, being the village carpenter, always knew 
 the latest news), and going to bed when the grey 
 died out of the twilight sky. 
 
 Vashti and Sidney were thus left much to 
 themselves. 
 
 The " odd " horse having effectually lamed herself 
 by stepping on a nail, driving her was out of the 
 question. To break a team upon any frivolous 
 pretext would have been a scandal in Dole, so Vashti 
 and Sidney were kept busy going errands. They 
 went to the post office twice a week ; they made 
 pilgrimages out to the far-away hill pastures, where 
 the young cattle grazed, to count them, and report 
 upon the depth of water in the little brown pool 
 where they drank. 
 
 What glorious days these were to Sidney ; what 
 rapture to stand upon some little eminence with the 
 wind, "austere and pure," blowing across the valley 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 137 
 
 upon their faces; with Vashti beside him, her eyes 
 meeting his with sweet serenity, or looking vaguely 
 forth far across the country, as if to seek out some 
 haven remote from lesser mortals. So Sidney trans- 
 lated her thoughts, but in the original there was writ 
 only bitter speculation as to whether they were 
 together — if his arm embraced her, if their lips — 
 Ah! it was of no remote haven that woman 
 dreamed. 
 
 They gathered gpreat fragrant bunches of spear- 
 mint and tansy, smartweed and pennyroyal for 
 Temperance, searching for the scented herbs as 
 children search for joy ; and as the memory of 
 childish pleasure lingers long with us, so the perfume 
 of the aromatic herbs clung about Vashti's garments 
 and Sidney's sleeves. Never again could Sidney 
 know the wholesome odour of any of these plants 
 without seeing Vashti, her tall figure in its faded blue 
 gown standing straight and strong against the sun- 
 light, with a huge bunch of greyish-green clasped 
 to her breast, above which her face, fit for Burne- 
 Jones' most mystic, most beautiful maiden, shone out 
 palely. About her was no mystery of birth or cir- 
 cumstance, no halo of romantic environment, but 
 her whole personality was eloquent of mystery, the 
 sphinx-like riddle of sex presented in a new and 
 strongly individualized type. 
 
 Their many expeditions together begot a sense 
 of companionship which was inexpressibly precious 
 
128 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 m 
 
 4 
 
 if] 
 
 Ih' 
 
 ^i 
 
 to Sidney. True, as he realized, it sprang rather 
 from circumstances than from the manifestation of 
 any personal predilection upon Vashti's part; and 
 yet, humble as he was before the woman he loved 
 so blindly, he could not but be aware that she 
 brightened perceptibly at his approach, and was 
 always very willing to undertake any message or 
 errand with him. 
 
 So she fooled him exquisitely, solacing her 
 wounded pride thus. Whilst he, too great-hearted 
 to pry for petty faults, dowered her lavishly from 
 the generosity of his own noble nature, with all the 
 classic virtues. 
 
 With what reverent fingers we hang virtues upon 
 the lay figures of our imagination! How we be- 
 crown them, and worship them and offer them the 
 incense of our efforts! Yet, it is pleasant pastime, 
 and sanctifying too, for incense purely offered hallows 
 the hand which gives it, perchance more than the 
 God to whom its smokes ascend. 
 
 All this is well, and though the world gape and 
 wonder at our adorations, what is that to the devotee ? 
 Only, to some of us comes the hour when with 
 trembling hands we must undrape our false gods, 
 lay bare their feet of clay to jeering eyes, fold away 
 the rich draperies in which our love has clothed 
 them as a mother folds and hides away the g^ments 
 her dead child wore, and carry the manikins to the 
 grave. 
 
A DAUGHTER CF WITCHES. 
 
 129 
 
 
 Happy for us if we can bury our dead decently ; 
 but bury them never so deep, they rise and walk 
 down the vistas of our happiest hours, infecting their 
 sunshine with the pollution of dead faith. 
 
 During these long walks together Vashti and 
 Sidney talked much, and of more vital subjects than 
 are generally discussed between young men and 
 women. The fashionable chit-chat about theatres 
 and plays, receptions and fashions was utterly missed 
 from their calendar of subjects. 
 
 Now and then, Sidney, being a man, could not 
 forbear to let her know how beautiful he found her ; 
 but empty compliment, the clipped coin of conver- 
 sational commerce, he did not offer her ; nothing 
 but pure gold minted by her sweet looks in his 
 heart was worthy of her acceptance. Thus they 
 fell back upon the old immortal themes which have 
 been discussed since the world began. They looked 
 at life from widely different standpoints, but their 
 conclusions were equally forceful. 
 
 Vashti Lansing had nothing of the simpering 
 school-girl about her, and none of the fear which 
 makes women reticent sometimes when speech would 
 be golden. 
 
 It has been said that to know the Bible and 
 Shakespeare is to have a good English vocabulary. 
 Vashti did not know Shakespeare, but she knew 
 her Bible thoroughly. Her speech, un weakened by 
 the modem catch-words which, if expressive, are 
 
 . 
 
130 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 \0, 
 
 I 
 
 i. 
 
 ^( 
 
 I 
 
 yet extraneous and dangerous grc ' % had all the 
 trenchant force of the old Anglo- :on, with much 
 in it too of imagery and beauty ; for she did not 
 fear to use such metaphors as nature or life suggested. 
 Steeped in the stern Mosaic law, she knew well the 
 stately periods of its prophets. The gentle Christ- 
 creed of forgiveness did not find favour in her sight. 
 " An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth " was a 
 judgment which she said only timorous souls feared. 
 She read with grim delight the tales of the kings, 
 with their feet upon their captives' necks; an evil 
 sympathy with their triumph lighted her eyes with 
 wicked light. What a spouse she would have been 
 for one of these cruel kings! she thought sometimes. 
 And she applied a relentless utilitarian philosophy 
 to life. The weakest go to the wall and the strong 
 triumph. She accepted that with the stoicism which 
 springs from conscious strength, but in her system 
 she rather confused strength with righteousness. She 
 watched the movings of life about her with cold, 
 curious eyes, and yet her philosophy of life was but 
 an expanded egotism. She comprehended only those 
 sets of actions which might have taken place had 
 she given free rein to her own inclinations ; she 
 judged of all motives by the repressed impulses of 
 her own bosom. She scrutinized others unsparingly, 
 prying into the most sacred griefs, the most holy 
 joy without shame or remorse, and she did not spare 
 herself more than others. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 «3i 
 
 The dim, terrifying impulses and visions which 
 gills put behind them, shudderingly and uncom- 
 prehendingly, hiding them away with the other 
 spectres which people the realm of the unknown, 
 until such time as life's meanings shall be expounded 
 in a sacred mystery play of sense and spirit, she 
 marshalled forth into the light of day and considered 
 calmly and cynically. 
 
 She applied the foot-rule of her own lymphatic 
 temperament to the morals of her fellows and was 
 never disappointed when they fell short. She was 
 well versed in all the wisdom of the Pharisees, and 
 at the sewing circle talked always to the older women, 
 and was never found in the corner where the cleax- 
 eyed girls whispered together. 
 
 And quickening and vitalizing all her existence 
 there was that sense of Power. Power uncompre- 
 hended, undeveloped, yet there ; and as a thunder- 
 cloud gives premonition of its potent force even 
 before the brand leaps from its cloudy sheath, so 
 Vashti Lansing's personality was instinct with 
 potentiality. 
 
 This was the woman Sidney Martin, idealist and 
 dreamer, loved. 
 
 The days sped swiftly, the present lapsing into 
 the past, the future flying forward with the unique 
 tirelessness of time. 
 
 How wrong to typify Time with hoary head and 
 tottering limbs. Crowned with the vigour of eternal 
 
 9* 
 
mmm. 
 
 132 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 'II 
 
 iii 
 
 m 
 'if i 
 
 Wt: 
 
 \^m 
 
 ■J I 
 
 hi*' 
 h 
 
 youth, does he not leap forward triumphantly like 
 the messenger of the gods fresh plumed with flame ? 
 Ah, he is not old, but young and swift. Strive if 
 you will to stay his flight for but one single precious 
 instant, stretch forth your hand while yet his wings 
 brush your face, and ere the fingers may close upon 
 his pinions, he is gone, leaving but the largesse of 
 lost days. 
 
 • *««*•* 
 
 The harvest was done, the ploughshare and the 
 harrow were tossing the earthy bed for the new grain. 
 Day after day, through the clear air, there came from 
 different points the blowing of the traction engine 
 which dragged the one threshing mill in the section 
 from farm to farm. 
 
 It was the custom of the neighbourhood that the 
 farmers should assist each other with the threshing. 
 Sidney was charmed when he heard this — how 
 idyllic it was this community/ of helpful effort! To 
 be strictly truthful, this custom had its genesis in 
 less worthy reasons than he imagined, the simple 
 fact being that in the little hide-bound community 
 ther<i were no odd men left unemployed, therefore 
 as labour could not be hired the farmers perforce 
 clubbed their efforts. 
 
 " I say, girls," said Lanty, rushing out from his 
 uncle's big bam to where the two girls and Sidney 
 stood beside the engine, " I say, isn't that engine 
 exactly like Mrs. Ranger in church ? " His face 
 
 ■3 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 133 
 
 was begrimed with dust, thistle-down rested whitely 
 upon his yellow hair, his blue eyes were alight with 
 hope and happiness and that exaltation which a 
 strong man feels in effort. The girls shook their 
 heads warningly, but laughed. 
 
 The traction engine, its wheels shackled, puffed 
 and panted with a ludicrous simulation of bottled- 
 up energy, and to the minds of the three young 
 people it was decidedly suggestive of the irate 
 patience expressed in Mrs. Ranger's attitude when 
 placed in conditions where she could not answer 
 back. 
 
 Nathan Peck, watching the engine, stored up the 
 saying for Temperance's delectation, and wished 
 she had come out with the girls. 
 
 Above the rattle and hum of the threshing mill 
 sounded the hoarse voices of the men shouting 
 jokes at each other — threshing time being always 
 a jovial season. A good or bad harvest meant often 
 life or death to these people ; but, having c ae 
 their best, they could but accept the results. It 
 was a point of honour to accept unflinchingly the 
 verdict of a poor yield, yet many wives could tell 
 of despairing hours when, after their neighbours had 
 departed, husband and wife essayed to reconcile 
 ways and means. 
 
 Clouds of golden dust, starred here and there by 
 a silver thistle-down, shimmered out of the barn 
 door; there was an aroma of crushed straw, a scent 
 
134 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 pi 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 of charred wood from the engine fire, a sense of 
 eager, he^Hhy Hfe. 
 
 The sv allows flew agitatedly above the bam, 
 yearning over their clay nests beneath its eaves. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " asked Vashti. 
 
 " Measurinjj " said Lanty. " Uncle said he'd take 
 the bust'ci rcn a little though when he saw your 
 petticoats ni\. b:i^ " 
 
 "Who's in the !■- •''• 
 
 "Ab Raager i«^ < u ".^ bands, and he's let my 
 bone-handled prunir.g kn.i^ go through the mill; 
 Tom Shinar is feeding ; there's three on the mow 
 and four on the stack." 
 
 " How is it turning out ? " 
 
 " Splendidly, no straw to speak of, but finely 
 headed — like you, Mabella," he whispered, blushing 
 through the dust 
 
 " Come on here, Lanty," roared a voice from the 
 bam. "You can spark in the noon-spell if you, 
 want to." 
 
 A laugh followed. Mabella blushed hotly, and 
 as a maiden is expected to do under the circum- 
 stances, looked absently into vacancy. 
 
 " Well, you'll be too busy eating in the noon- 
 spell to notice," Lanty called back to the unseen 
 speaker. This, being the retort courteous, was 
 received with applause. 
 
 *' Well, I must go, girls ; uncle's back will be aching 
 by this time toteing that bushel. I hope you've 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 135 
 
 
 made heaps of good things for dinner, we're all 
 hungry as hunters." 
 
 " Trust Temperance for that," said Sidney. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Lanty. " Ta-ta, girls." 
 
 '• Lanty." said Mabella, " ba careful of the belt." 
 
 " Surely," he said, his voice softening. The next 
 moment his strong, lithe figure had swung jauntily 
 through the narrow space between the broad whirling 
 belt and the door. 
 
 " Nathan," said Mabella, " Temperance wants you 
 to get someone to mind the engine for ten minutes 
 before dinner, so that you can come round and carve 
 the meat." 
 
 "I'll be there," said Nathan, then he added with 
 an irrepressible and comical self-importance: 
 
 " Meat ain't worth puttin' teeth into if it ain't 
 cut up proper." 
 
 " That's very true," said Sidney, who felt a great 
 kindliness in his heart for this patient lover. 
 
 " Well," said Mabella briskly, " I'm going round 
 to help set the table." Having seen Lanty, Mabella 
 wished to get off alone to think over his perfections, 
 which impressed her afresh each time she saw him. 
 
 " O ! can't you come for a little wander ? " asked 
 Sidney of Vashti. " There's nothing to be done in 
 the house; besides, that imp from the preacher's is 
 there, and I'm sure she is a host in herself." 
 
 "Yes," said Vashti, her voice more than usually 
 vibrant. "Yes, I will come." 
 
136 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 iil 
 
 i 
 
 
 She was very pale. She turned away as 
 Jephthah's daughter turned from the promise of 
 her bridal bower. For, during these few minutes 
 of idle speech amid the whirr of the threshing mill, 
 Vashti Lansing had taken her final decision. She 
 would marry Sidney Martin ; but on her own terms, 
 she added to herself. And then she went with 
 him across the stubble, where the late rains had made 
 a phantom spring of fresh green grass and over- 
 eager weeds, which were putting forth their tender 
 tops only to be a prey to the first sneering frost. 
 
 Ah, how futile and inconsequent it is to trace 
 laboriously the windings of cause and effect ; a touch 
 often sends one over the precipice, and a smile, a 
 sigh or a silence brings us face to face with Fate. 
 Can we by searching find these things ? 
 
 And Sidney, too, felt the fateful words trembling 
 upon his lips, a keen envy of personal happiness 
 possessed this man, who so rarely sought his own 
 good. A great longing to stand as Lanty had 
 stood, with the promise of life's fulfilment at his 
 side. 
 
 Sidney and the woman beside him walked across 
 the stubble to where a little belt of scrubby oaks 
 followed the course of a ditch between two fields; 
 here and there a vivid red patch against the under- 
 wood showed a dogwood bush. Here and there 
 an elm tree sprang up spire-like above the lower 
 oaks. 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 137 
 
 
 " See," said Sidney, " that row of elm trees. Can 
 you not fancy that upon just some such day as this 
 the seed was sown ? Does it not give a delightful 
 sense of the continuity and endurance of nature's 
 miracles to think that a gentle wind, such as now 
 stirs their topmost leaves, chased the seed vessel 
 playfully along the ground? The wind laughed 
 then, thinking it was making fine sport of its little 
 playfellow, but see, at every pause a seed was 
 dropped, and like an egotistical king who marks the 
 stages of his journey, the fragile cluster of seed has 
 left its memento. You have seen the seed of the 
 elm tree ? " 
 
 " Yes, it resembles a hop. I suppose the Feeds 
 are between the little scales. I can fancy it flutter- 
 ing along the ground like yon leaf." 
 
 "Yes," he said, delightedly, and then, pleased with 
 her comprehension of his thought, he looked far 
 across the field. After all Mabella had not been in 
 such a hurry to get to the house. She was running 
 up and down like a child with the little brown calves 
 in their special paddock near the house. Her sun- 
 bonnet was in her hand, her hair glittered in the 
 sun like ripe wheat. From her Sidney's eyes turned 
 to Vashti, and his very heart stood still, for dimming 
 the splendour of her eyes two great tears hung 
 between her eyelids. There was no quiver of lip 
 or cheek, no tremour of suppressed sobs ; her bosom 
 seemed frozen, so statuesque was her pose. 
 
m 
 
 i 
 
 U 
 
 \i •' 
 
 '38 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Vashti ! " he said. It was the first time he had 
 called her by name — used thus the one word was 
 eloquent. 
 
 " Don't ! " she said. " I— will— come— back to the 
 house presently." 
 
 Sidney, his heart wrung, took his dismissal without 
 further speech. He went a few steps from her, then 
 turning went swiftly back. 
 
 Her tense attitude had relaxed. She was leaning 
 against the grey bars of the fence, a crimsoned 
 bramble twining round one of the upright supports 
 hung above her as a vivid garland. 
 
 " Vashti ! " he cried, " I can't leave you like this." 
 
 "Not if I wish it?" she asked, and gave him a 
 fleeting smile, beautiful as the opalescent glimmer 
 of the sun through rain. 
 
 It shook the man to his soul. He stood for a 
 moment blinded by the glamour of her beauty, 
 then left her again. This time he did not look 
 behind, but strode triumphantly across the fields, 
 for he felt that smile had given him definite hope. 
 
 Sidney, despite his perfections, was only man. For 
 a moment he had forgotten her tears ; then remem- 
 bering, he said to himself that soon he would 1:Lj 
 away all tears from her eyes. 
 
 The best of men are prone to consider their kisses 
 a panacea for all woman's ills. Perhaps, with the 
 irrefutable logic of the homoeopathists, they argue that 
 what produces an ill will cure it! 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 139 
 
 " Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean ; 
 Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
 Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes 
 In looking on the happy autumn fields, 
 And thinking of the days that are no more." 
 
 The lines sprang spontaneously to his lips. This 
 was the secret of Vashti's tears. How often he had 
 felt that almost intolerable regret, begotten by the 
 recognition of the evanescence of beauty. And 
 Vashti with her splendid natural soul must feel with 
 treble keenness all these things. 
 
 Doubtless to her the crimsoning of the leaves 
 was as the hectic flush upon an ailing child's cheek 
 to mother eyes. " The days that are no morel' ah ! 
 could it be she thought of the days when the grain 
 was growing high, the first days of their companion- 
 ship? Deluding himself thus with futile fancies he 
 turned slowly, slowly towards the house, arriving to 
 find Vashti already there in the midst of the house- 
 wifely bustle. 
 
 Whilst the visionary Vashti bore him company, 
 the real Vashti had passed him unseen. So it was 
 ever. The real Vashti eluded his vision ; her place 
 was filled by a mimic Vashti created of an ideal and 
 his love, and tricked out in all the virtues. 
 
 At the house every one was busy. The prepara- 
 tions for dinner were approaching a crisis. Tem- 
 perance, with a look of ineffable importance such as 
 only a managing and forehanded woman can wear 
 upon such an occasion, was cutting pies, piling plates 
 
 I 
 
I40 
 
 A DAVGHIER OF WITCHES. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 1*1 
 
 with biscuits, arranging pickles in glass dishes, and 
 between whiles taking flights to the oven, where a 
 huge roast was browning. 
 
 Mabella was arranging the table with knives and 
 forks ; she reckoned up, six or eight times, the 
 number of people to set for, substracted two for the 
 ends, and divided to find how many for each side. 
 Mabella had no head for figures, so she made a 
 mistake in this process ; but as the basis of her 
 calculation was wrong the result was correct. An 
 unexpected thing! But Mabella, cheerfully confident 
 in her methods, had no thought of all this; she 
 trotted about the table with the gladness of one 
 who does not save steps. 
 
 Vashti was bringing chairs out from the other 
 rooms to complement the number in the kitchen ; 
 and Sally, the preacher's handmaiden, was arranging 
 the tin basins with soap and water for the men to 
 wash in, and varying the monotony by tantalizing 
 the chained-up mastiff till he was nearly crazed to 
 get at her, drawing back to his kennel door and 
 launching himself forward with magnificent disregard 
 of the chain which at each attempt jerked him off 
 his feet. 
 
 Sidney leaned against the door- jamb watching the 
 homely scene with just the faintest tinge of proud pro- 
 prietorship in his eyes when they rested upon Vashti. 
 Presently sue came and stood before him. Her 
 figure was so suavely graceful that her most ordinary 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 141 
 
 movements took on an artistic significance. Just now 
 her attitude was that of a queen who fain would 
 ape the serving maid, but who could not cast aside 
 her sovereignty, 
 
 " Will you sit down with the men ? " she asked. 
 
 " Your father does, doesn't he ? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes." 
 
 " Then I will also." 
 
 " Then I'll wait on you," she said, and primmed 
 her mouth into a quasi-humble expression. 
 
 " If you do " his grey eyes dilated. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Just then Nathan r'm& round from the barn. 
 
 " They'll be here in ten minutes," said Vashti, and 
 hurried away. 
 
 Temperance, flushed with housewife.y pride, had 
 the big carving platter ready with the steel beside 
 it. The latter was a concession to appearances, for 
 Temperance always sharpened the knife for Nathan 
 in a peculiar fashion of her own. When Nathan 
 entered she was sharpening it vigorously on the back 
 of the kitchen stove. 
 
 "Well," said Nathan, "here I be; where's the 
 water .? " He had seen the basins upon the apple-tree 
 blocks, where they had stood for time out of mind 
 at the Lansing threshings, but he thought Temper- 
 ance might be prompted to come and get it for him. 
 
 Temperance paused in the sharpening process, but 
 at that moment a tow-head appeared at the door. 
 

 ^::if 
 
 Ml',. 
 
 142 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Here 'tis, Mr. Peck," said Sally, " right here under 
 the shade ; fresh water, sweet water, well water. 
 Come up, run up, tumble up, anyway t' get up ; 
 here's where you gits water. Step up, ladies and 
 gents. Everything inside as represented on the 
 banners, and all without money and without price," 
 concluded Sally, putting a frosting of the parsonage 
 piety upon the vernacular of the Blueberry Alley 
 dime shows. Mabella, Vashti and Sidney laughed. 
 Temperance resumed her knife-sharpening with a 
 click. 
 
 " That child will come to no good end," she said 
 to Nathan, when he re-entered. 
 
 " She won't," agreed Nathan with some asperity ; 
 his waistcoat and shirt were drenched. He had asked 
 Sally rashly to pour a dipper of water on his head 
 to " rense him off." Sally complied with alacrity, only 
 she emptied a pailful over his bent head instead of 
 a dipperful. 
 
 " Drat that young 'un," said Temperance, enraged 
 at this. " I believe, I really do, that Mrs. Didymus 
 sent her over here to be shet of her for a day, and 
 if this is a sample of her doin's I don't know as 1 
 blame Mrs. Didymus, but if there's any more goin's 
 on I'll trapse her back quicker." 
 
 By this time the roast was out of the oven, and 
 Nathan began his work with the enthusiasm of an 
 artist. 
 
 Nathan was always greatly in demand when there 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 M3 
 
 was any carving to be clone, and he was very proud 
 in a candid childish way of his proficiency. Perhaps 
 his practice with the plane and the drawknife stood 
 him in good stead, for certainly Temperance was 
 justified in thinking proudly that no man could carve 
 Hke her Nat. 
 
 " They've blew," announced Sally, tumbling into 
 the kitchen in great excitement. This was somewhat 
 unnecessary information as the whistle was making 
 itself perfectly audible ; ere its shrill echo died av/ay 
 the men, begrimed and laughing, came round the 
 corner of the barn and were soon spluttering in the 
 basins. 
 
 Lanty came into the back kitchen, but the voice 
 of one of the men brought him out of his retreat, 
 and in five minutes they were all at table. 
 
 Old Lansing at one end with Sidney at one side. 
 Lanty at the other end with Nathan beside him. 
 
 " Open the ball, Nat," said Lanty, passing Nathan 
 the platter. Nathan helped himself with the depre- 
 cating modesty of one compelled to pronounce judg- 
 ment upon his own handiwork ; ^hen the platter made 
 the round of the table in pursuit of the one which 
 had started from Mr. LansingV. end. 
 
 " Guess you had something to do with this, Nat," 
 said Ab Ranger. " I know your shavings." 
 
 Nathan admitted the impeachment. 
 
 " Well," said Sidney, " we can't beat that in 
 Boston." 
 
 i!, 
 
t44 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 nil 
 
 ■■-Mr?'- 
 
 A% . .. 
 
 . -iiv 
 
 
 And Nathan ate vigorously to hide his embarrass- 
 ment. The girls flitted about seeing everyone was 
 supplied. Did calm-eyed Vashti know what she did, 
 when she bent over between Sidney and her father 
 ostensibly to remove an empty plate, and let her 
 palm rest as if by chance for a moment on Sidney's 
 shoulder? Did ever electricity shoot and tingle 
 through the veins like that touch? He watched her 
 as she passed serenely along the other side of the 
 table, and longed for the moment when he might have 
 speech with her. 
 
 Temperance poured the tea and coffee in the back 
 kitchen. Sally performed prodigies in carrying it to 
 the table, and grimacing, as she set it down, behind 
 the unconscious backs of the recipients. 
 
 Sidney won golden opinions at this dinner by his 
 frank friendliness. 
 
 "He ain't big feelin', that's one thing," the men 
 said to one another as they swaggered out to rest 
 the noon-spell under the trees. 
 
 Lanty and Sidney with great affectation of help- 
 fulness asked the girls to stand aside and watch them 
 clear the table. Temperance was not to be seen, 
 they would surprise her when she arrived. They 
 succeeded beyond their expectations. 
 
 " It isn't such a job to clear a table as you'd 
 think," said Sidney complacently to Lanty. 
 
 "No, 'tain't for a fact. I've seen girls take half 
 an hour at it." 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 145 
 
 The two young men had cleared the table by 
 removing the dishes and debris indiscriminately and 
 depositing them upon the table in the back kitchen. 
 
 When Temperance returned from a little chat with 
 Nathan beside the smoke house, she eyed the chaos 
 upon the table wrathfuUy. 
 
 " Laws ! " she said. " Of all the messes ! Lanty 
 Lansing, ain't you ashamed to be so redecklus? And 
 them girls standin' gawkin* and laughin'! As for 
 you," eyeing Sidney severely, " I should ha' thought 
 you'd more sense, but blessed is them that has no 
 expectations! Lanty! Are you or are you not 
 feedin' that brute with good roast? Where's the 
 cold meat fer supper to come from, I'd like to know } " 
 
 No one volunteered a response till suddenly Sally 
 piped forth in her thin reedy voice : 
 
 " Take no heed for the morrow what ye shall 
 eat, or " 
 
 " You blasphemous brat ! " said Temperance, her 
 wrath diverted to another channel. 
 
 Sally subsided into silent contemplation of the dish 
 of pickled beets from which she was helping herself 
 with pink-stained fingers. Temperance was not Mrs. 
 Didymus, and Sally in many combats in Blueberry 
 Alley had learned to gauge her antagonists. 
 
 The offended Miss Tribbey left the back kitchen 
 in indignant silence and set about arranging the table 
 for her own and the girls' dinner, murmuring to 
 herself meanwhile a monologue of which such words 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 A DAUGHTER OP WITCHES. 
 
 as "messes" " 
 
 ivi'l 
 
 I 
 
 sinful," "waste," and "want o* sense,'* 
 were distinctly audible. 
 
 " I don't believe that was really an unqualified suc- 
 cess," said Sidney to Lanty. 
 
 " No," said Lanty, " I don't believe it was. What 
 did you mix everything up for .'' " 
 
 " How did I know they were to be separated ? 
 What did you feed the dog with the roast for?" 
 
 " Did you ever see such an imp as that Sally ? " 
 
 " Never," said Sidney. " But Temperance squelched 
 her!" 
 
 " She did," said Lanty. " I say, wasn't she ripping ? " 
 
 Meanwhile Temperance's short-lived wrath had 
 died away, and she was pressing food upon Sally 
 in quantities calculated to appal any but a Blueberry 
 Alley child. 
 
 Temperance rose in the midst of her second cup 
 of tea, and, going up stairs, came down with a large 
 fresh bandana handkerchief. She went out to where 
 Lanty and Sidney stood talking. 
 
 " Here's the handkerchief you wanted to keep the 
 dust out of your back," she said with ill-assumed 
 hauteur. Lanty took it with laughing penitence on 
 his face. 
 
 " I say, Aunty," he said, " would you ask Mabella 
 to put it on ? " 
 
 Miss Tribbey's severity relaxed ; a vain-glorious 
 satisfaction stole over her face in a smirk. To have 
 Lanty call her Aunty! 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 U7 
 
 Certainly Lanty Lansing " had a way " with 
 women that was well-nigh irresistible. 
 
 " Yes," she said, then with comical apology, she 
 addressed herself to Sidney. " Them children is a 
 most tormented trouble, 'specially when they meddle 
 with things they don't know nothing about." 
 
 " That's so," agreed Sidney with emphasis, and 
 Temperance, highly delighted with her Parthian shot 
 at him, departed. 
 
 And presently Mabella came to the door, a riante 
 little figure, and demanded with mutinous affectation 
 of indifference : 
 
 " Did any one want me ? " 
 
 " Yes, badly," said Sidney, and took himself off 
 to the garden, laughing. 
 
 " That's true," said Lanty. " I did want you 
 badly." 
 
 Her eyes were wavering beneath his masterful 
 regard, but she said — " Oh, you did want me ! Don't 
 you now ? " The words were brave, but her eyes 
 fell 
 
 " Mabella," he said — silence. " Mabella, look at 
 me." Slowly she raised her eyes and crimsoned. 
 "Do you know now?" he asked lovingly. "Ah, 
 what a wicked teasing bird it is when its wings are 
 
 free, but after eill they are gone to the barn and *' 
 
 he advanced a step. 
 
 " Lanty 1 " said Mabella, and in an instant he was 
 grave. 
 
 10* 
 
 |i^' 
 
 ?! 
 
148 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 i 
 
 
 " Dear girl," he said, " you don't think I would do 
 anything to make you feel badly ? " 
 
 The warning shriek of the whistle came to them. 
 
 " See, tie this round my neck, will you ? " 
 
 She folded it with an adorable air of anxiety and 
 precision, and stood on tiptoe to lay it on his shoulders 
 and again on tiptoe to knot it under his chin, a 
 process Lanty rendered arduous by putting down 
 his chin and imprisoning her hands, a performance 
 he found most satisfying. But at length he was off, 
 and Mabella watched him round the corner of the 
 barn, and then went indoors to attack the chaos 
 upon the table with a good heart. 
 
 "Where's Vashti?" she asked. 
 
 " Spooning her young man in the garding," said 
 Sally, emerging from her shell. 
 
 " Of all the impses I ever see ! " ejaculated Tem- 
 perance. " G'long and fetch in some wood." Sally 
 departed. 
 
 " Vashti's in the garden peeling apples for supper," 
 continued Temperance to Mabella, with an attempt 
 at imconsciousness. Mabella gave her a hug. 
 
 " It's a sugar plum for Mr. Martin because you 
 were bad to him, isn't it ? " 
 
 « Yes, Lanty's had his—" 
 
 Mabella blushed, and an irrepressible ripple of 
 laughter broke from her. 
 
 " Well, you needn't laugh," said Temperance. 
 "Mr. Martin thinks Vashti's just about right. Well, 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 149 
 
 there's no accountin' for taste. ' Everyone to their 
 taste/ as the old woman said when she kissed her 
 cow." 
 
 " Temperance ! " said Mabella, " you don't 
 mean " 
 
 Temperance nodded oracularly, " Nathan thinks 
 so too." 
 
 " Well ! " said Mabella, and relapsed into silence. 
 Here was news for Lanty. If Nathan and Tem- 
 perance thought so it must be so. A fellow feeling 
 not only makes us kind but often very acute ; and 
 in all Dole there were no such keen eyes for any 
 "goin's on" (as courtship was disrespectfully 
 designated) as those of Temperance and Nathan. 
 
 ** Love, it is a funny thing ; 
 It puzzles the young and the old ; 
 It's much like a dish of boarding-house hash, 
 And many a man gets sold." 
 
 Sally's falsetto voiced this choice ditty with unc- 
 tion, as she entered with an enormous load of wood 
 in her thin arms. She deposited the wood with a 
 bang. 
 
 " Sakes ! " said Temperance. " I wonder if she 
 sings them songs to the preacher? " 
 
 Whereupon Sally, in vindication of her judgment, 
 began a lugubrious hymn. 
 
 " Stop it," said Temperance. Sally stopped. 
 
 Beneath the trees Vashti peeled her apples busily, 
 the narrow parings of the greenings twined about 
 
 I! 
 
»5o 
 
 A DAUGHTER OP WITCHES. 
 
 w 
 
 m 
 
 ii; ■ 
 
 her white wrist, the thin sHces fell with little splashes 
 into the bowl of water which was to prevent them 
 turning hrown before being cooked. Miss Tribbey's 
 apple-sauce was always like white foam. A voyaging 
 wasp came, and settling upon the cores was very 
 soon drunk, so that he was an easy prey to a half 
 dozen ants which wandered by that way. The dis- 
 tant buzz of the threshing mill filled the au with 
 a drowsy murmur as if thousands of bees hummed 
 above a myriad flowers, here and there a thistledown 
 floated glistening in the sun. The scent of the over- 
 blown flowers mingled with the odour of the apples. 
 
 " Are we done now ? " asked Sidney, as she laid 
 down the knife. 
 
 " We are," she said with meaning emphasis. " Do 
 you feel very tired after your exertions ? " 
 
 " Not so tired as you'd imagine," said Sidney. 
 " The truth is I couldn't bring myself to offer my 
 services; for if you had accepted them I would have 
 had to look at the apples instead of at you, and I 
 did not have strength to make the s^'crifice." 
 
 " Could you make sacrifices ? " she asked. 
 
 ** Try me," he half whispered. There was a tense 
 moment Mabella's voice came ringing from the 
 house, the whirr of the threshing mill suddenly seemed 
 near at hand, and through it there came Lanty's voice 
 shouting some directions to the men on the stack. 
 
 "Perhaps I may some day," she said. 
 
 "You know," he said, his voice enchaining her 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 151 
 
 attention even as she strove with bitter thought, " you 
 know you will have the opportunity to ask anything, 
 everything of me." 
 
 " Ah, how should I know ? " she said, as one who 
 has not deigned to observe too much. 
 
 Sally, sent out for the apples, appeared round the 
 corner of the house. 
 
 " Promise me," said Sidney, " that you will come 
 for a walk after supper ; promise." 
 
 For an instant the boulders of Mullein meadow and 
 the dimness of the twilight sky blotted out the crim- 
 son of the Virginia creeper on the porch which flamed 
 in the sun. 
 
 " I will come," she said. 
 
 " Ah " he said no more. 
 
 ** Sorry t'interrupt," said Sally genially, as she stood 
 beside them. " But painful as the duty is it must be 
 did; but don't mind me, I'm blind in one eye and 
 can't see out of the other." 
 
 " Sally," said Sidney very gently, " you talk too 
 much." 
 
 For the first time in her life Sally blushed, and 
 gathering up the apples and the parings departed 
 abashed. 
 
 " You are not going in } " he said rising as Vashti 
 stood up. 
 
 She held up her hands. " I must wash my hands," 
 she said, " and I want to rest a little." 
 
 The slightest hint of fatigue or illness in the 
 
'Sa 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ■ i 
 
 ■f ■' 
 
 splendid creature before him always touched him 
 strangely. It was like a sudden assertion of the 
 human in something divine. 
 
 " Do," he said ; "and Vashti," using her name with 
 happy boldness, "you won't forget your promise." 
 
 " I never forget," she said, simply and sweetly. 
 
 He stood bareheaded watching while she entered. 
 Then looking about, he suddenly noticed that in the 
 garden the summer flowers were overspent, the little 
 battalion of ants tugged viciously at their victim, 
 whose yellow and black had shone so gallantly in 
 the sunlight as he lighted down to sip the apple juice. 
 The whirr of the threshing machine made melancholy 
 cadences which sighed through the trees; and all 
 at once the whole scene darkened. 
 
 It was only that the sun had dipped beyond the 
 house, and the crimson Virginia creeper seemed in 
 the shadow to be more brown than red, two or three 
 of its leaves fell desolately to the earth, as dreams 
 die when hope is withdrawn. 
 
 And Sidney, with the fatuity of lovers, said, " She 
 has taken the glow with her." 
 
 But the torch which lighted Vashti Lansing's way 
 was not filched from flowers and sunshine, but shone 
 fed with the evil oils of anger and revenge, baulked 
 will and disappointed love. 
 
'S3 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The grey of twilight was paling the gold of the 
 after-glow. A quiet hush had fallen upon the earth 
 — rather intensified than disturbed by the lowing of 
 far-away cattle. It was the quiet of raptured antici- 
 pation, as if great hands held the earth up to the 
 baptismal font of the heavens to receive the chrism 
 of night; and the earth, like a wise and reverent 
 child, waited with hushed heart-beats for the bene- 
 diction. 
 
 Sidney Martin waited in the porch for Vashti to 
 keep her tryst, and presently he heard her foot- 
 steps. The echo of each step gathered in his heart, 
 dilating it with happiness as an already full glass 
 is brimmed above the brink by drop after drop. 
 From his position, where he stood spellbound, he 
 commanded an angled vista of the stairs, and slowly 
 she descended within his range of vision ; first the 
 beautiful foot, proportioned sc perfectly to the body 
 it bore, then the long exquisite lines from heel to 
 hip, and the yet more exquisite curve from hip to 
 shoulder, and the melting graduation of breast to 
 
 ■''ii 
 
 ' 
 
«S4 
 
 A DAUGHTEP OF WITCHES. 
 
 \\ 
 
 %■ ; 
 
 P ' s ! 
 
 throat, and then the perfect face of her. She paused 
 for a moment upon the last step, as if loath to step 
 out of her pure rarefied atmosphere of maidenhood 
 into the air vibrant with the sobs and sighs, the hopes 
 and despairs, the gains and losses of human life ; 
 and standing thus, for one fleeting second there rose 
 before Vashti a vision of renunciation. She saw 
 herself, lonely but clad in righteousness, going on 
 her way ; but the next instant the austere dream 
 vanished, brushed aside by a hateful, sneering 
 cynicism. With a heart full of self-mockery, more 
 evil than her evil intent, Vashti took the step to 
 Sidney's side, and stood there the typification, as 
 he thought, of gentle dignity and dignified woman- 
 hood. 
 
 " How good you are," he said gently. 
 
 They took the way almost in silence. She 
 wondered vaguely where he would take her, to the 
 far-away pastures, the little knolls nestling upon 
 the hills which he loved, or to the oak trees where 
 they had talked in the morning. When they reachp'^ 
 the road she submitted her steps to his guidani '^ v 
 outward meekness and inward indifferer 
 turned away from Dole. It was to be the r-awa^ 
 pastures then — as well there as anywhere. B ^ 
 he had passed the gate! And then it dawned upon 
 her. He was taking her to Mullein meadow! 
 
 Her indifference fell from her like a rent garment, 
 bitter remembrance tore at her heart. How dare 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 «S5 
 
 he bring her here and bid her masquerade amid 
 these grey boulders where she had known such 
 agony! She imagined those implacable rocks re- 
 joicing in her humiliation. Were not her own 
 curses yet hissing across the eerie barrenness of this 
 wide waste field ? Ah, even so, Vashti — if our 
 curses do not seek us out we ourselves return to 
 their realm ; there is great affinity between a curse 
 and the lips which utter it. The flame of her resent- 
 ment fluttered to her cheeks, giving them an un- 
 wonted touch of rose. As they reached the entrance 
 to Mullein meadow, she half stumbled ; she recovered 
 herself quickly, Sidney's swift touch being hardly 
 needed to restore her poise. 
 
 To Sidney, her silence, the strange, sweet colour 
 in her cheeks, her uncertain step, pointed but to 
 one thing — the natural agitation of a girl about to 
 have a man's love laid at her feet. 
 
 Surely never man was so exquisitely befooled as 
 this one .-' 
 
 He took the path straight for the little spot 
 where that happy betrothal had taken place. Vashti 
 hesitated — this was too much. 
 
 " I — " she opened her lips to speak, but the words 
 died away, unmerciful resolution freezing them at 
 their source. 
 
 " Come," urged Sidney with tender insistence, 
 and with an appearance of sweet submission she 
 yielded, and at length they stood where those others 
 
 i 
 
iS6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 W 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 had stood. The same grey sky bent above them, 
 the same quiet hush brooded over the desolate 
 reaches, the same clear star hung scintillant in the 
 sky, and Sidney, taking her hands, which trembled 
 by reason of the terrible restraint she was putting 
 upon her anger, began to speak — very gently, but 
 with an intensity which made his words instinct with 
 life and love. 
 
 " You know," he said, " why I have asked you to 
 come out to-night, but you cannot know why I have 
 brought you here to this spot .'' It is because it is 
 a place of happy auguries. Here, not knowing 
 whither I strayed, I came upon the betothal of Lanty 
 and Mabella. Here, heartsick with envy of their 
 happiness I turned away to face the desolate greyness 
 of the twilight. Here I saw a star, one lone star 
 in the grey, which seemed to promise hope, and in 
 my heart I named it Vashti. See — there it is, but 
 more golden now, more full of beneficent promise, 
 burdened, as it seems to me, with gracious bene- 
 diction. Oh, Vashti, when I left those two in the 
 solitude of their happiness you cannot dream how 
 my heart cried for you. All the way home nature's 
 voices whispered in my ear * Vashti — Vashti,' and 
 my heart responded * Vashti,' and it seemed to me 
 that there was no other word in all the universe, 
 for in it were bound all meanings. It seemed to me 
 there was no other idea worth comprehending but 
 the identity behind that word. Vashti, say that 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 >57 
 
 you love me — that you will marry me. Here, where 
 my heart knew its bitterest longing, satisfy it with 
 one syllable of your voice. Let me also build 
 tabernacles here as the holy place where happiness 
 descended upon me"; he let fall her hands. 
 " Vashti, you know that I love you ; give me your 
 hands in symbol of yourself as a free gift." 
 
 He held out his hands. Slowly, gently, trustingly, 
 as a woman who knows well what she does, and 
 will abide by it, Vashti Lansing laid her hands in 
 his. His vibrant, slender fingers closed upon them. 
 There was an instant's pause 
 
 " You love me ! " he cried, as one, after a long 
 novitiate, might hail the goddess unveiled at last. 
 Then drawing her to him he kissed her on the 
 mouth, and from that moment was hers — body — 
 and yet more terrible bondage — mind ; and she, with 
 an astute and evil wisdom, forbore to make any 
 conditions, any demands, till he had tasted the sweets 
 of her acquiescence. 
 
 Would any man give her up, having held her in 
 his arms, having touched her lips? With shame- 
 less candour she told herself, No. So she rested 
 her head upon his shoulder, whilst he whispered in 
 her ear the divine incoherences of love, nnd intoxi- 
 cated with the charm of the woman in his arms, 
 touched the white throat by the ear, where a curl 
 of dark hair coiled like a soft, sweet shadow. A 
 long, contented, yet questioning sigh came to him — 
 
1 
 
 i58 
 
 A DAUGHTI R OF WITCHES, 
 
 h 5 
 h 
 
 ll- 
 
 "Tell me?" he said 
 
 " You will let me live always in Dole ? " she said. 
 
 " Always — always, dear one ! In Dole or anywhere 
 else you like." 
 
 " Ah ! " she said in a tone of dreamy happiness 
 — " you will take old Mr. Didymus's place ; we will 
 live in the parsonage ; what a happy life we will 
 have!" 
 
 " Vashti ! " said Sidney, almost reeling before the 
 shock of her words. As a beautiful white mist rolls 
 back to show some scene of sordid misery, so the 
 glamour of the last few weeks lifted, and displayed 
 vividly to Sidney all the awkwardness of the position 
 which he had created for himself. Ever since that 
 day, when stung by Sally's impertinent words he 
 had agonized alone upon the hillside, nothing what- 
 ever had transpired to awaken its memory. A 
 deference rather more pronounced than necessary 
 upon the part of the village-folk, a certain constraint 
 upon the part of the young men, had been the only 
 visible signs that Dole remembered. But upon the 
 other hand nothing had occurred which gave him 
 the opportunity of explaining to Vashti, nor, indeed, 
 had he ever been able to decide how he could 
 explain to her, even if given the opening. He had 
 gone to church with the Lansings Sunday after 
 Sunday. Under the circumstances any other course 
 would have been an insult to the regime of the house 
 in which he was staying. He had found nothing 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 * 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 159 
 
 ( 
 
 in the little church which jarred upon his tastes or 
 revolted his principles. The simple, pious sermons 
 of grey-haired Mr. Didymus were entirely inoffensive 
 to anyone not of malice prepense irritable. The sad 
 experiences of his long life had mitigated his judg- 
 ments. The man who in his fiery youth scoffed at 
 death-bed repentances now spoke feelingly of the 
 thief on the cross ; the elect murmured among them- 
 selves that Mr. Didymus was " growing old and 
 slack." Certainly his sermons were not learned, 
 but neither were they devoid of a certain eloquence, 
 for the old man knew his Bible by heart, and above 
 all, they were free from the anecdotal inanity ; it 
 would never have occurred to the old, plain-spoken 
 man to stand in his pulpit telling his people tales 
 suitable for the comprehension of three-year-old 
 children. There was, perhaps, the merest trace of 
 asceticism in Sidney Martin's nature, and the simple 
 doctrine of these people, their fatalistic creed, their 
 bare little church, appealed to him as no gorgeous 
 ritual or ornate sanctuary could have done. The 
 hoarse, untuneful singing of these country folk, taking 
 rio shame of their poor performance, so that it was 
 in praise of God, stirred his spiritual sympathies 
 more profoundly than any cathedral organ — yet — 
 he was a creature of reason, and he had always 
 considered the Catholic Church more logical than 
 any other, and above all, he had no belief whatever 
 in the Christian doctrine. Ruled by a pure and lofty 
 
 i. 
 
I 
 
 fefnV « 
 
 J#i 
 
 
 I 60 
 
 ^ DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ideal of Truth, his life had been ideally good. His 
 lofty aspirations did not lift him beyond sympathy 
 with his fellows, only above their vileness. He adored 
 nature with an almost heathenish idolatry, and had 
 such reverence for her slightest manifestation, that 
 he never willingly broke a leaf or crushed an insect. 
 Literally, he worshipped the works, but not the 
 Creator. And lo! — here was the woman round 
 whom his very soul twined, taking it for granted 
 that he believed all she did, and that his life could 
 compass no higher happiness than to preach this 
 belief to others ; and what excellent grounds he 
 had given her for thinking thus! All these things 
 mirrored themselves in his mind in an instant, then 
 he said : 
 
 " But, Vashti, I have no need to do anything. 
 There are many worthier men than I to fill 
 Mr. Didymus's place. I am not a preacher, you 
 know." 
 
 " Oh, but you will be for my sake," she said, and 
 laid her head down again upon his shoulder like a 
 child who has found rest. 
 
 Truly there are more mpting devils than the 
 urbane gentleman of the cloven hoofs. 
 
 " What had you meant to do ? " she asked. 
 
 " Indeed, I had mapped out no definite course," 
 he answered. " My mother's money makes life easy 
 for me, you know, but I had meant to do something, 
 certainly. Only I was taking my time looking about 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 i6i 
 
 I didn't want to do anything which would cut some 
 fellow who needed it out of a living." 
 
 " Let me decide for you," she murmured ; the 
 breath of the words was warm on his ear. " Think 
 how happy you could make us all. They all think 
 so much of you in Dole on account of your prayer. 
 Mary Shinar says you are a saint." Then, her arms 
 stealing about his neck, she added, " Sidney, for my 
 sake you said you would sacrifice anything. I didn't 
 think this would be a sacrifice. I thought it would 
 be a delight ; but if it is a sacrifice make it for my 
 sake." 
 
 Alas, he had fallen among the toils! He took 
 swift illogical thought with himself. He would 
 preach to them a pure and exalted morality. He 
 would be the apostle of nature's pure creed. He 
 would make Dole a proverb in all New England. 
 He would teach, he would have a library, he would 
 marry Vashti. 
 
 Glamoured by his love and his sophistry, his 
 judgment, his sense of right and wrong, failed him. 
 Sidney caught his Delilah to his heart. 
 
 " It shall be as you wish, my sweet," he said ; 
 " and now tell me you love me." 
 
 " I love you," she said, repressing the triumph in 
 her voice. " I love you and I am proud of you," 
 she said again, holding her head high. If she had 
 lost much in Mullein meadow she had also gained 
 a triumph there. 
 
 II 
 
I 
 
 163 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I 
 
 
 \M: ' 
 
 m - 
 
 The short American twihght was darkening to 
 night. The weird old boulders sentinelled round 
 them might have been a druidical circle, and she 
 the priestess fulfilling the rites. Nor was the victim 
 wanting ; only instead of slaying the body with a 
 golden knife she had killed the soul with silvery 
 speech. 
 
 " Ah," said Sidney as they turned to thread their 
 way out of Mullein meadow, " surely this place is 
 holy." 
 
 She paused, looking at him — " Do you not think 
 that suffering sanctifies more than joy ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, not such joy as ours, as Lanty's and 
 Mabella's." 
 
 " I don't know," she said. 
 
 " But I'm sure of it ! " he answered ; then with 
 a lover's fantastical fondness he went on, " I would 
 not be surprised if when we visited this spot again 
 we found it hedged in by lilies, tall white eucharist 
 lilies, set to keep others from straying into conse- 
 crated ground." 
 
 " Sidney," she said, " promise that you will never, 
 never ask me to come here again — it is too sacred." 
 
 He was deeply touched by her delicate, sensitive 
 thought. 
 
 " Dear heart," he said, " never ; yet do not the 
 most reverent lips approach the sacramental cup 
 more than once ? " 
 
 "You will make a capital preacher," she said, 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 163 
 
 " but you must not persuade people to do things 
 against their conscience." 
 
 "You shall do as you like always." 
 
 They were on the highway by this time ; a 
 waggon overtook them, and then went on at a foot 
 pace just in advance. 
 
 Vashti seemed to walk with intentional swiftness. 
 
 " Vashti," he whispered, " don't walk so fast. Let 
 those people get out of sight." 
 
 " We must go on," she said. 
 
 Sidney thought this touch of shyness adorable in 
 her who was so self-poised, yet he protested with 
 zeai. Do men always try to destroy what they 
 admire .-' 
 
 Suddenly Vashti bethought herself that an extra 
 rivet was never amiss when one wanted bonds to 
 hold, so with a sigh as of timorous yielding, she 
 gave him her lips again in the shadow of the porch, 
 and left him with a glory of happiness bedimming his 
 mental vision. 
 
 The house was dim-lit and silent. After the 
 labours of threshing-day everyone was worn out. 
 Lights glimmered in the bedrooms, but the living 
 rooms were dark. 
 
 Sidney paced up and down the little garden path 
 for long, feeling " caught up to heaven, yet strangely 
 knit to earth." 
 
 Vashti sought her room, and pulling up the blind 
 looked out where Mullein meadow lay. 
 
 U* 
 
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 Mr- 't 
 
 
 in 
 
 i i s 
 
 164 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 "A holy place!" she said to herself, "I wish I 
 could pile the fire to burn all three of them. ' A 
 tabernacle,' he said ; I wish I might build me an 
 altar there and slay them on it! I don't think even 
 an angel would stay my hand. ' A sacrament ' ; 
 I wish I had the filling of their cups, wormwood 
 should they drink and the waters of Marah down 
 to the very dregs — all three ! " 
 
 Her nostrils dilated like a brute's upon traces of 
 the prey. In the breast of such a woman love 
 denied turns to gall. She paced up and down, up 
 and down — her rage lent expression in grotesque 
 gestures and evil words, words which with Vashti 
 Lansing's teaching and training she was superbly 
 brave to use. It grew very late ; her eyes were 
 almost wild. She took the guttering candle in one 
 hand and crept along the passage to Mabella's room. 
 She opened the door and went in. Mabella lay 
 asleep, her candid face budding from the prim little 
 frill like a flower from its calyx. Vashti bent above 
 her a haggard and violent face distorted by passion. 
 Her eyes blazed ; her lips drawn tensely back 
 showed the strong white teeth. She leaned over 
 the sleeper, her strong fingers closing and unclosing ; 
 a long tress of her hair fell across her shoulder 
 suddenly and touched the dreamer's cheek — Mabella 
 stirred, raised her hand half way to her cheek, mur- 
 mured with a little happy smile — " Lanty — Lan — " 
 her voice died away ; her soft regular breathing 
 
 J 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 i6S 
 
 1 
 
 r 
 
 
 continued unbroken. At the sound of that name 
 uttered thus a dreadful purpose Hghted Vashti's 
 eyes. The fingers of her strong hand opened wide 
 and advanced themselves toward the white throat 
 which pulsed upon the pilllow ; at that moment the 
 guttering candle fell over. Its burning wick and 
 melted grease struck the hand which held it. Vashti 
 instinctively uttered a smothered cry and jerked 
 her hand ; the light went out. Mabella stirred ; 
 Vashti sped to her room and got the door closed 
 ast as Temperance came to her door and said : 
 "Did anyone call.?" 
 There was no response. 
 
 " Are you all right, Mabella ? " she said, going 
 across the hall to Mabella's door. 
 
 " Yes," said Mabella sleepily. " I think I knocked 
 something over with my elbow and the noise woke 
 me up." 
 
 "Are you all right, Vashti?" 
 " Yes, what is it ? " answered Vashti 
 " Nothin' — thought I heard a noise." 
 For hours Vashti Lansing lay and trembled with 
 the only fear she knew ; the fear of herself. How 
 near she had been to terrible crime, only she and 
 Omnipotence could know. She reflected upon 
 consequences and told herself that never again would 
 she give herself such an opportunit3^ At last she 
 sank to rest, to be tormented till dawn by a strange 
 vision. 
 
 fsS 
 
1 66 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 m 
 
 i I 
 
 It seemed to her she stood again in Mullein 
 meadow, within the circle of boulders, and that 
 slowly, slowly they closed in upon her ; closer and 
 closer they came, narrowing about her with gradual 
 but horrible certainty, and at last they touched her 
 and held her tight, shackling her hand and foot so 
 that she could not move a muscle, but they did not 
 kill her ; and whilst she was thus held all Dole defiled 
 before her ; the villagers pointed at her with scorn- 
 ful fingers and passed whispering on ; her mother, 
 who had long been dead, passed with her father, 
 but they did not look at her, nor seem to know she 
 was there, nor did old Mr. and Mrs. Didymus who 
 presently joined her father and mother. Then the 
 scene grew brighter and she saw Temperance and 
 Nathan together ; they shook their heads, looking 
 at her sadly but coldly ; then a sweeter radiance 
 flooded the view upon which she looked, and Mabella 
 and Lanty with their little children about them 
 drew nigh her, and they spoke kindly words to her, 
 and put a shade over her head to keep off the sun's 
 heat, and raised a cup to her lips, and one of their 
 children came and held up a child's haphazard 
 bouquet to her nostrils that she might smell the 
 flowers. She tried to repulse these kindnesses ; she 
 tried to drive Mabella and Lanty away with evil 
 words, but the stones pressed too tightly upon her 
 to admit of speech, and while she writhed thus 
 impotently, she looked far away where one wandered 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTEK OF WITCHES, 
 
 167 
 
 alone ; there were butterflies and birds about him, 
 and flowers springing about his feet, and he wore 
 a look of calm ineffable happiness, and, yet, it was 
 not the same happiness as shone upon the faces of 
 Lanty and Mabella which lighted the eyes of this 
 visioned Sidney. But in her dream Vashti did not 
 dwell long upon this, her thoughts reverting to the 
 paralyzing prison which encompassed her; and she 
 fought, and struggled, and strove, yet she could 
 not move those terrible stones, and casting her eyes 
 down upon herself, it gradually dawned upon her 
 that she could not even struggle. The terrible 
 wrenches and efforts she had made were but 
 imaginary, so tightly was she held that she could 
 not so much as twitch a finger. Thus the hours 
 passed with her. 
 
 Mabella slept sweetly and healthfully, so rapt in 
 love that even the baleful influence bending over her 
 so terribly in the night had had no power to disturb 
 her rest, although the gaze of even a friendly pair 
 of eyes so often murders sleep. Sidney slept also, 
 and high above the pale wastes of Mullein meadow, 
 the star of promise still shone, unrecking of the 
 presumptuous human heart which had dared to dream 
 its silvery splendour a pennon of hope. 
 
 
 I 
 
1^ 
 
 W'. 
 
 Ki" 
 
 
 '' 1 
 if] 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 When Sidney opened his eyes next day it was upoa 
 a transfigured world that he looked. A world golden 
 with imaginings of happiness across whose vistas 
 shone a white path, Hke the milky way in the heavens, 
 niiirking the life road to be trodden by Vashti and 
 himself. Cradled in a happy trance his heart knew 
 no apprehensions. At such a time retrospect shares 
 the mind almost equally with anticipation. The 
 glorious present is made still more glorious by com- 
 parison. As Sidney dwelt upon his past it was borne 
 in upon him with peculiar force that it had been 
 but a curtain raiser to the real drama of his life. 
 He had been a popular man as a student and after- 
 wards also, but it seemed strange even to himself 
 how few real ties he would have to sever in adopting 
 this new life — so radically different in vocation from 
 any he ever dreamed of before. The fact was that 
 in all his friendships he had given more than he had 
 received. He had given liberally of that intamgible 
 vital capital called sympathy, and he had received 
 but little in return. Although he had not realized 
 
A DAUGnTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 169 
 
 
 it his friendships had been only so many drains upon 
 his vitaHty. He had thought of, and for, his friends 
 continually; they had accorded him the tribute of 
 uncomprehending admiration which bears the same 
 relation to real sympathy as bran does to the full, 
 rich wheat. Thus it was that in separating himself 
 from these friendships he felt no wrench. Separate 
 from them he must. He knew that the keeping of 
 his promise to Vashti was utterly incompatible with 
 his old life ; he must " come out and be separate " 
 from all his old associates and associations. He felt, 
 however, that this would be possible ; possible with- 
 out sacrilege. His attitude towards religion had 
 always been defensive rather than offensive. He 
 felt deeply the pathos of the Christ drama. The 
 figure of the Man of Sorrows was a familiar one in 
 the gallery of mental portraits to which this idealist 
 had turned in time of trial ior strength. 
 
 There was one man whose verdict upon his action 
 he longed to know, yet dreaded to ask. A strong 
 soul, untamed by sect, unshackled by formulated 
 belief. A man whose magnificent active human or- 
 ganism was hallowed by the silver thread of mystic- 
 ism. A man whose splendid logical mind was 
 transcended by a subtle sense of premonition, in- 
 tuition, which led him far beyond where his reason 
 or his scanty learning could bear him company. A 
 man whose eyes looked out wistfully yet eagerly 
 from beneath penthouse eyebrows. A man whose 
 
170 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 
 li 
 
 
 W '\ 
 
 toil-roughened fingers turned reverently the pages of 
 books he could not read ; French or German books 
 beyond his ken. A man in whose proper person 
 Sidney had always felt there was symbolled forth 
 the half blind, half perceptive struggle of the human 
 to comprehend the infinite. 
 
 What would this man think of his new vows? 
 This man who would have died for what the world 
 called his disbeliefs. 
 
 WeP; Sidney told himself that his first devoir was 
 to Vasnti and the promise made to her. He would 
 not delay. These thoughts bore him company till he 
 was in the hall. He did not know the hour, but 
 suddenly he was aware of a subtle, penetrating fresh- 
 ness in the air. He looked out of the hall door : 
 the garden was dim with autumnal dew. V/ds it 
 indeed so very early? 
 
 He heard voices in the kitchen. He found there 
 only Mr. Lansing and Miss Tribbey. 
 
 " Is it so early 'i " he asked, smiling. 
 
 " For the land's sakes ! Mr. Martin ! " said Tem- 
 perance. " Is that you ? " 
 
 Sidney laughed aloud ; there was a ring in his 
 voice which made Temperance regard him. 
 
 " I have been :iwake for ages," he said ; " so here 
 1 am." 
 
 Temperance remembered certain days in the past 
 when she had been wont to awaken ere the first 
 bird sang in the dark. These were the days when 
 
 ir 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 171 
 
 Nathan, a hobbledehoy, too bashful to woo her in 
 daylight, used to waylay her in the lane when she 
 took the cows back to the field, and stand with his 
 arm about her in the dusk. 
 
 Temperance rubbed her eyes. 
 
 " The morning sun do dazzle," she said, giving 
 unsought explanation of the moisture in her eyes. 
 
 " Better set right down and have breakfast," said 
 old Mr. Lansing. " The young folks is turrible lazy, 
 it seems to me, nowadays." 
 
 " Oh, not all of them," said Sidney. " Look at 
 Temperance." 
 
 Old Lansing chuckled delightedly. 
 
 " Nathan Peck had better look out, Temp'rins ; I 
 alius did say you had a way with the men." 
 
 Temperance tossed her head, well plea..ed. 
 
 " Will you have your eggs fried or biled ? " she 
 asked Sidney, the blush upon her gaunt cheek 
 j^iving her a sadly sweet look of girlhood. 
 
 Old Lansing finished his breakfast and pushed 
 back his chair. 
 
 " You'll excuse me," he said, " but I've been up 
 since cock-crow, and I hav'n't done a blessed thing 
 but water the cows. The men are in the barn now 
 wailing. Temp'rins '11 give you breakfast. I'll 
 warrant the girls will be surprised when they get 
 down. Lazy rritturs! Temp'rins, why don't you 
 wake 'em up :• " 
 
 " O sakes ! Let 'cm sleep," said Temperance ; " in 
 
179 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 i 
 
 i< 
 
 a few more years they'll wake fast enough o' their 
 own accord. Laws! I kin mind when I'd have slep' 
 all day if they'd let me be." 
 
 In this homely sentence lay the secret of Tem- 
 perance's influence. This gaunt old maid never 
 forgot the workings of her own youth. Indeed now 
 that it was past she acknowledged its weaknesses 
 very frankly, and this reminiscence made her very 
 lenient towards young people. 
 
 Old Mr. Lansing departed for the barn, and Sidney, 
 filled with impatience to see Vashti, paced up and 
 down the kitchen. 
 
 Temperance brought the eggs and sat down beside 
 the tray, looking at him with a sort of pitiful sym- 
 pathy m her keen eyes. 
 
 Sidney essayed to begin his breakfast ; a smile 
 twitching the corners of his sensitive mouth. 
 
 Temperance watched him. 
 
 At length he laid down his knife and looked at her. 
 
 A subtle atmosphere of sympathy made him con- 
 fident and -expansive. 
 
 " I say, Temperance," he said, " I was never so 
 happy in all my life. You don't mind my talking 
 to you about it, do you? I'm so happy that — oh. 
 Temperance." 
 
 It was a bovHsh conclusion ; he looked at the gaunt 
 country woman ; her hands worked nervously ; she 
 looked as if she fe/t the emotion which made him 
 ineloquent. 
 
 i 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 173 
 
 " You have seen — you are pleased ? " he continued 
 in haphazard fashion. 
 
 " Bless your soul, Sidney," burst out Miss Tribbey, 
 forgetting to be formal, " I'm pleased if so be you're 
 happy. I ain't very religious. I expect I have a 
 worldly heart. I'm like Martha in the Bible, alius 
 looking after cooking and sich, but I've said to my 
 Nathan heaps o' times, ' He's a blessing,' I said, ' to 
 have in the house,' and I mean it. My soul! I only 
 hope Vashti '11 come up to your expectation," 
 
 " Ah," said Sidney, " there's no doubt of that. She's 
 perfect." 
 
 Miss Tribbey's mouth half opened, then shut reso- 
 lutely. She had her own standard of perfection, but 
 she had too much sense to deprecate the lover's fond 
 extravagance. 
 
 " I'm perfectly content," said Sidney, " perfectly." 
 
 Miss Tribbey grew very white. 
 
 " Don't say that," she said earnestly, " don't ; no 
 good ever came of sich a boast. It's terrible dan- 
 gerous t' say you are perfectly content. I never 
 knew good to come of it — never." 
 
 " But I am," said Sidney, feeling happy enough to 
 challenge the powers of evil en masse. 
 
 " Listen," said Temperance gravely, " don't say 
 that. 'Taint meant for mortal man to be content. 
 'Taint intended. \\'hat would make us work for 
 Heaven if we was perfectly content here? No, don't 
 say it. I've known one or two people that thought 
 
1 ! 
 
 M 
 
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 tsf} 
 
 
 '74 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 themselves perfectly content, and how soon they was 
 brought down! There was Mrs. Winder. Has any- 
 one told you about Mrs. Winder? " 
 
 " No," said Sidney, " but I know her by sight. 
 She's got a stern face." 
 
 " Starn ! You'd be starn-looking too if you'd come 
 through what Sal Winder has. First she married 
 Joshua Winder ; he was a bad lot if ever there was 
 one, and after they'd been married ten years and 
 had four children, what does he do but up and run 
 away with a bound girl at Mr. Phillipscs, a red- 
 cheeked, bold-faced critter she was. Well, Sal never 
 said nothin'. She was left with a mortgage and the 
 four children and a roof that leaked. I don't s'pose 
 anyone ever knowed the shifts Sal was put to to 
 bring up them young ones and work that place and 
 make both ends meet and keep the roof of the old 
 house fron: falling in. Mebbe you've remarked the 
 old house? It's got a white rosebush by the door, 
 and blue ragged-sailors in the yard, and the pile 
 of bricks beyond was once a smoke house. She had 
 all her hams and bacon stole one year to make things 
 easier for her. Well, her oldest boy was the most 
 remarkable young one that Dole ever see. Joshua 
 his name was, after his father, but that's all the 
 likeness there was between the two of them. That 
 boy was jist grit and goodness clean through! And 
 the way he helped his mother! There wasn't a foot 
 of that old place they didn't work, and prices were 
 
 ; 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 »75 
 
 I 
 
 good then, and in about six years Sal got the mort- 
 gage paid. She gave a dollar to the plate in church 
 the next Sunday." Some held 'twas done to show off, 
 but Sal wasn't that stripe of woman. 'Twas a thank- 
 offering, that's what it was. 
 
 " Well, next year Sal built a barn, and the year 
 after the new house was begun. The house went 
 on slowly, for Sal wanted to pay as she went along. 
 Well, at last the house was built and painted real 
 tasty, and one day I was over there to visit a spell, and 
 Sal says, ' Joshua has gone to pay the painter for 
 the house painting,' she says ; ' it's a sort of cele- 
 bration for us and we're having ducks for supper. 
 I hope you'll stay and help us celebrate.' Then she 
 went on to say how good Joshua had been, which 
 she didn't need to tell me, for all Dole knowed he 
 was perfect if ever there was a perfect son. So jest 
 after the lamps was lighted, in come Joshua. He 
 was tall and slim ; he favoured Sal in his looks ; he 
 had worked so hard ever since he was little that 
 his hands had a turrible knotty look like an old 
 man's, and he had a sort of responsible expression 
 to his face. Well, we was all setting at supper and 
 Joshua had cut up the ducks and we was all helped, 
 and Sal says, ' Now make your supper all of ye. 
 We've had a bard row to hoe, Joshua and me, but 
 we've kep' it clear o' weeds, and I guess we're goin' 
 to have a harvest o' peace and quiet after the 
 grubbin'.' Joshua looked up at his mother, and I 
 
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 ')!( 
 
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 ■ \ 
 
 1 
 
 'II 
 
 176 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 never seen two people more happy to look at Sal 
 was real talkative that night, and she says : 
 
 " * Well, Temperance, I'm right glad you're here to- 
 night. Vm perfectly content this nighty she says. 
 The words wasn't out ot her mouth till I saw Joshua 
 give a shiver — like a person with a chill in his back, 
 
 " ' Have you got a chill, Joshua ? ' I says, and he 
 laughed quite unconsarned, and he says, ' Yes, I seem 
 to have the shivers.' 
 
 " Four days after that Joshua Winder lay dead 
 in the new house. . . . My! I mind how his 
 hands looked in his coffin. His face was young, but 
 his hands looked as if he'd done his heft o' work. 
 No, never say you are perfectly content. It's turrible 
 dangerous." 
 
 Si-^ney's sensitive heart was wrung by the homely 
 story. 
 
 " Oil, Temperance," he said, " why did you tell 
 me that ? " She looked at him as a surgeon might 
 regard one whom his healing lancet had pained. 
 
 ' Because," said Temperance, " because it's a tempt- 
 ing o' Providence to say or to think you are content. 
 I ain't superstitious, but I'd rather hear the bitterest 
 complainings as to hear anyone say that." 
 
 " And yet," said Sidney, " I should think the Lord 
 would be pleased to see people happy, each in his 
 own way " 
 
 " Well," said Temperance, modestly, " I ain't much 
 on religion, Mr. Ma- n. I can't argue and praise 
 
 1^ 
 
 I; 
 
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 ^ 
 
li 
 
 ^ 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 177 
 
 and testify the way some can, but my experience iias 
 been that when folks begin to think themselves and 
 their Hves perfect and to mix up earth with he;i\en, 
 and forget which one they're livin' in, they're ;ipt 
 to be brought up sudden. It seems to me heaven's 
 a good deal like a bit o' sugar held in front of a 
 tired horse to make him pull. I guess there's a 
 good many of us would lie down in the harness 
 if it wasn't for that same bit of sugar ; we n^ny 
 look past the sugar for a while, but when we get 
 to a bit of stiff clay or run up against a rock we're 
 mighty glad to have the sugar in front o' us 
 again ; but, sakes ! you ain't made no breakfast, 
 and there's the girls! You'll breakfast with — h • — 
 after all." 
 
 Temperance gave him an arch look and departed, 
 and Mabella had hardly crossed the threshold before 
 the sympathetic Miss Tribbey called her ; when she 
 arrived in the back kitchen Temperance took her 
 by the shoulders and whispered energetically in her 
 ear: 
 
 " Sakes, M'bella ! Don't go where you ain't 
 wanted." 
 
 Mabella's eyes lighted with sympathy. 
 
 " You don't say ! " she said. 
 
 Temperance nodded like a mandarin. 
 
 "It must be catching!" said Mabella. "It was 
 Nathan brought the infection to the house." 
 
 " Go 'long with you," said Temperance, and with 
 
 12 
 

 ,1 
 
 78 
 
 A DATTGHTER OF WITCITES. 
 
 a very considerate clatter of dishes she made her in- 
 tended entry audible to the two people in the kitchen. 
 
 Mabella looked at Vashti eagerly — sympathetically, 
 but the calm, beautiful face of her cousin was as a 
 sealed book. 
 
 " Whatever was that noise in the night, Tem- 
 perance? " asked Vashti. 
 
 " Why, I don't know," said Temperance, " I was 
 sure I heard a noise, but I couldn't see anything when 
 I got up. Did you hear anything, Mr. Martin ? " 
 
 " Not I," said Sidney, " but I was so busy with my 
 own thoughts that you might have fired a cannon at 
 my ear and I would not have heard it." He looked 
 at Vashti ; her down-drooped eyes were fixed upon 
 her plate ; suddenly he exclaimed -. 
 
 " What have you done to your hand } It's 
 burned!" 
 
 " Yes," she said quietly, " after I blew out my 
 lamp last night I knocked the chimney off. I caught 
 it against my side with the back of my hand, that 
 burned it." 
 
 " My ! " said Mabella. " I would have let it break." 
 
 Vashti smiled, and suddenly raised her eyes to 
 Sidney. 
 
 "A little pain is good for me, I think. It makes 
 one know things are real." 
 
 " But the reality is «• ometimes sweeter than the 
 dream," he said, tenderly. 
 
 She let her eyes fall in maidenly manner. It was 
 
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 J 
 
 
 a • ! ' aS yS^f *"^"» ^ 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 79 
 
 
 as if she had spoken. This woman's most ordinary 
 movements proclaimed the eloquence of gesture. 
 
 "You must have been up early," said Mabella to 
 Sidney. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " I wi s in a hurry to leave the 
 dream-world for the real." 
 
 " An'^ how do you like it } " asked Mnbella, saucily. 
 
 Vashti spoke at the moment, some trivial speech, 
 but in her tone there was the echo of might and 
 right. It was as if with a wave of her hand she 
 brushed aside from his consideration everything, every 
 person, but herself. 
 
 They rose from the table together. 
 
 " Come out," he whispered ; she nodded, and soon 
 they were pacing together in the morning sunshine. 
 Mabella looked after them ; turning, she saw Tem- 
 perance wiping her eyes. 
 
 " What is it .^ " she asked with concern. 
 
 " Nothing," said Terrperance ; " nothing ; I'm real 
 low in my spirits this morning, though why, I'm sure 
 I can't say. But it's fair touching to hear him! 
 There he was this morning talkin' of her being per- 
 fect, and sayin' he was perfectly contented. It's a 
 tempting o' Providence. And, Mabella, there's Vashti 
 — she — well, I may misjudge," concluded Temperance 
 lamely. " Sakes ! look at them chickings," with which 
 Temperance took herself off to regulate the ways and 
 manners of her poultry yard. Mabella departed to 
 do her work light heartedly, and Vashti out in the 
 
 12* 
 
(!' • ) • .1 ■ 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 1 80 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 morning sunshine with her lover was weaving her 
 web more and more closely about him. 
 
 In two nights more Sidney was leaving Dole. 
 
 It was the night of the prayer meeting. 
 
 All Dole knew of his engagement to Vashti Lans- 
 ing ; all knew he hoped to be the successor of old 
 Mr. Didynus. The old white-headed man had 
 spoken a few words to him telling him how happy 
 he was to think of his place being so filled. He 
 spoke of it calmly, but Sidney's lips quivered with 
 emotion. Mr. Didymus said, " Wait till you're my 
 age and you won't think it sad to talk of crossing 
 over. Wife and I have been two lonely old people 
 for long now, hearkening for the Lord's voice in the 
 morning and in the evening, and sometimes inclined 
 to say : * How long, oh. Lord ! How long ? ' We 
 won't be long separated. When folks live as long 
 together as we have they soon follow each other. 
 That's another of God's kindnesses." 
 
 There was in the simple old man's speech nn 
 actual faith and trust which brought his belief within 
 the vivid circle of reality. 
 
 " I will do my best," said Sidney. 
 
 " The Lord will help you," said the old man. 
 
 The prayer meeting was animated by thought for 
 Sidney. There was something in the idea of bis 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 f8i 
 
 i 
 
 going forth to prepare to be their pastor which caught 
 the Dole heart and stirred its supine imagination. 
 
 When old Mr. Didymus prayed for him, that he 
 might be kept, and strengthened and guided, it was 
 with all the fervour of his simple piety. The m- 
 tensity of his feelings communicated itself to his 
 hearers. Amens were breathed deeply and solemnly 
 forth. 
 
 Vasliti would have liked Sidney to speak. 
 
 " I cannot," he said simply ; nor was his silence 
 ill thought of. He was going forth ; he was to be 
 comforted ; he was the one to listen to-night whilst 
 they encouraged him and plead for him, and again, in 
 the name of the Great Sacrifice, offered up petitions 
 for him. The hour had come for the closing of the 
 meeting, when suddenly Mary Shinar's clear, high 
 treble uttered the first words of one of the most 
 poignantly sweet hymns ever written. 
 
 ** God be with you till we meet again — 
 May Hi's tender care surround you^ 
 And His Loving arm uphold you^ 
 God be with you till we meet again. " ' 
 
 Every voice in the church joined in this farewell, 
 and then the benediction was slowly said — the old 
 tender, loving, apostolic benediction, and they all 
 streamed forth into the chill purity of the autumn 
 night. They shook hands with him, and he stood 
 among them tall and slight and pale, inexpressibly 
 touched by their kindliness, unexpectedly thrilled by 
 

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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 
 7i WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) •72-450'' 
 

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 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 their display of emotion. It was only their religion 
 which moved these people to demonstration. 
 
 The last hand clasp was given. The lights in the 
 church were out, and the Lansing party took its way 
 homeward. 
 
 Temperance's face and Mabella's were both tear- 
 stained. Vashti's pale beauty shone out of the dusk 
 with lofty quietude in every line. 
 
 Sidney looking at her felt he realized what per- 
 fection of body and spirit meant. 
 
 A new moon was iisinf^ in the clear pale sky — 
 the wide fields, tufted here and there .vlili dim blos- 
 somed wild asters, lay sweet and calm, awaiting the 
 approach of night as a cradled child awaits its 
 mother's kiss. Far away the tinkling lights of solitary 
 farm-houses shone, only serving to emphasize the 
 sense of solitude, here and there a tree made a 
 blacker shadow against the more intangible shades 
 of night. There was no sound of twilight birds; 
 no murmur of insect life. 
 
 Sidney was passing home through the heart of 
 the silence after a farewell visit to Lanty, who was 
 kept at home nursing a sick horse. 
 
 It was the night before Sidney's departure from 
 the Lansing house. The summer was over and gone. 
 It had heaped the granaries of his heart high with 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 183 
 
 the golden grains of happiness. He walked swiftly 
 on, then suddenly conscious that he was walking upon 
 another surface than the grass, he paused and looked 
 about him. Around him was the tender greenness of 
 the newly springing grain — above him the hunters' 
 moon curved its silver crescent, very young yet and 
 shapen like a hunter's horn. A new sweet night was 
 enfolding the earth, gathering the cares of the day 
 beneath its wings, and bringing with it as deep a 
 sense of hopeful peace as fell upon the earth after 
 the transcendent glory of the first day, and here amid 
 these familiar symbols of nature's tireless beginnings 
 he was conscious of an exalted sense of re-birth. 
 He too was upon the verge of a new era. 
 
 He stood silent, gazing out into the infinity of the 
 twilight 
 
 Afterwards when the pastoral mantle did fall upon 
 his shoulders there was a solemn laying on of hands, 
 a solemn reception into the ranks of those who fight 
 for good ; but the real consecration of Sidney's life 
 took place in that lonely silent field, where the furrows 
 had not yet merged their identity one with the other, 
 where the red clods were not yet hidden by the 
 blades. Out of the twilight a mighty finger touched 
 him, and ever after he bore upon his forehead almost 
 as a visible light the spiritual illumination which came 
 to him then. It was, alas, no self-comforting recog- 
 nition of a personal God. It was only the sense that 
 all was in accord between the Purposer and the world 
 
i84 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 he had made ; but this was much to Sidney The 
 man-made discord could be remedied, even as the 
 harsh keys may be attuned. For ever after this hour 
 he would give himself up to striving to bring his 
 fellows into accord with the beautiful world about 
 them. 
 
 Suddenly he felt himself alone. A speck in the 
 vastness of the night, a little flame flickering unseen ; 
 but just as a sense of isolation began to fall upon 
 him a mellow glow gladdened his eyes — the light 
 from the open door of the old Lansing house. He 
 bent his steps towards it with a humble feeling that 
 he had trodden upon holy ground ere he was fitly 
 purified. 
 
 In after days when many perplexities pressed upon 
 him, he often withdrew in spirit to this twilight scene. 
 Of its grey shades, its dim distances, its silence, its 
 serenity, its ineffable purity he built for himself a 
 sanctuary. 
 
 Alas! In that sanctuary the God was always 
 veiled 
 
i8i 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was nearly two years after Sidney went forth to 
 prepare for the pastorate of Dole, when he stood 
 one morning reading and re-reading the brief words 
 of a telegram: 
 
 Come at once. Mr. Didymus is dying. 
 
 Vashti Lansing. 
 
 The old man had been failing fast since the 
 springtime. 
 
 The first April showers were quickening the earth 
 when oiie day Sally found Mrs. Didymus dead in 
 her chair, her Bible upon her knee, her spectacles 
 pushed up on her brow, her dead face turned to 
 where upon the wall hung a faded and discoloured 
 portrait of Martha. 
 
 " It won't be long now," Mr. Didymus had said 
 to Sidney upon that occasion, and Sidney felt it 
 would be cruel to contradict his hope. 
 
 All summer long as Sidney read Vashti's accounts 
 of the old man's fluctuating health he had thought 
 
1 86 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 It ■ 
 
 of the solemn gladness of the moment when the 
 summons should come. His loins had been girded 
 for months past and now he was to set forth. 
 
 He had said to Vashti in a wistful letter, "When 
 the hour comes he sure you send for me yourself. 
 Let it be your personal summons which brings me 
 to your side." And now such a summons lay before 
 him. 
 
 He had no preparations to make. All that re- 
 quired to be done could be arranged afterwards. 
 But, ere he set out for the new life, he had one 
 visit to pay. He had always promised himself that 
 when the hour came he would not taste of its joy 
 till he had gone to the man of whom he had thought 
 during the first gladness of his engagement. 
 
 Surely it was a curious thing that a minister of 
 the Gospel should seek counsel of an unlearned 
 agnostic. Nevertheless Sidney went confidently. 
 At each step he took towards his destination he 
 grew more and more ashamed for that he had so 
 long withdrawn himself from this man. 
 
 Sidney found him in his old place amid the 
 whirring wheels of the great factory in which he 
 worked. His grizzled hair was a trifle greyer, his 
 strong figure a little more bent ; but his clear cut 
 mouth was as firm as ever, his eyes as wistful and 
 eager. They had that expression of receptiveness 
 which so often marks the true sage, who, very wise, 
 is yet always eager to learn. 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 187 
 
 Between the sliding belts Sidney encountered his 
 delighted gaze fixed straight upon him. The visitor 
 threading his way with difficulty through the maze 
 of machinery to where he stood with such a welcome 
 in his eyes that Sidney's impulse had been to brave 
 the wheels and go straight. 
 
 " How I wanted to come and meet you," said 
 the man, holding out a begrimed hand eagerly. 
 " But you know my hand must be on the lever 
 always." 
 
 " Ah," said Sidney, " I felt your welcome even 
 before I saw you, and when I saw you formalities 
 were discounted." 
 
 The man looked at him, a shade of awe solem- 
 nizing the gladness of his face. 
 
 " There are some things which almost frighten 
 one," he said. " Do you know that all day long 
 I have been thinking of you, remembering the 
 lectures you used to give us at the Shelley Club 
 and wondering if I should ever, ever hear from you 
 again ? " 
 
 " And now I am here ! " said Sidney. 
 
 " Yes," said the man, looking at him lovingly. 
 " And it is so good to see you." 
 
 In the midst of his happiness Sidney remembered 
 to say " And how does the Shelley Club progress > 
 Are you president yet .-' " The man shifted his feet 
 awkwardly. 
 
 " Yes, I am," he said 
 
m 
 
 I 
 
 1 88 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Ah, the right man in the right place," said Sidney 
 cordially. " So the club goes on ? " 
 
 " Yes, we have nineteen members now and there 
 are often fifty at the meetings." 
 
 " There's a stride ! " said Sidney. " We used to 
 be proud of ourselves if we could say ' we are seven,' 
 didn't we } Well, I would like to hear vour 
 addresses." 
 
 " You have some news to give me, I am sure," 
 said the man, who, during the conversation manipu- 
 lated his lever with the mechanical precision of a 
 man whom practice has made almost automatic. 
 
 Sidney flushed. 
 
 " Could you come out for a few minutes' quiet 
 talk?" he asked. 
 
 " I shall see," said the man, turning a knob which 
 arrested the wheels. He went to a man almost as 
 grimy as himself, but who wore a coat. Sidney 
 looked about him with shuddering disgust at the 
 surroundings. 
 
 The machinery beside him shivered with the 
 suppressed energy kept in check by the knob the 
 man had turned. It seemed to Sidney a symbol 
 of the eager soul of the man whom he had come 
 to see, prisoned by circumstances within the circum- 
 ference of petty cares, yet quivering and throbbing 
 with divine energy. 
 
 The man was returning pleased with the little 
 boon of time he had gained. The circumstances 
 
 
A DAUGJITEK OF WITCHES. 
 
 189 
 
 
 grijiped Sidney's heart. He felt his own freedom 
 and ease a reproach. 
 
 The man led the way, turninfr down the sleeves 
 of his gp-ey flannel shirt. He passed broad- 
 shouldered between the whizzing belts, one touch 
 of which meant mutilation. Sidney edged his way 
 gingerly after him. The spaces between the whirling 
 wheels seemed very narrow. 
 
 The workman led the way out into a desolate 
 but sunny little courtyard. A high wall enclosed 
 it ; great heaps of packing cases filled one corner ; 
 a freight car, run in upon a little row of rails, stood 
 just within the gate. 
 
 " Sit down," said the mnn, waving Sidney to a 
 place upon a pile of boards. It struck Sidney that 
 there was a sense of luxury in the way in which 
 he let his frame relax ; it was an unaccustomed treat, 
 evidently, these few moments stolen in the midst 
 of the sunshiny forenoon. 
 
 " Now for your news," said the man. " Is it about 
 yourself ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Sidney, "and it will surprise you 
 greatly. I am about to become, in fact already am, 
 a Minister." 
 
 " Of what — to whom — ^where ? " asked the man. 
 
 " A preacher of the Christian gospel," said Sidney. 
 " To a pious little community in the New England 
 hills." 
 
 There was silence for a moment. The whirr of 
 
190 
 
 .4 DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 the wheels came to them, they heard a postman's 
 whistle in the street outside and the chirping of some 
 sparrows which fluttered about the empty car. 
 
 " You are disappointed," said Sidney ; you dis- 
 approve, but " 
 
 The man raised his hand. 
 
 " It's for a woman, I suppose," he said. " Would 
 nothing satisfy her but your soul ? " 
 
 " Oh," cried Sidney, " I will do my duty by them. 
 I will preach the truth to them. They shall know 
 how noble and lovely life may be. They shall be 
 shown what real beauty is, and told that righteous- 
 ness for righteousness' sake is the highest good." 
 
 His friend sat silent still ; Sidney looked at him 
 almost pleadingly, and saw that his eyes were blurred 
 by tears. 
 
 "Listen," he said to Sidney. "Give it up. You 
 don't know what you are doing. It will kill you. I 
 know you so well. You are salving your conscience 
 now by good resolutions. When you see the fruit- 
 lessness of it all you will torture yourself with 
 thoughts of your responsibility and wliat not, and 
 the end will be chaos." 
 
 " Do you think I have not nearly gone mad 
 already ? " said Sidney, growing very white. " Surely 
 you must guess how I have questioned my abilily 
 to do them good. But I think the worst of that is 
 past now. I shall have a stay, a support, an inspira- 
 tion which will never flag. The most beautiful and 
 
 il 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 191 
 
 best woman in the world has promised to many 
 me the day I become minister of Dole." 
 
 " Tve heard of the devil baiting his line with a 
 woman," said the workman contemptuously, but yel 
 in such a manner that Sidney could not take offence. 
 Then he went on : — 
 
 " You say you'll do your duty by these people, 
 but it's not that I'm thinking about. It's you. 
 Remember this, you are to work in the vineyard of 
 human nature, its soil is the shifting quicksand of 
 human weakness. When you feel that sucking you 
 down, to what will you turn ' Upon what secret 
 source of strength can you draw ? Do you think 
 the men who preach the Christ word in the slums 
 could live and eat and continue their work unless 
 they drew strength from some unseen reservoir ? No, 
 a thousand times no. Of course, I think their belief 
 a delusion, but it is real to them, as real as the 
 Divinity of Truth, and Truth alone, is to me. To 
 preach a personal God without belief in one is to 
 court destruction ; at any moment, by disappoint- 
 ment or self-reproach, you may be thrown bark 
 upon your own beliefs. Shall the mother wh( m 
 you have denied open her arms to you ? Or shall 
 the personal God in whom you do not believe sustain 
 you? No, you will fall into the void Sidney, give 
 it up." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " J will never give it up," he said. " I have 
 
 a 
 
19a 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 promised that I shall devote myself to the work, 
 and I will. You speak as if I had denied Nature 
 and spat upon Truth. I have done neither. These 
 two things will bear me through. There was one 
 night in the fields — there was a new moon, and 
 the young grain was springing. I saw things very 
 clearly just then. I felt I could do good, and that 
 it was my bounden duty to try. Bid me good- 
 speed." 
 
 The workman rose. He took Sidney's hand and 
 pressed it in both of his. 
 
 " I think," he said, " no human being ever began 
 a hopeless course with more sincere and honest good 
 wishes." As he held Sidney's hands and looked 
 into the grey eyes of the younger man his own 
 keen eyes dimmed and grew seerlike. The look 
 of the visionary illumined his face. 
 
 " You will toil and strive and suffer," he said. 
 " You will spend and be spent for others. You will 
 have griefs, but you will never realise them, for you 
 will be too absorbed in the sorrows of others to feel 
 your own. You have bound yourself to a wheel, 
 and until you are broken upon it, and your spirit 
 spilt into the bosom of the Eternal, you will never 
 know you have been tortured." 
 
 A half sob arrested his speech. 
 
 "Good-bye," he said, "good-bye!" 
 
 "Good-bye," said Sidney, who was much moved. 
 So the two men parted. The one went into the 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 '93 
 
 ■ 
 
 sunshine ; the other back into the hot atmosphere, 
 where the deleterious dust was eddied into mael- 
 stroms by the whirling wheels. 
 
 The one murmured, " Vashti, Vashti " ; the other, 
 as he oiled the wheels and bent strenuously over 
 his work, thought long and sorrowfully ol nuuiy 
 things. It chanced to be the meeting-night of the 
 Free Thinking Vegetarian Club, of which he was 
 president, and in his little speech he said much of 
 a man who bartered his soul for a mess of pottage. 
 But he told the story in such fashion that this 
 man seemed to shine as an unselfish hero before 
 their eyes, instead of as a weakling, spendthrift of 
 a precious heritage of independence. 
 
 Thus an author has sometimes such wholesome 
 charity for his villains that we love them more than 
 their betters. 
 
 As Sidney was borne towards Dole that day, he 
 relived as in a vision all the events which followed 
 that first haphazard visit of his. And yet, could 
 such a vital event be bom of chance ? 
 
 How well he recalled the peculiar f-.jcy he had 
 had when Dr. Clement, after his visit to the country, 
 gave him old Mr. Lansing's invitation. 
 
 It was as if a little bell set swinging in his father's 
 boyhood had suddenly tinkled in his ear, bidding 
 him turn in his youth to those scenes where his 
 father had been a boy. 
 
 He remembered the day when dear old Temper- 
 
 13 
 
194 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 .'J 
 
 I 
 
 t^; 
 
 
 f:^ HI 
 
 ^4 
 
 ance first opened the door to him. He knew now 
 the enormity of his going direct to the front door. In 
 Dole only ministers and funerals went there. Sidney 
 never really acquired the etiquette of the Dole 
 doors. One has to be born in a court to properly 
 appreciate its etiquette. 
 
 With epicurean delay the gentle stream of his 
 recollections took him dowA the road, past Mullein 
 mecidow (O ! place of promise !), to the " unction sale," 
 at Abiron Ranger's, and then his memory leaped 
 the bounds, swept aside intervening incidents, and 
 dwelt upon the glorified vision of beautiful Vasbti 
 Ah! "Who ever loved that loved not at first 
 sight ? " 
 
 Then followed his long visit with its rhythmic 
 lapse of happy days. 
 
 Then, the Holy Grail of her heart had been 
 won. 
 
 And afterwards came the long waiting. The 
 short visits to Dole. And now! 
 
 The marriage of Mabella and Lanty had taken 
 place a month or so after Sidney left Dole the first 
 time. Their little daughter Dorothy was more than 
 a year old now. 
 
 Temperance and Nathan were not yet married, 
 but three months before Temperance had bought a 
 new black cashmere dress in Brixton, and Nathan 
 was known to have priced a china tea set, with 
 gilt rosebuds in the bottoms of the cups. Dole 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 195 
 
 
 felt, therefore, that matters were approaching a 
 crisis with Temperance and Nathan. 
 
 Old Mr. Lansing had grown very frail. He had 
 had a stroke of paralysis, and had never been the 
 same man again. His eyes always had an appre- 
 hensive look which was very painful to witness ; 
 and strangely enough this quiet, self-contained old 
 man, who all his life had seemed so content with 
 the little village where he was born, so scornfully 
 unconscious of the world which fretted and throbbed 
 beyond its quiet boundaries, now showed a great 
 eagerness for word from the outside. He subscribed 
 to several newspapers. And when Sidney came 
 the old man would question him with persistent and 
 pathetic eagerness about the details of different 
 events which he had seen chronicled with big typed 
 headings, and Sidney found himself often sore at 
 heart because he knew nothing whatever about the 
 matter. American journalism has some grave flaws 
 in its excellence, and surely the hysterical lack of 
 all sense of proportion and perspective in presenting 
 the picture of the times is a deplorable thing. It 
 does grave and positive harm in the rural districts 
 where it is impossible for the people to gauge the 
 statements by comparison with events. 
 
 Sidney was greatly touched by the misconception 
 of old Mr. Lansing in regard to these things. 
 
 "Ah," said the old man once, laying down the 
 paper in which he had read a grotesquely ex- 
 
196 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 aggerated account of some political caucus which 
 was made to appear like a meeting of the national 
 powers, " Ah, there's no wonder dear old Sid went 
 to Bosting." He shook his head and sat with his 
 elbows upon his chair, looking before him into 
 vacancy. What fanciful vista of possibilities did 
 he. look upon ? What vague regrets beset his mind ? 
 To Sidney this was unspeakably pitiful. This old 
 man with his young dreams — and it was the more 
 sad, inasmuch as the dreamer himself knew their 
 futility. 
 
 Old Lansing had always been a " forehanded " 
 man with his work. He had never left over one 
 season's duties till another, but he had forgotten to 
 dream in his youth, and now he was striving in his 
 age to overtake the neglected harvests of his garden 
 of fancy. 
 
 When the train stopped at Brixton the first person 
 whom Sidney saw was Lanty. Lanty tall and strong, 
 and debonair as ever. He greeted Sidney very 
 heartily. 
 
 " You've come for keeps this time," he said, as 
 he led the way to where the roan, a trifle more 
 sedate than formerly^ stood waiting between the 
 shafts of a very spick-and-span buggy. 
 
 " We will go straight to the preacher's," said Lanty. 
 " I hope we'll be in time." 
 
 " Is he so low ? " 
 
 1^' 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 '97 
 
 " Dying," said Lanty simply. He touched the roan 
 with the reins and it sprang torward. Sidney's heart 
 fled before. The landscape upon either side stretched 
 dimly before his eyes. He was conscious that Lanty 
 was speaking to him, and he made suitable replies. 
 But all his mind was glamoured by one thought, for 
 Vashti had promised that Mr. Didymus should marry 
 them. 
 
 Was this then THE DAY? 
 
 They passed Lanty's house, a square building with 
 heavily timbered porch, and Lanty drew rein to call 
 " Mabella, Mabella ! " But there was no reply. 
 
 " She must have gone into Dole," said he, and 
 once more they went on. Ere long they were driv- 
 ing up the streets of Dole. The women stood at 
 the doorways with elaborate pretence of being 
 occupied. The men endeavoured to infuse surprise 
 into their recognition of Sidney, although most of 
 them had purposely elected to stay in the village 
 " choring " around the house instead of going to the 
 fields or the woods. 
 
 The wise wives of Dole, knowing the amiable 
 weakness of their husbands, had preferred special re- 
 quests that day to have work done about the house. 
 In Dole a man always thought he was conferring a 
 personal favour upon his wife if he straightened up 
 a leaning garden fence, mended a doorstep, or banked 
 up a cellar for winter. There were six cellars banked 
 up in Dole on the day when Sidney entered it Upon 
 
198 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 fS 'f 
 
 the spring air the odour of fresh-turned earth speaks 
 of new ploughed fields and fresh harvests, but in 
 autumn the earthy smell is chill and drear, and brings 
 with it a sense of mortality, a hint of the end. And 
 this atmosphere hung heavy over the little village as 
 Sidney entered it. 
 
 As the buggy drawn by the roan horse passed, the 
 ranks of Dole closed up. That is, each woman 
 crossed to her neighbour, and the men rested from 
 their labours to discuss the arrival. 
 
 There was one thing that never was forgotten about 
 Sidney's entry — a circumstance viewed severely by 
 the many, leniently by the few — he wore a grey suit 
 of clothes. Dole murmured in its heart at this in- 
 fringement of the ministerial proprieties, but Dole 
 was destined to experience a succession of sucli 
 shocks, for its young and eager pastor trod often 
 upon the outspread skirts of its prejudices. 
 
 Sidney himself was profoundly moved as he drove 
 up the street, for he was entering the precincts of 
 his holy city. In the geography of the heart there 
 are many cities. There is the place where we were 
 born ; the place of our dreams ; the Rome which 
 under one guise or another fills the foreground of 
 our ambitions ; and above all there is the place where 
 first we tasted of love, ah, that is where the Temple 
 Beautiful stands. And Sidney's first and only love 
 had been born in Dole. 
 
 Eager eyes were watching for them from the par- 
 
 il 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 199 
 
 sonagfe windows ; Mabella, the habitual happiness of 
 her face masked and subdued by tender-hearted con- 
 cern ; Mrs. Ranger, a bustling important woman of 
 many airs and graces, filled with a sense of her own 
 importance, and knowing that her every action would 
 be reported to Temperance Tribbey (her sworn 
 enemy) by Mabella ; Mr. Simpson who had nursed 
 Mr. Didymus from the beginning ; and, waiting 
 alone and silently in the tiny hall upstairs, Vashti 
 Lansing. 
 
 She saw the two men coming up the street, side 
 by side in the buggy, and her heart leaped up and 
 cried for the one who was denied her. Again an 
 ang^ g^st of passion shook her as she looked. For 
 the one moment her decision wavered. That pale 
 slight man whose grey eyes were so eager, so alight 
 with hope and love, was nothing to her compared 
 to the blue-eyed, fair-haired young countryman. 
 Why should she condemn herself to the torture 
 of the continual contrast.'* But this way her 
 revenge lay, tmplanned yet, but so eagerly desired. 
 She would surely, surely find some means to make 
 them feel her power when as the preacher's wife 
 she was First Lady in Dole. So Vashti Lansing, 
 filled with Samson-hke courage to wreck her enemies 
 at any price, slowly descended the stairs as Sidney 
 entered the front door. Then she went towards him 
 
 Mabella saw them and with adroit sympathy en- 
 deavoured to detain Mrs. Ranger in the kitchen. But 
 
300 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 that worthy woman saw through Mabella's artifice, 
 and leaving her question unanswered made for the 
 door which led from the kitchen into the little front 
 hall ; whereupon Mabella deliberately placed herself 
 in Mrs. Ranger's way, and animated by the courage 
 which springs from consciousness of a good cause, 
 dodged every attempt of that irate person to pass 
 her. Mrs. Ranger endured this as long as she could, 
 then, without more ado, she put out a strong arm 
 and brushed Mabella aside. " Take care," she said 
 and passed into the hall. But Sidney had had his 
 greeting, and Vashti's calm face baffled her inquiring 
 looks. 
 
 " I could see there had been something," she said 
 in reporting the matter, "but what had happened I 
 don't know." 
 
 " My sakes," said Mrs. Simpson, when Mrs. 
 Ranger told her this, " I'm sure you must have been 
 busy in the kitchen if you couldn't spare time to 
 watch 'em meet. My soul! If Len was worth his 
 salt for observation he'd have kep' his eyes open. 
 
 But sakes! Men's that stoopid . But with you 
 
 there I thought we'd know how things was goin' " 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Ranger tartly, "you can thank 
 Mabella Lansing for that. First as I was going out 
 she ups and asks me a question. I paid no atten- 
 tion to that for I knew 'twas done to hinder (them 
 Lansings is all in the same boat), and then when 
 she seen I wasn't to be took in with that she 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 20I 
 
 deliberately put herself in the way, and dodged me 
 back and forward till I had all I could do to keep 
 from giving her a good shove." 
 
 " Well, M'bella Lansing had better look out. It's 
 a bad thing to be set up. Pride goes before a fall. 
 And M'bella's certainly most ivonderful sure of self. 
 
 But Lanty wouldn't be the first young chap to . 
 
 Of course I ain't sayin' anything, but ihey do say " 
 
 Mrs. Ranger waited eagerly to see if her friend 
 would commit herself to a definite statement. But 
 Mrs. Simpson was much too wary for that ; so Mrs. 
 Ranger nodded her head, and pursed up her lips, 
 and managed to convey the impression that " she 
 could an* she would " unfold a tale. 
 
 But this was some days after Sidney met Vashti 
 in the najrow hall of the Dole parsonage. 
 
 " I am here, Vashti," he whispered, kissing her. 
 
 " Yes, how glad I am ! " she answered simply. 
 
 " Can I speak to you just a moment, dear, before 
 I go to see him? " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Do you remember," he whispered hurriedly, " that 
 you promised old Mr. Didymus that he should marry 
 us .-* Vashti, I have waited so long. I tremble be- 
 fore the responsibility of the life I have chosen. 
 Strengthen me with the fulfilment of your promise 
 to better keep mine." 
 
 Just then Mr. Simpson came in. 
 
 " He's askin' if you be come yet," he said to 
 
 i'lii 
 
r 
 
 302 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Sidney. " I — ^wouldn't wait long before seein' him 
 if I was you ; he's sinkin'," 
 
 " I will come in at once," said Sidney. Mr. Simp- 
 son turned and re-entered the sick room. 
 
 Sidney turned to Vashti, At that moment Mrs. 
 Ranger, flushed and a little ruffled by her combat 
 with Mabella, entered the hall. 
 
 " How d'ye do, Mr. Martin ? " she said, holding out 
 her hand. " We'd be right glad t' see you if the 
 time wasn't so sad." 
 
 " I am pleased to see you," said Sidney, in his 
 gentle genial way, shaking hands with her. She 
 looked from his face to Vashti's with an almost 
 ridiculously eager scrutiny, but found herself baffled. 
 
 " You'd better go right in and see Mr. Didymus," 
 she said. " He's bin askin' for you." At this 
 juncture Mabella appeared, an adorably matronly 
 Mabella. 
 
 " How are you, Sidney ? " she asked. " Mrs. 
 Ranger, I'm afraid your pies are burning or running 
 over or something, I smelt them." 
 
 " Laws," said that good woman, disappearing like 
 a shot. " Didn't you have sense enuff to go to the 
 oving instead o' coming t' me ? " 
 
 " If you want to talk," said Mabella coolly to 
 Sidney and Vashti, " go into the sitting-room, and 
 when she comes back I'll tell her you've gone in to 
 see Mr. Didymus." 
 
 " You're an angel," said Sidney, and drew Vashti 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ao3 
 
 through the doorway just as Mrs. Ranger came back 
 angrily. 
 
 " Them pies ain't half cooked," she said, " let alone 
 burning ! " 
 
 " Well, I'm sure I thought I smelt them," said 
 Mabella, " and I know you didn't want to leave 
 the pie- making for Temperance to do when she came 
 this evening." 
 
 " If the pics had burned I'd have made others, 
 depend on that," said Mrs. Ranger. " I guess 
 Temp'rins Tribbey never had to do anything over 
 after me! I s'pose he's gone in to see Mr. Didymus 
 now > " 
 
 " We may as well go," said Mabella. " He won't 
 be back for awhile likely." 
 
 So the two went back to the kitchen, where Lanty, 
 after watering the roan, stood eating biscuits from 
 the heap upon the bake board. 
 
 " Vashti," said Sidney, taking her in his arms, " say 
 yes. You know I adore you- — and — Vashti, you 
 will " 
 
 She looked into his eyes. For one moment a 
 womanly hesitation prevailed in her heart. The next 
 she questioned herself angrily : " Why wait, why 
 delay, why not begin to lay the threads of your 
 revenge .-' " 
 
 " But " — she paused and looked down. He drew 
 her closer. 
 
 " Darling, it is the knowledge that you are really 
 
ao4 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 mine that I want. You surely do not think I would 
 be exacting to you ? You shall come to me when 
 you will ; say yes, dear " 
 
 " It is so hurried — so — ^you are good," she said, 
 with charming affectation of hesitancy. 
 
 " Send Lanty over for your father," said Sidney, 
 " and Temperance and I will go in and ask Mr. 
 Didymus." 
 
 " I — yes, Sidney, 1 will do as you wish," she said, 
 then for one instant, abashed by the great glad light 
 in his eyes, she let fall her face upon his breast. 
 
 " And Vashti — after — ^you won't keep me waiting 
 too long." 
 
 She looked at him, arch rebuke in her eyes. 
 
 He reddened. 
 
 " There," he said, " I'm spoiling it all I know. Go, 
 dear, and send Lanty." She moved away a step. 
 He followed her swiftly and caught her to his breast 
 with passion. 
 
 " Tell me, Vashti," he said, " that you love me 
 as I love you ; tell me that life together seems the 
 only thing possible to you." She put her arms about 
 his neck. 
 
 " I love you dearly," she said, " I could not look 
 forward to life except with you." 
 
 With those words and with the embrace of her soft 
 warm arms, every doubt or shadow died in Sidney's 
 heart He returned her embrace, too moved to speak, 
 and left her to enter the room of the dying man. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ao5 
 
 Vashti went to the kitchen door and called her 
 cousin. 
 
 " Lanty," she said, " will you come a moment ? " 
 
 He left Mabella and came to her. 
 
 " Come outside," she said, " I want you to do some- 
 thing for me." Then as they got beyond Mrs. 
 Ranger's hearing she continued : " I want you to go 
 over and fetch father and Temperance. Sidney is 
 bent upon being married by Mr. Didymus and — I 
 have consented." There was a kind of agony in the 
 regard she gave Lanty. " Will you go ? " she said ; 
 her voice sounded far away to herself, and all at once 
 it seemed to her as if she could hear the blood rush- 
 ing through her veins, with a roaring as of mill- 
 streams. And Lanty, all unconscious of this, stood 
 smiling before her. Truly, if Vashti Lansing siimed, 
 she also suffered. 
 
 " It's a capital idea," said Lanty heartily, " You 
 are a lucky girl, Vashti. I'll go at once ; have you 
 told Mabella yet?" 
 
 The pent-up forces of Vashti's heart leaped almost 
 beyond the bounds. 
 
 " Go," she said, with a strange sweet shrillness in 
 her voice. " Go, at once." 
 
 " I will, of course, I will," said Lanty, and he suited 
 the action to the word. He paused an instant to 
 tell Mabella, and added : " You go and talk to Vashti, 
 she's as nervous as you were." 
 
 Then he departed and Vashti watched him, won- 
 
 .'li 
 
 .1 
 
3o6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I 
 
 dering a little why she had been born to such a 
 perverse fate. As she turned from the empty distance 
 where he had disappeared it was to be met by 
 Mabella's arms, and kisses, and congratulations, and 
 exclamations. Poor Mabella! All was so well 
 meant, and surely we would not blame her ; and yet, 
 tliough a creature be worthy of death, we do not 
 like to see it tormented and baited. Vashti Lansing, 
 with her lawless will, her arrogant self-confidence, her 
 evil determination, was yet to be pitird that day. 
 
 The short autumnal day had drawn down to night. 
 Lamps twinkled from every room in the parsonage. 
 A great stillness brooded over the house. 
 
 The kitchen was filled with whispering women, 
 groups of men lingered near the house and horses 
 were tied here and there to the palings. The word 
 had gone abroad that the old man who prayed for 
 them so long was leaving them that night. There 
 would be little sleep in Dole during its hours. 
 
 " The license has come," whispered Mabella to 
 Temperance, and Temperance slipped out from 
 among the women and found Nathan where he 
 loitered by the door. 
 
 Soon they were all gathered in the sick room. Old 
 Lansing, and Mabella, and Lanty with their baby 
 Dorothy in his arms, and Temperance and Nathan, 
 and another guest, unseen and silent, to whom they 
 all did reverence, who was nearer to the old clergy- 
 man than any of them. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 907 
 
 And in a moment the door opened, and Sidney 
 and Vashti came softly in, both pale, both calm. 
 
 The old clergyman looked up at them lovingly. 
 His face was the colour of ivory, and the spirit seemed 
 to shine through its imprisoning tabernacle like a light. 
 
 in few and feeble words he married them. Then 
 he essayed to speak a little to them, but he stumbled 
 and faltered, and instead of saying, " You, Vashti," 
 he said " You, Martha," and when he sought to find 
 Sidney's name he could only say " Len." 
 
 The composure of the women gave way. Mabella 
 buried her face in Lanty's arm and cried unre- 
 strainedly. Tears streamed over Lanty's face also. 
 Those words, Martha and Len, showed how lovingly, 
 despite his stern denial of their suit, the old man had 
 thought of his daughter and her sweetheart. 
 
 His voice wandered and failed, Sidney and Vashti 
 knelt beside the bed. 
 
 Temperance stole forward and touching them, 
 motioned for them to go. 
 
 As they rose the old man looked at them. A 
 little bewilderment flickered into his eyes. 
 
 " It's not Martha and Len " — then his eyes cleared. 
 " I am going to them and the mother." Then he 
 looked at Sidney, " Be thou faithful unto death," he 
 said, the solemnity of the words gaining an incal- 
 culable force from the weakness of the voice. Then 
 he began to murmur to himself, " I have fought the 
 good fight, I have finished my course." 
 
acS 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 Dr. Harrow and Mr. Simpson entered the room, 
 and the others quitted it, and hardly were they gone 
 ere the unseen guest stole out from the shadows and 
 looked into the old man's eyes. There was neither 
 fear nor reluctance in them, nothing but welcome, 
 and a trust which was transcendent ; and in a few 
 moments the unseen guest folded the longing spirit 
 of the old man in a strong embrace and bore it to 
 where * beyond these voices there is peace." 
 
 Thus Sidney was married. Thus the mantle of the 
 pastorate of Dole fell upon his shoulders. 
 
 Irl5 
 
 •i^,:. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 For six months Sidney had been minister of Dole, 
 and aheady his people adored him. Never had they 
 heard such sweet and winning sermons ; never had 
 they realized the beauty and tenderness of the gospel, 
 never had they gone to their church with such 
 assurance of comfort as they did now. 
 
 As Sidney learned to know them better and better, 
 he was enabled, to comprehend more and more fully 
 the narrow lives they led, the petty poverties which 
 afflicted them, the sore struggle it was for most of 
 them to make ends meet. Swayed by his great sym- 
 pathy he sought in Holy Writ for all the words of 
 comfort, peace, and promise. He read these passages 
 to them in a voice which yearned towards them from 
 his very heart, and then he would close the Bible 
 and preach to them lessons of the sweetest and purest 
 morality, illuminated by illustrations drawn from the 
 fields they tilled, from the woods, and from the vaiied 
 phenomena of natural life as it was manifested about 
 them; his discourses came to them with a sweet 
 and homelike sense of comfort. Dumbly and in- 
 
 *a 
 
216 
 
 A daughtlk of witched. 
 
 'M 
 
 
 stinctively they loved their barren hills and meagre 
 meadows with a great love, and it seemed to them 
 that now they were being given reasons for the love 
 which was in them. 
 
 If Sidney did not preach Christ he at least preached 
 His word — and in His spirit, and the people to whom 
 he preached never doubted of the chaos which was 
 in the soul of their teacher. Their teacher who night 
 and day kept their joys and sorrows in his heart. 
 
 Sidney was walking home through the powdery 
 snow to the parsonage when he met Temperance ; 
 her face was set, and she was evidently in some dis- 
 tress of mind. One of Sidney's first pastoral duties 
 had been to marry Temperance and Nathan. They 
 were established in the old Lansing house, for Nathan 
 had rented the farm. Old Mr. Lansing lived with 
 them. 
 
 " Well, Temperance ! " said Sidney. " It's an age 
 since I've seen you ; how's everyone with you ? " 
 
 " Oh, well," said Temperance, " but " — looking at 
 him shrewdly — " it don't seem to me that you are 
 over and above well yourself." 
 
 Sidney laughed carelessly. 
 
 " Oh — I'm always well — except for the headaches, 
 and Vashti cures them." 
 
 "Yes, I'll be bound she does," said Temperance 
 irascibly. " You ain't got a mite of sense neither one 
 of you ; them passes and performances ain't good for 
 you. I don't believe in 'em, and for a minister! 
 
 
 I 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 an 
 
 Sakes! they say you are an angel in the village; 
 take care you don't get to be one." 
 
 " Then you have your doubts about my being 
 angelic ? " said Sidney laughing. 
 
 Temperance coloured, but did not give way. 
 
 " Men's men," she said ; " only some of them are 
 better nor others," then she paused and grew grave 
 and troubled again. 
 
 " You've something worrying you," said Sidney 
 kindly ; " what is it ? " 
 
 " Well," said Temperance, " I don't know if I'm 
 over anxious or not, but — have you heard anything 
 about Lanty lately ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did," admitted Sidney, " and I was terribly 
 sorry to hear it. Do you suppose it can be true ? " 
 
 " I don't want to believe it," said Temperance, two 
 bright spots burning on her cheeks ; " but — but — 
 well — Nathan was over at Brixton to-day, and Lanty 
 was there, and he was — not himself." 
 
 " Oh, poor Mabella ! " said Sidney ; " I'm so sorry. 
 1 n \er dreamt it could be true. What can be 
 done?" 
 
 " Nothing — that I know of," said Temperance. 
 " M'bella's close as wax and quite right too, but 
 she's got a worried look ; I can see through M'bella, 
 and as for Lanty, well — it would be a pretty brave 
 one that would speak to Lanty — he has a look ! " 
 
 Sidney was in truth more distressed than he could 
 say. That Lanty, bold, bright, honest-hearted Lanty 
 
' 
 
 312 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 should give way to intemperance was grievous. 
 Sidney had always entertained a great admiration 
 for the young countryman, who was indeed almost 
 the antithesis of Sidney. The simplicity of his 
 nature was very charming to this supra-sensitive man 
 who scourged his own soul with introspective inqui- 
 sition. Lanty's calm and careless acceptance of the 
 facts of life, without question as to why and where- 
 fore, his happy life of work with his wife and child, 
 seemed to Sidney something to be admired as very 
 wholesome, if not envied as being very desirable. 
 That he should imperil this happiness seemed most 
 tragic to Sidney. 
 
 After he parted from Temperance he walked slowly 
 on. 
 
 It was true ; Lanty had " a look." His bold eyes 
 which had once looked so fearlessly into all the eyes 
 they met had now changed a little. There was a 
 kind of piteous challenge in them as of one who 
 should say to his fellows " accuse me if you dare." 
 Alas, over-eager denial is often an admission of guilt. 
 The tongues had been hissing his name from house 
 to house for long in Dole, and gradually the convic- 
 tion spread that Lanty Lansing was drinking much 
 and often — and it was true. 
 
 It was the direct result of his popularity. He had 
 been going very often to Brixton during the past 
 year, and there he had fallen in with a set of men 
 who drank a great deal; the country lawyers, an 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 213 
 
 old topjer of a doctor, a banker and two or three 
 idle men who spent their time in the back rooms 
 of their friends' offices. Mixed up with this set 
 Lanty did his drinking unseen ; but, das ! the effects 
 were very visibfe. But strange to say up to this time 
 not one of the Dole worthies had seen him drunk. 
 
 It would seem that even chance was constrained 
 to aid Mabella Lansing in the really heroic efforts she 
 made to hide her degradation from the censorious 
 little world about her. That she and her husband 
 were in any sense divisible she never dreamed. Her 
 comprehension of the unity of marriage forbade that. 
 That Lanty could sin apart from her, or be judged 
 apart from her, or condemned apart from her never 
 occurred to her simple loyal mind. As for turning 
 upon his delinquencies the search-light of her 
 righteousness ; or posing as a martyr and bespeaking 
 the pity of her friends as so many modern wives do 
 — well, sb^ had none of that treachery in her. She 
 suffered all his repentances in her own proper person 
 and without the anaesthetic poison which sometimes 
 numbed him to the pain of his regrets. 
 
 At this time Mabella's little child was a source 
 of ineffable strength and solace to its mother. Its 
 yellow head, so like Lanty's own, brightened the days 
 he was making so dark. Mabella, grown afraid to 
 look at the future, spent many hours in contemplating 
 her baby. Its eyes — like bits of the blue heaven ; 
 the tiny feet whose soles were yet all uncalloused 
 
If" 
 
 214 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 by the stones of life ; the clinging hands which had 
 as yet let fall no joy, nor grasped any thorns — ^these 
 were joys unspeakable to this mother as they have 
 been to so many. Truly " heaven lies about us in 
 our infancy," and now and then from the celestial 
 atmosphere about this child a weirm sense of peace, a 
 saving thrill of hope, reached out to the mother's 
 heart. O wonderful woman heart, which, like the 
 wholesome maple, gives forth the more sweetness 
 the more it is pierced! 
 
 Her neighbours took up the habit of visiting her 
 frequently. Going early and staying late, with the 
 laudable intention of forcing themselves into a confi- 
 dence denied them. 
 
 To see Lanty pass to Brixton was a signal to 
 start to his house, there to talk to Mabella until 
 such time as Lanty returned ; and poor Mabella, all 
 her old-fashioned wifely fidelity up in arms, talked 
 to them bravely. They had sharp ears these mothers 
 in Israel, but not so sharp as to outstrip Mabella's 
 love-quickened senses. 
 
 When Lanty came back she heard his horse afar 
 — before he came to the fork in the road even — 
 and making some simple excuse to her visitor, she 
 'vould speed out at the back door, see him, know 
 if all was well. If his gait was imsteady and his 
 blue eyes dazed, she would persuade him to go 
 4uietly up the back way. Happily at such times he 
 was like wax in her hands. Then she would return 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 "S 
 
 to her visitor with some little lie about straying 
 turkeys or depredating cows. 
 
 Oh, Eternal Spirit of Truth! Are not these lies 
 writ in letters of gold for our instruction amid the 
 most sacred precepts? 
 
 Once indeed L'-inty did come into the room where 
 Mrs. Simpson sat. His eyes were blurred ; he swayed 
 a little and asked loudly for the baby. 
 
 " I will find her," said Alabella quietly, though her 
 heart sickened within her, and rising she led him from 
 the room. 
 
 " Lanty, dear, you'll go upstairs and lie down?" 
 
 He looked at her white face ; the truth gradually 
 struggling in upon him; without a word he turned 
 and crept up the back stairs like a beaten dog going 
 to hide. 
 
 Mabella returned to the sitting-room taking her 
 baby with her ; she felt that she needed some fount 
 of strength whilst encountering Mrs. Simpson's talk. 
 When she entered, Mrs. Simpson greeted her with an 
 indescribable pantomime of pursed-up lips, doleful 
 eyes, uplifted hands and lugubrious shakes of the 
 head. Even Mrs. Simpson dared not seek in words 
 to break down Mabella's reticence, so baffling and 
 forbidding was its wifely dignity. 
 
 Mabella regarded Mrs. Simpson's pantomime 
 quietly. 
 
 " Axe you not feeling well, Mrs. Simpson } " she 
 asked. " Are you in pain ? " 
 
ai6 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ?tr 
 
 I 
 
 Mrs. Simpson arrested her pantomime with a jerk, 
 and sitting very erect, quivering with righteous wrath 
 and excitement over the exclusive information she 
 possessed, she said : 
 
 " I'm real well — I am. I only thought — but I guess 
 I'm keeping you ; p'raps you've got other things to 
 do. Isn't Lanty needin' you .' " 
 
 " No," said Mabella, " Lanty is not needing me. 
 What made you think that ? And I hope you'll stay 
 to tea. I've just put the kettle forward." 
 
 " No — I can't stay," said Mrs. Simpson. " I only 
 came to visit for a while and I've stayed and stayed." 
 Mrs. Simpson had at the moment but one desire on 
 earth, which was to spread the news of Lanty's 
 fall. 
 
 " I sort o' promised to visit Mrs. Ranger this week. 
 I've visited a long spell with you now. I guess I'll 
 be going on. My ! How like her father that young 
 one do grow ! " 
 
 " Yes, doesn't she ? " said Mabella, and the gladness 
 in her voice was unfeigned. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson took the goose quill out of her 
 apron band, in which her knitting needle rested, and 
 measured the stocking she was knitting with her 
 second finger. 
 
 " Well! " she said, " I declare I've done a full half 
 finger sence I been settin' here! This is my visitin* 
 knittin'. I hain't done a loop in this stockin' but 
 what's been done in the neighbours*. I cast it on up 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ai7 
 
 to Vashti's. My soul! I never can come to callin' 
 her nothing but Vashti, if she be the minister's wife! 
 I cast it on up there, and the preacher he was real 
 took up with the three colours of yarn being used 
 at once He sez, sez he : ' Why, Mrs. Simpson, you're 
 all three fates in one : you have the three threads in 
 your own hands.' Then he said to Vashti, 
 ' That would be fittin' work for you, Vashti.' Well, 
 I knowed Vashti could never manoover them three 
 threads at once, but I didn't say nothin', bein' as 1 
 thought he was took up with the stockin' and wanted 
 Vashti to make him some. Then he told about some 
 woman named Penellepper that was great on knittin'. 
 The only girl I ever knowed by that name was 
 Penellepper Shinar, and she certingly was a great 
 knitter ; she used to knit herself open-work white- 
 thread stockings. Well, she came to a fine end 
 with her vanities! I wonder if 'twas her Mr. Martin 
 meant .? Folks did say she was living gay in Bos- 
 ton, though 'twas said too that she went fur west 
 somewheres and school-teached. Suz! It would be 
 queer if 'twas her Mr. Martin meant ! " 
 
 " Mr. Martin gets all those stories out of old books, 
 in learned tongues," said Mabella simply. " When he 
 stayed at the farm he used to tell us all sorts of 
 stories." 
 
 " Women in books is mostly bad 'uns," said Mrs. 
 Simpson, by this time arrayed in the old crepe bonnet 
 which had been bought as mourning for Len, and 
 
 ,'. : 
 
 
3X8 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 which she now wore as second best. " That holds 
 good even to the Bible and the newspapers. And 
 as for a preacher mixing himself up with them, I 
 don't hold with it. But being that they're mostly 
 dead it don't matter so much, and judging from all 
 accounts they was good riddance when they died." 
 
 What a requiem over the " dear dead women " to 
 whom so many songs have been sung' 
 
 " How that scented geranium grows ! It beats all," 
 said Mrs. Simpson, as Mabella escorted her to the 
 garden gate. For anyone to have let a visitor depart 
 alone from the doorstep would have been a scandal 
 in Dole. 
 
 " Won't you have a slip ? " said Mabella, setting 
 down Dorothy and bending over the plant. " It's 
 apple scented ; Lanty bought it off a pedler's 
 waggon over in Brixton in the spring ; it has grown 
 wonderfully." 
 
 She broke off a branch, ran for a bit of paper, 
 put a little ball of earth round the stem, wrapped it 
 up and gave it to Mrs. Simpson. 
 
 " Well, it's real generous of you to break it, 
 Mabella ; but you know the proverb, ' A shared loaf 
 lasts long.' " 
 
 " Yes, it's true I'm sure/' said Mabella. 
 
 She accompanied Mrs. Simpson to the gate and 
 held up the baby to wave good-bye. 
 
 And Mrs. Simpson sped down the road with the 
 fleetness of foot which betokens the news bringer. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ai9 
 
 She turned at the fork in the road and looked 
 back at the square house against its background of 
 trees. Mabella was still at the gate with the yellow- 
 headed baby. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Simpson to herself, " them Lans- 
 ings is certainly most tormented proud! Sich pre- 
 tences! And would I stay to tea! My! I wonder 
 Mabcila Lansing can look a body in the face. 
 Gracious ! She must think we're a set of dumbheads, 
 if she thinks every soul in Dole can't see how things 
 is goin' with Lanty. It's the drinkin' uncle coming 
 out clear in him that's sure." 
 
 Mrs. Simpson arrived at her friend's house in ample 
 time for tea, and under the stimulus of excitement 
 made an excellent repast. 
 
 Without criticism upon the Dole people it must be 
 admitted that a scandal in their midst, such as this, 
 had much the same exhilaration about it for them 
 that a camp meeting had. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson and Mrs. Ranger talked over all the 
 ins and outs of the Lansing family history. It was 
 all equally well known to each, but after all, it is 
 an absorbing and amusing thing to rake over well- 
 hoed ground. 
 
 Public opinion had long since been pronounced 
 upon th*? events which these two worthy women 
 cited, not only that, but the grist of diverse opinions 
 had been winnowed by the winds of time till only 
 the grain of public decision was left. 
 
aao 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 So that when Mrs. Simpson expressed her opinion 
 emphatically in regard to any point, she knew Mrs. 
 Ranger would ag^ee with her, and knowing every link 
 ill the chain of events, knew exactly what would be 
 suggested to the other's memory by her own remark. 
 
 But it is a great mistake to think these con- 
 versations devoid of mental stimulus. It required 
 great adroitness to prevent the other person from 
 seizing upon the most dramatic situations and making 
 then I hers. 
 
 Then, too, though this was an unholy thing, there 
 was always the odd chance that an opinion, differing 
 from that pigeon-holed in the Dole memory as cor- 
 rect, might be advanced. In this rase it was one's 
 bounden duty to strive by analogy, illustration, and 
 rhetoric, to bring the sinner back to the fold of the 
 majority. 
 
 Nor must it be supposecl that history handed 
 down thus, crystallized. The light and shadows 
 were for ever shifting, and when any new 
 incident occurred the other cogent incidents 
 in the chain were instantly magnified and 
 dilated upon, and for the time being stood 
 forward boldly in the foreground of the pedigree 
 under consideration, remaining the salient points until 
 such time as some new event shed lustre upon 
 another set of incidents. 
 
 In view of the sensation of the moment, the 
 "drunken uncle" loomed like an ominous spectre 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 aai 
 
 across the long vistas of the Lansing genealogy. For 
 the moment he was regarded as the direct progenitor 
 of all the Lansings, although he had died unmarried 
 fifty years before Lanty's birth. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson added another half finger to her 
 fateful stocking, with its triune thread, ere she quitted 
 Mrs. Ranger's that night. 
 
 " Well, I declare," she said, as she stood on the 
 step in the greyness of the falling night. " I declare ! 
 I most forgot the slip Mabella gave me. It's on the 
 bed where my bunnit was," she added to little Jimmy 
 Ranger, who went in search of it. " It's real rare 
 that geranium is, apple scented — smell," breaking 
 off a leaf, pinching it, and holding it under Mrs. 
 Ranger's nose. " Come up as soon as you can," she 
 added, descending the two steps. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Ranger, " we're going to Brixton 
 for the blankets that have been spun of last year's 
 wool, next week, and p'raps we'll drop in on the 
 way home." 
 
 " Do," said Mrs. Simpson, " and you kin stay supper 
 and visit a spell ; our cider'U be made by then. 
 Len's been over to the cooper about the mill this 
 week. But if you should hear anything in the mean- 
 time, jest put on your bunnit and come acrost the 
 fields neighbourly." 
 
 " Yes, I will," said Mrs. Ranger ; " I guess things 
 is comin' to a head ; I wouldn't be surprised any 
 day " 
 
■ 
 
 222 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHEi^. 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 w ■ I ' 
 
 It*:- 
 
 1 ;^-.' t 
 
 li 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 " Nor Me," said Mrs. Simpson emphatically. 
 " Good night." 
 
 " Good night. It gets dark real soon now." 
 
 " Yes, there's quite a tang to the air to-night. It'll 
 be frost in no time." 
 
 " Well," soliloquized Mrs. Simpson, as she betook 
 herself home, " Liz Ranger thinks just the same's I 
 do ; that's evident. My sakes ! How Mabella Lans- 
 ing can go through with it is more'n I can figure." 
 
 " It's terrible ! " said Mrs. Ranger, going back lei- 
 surely to the house. " It's downright terrible. 1 
 guess Lanty went on awful to-day. Mrs. Simpson 
 is jest full of it, but sakes! I should think she'd 
 kind of talk low of drinkin' and sich, remembering 
 her own Len. He was a rip, Len Simpson was, if 
 ever there was one! But ^hat don't seem to be a 
 bridle on Gert Simpson's tongue. It's enough to 
 bring a jidgment on her, the way she talks. I 
 wonder how Temp'rins Peck '11 like Lanty's goin's 
 on?" 
 
 These reflections of Mrs. Ranger's upon Mrs. Simp- 
 son were no doubt edifying, but certainly she had 
 carried on the conversation with quite as great a 
 gusto as Mrs. Simpson. And if she had not enjoyed 
 it as much it was only because Mrs. Simpson, being 
 a redoubtable conversationalist, had filched the finest 
 morsels of the retrospective talk for herself, it was 
 therefore probably more a sense of wounded amour 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 223 
 
 it 
 
 l3 
 
 propre than genuine condemnation of Mrs. Simpson 
 which led her to criticize the latter's conversational 
 methods. 
 
 Mrs. Ranger had an uneasy and unsatisfactory idea 
 that she had merely given Mrs. Simpson her cues. 
 
 Mabella made strong coffee that night for supper 
 instead of tea. She dressed Dorothy in the be- 
 ribboned dress that Sidney had sent from Boston. 
 She talked cheerily and brightly to her husband. 
 She rose from her place and came round with his 
 cup and put it beside him, letting one hand fall with 
 a passing but loving touch upon his shoulder as she 
 did so. But she did not look at his face once during 
 all the time of supper. She dreaded to see the crown 
 of shame upon the brow of her king. For herein 
 again Mabella showed the steadfastness of her 
 adherence to her husband. She suffered because he 
 suffered. It was not the fear of the scandal that 
 would arise, it was not the thought of her own 
 probable future which stung her to the heart, 
 although these thoughts were both bitter as worm- 
 wood. 
 
 It was the knowledge that Lanty, her Lanty, who 
 was her guide, her everything, was ashamed. It 
 was the harm he was doing himself that she deplored, 
 not the reflection of his behaviour upon herself. 
 
 How many the women who proclaim their own 
 patience and their husbands' shortcomings upon the 
 housetops think of this? Not long since a certain 
 
 
 ■if 
 
224 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 '7 
 
 'A 
 
 11/ 1 1' 
 
 % 
 
 woman, bediamonded and prosperous, was demanding 
 sympathy from her dear half-dozei ends, recount- 
 ing to them the derelictions her husband. 
 " There's only one comfort," she said ; " after every 
 break he makes, he always gives me a handsome 
 present. That's always something." Yet we wonder 
 that there are cynics ! 
 
 There was no word spoken between Lanty and 
 Mabella in reference to the afternoon. But that night 
 in the darkness Lanty suddenly drew her into his 
 arms. 
 
 She laid her cheek against his; both faces were 
 wet with tears. 
 
 There was poignant apology made and free, full 
 loving pardon given all in that instant. 
 
 And Mabella wept out her p>ain on his breast. 
 But the shame and bitterness and self-contempt ate 
 
 into Lanty's heart like a venomous canker 
 
 All this had been in the late autumn, just after 
 the death of old Mr. Didymus, and now it was 
 spring, and all through the winter Mabella had 
 suffered, and hoped, and prayed, and despaired, and 
 now it had come to this that Nathan had seen Lanty 
 intoxicated in Brixton! 
 
 Sidney went back to the parsonage sorely troubled 
 at heart. Vashti stood in the doorway. 
 
 Her beauty struck him freshly and vividly. It was 
 his whim that she should dress in rich and beautiful 
 stuffs, and Vashti was quite willing to subscribe to 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 825 
 
 it. Dole groaned in spirit at the spectacle of its 
 minister's wife in such worldly garb as she wore, but 
 Dole would have borne much at Sidney's hands. 
 
 To-day she was clothed in a softly draped house- 
 gown of Persian colouring, bound by a great cord 
 girdle about her waist ; it fell in long classic lines 
 to her feet. Vashti's face had gained in majesty and 
 strength since her marriage. She was thinner, but 
 that, instead of making against her beauty, raised 
 it to a higher plane. There was a certain luxurious- 
 ness in her temperament which made her rejoice in 
 the beautiful things with which Sidney surrounded 
 her. She felt instinctively that she gained in force- 
 fulness and in individuality from her setting. And, 
 indeed, she fitted in well amid the beautiful pictures 
 and hangings with which Sidney had adorned the 
 enlarged parsonage. She had always seemed too 
 stately, too queenly, for her commonplace calicoes 
 and cashmeres. Her mien and stature had made her 
 surroundings seem poor and inadequate. But in this 
 gem of a house she shone like a jewel fitly set. 
 Sidney had had his own way about the primary 
 arrangements, and had installed a strong working 
 woman in the kitchen with Sally, the ex-native of 
 Blueberry Alley, as her under-study. 
 
 Vashti was perfectly content with this, and, whilst 
 she knew all Dole was whispering about her, held 
 upon her way undisturbed. She had developed, to 
 Sidney's intense joy, a very decided taste in the 
 
 15 
 
 .iX 
 
\i:h> 
 
 l» 
 
 226 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 matter of books. Her mind was precisely of the 
 calibre to take on a quick and brilliant polish. She 
 read assiduously, and her perceptions were wonder- 
 fully acute. 
 
 Her beginnings in literary appreciation were not 
 those of a weakling. Her mental powers were of 
 such order that from the first she assimilated and 
 digested the strong, rich food of the English classics. 
 
 She delighted in verse or prose which depicted the 
 conflict of passion and will, of circumstances and 
 human determination. Alas, her education only made 
 her more determined to gain her purpose, more con- 
 temptuous of the obstacles which opposed her. 
 
 And yet, if her purpose had not been of the most 
 steadfast, she might well have been discouraged. 
 
 Lanty and Mabella seemed so securely happy. 
 Vashti was, however, gaining an ascendency over 
 her husband which almost puzzled herself. She had 
 no comprehension whatever of the nature of the 
 power by which she was enabled to cause a deep 
 mesmeric sleep to fall upon him. Nor did she under- 
 stand in the least how gradually but surely she was 
 disintegrating his will. When his headaches came on 
 now half a dozen gestures of her waving hands were 
 suff^icient to induce the hypnoses which brought him 
 forgetfulness. Ignorant of the potency of suggestion 
 she often stood watching him whilst he slept, feeling 
 within her the striving of her dominant will, as of an 
 imprisoned spirit striving to burst the confining bars. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 327 
 
 \ 
 
 " Come into the study," said Sidney, as he reached 
 her side. " I have some very bad news." 
 
 " My father ? " she said. 
 
 "No, Lanty." She blanched to the tint of the 
 powdery snow. Together they went to the study, 
 and he told her. 
 
 Her breath came quickly. 
 
 Was the longed-for opportunity to be given into 
 her hands at last? 
 
 With all her mental activity she could not yet 
 guess how Lanty's decadence might yield her the 
 opportunity she craved. 
 
 But the position of affairs had seemed so barren 
 of hope for her that any change seemed to make 
 revenge more near. 
 
 So the evil in her leajjed and strove upward like 
 a flame given fresh fuel and freer dir. 
 
 • ■* 
 
 
2ao 
 
 CHAPIER XI. 
 
 The fragran. ^ i. k arbutus had replaced the snow- 
 w^e^l.ths uDon the -m' d s, the downy whorls of the 
 first *«^rn i .^n('«^ W( ^^ushing through the dark- 
 brown leaves, the fragile ; cpaticas had opened their 
 sweet eyes wide, when one morning Sidney took 
 the sloping path which led up the hill overlooking 
 Dole. 
 
 His lace was pale and drawn, his grey eyes half 
 distraught, his slender, nervous hands clinched as 
 if to hold fast to some strand of hope, some last 
 remnant of courage, some crumb of consolation for 
 that moment when his soul, utterly bereft, should 
 cry aloud in desolation. 
 
 Sidney Martin preached to his people sweet and 
 wholesome sermons, instinct with the hopefulness 
 and charity of one who believes that, "all things 
 work together for good," and that " the mute beyond 
 is just," but in his own soul was chaos. 
 
 Always sensible of his personal responsibility 
 towards his fellows, he had now become almost 
 morbicf vqon the subject 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 239 
 
 The old workman had known Sidney better than 
 Sidney had known himself, and his prophecies were 
 being fulfilled. 
 
 Happy as Sidney was in his husbandhood, yet the 
 possession of Vashti was not a narcotic strong enough 
 to stupefy his keen spiritual nature. 
 
 Every Sunday before he entered the pulpit he 
 endured a Gethsemane ; every time he quitted it 
 he sought the faces of his people yearningly, pitiably, 
 eager to be assured that his words had comforted 
 them. 
 
 He spent all his time thinking of and for them, 
 and he had won closer to their heajrts than he 
 guessed. They gave him confidences which had 
 been withheld from their fellows for years, and thus 
 let in to the closed chambers in their humble lives, 
 he was able to justify himself to Vashti for the very 
 lenient way in which he looked upon their lapses. 
 He sometimes wondered that their common ex- 
 periences of poverty and effort did not make them 
 more considerate in their judgments upon each 
 other. But they found in him always a merciful 
 judge. He visited their homes, he knew their hopes 
 and fears, he appreciated the pathos of their narrow 
 ambitions, at which a less great-hearted man might 
 have laughed. 
 
 He went into the little school-house frequently, 
 and strove in simple words to awaken the children 
 to the beauty about them, to the possibilities of life. 
 
 
 \ 
 
23© 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 I! { 
 
 He had great hopes of the children. Already he had 
 singled out several whom he thought might make 
 scholars. He promised himself that they should be 
 given the opportunity. 
 
 He had been going to the school that morning 
 when a little incident occurred which awakened all 
 his most poignant doubts of himself, and the 
 righteousness of his ministry. 
 
 Passing by the school-playground, he had seen 
 some evil words chalked up in a school-boy hand 
 upon the board fence. It was like a blow in the 
 face to Sidney — so eager to instil the doctrines of 
 sweetness and light into these children. Why, O 
 why had that boyish hand traced the symbols to 
 form that evil idea ? It was as if a clear spring 
 should suddenly cast up mud instead of water. 
 
 Sidney effaced the words, but turned away from 
 the school. The whole morning was poisoned for 
 him. Poor Sidney! Doubtless he was supra- 
 sensitive, and yet — ^why had not the boy chosen 
 some sweet and beautiful words to write upon that 
 sunny spring morning? Surely they would have 
 been more in keeping with the whole world as the 
 boy's eyes saw it ? 
 
 We may smile at Sidney as he agonizes alone 
 upon the hill, but it was by such vigils as these 
 that he won so close to the heart of the God in 
 whom he had no belief. 
 
 Sidney wandered about in the woods upon the 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 231 
 
 hillside till gradually some little of the peace of 
 the day entered into his spirit. He gathered a 
 bunch of arbutus to take home to Vashti He 
 encountered no one upon the return journey but 
 Mr. Simpson, who "passed the time of day" with 
 the minister, as he said afterwards, and then pro- 
 ceeded to try to draw him out regarding Lanty. 
 It was very easy for Sidney to parry old Mr. 
 Simpson's queries, but they made him very uneasy 
 nevertheless. 
 
 Vashti whitened as Sidney related the circum- 
 stances to her. 
 
 Could there be anything new? she wondered. 
 Sidney had one of his intense headaches, and, after 
 the mid-day meal, Vashti proposed to give him ease 
 from it by putting him into a sleep. 
 
 " You are my good angel, Vashti," he said, catching 
 her fingers as she made the first pass across his 
 forehead, and kissing them one by one. She looked 
 down at him, for he lay upon the green leather couch 
 in the study, and smiled almost tenderly. His con- 
 tinual sweetness of temper, his unselfishness, his 
 thoughtfulness, and, above all, his great adoration 
 for her had touched her greatly since their marriage. 
 She was too keen an observer, too clever a woman, 
 not to recognize that this man was head and 
 shoulders above the men she had known. She had 
 moments when she was enraged against herself for 
 loving Lanty instead of her husband, but yet her 
 
 
' 
 
 a$a 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 V .\ i 
 
 heart never wavered in its allegiance to her yellow- 
 haired cousin. There was something in his mag- 
 nificent physique, his superabundant energy, his 
 almost arrogant virility, which appealed to her. 
 Beneath that calm, pale face of hers were strong 
 passions, sleeping, but stirring in their sleep at the 
 voice which did not call them. 
 
 Sidney, or Sidney's welfare, would never weigh 
 with her a featherweight if balanced against a 
 chance of winning Lanty from her cousin, or of 
 revenging herself upon them both, yet there were 
 times when she wished that it had been any other 
 man than Sidney who was bound to her. 
 
 " It is you who are good," she said. " The village 
 people think you are a saint." 
 
 " Vashti," said Sidney, wistfully. " Do you think 
 I do them good ? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes," said Vashti, " just think how they 
 turn out to church. It's something wonderful." 
 
 Sidney's eyes lighted up with delight of her praise. 
 
 " Oh, Vashti ! " he said, " I am so glad. I often 
 wonder if you are satisfied with my work. You 
 know it was you who ordained me to the priesthood." 
 
 A slow colour stole into her cheeks. She waved 
 her hands soothingly above his brow, then posing 
 two fingers upon his temples where the pain was, 
 said gently but imperatively, "Sleep, sleep" and 
 almost immediately, with her name upon his lips, 
 he closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 »33 
 
 She leaned back in her chair and looked about 
 the room, so manifestly the sanctum of a man of 
 taste. The bookshelves which extended round and 
 round the room to the height of a man's shoulder, 
 were filled with books uniformly bound in dark 
 green leather. 
 
 This was a miracle in Dole, and Sally was wont 
 to dilate upon the astonishing circumstance, and 
 marvel that Mr. Martin could find the one he wanted 
 among so many all alike. The mere fact of the 
 titles bdng different did not appeal to Sally. 
 
 Above the bookshelves, against a soft harmonious 
 background, were beautiful etchings from the 
 paintings Sidney loved. Millet's peasants, Burne- 
 Jones' beautiful women, Meissonier's cavaliers, 
 Rossetti's " Beata Beatrix." Upon the top of the 
 bookshelves were two exquisite marbles, the winged 
 Victory of Samothrace, and the Venus de Milo, and 
 one bronze — ^the famous wing-footed Mercury, 
 slender, lithe, and seeming ever to sweep on with 
 the messages of the gods. 
 
 Vashti sat long there, then she remembered that 
 it was the day of the sewing circle. The meeting 
 was at the house of Mrs. Winder that day. 
 
 Vashti rose and left the room; she put on her 
 hat, paused to look at herself in her glass, and 
 smiled to think of how the women would whisper, 
 when her back was turned, about her Boston gown 
 and her modish hat 
 
il 
 
 234 
 
 j4 daughter of witches. 
 
 Vashti rather liked to amaze her fellow-women 
 With all her strength of mind there was mui 
 femininity about her, and when it came to prodding 
 up other women she was an adept. 
 
 As she passed the open study door she paused 
 and looked in where her husband lay, sunk in the 
 unconsciousness of a hypnotic sleep. For a moment 
 she had a great desire to awaken him, but still 
 softened by unwonted tenderness, she refrained from 
 doing so. Vashti liked not only to parade her Boston 
 finery before the sewing circle, but also her husband. 
 
 After all, being the minister's wife in Dole ha*^ 
 charms. 
 
 " If I had only told him to come for me," she 
 said regretfully. " I wish he would, at five o'clock. 
 I've a mind to wake him up and ask him." She 
 hesitated. The light slanted in across Sidney's face, 
 its pallor shone out startlingly. 
 
 She turned away and ere long was nearing Mrs. 
 Winder's. She walked slowly up the path to the 
 front door. Sidney often forgot that it was one of 
 the preacher's privileges to do this, but Vashti 
 always remembered what was fitting; besides, she 
 knew the window of the sitting-room commanded 
 the little path, and she thought the sewing circle 
 might just as well be edified by her progress from 
 the gate as not. 
 
 " My ! Vashti is most terrible cherked up in her 
 dress." said Mrs. Ranger to Mrs. Winder. 
 
A DA UGH TEA' OF WITCHES. 
 
 a35 
 
 d 
 e 
 It 
 11 
 n 
 n 
 \. 
 
 " Yes, that gownd must have cost a lot, but they 
 say 'tis by the preacher's wish." 
 
 " Who said that ? " asked Mrs. Simpson. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Ranger volubly, " I heard that 
 too ; it was Sally, up at the preacher's, that told 
 young Mary Shinar, and Mary Shinar told Tom, 
 and Tom had it over to our Ab at Brixton a week 
 come Saturday, that the preacher draws the pattern- 
 ings for Vashti's gownds, and colours them himself, 
 and measures Vashti with a tape line, and sends 
 the hull thing off to somewheres in Bosting, and 
 Sally up at the preacher's says that when they come 
 from Bosting the sleeves and the waist is all filled 
 full of silk paper * * hold 'em in shape, and that 
 it's like a body in a coffing when the lid is taken 
 off, and — ^yes, my turkeys has been laying for a 
 week now," concluded Mrs. Ranger .ith an abrupt 
 change of subject and tone, for Vashti at that 
 moment entered the room. Now Vashti herself 
 had ere now switched off her conversation to a side 
 track, and when she heard Mrs. Ranger answering 
 a question which had not been asked, she smiled in 
 a manner to make even Mrs. Ranger uncomfortable. 
 
 -Vashti had hardly taken her place before Tem- 
 perance entered, and presently the twenty or thirty 
 women were busy with their needles upon the some- 
 what formless garments which are supposed to 
 conduce to the salvation of the heathen, and whilst 
 their needles were busy their tongues kept pace. 
 
23^ 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 T "^ 
 
 There were many things of importance to be dis- 
 cussed, the health of Vashti'? father (who had had 
 another stroke), the setting of hens, the finding of 
 turkeys* nests, house cleaning and garden making 
 — the springtime in the country is always a busy 
 time — ^and above and beyond all these things there 
 was a most exciting subject, the downfall of a 
 certain Ann Serrup ; of this the matrons whispered 
 together. 
 
 " Has Mr. Martin been over yet ? " asked Mrs. 
 Winder of Vashti, after trying in several indirect 
 ways to find out. 
 
 " No," said Vashti, " I don't think he has heard 
 of it. I didn't tell him and I don't think anyone 
 has." 
 
 " If you take my advice," said Temperance, making 
 her needle whistle through the cotton. " If you 
 take my advice you'll keep the preacher away from 
 that mess. He's that soft-hearted that he's liable 
 to be taken in — besides, it's more likely a woman's 
 help she needs. Laws, I ofting think of Ann, all 
 alone. Why don't you go yourself, Vashti ? " 
 
 " I have thought of it for a couple of months," 
 said Vashti. " It's nearly a year old now, isn't it ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Winder, proceeding to g^ve data. 
 " But sakes ! Why couldn't she stay over Brixton 
 way without coming into our parish with her brat ? " 
 
 " They have souls," said Vashti, suddenly drawing 
 the mantle of the preacher's wife about her. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 237 
 
 )n 
 I* 
 
 " Well, one of 'em shouldn't have," said Mrs. 
 Ranger irately. " Sakes, I don't know what girls 
 is coming to ! " 
 
 " I expect she didn't have much chance," said 
 Temperance deprecatingly. 
 
 " That's no excuse for sin," said Vashti austerely. 
 
 Temperance sniffed audibly. The clock struck 
 five, and a footstep sounded upon the porch of the 
 backdoor. 
 
 " Run see who that is," said Mrs. Winder to Jimmy. 
 
 The women held their needles suspended midway 
 in the stitch, and Sidney's voice came cheerily from 
 the kitchen. 
 
 "Why, lands sake! It's Mr. Martin and by the 
 kitching too ! " said Mrs. Winder bustling forward 
 to welcome him. 
 
 He entered gracefully, greeting them all in his 
 gentle genial way which seemed to bring him so 
 close to their hearts ; but his eyes sought out Vashti 
 where she sat half anticipative — half dreaming of 
 the words he would say. Somehow it seemed to 
 her that she was taking part in a scene which had 
 been rehearsed long since and which grew slowly 
 into her recollection. Sidney would say — she 
 thought the words and Sidney's voice seemed the 
 audible echo of the phrase, " You wanted me to 
 come at five," he said ; " I just woke up in time ; 
 it was fortunate I did not forget. Are you going 
 over to see your father ? " 
 
r 
 
 238 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 " Yes," said Vashti, rising mechanically, a strange 
 mingling of awe and exultation, not unmixed with 
 fear, at her heart. 
 
 " You will excuse my wife if she is lazy to-day, 
 Mrs. Winder," said Sidney laughing, " but I hope 
 you won't follow her bad example and leave off 
 before the six o'clock bell ; we must have full time 
 in the sewing-class ! " 
 
 There was a general smile at this mild wit. 
 Ministers' jokes are always highly appreciated. 
 
 " What a beautiful view you get from this window," 
 said Sidney, looking out across to the hill. Mrs. 
 Winder saw her opportunity and took it. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " but you get a terrible fine view 
 from the window in the front room — ^just step in, 
 if you'll take the trouble." So saying Mrs. Winder 
 threw open the door of the sacred front room, re- 
 vealing all its glories to Sidney's gaze, and preceding 
 him with a great assumption of unconsciousness, she 
 rolled up the paper blind and pointed out of the 
 window. 
 
 Sidney looked, and saw almost opposite him a 
 new frame barn whose pine walls showed glaringly 
 and somewhat oppressively in the sun. 
 
 " The new bam 'ill be done in two weeks," said 
 Mrs. Winder as Sidney turned away; "you see it 
 lengthways from here." 
 
 " It looks very well," said Sidney kindly. Then 
 he bade them all good-bye and departed with 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 339 
 
 a 
 
 rly 
 
 I 
 
 en 
 ith 
 
 Vashti, who was silently marvelling. This was the 
 first inkling Vashti had of the force of " suggestion." 
 
 Meanwhile the tongues buzzed in the company 
 they had left. The women were conversationally 
 inclined ; excitement is a great stimulant to the flow 
 of ideas, and certainly this meeting of the sewing- 
 circle had had its sensation. Mrs. Winder's boldness 
 in inveigling the preacher in to see the glories of 
 the front room had been appreciated at its full 
 worth. Not one of these dames but heid cherished 
 a secret longing to show off her front room to Sidney 
 — but so far he knew only the mundane comfort- 
 ableness of the " setting-rooms." 
 
 Mrs. Winder had scored largely that day. 
 
 And the meeting was not over. 
 
 Mrs. Ranger had been irritated that afternoon in 
 various ways. Vashti's smile when she entered had 
 made Mrs. Ranger uncomfortable. 
 
 "Although," as she said to Mrs. Winder, "what 
 could she expect? My sakes! I don't care if she 
 did hear me! It's all gospel truth and what can 
 she expect, being the preacher's wife, but to be 
 talked about?" 
 
 What indeed? 
 
 Then, too, Mrs. Ranger fdt Mrs. Winder had 
 indulged in reprehensibly sharp practice in regard 
 to the front room — and — but it is needless to 
 enumerate the different irritations which, combined, 
 made Mrs. Ranger venomous. She felt she must 
 
 ii 
 
 u 
 
■ 
 
 '''♦;■ ' 
 
 1 
 i 
 
 p:i 
 
 :l| 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 |: 
 
 i 
 
 ^iiM' ! 
 
 
 
 240 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 ease the pressure upon her patience by giving 
 someone's character a thorough overhauling; so 
 with a side look at Temperance, and a tightening 
 of her meagre mouth, she began to speak of Lanty. 
 
 Now in Dole, if any subject was brought up which 
 hurt or pained you, you were expected to look 
 indifferent, make no reply, and strive by keeping a 
 calm front to deny the honour of putting on the 
 shoe when it fitted. 
 
 The Spartan boy's heroism has often been out- 
 done by women who smiled and smiled whilst 
 venomous tongues seared their hearts. So Mrs 
 Ranger began boldly, as one does who fires from 
 under cover at an unarmed foe. 
 
 But Temperance had been so long one of the 
 Lansing family that she had assimilated a little of 
 their " unexpectedness," and as Mrs. Ranger con- 
 tinued her remarks, egged on by acquiescing nods 
 from the older women, there began to gather upon 
 the brow of Temperance a deep black cloud. 
 
 Mrs. Ranger paused in her harangue to gather 
 breath for her peroration, when suddenly the thread 
 of talk was plucked from her ready hps by the 
 strident voice of Temperance, who, rising to her feet, 
 and gathering her sewing together as she spoke, 
 proceeded to deliver herself of an opinion upon 
 the charity of the women about her. In whatever 
 particular that opinion erred, it certainly merited 
 praise for its frankness. After Temperance had 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 241 
 
 indulged in a few pungent generalizations siic 
 narrowed her remarks to Mrs. Ranger's case. Never 
 in all the annals of Dole had any woman received 
 such a " setting out " from the tongue of another 
 as Mrs. Ranger received that day from Temperance. 
 Temperance spoke with a knowledge of her subject 
 which gave play to all the eloquence she was capable 
 of ; she discussed and disposed of Mrs. Ranger's 
 forbears even to the third generation, and when 
 she allowed herself finally to speak of Mrs. Ranger 
 in person, she expressed herself with a freedom and 
 decision which could only have been the result of 
 settled opinion. 
 
 " As for your tongue, Mrs. Ranger, to my mind, 
 it's a deal like a snake's tail — ^it will keep on moving 
 after the rest of you "s dead." 
 
 With which remark Temperance departed from 
 the sewing circle which had metaphorically squared 
 itself to resist the swift onslaught of her invectives ; 
 she gathered her skirts about her as she passed 
 through the room, with the air of one fa^n to avoid 
 contamination, and stepping forth as one who shakes 
 the dust from off her prunella shoes as a testimony 
 against those she is leaving, she took the road 
 home. Temperance's mouth was very g^im, and a 
 hectic spot burned the sallowness of her cheeks, but 
 she said to herself as she strode off briskly : 
 
 " Well — I 'spose it's onchristian, but it's a mighty 
 relief t' have told that Mrs. Ranger just once what 
 
 16 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
i I 
 
 i0 
 
 A t>AVGHTkR OP WITCifES. 
 
 I think of her — but oh! pore Lanty and pore, pore 
 M'bella! To think it should come about like 
 this!" 
 
 And the red spots upon her cheeks were ex- 
 tinguished by bitter tears. 
 
 The sewing circle broke up in confusion ; one 
 could only hear a chorus of " Well — ^I declare ! " 
 "It beats all!" "Did you ever!" as the ladies 
 bundled their work together — each eager to get 
 home to spread the news and to discuss the matter 
 with her husband. 
 
 And that night in the starlight Mabella waited 
 at the little gate listening for the hoof beats of 
 Lanty's horse from one side, and the cry of little 
 Dorothy from the house behind her. 
 
 And when Lanty came — alas! What "God's 
 glowworms" in the sky revealed, we shall not say. 
 
 But we will echo the words of Temperance — 
 " Pore Lanty — ^pore, pore M'bella i - 
 
 
re 
 :e 
 
 iAX 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Ann Serrup of whom the sewing circle had 
 whispered, was one of those melancholy scapegoats 
 found, alas! in nearly every rural community, and 
 lost in cities among myriads of her kind. She had 
 lived in the Brixton parish all her life, but had lately 
 come with her shame to a little house within the 
 precincts of Dole. Left at thirteen the only sister 
 among four drunken brothers much older than her- 
 self, the only gospel preached at— not to — her had 
 been the terrorism of consequences. Like all false 
 gospels this one had proved a broken reed — and not 
 only broken but empoisoned. The unfathered child 
 of this poor girl had been born about a year prior 
 to her appearance in Dole. 
 
 Mabella's heart went out to the forlorn creature, 
 and a few days after the memorable meeting at Mrs. 
 Winder's she set forth to visit her, leaving Dorothy 
 in charge of Temperance. It was a calm, sweet 
 season. The shadow of white clouds lay upon the 
 earth, and as Mabella walked along the country roads 
 the chr'c«i of the g'^ntle day seemed to be laid upon 
 
 l6* 
 
244 
 
 A DAUGHTkK OF WITCHES. 
 
 n 
 
 her aching heart. For a space, in consideration of thd 
 needs of the poor creature to whom she was going, 
 Mabella forgot the shadows which dogged her own 
 steps. 
 
 She was going on a Httle absent-mindedly, when 
 at a sudden turn in the road she came upon Vashti, 
 who had paused and was standing looking, great- 
 eyed, across the fields to where ^he sun smote the 
 windows of Lanty's house. 
 
 " Well, Mabella," she said, taking the initiative in 
 the conversation as became the " preacher's wife." 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 " I'm going to see Ann Serrup," said Mabella. 
 " I've wished to do so for some time — how plainly 
 you can see our house from here." 
 
 "Ye&— how's Lanty?" 
 
 " He's very well — haven't you seen him lately ? — 
 he looks splendid." 
 
 "I didn't mean his looks," said Vashti with 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Well, one's looks are generally the sign of how 
 one feels," said Mabella bravely, although she winced 
 beneath Vashti's regard. " And Vashti, Dorothy can 
 speak, she '* 
 
 Vashti broke in with the inconsiderateness of a 
 childless woman. 
 
 "Do you know anything about Ann Serrup.? Is 
 she penitent?" 
 
 " I — I don't know," said Mabella hesitatingly (she 
 
 n 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 445 
 
 had heard most unpromising accounts of Ann's state 
 of mind, " Fair rampageous," Temperance had said), 
 " she has suffered a great deal." 
 
 " She has sinned a great deal," said Vashti sen- 
 tentiously. 
 
 They walked on almost in silence, and ere long 
 stood before the low-lying, desolate dwelling. 
 
 A girl came to the open door as they drew near 
 — poorly but neatly clad, and with tightly rolled hair. 
 A girl in years — a woman in experience. A child 
 stood tottering beside her. 
 
 " Come in," she said to them before they had time 
 to speak, " come in and set down." 
 
 She picked up the child, and unceremoniously tuck- 
 ing him under one arm, set two chairs side by side; 
 then put the baby down and stood as one before 
 her accusers. Her brows were a little sullen ; her 
 mouth irresolute. Her expression discontented and 
 peevish, as of one weary of uncomprehended rebuke. 
 The baby clutched her dress, and eyed the visitors 
 placidly, quite unaware that his presence was dis- 
 graceful. 
 
 Mabella looked at the little figure standing totter- 
 ing upon its uncertain legs ; the little dress was so 
 grotesquely ill-made ; the sleeves were little square 
 sacks ; the skirt was as wide at the neck as at the 
 hem. She thought of her well-clad Dorothy and her 
 heart went out to the desolate pair. 
 
 The mother, tired of Vashti's cold, condemoatoiy 
 
 M 
 
i i^ i 
 
 246 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 % 
 
 scrutiny, began to shift uneasily from one foot to 
 the other. 
 
 "What's your baby's name?" asked Mabella, her 
 sympathies urging her to take precedence of the 
 preacher's wife. 
 
 " Reuben," said Ann. 
 
 "Reuben what?'' demanded Vashti in sepulchral 
 tones. 
 
 " Jest Reuben — Reuben was my father's name " — 
 then with fretful irritation — " jest Reuben." 
 
 " Is your child deformed? " asked Vashti suddenly, 
 eyeing with disfavour the little chest and shoulders 
 where the ill-made frock stuck out so pitifully. 
 
 " Deformed ! " cried Ann, the pure mother in her 
 aroused ; " there ain't a better-shaped baby in Dole 
 than my Reub." 
 
 She sat down upon the floor, and, it seemed to 
 Mabella, with two movements, unclothed the child, 
 and holding him out cried indignantly — 
 
 " Look at him. Missus Martin, look at him ! and 
 if you know what a baby's like when you see one 
 you'll know he's jest perfect — ain't he, Missus Lans- 
 ing? Ain't he } You know, don't you ? " 
 
 Vashti glared in fixed disapproval at the baby, who 
 regarded her not at all, but after a leisurely and con- 
 templative survey of himself began to investigate the 
 marvels of his feet, becoming as thoroughly absorbed 
 in the mysteries of his own to^s as we older infants 
 do in our theories. " He's a beautiful baby — I'm sure 
 
i 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 24- 
 
 le 
 d 
 :s 
 e 
 
 you are very proud of him," said Mabella kindly. Then 
 her gaze rested upon the two poor garments which 
 had formed all the baby's costume. Teajs filled her 
 eyes as she saw the scrap of red woollen edging 
 sewn clumsily upon the little yellow cotton shirt 
 
 " I'm afraid you are not used to sewing much," 
 she said, "it was the clothes which spoiled the 
 baby." 
 
 Ann, who, unstable as water, never remained in the 
 same mood for ten minutes together, began to cry 
 softly, rocking back and forth sometimes. 
 
 " Oh, I wisht I was dead ! I do. I never was 
 learned nothing. 'Scuse me if I spoke up to you, 
 Missus Martin, but I'm that ignerent! And you the 
 preacher's lady too! My! I dunno how I came t' 
 be so bad. I guess I'm jest real condemned bad ; 
 but I haint had no chance, I haint ; never a mother, 
 not so much as a grandma. Nothing but a tormented 
 old aunt. And brothers! Lord! I'm sick of 
 brotherses and men. I jest can't abear the sight of 
 a man, and I'm that ignerent. Lord! I can't make 
 clo'es for Reub, now he is here." Then vehemently 
 — ^" I am jest dead sick of men." 
 
 " But, think," said Mabella soothingly, " when 
 Reuben is a man he'll look after you and take care 
 of you." 
 
 " Yes — I s'pose he will," said Ann, drying her eyes ; 
 then, with a sudden change of mood, she began smil- 
 ing bravely. " Say — he's that knowin' I You 
 
 4 
 
 
348 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 wouldn't believe it ; if I'm agoin' out in a hurry I 
 give him sometimes an old sugar rag, but he knows 
 the difference, right smart he does, and he jest won't 
 touch it if 'taint new filled ; and " — with a touch of 
 awe as at a more subtle phenomenon — " he yawned 
 like a big person when he was two days old." 
 
 "Why, so did my baby," said Mabella in utter 
 astonishment that another baby had done anything 
 so extraordinary. 
 
 " Are you coming, Mabella ? " said Vashti austerely 
 from the doorway. 
 
 Direst disapproval darkened her countenance. 
 Ann's mutable face clouded at the words. 
 
 " Yes, I'm coming," said Mabella hastily to Vashti, 
 then she turned to Ann. " I will send you some 
 patterns to cut his dress by," she said. " It's very 
 hard at first ; Temperance helped me ; I'll mark all 
 the pieces so that you'll know how to place them," 
 then she went close to Ann and put a trembling hand 
 upon her arm. 
 
 " Ann," she said, " promise that you'll never do anv- 
 thing wicked again — promise you'll never i 'ak' «• 
 baby ashamed of you." 
 
 " No, I won't ; I've had enough of all at — y< . il 
 be sure to send a pattering with a yoke? " inq ured 
 Ann eagerly. 
 
 Poor Ann! Her one virtue of neatness was for 
 the moment degraded to a vice; she so thoroughly 
 slighted the spirit of Mabella's speech. But Mabella, 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 349 
 
 out of the depths of her motherly experience, par- 
 doned this. 
 
 "Yes, I will send the nicest patterns I have," she 
 said. 
 
 " Soon ? " 
 
 " Soon — and Ann — you'll come to church next 
 Sunday ? " 
 
 Ann began to whimper. 
 
 " Oh, I hate t' be a poppyshow ! and all the girls 
 do stare so, and " 
 
 " Ann," said Mabella pleadingly, " you'll come ? " 
 
 " Yes, I'll come, Missus Lansing, being as you want 
 me to," then another swift change of mood overtook 
 the poor, variable creature. 
 
 " They kin stare if they want to ! I could tell 
 things! Some of 'em ain't no better nor me if all 
 was known. I'll jest come to spite 'em out. You 
 see— I'll be there." 
 
 " I shall be so glad," said Mabella gently, having 
 the rare wisdom to ignore side issues. " I'll see you, 
 then." 
 
 " Oh, Lor'," said Ann, whimpering again, " ye won't 
 want to see me when other folkses are around, and 
 I s'pose you've got a white dress and blue ribbings 
 for church, or red bows, like as not. Lor*! Lor'! 
 what 'tis to be born lucky. ' Better lucky nor rich,' 
 I've heard said ofting and ofting, and it's true, dread- 
 ful true. I never had no luck ; neither had mother ; 
 she never could cook anything without burning it, 
 
250 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ■ r 
 
 ^ ,i 
 
 and when she dyed 'twas alhis streaky! I've heard 
 Aunt Ann say that ofting and ofting ; he is a fine 
 baby, isn't he ? " she broke off abruptly. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Mabella heartily. " Good- 
 bye, Ann," and stooping she kissed the girl and went 
 out and down the path. Ann stood gazing after her. 
 
 " She kissed me," she said dully, then in an echo- 
 like voice repeated " kissed me." 
 
 The old clock ticked loudly, the kettle sang on 
 the fire, the baby fell over with a soft thud upon the 
 floor. Ann sat down beside him, and clasping him 
 to her breast cried bitterly to herself, and as has 
 been often the case, the mother's sobs lullabyed the 
 child to a soft and peaceful sleep. She rose, with 
 the art which comes with even unblessed motherhood, 
 without waking the child, and laid him down gently. 
 
 " I know she won't send a pattering with a yoke," 
 she said in the tone of one who warns herself against 
 hoping too much. 
 
 Meanwhile Mabella sped after Vashti ; she over- 
 took her in about a mile. 
 
 " Goodness, Vashti," said Mabella ; " I'm sure you 
 need not have hurried so! I'm all out of breath 
 catching up." 
 
 " Well, I couldn't stand it any longer," said Vashti. 
 
 " Stand what? " demanded Mabella, a little irritated 
 by Vashti's ponderosity of manner. 
 
 " That exhibition," said Vashti with a gesture to 
 the forlorn house, which somehow looked pitiably 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 251 
 
 naked and unsheltered. " It was disgusting ! To go 
 about petting people like that is putting a premium 
 upon vice." 
 
 Mabella laughed. 
 
 " You dear old Vashti," she said, * you said that 
 as if you had been the preacher himself — what the 
 world could I say to her? standing there with that 
 poor child." A sudden break interrupted her speech. 
 "Oh, Vashti," she said, "isn't it terrible? Think of 
 that baby ; what a difference between it and Dorothy ! 
 And so poor — so very poor ; without even a name ; 
 Vashti — ^you're a lot cleverer than me; you don't 
 think, do you, that they will be judged alike.? You 
 don't think there will be one rule for all ? There will 
 be allowances made, won't there ? " 
 
 " I wonder at you, Mabella," said Vashti, " putting 
 yourself in a state over that girl and her brat ! It's easy 
 seeing you've precious little to trouble you or you'd 
 never carry on about Ann Serrup ; a bad lot the 
 Serrups are, root and branch ; bad they are and bad 
 they'll be. The Ethiopian don't change his spots! 
 and as for crying and carrying on about her! take 
 care, Mabella, that you are not sent something to 
 cry for — take care." The last ominous words uttered 
 in Vashti's full rich voice made Mabella tremble. 
 Ah — she knew and Vashti knew how great cause she 
 already had to weep. 
 
 " How can you talk to me like that ? " she said to 
 Vashti passionately ; " how can you ? One would 
 
r 
 
 : 
 
 I 
 
 
 11 
 
 I 1 
 
 252 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 think you would be glad to see me in trouble. If 
 it's any satisfaction to you to know it I may as well 
 
 tell you that " Mabella arrested her speech with 
 
 crimson cheeks. What had she been about to do } 
 To betray Lanty for the sake of stinging Vashti 
 into shame. 
 
 " Dear me," said Vashti coolly ; " you are growing 
 very uncertain, Mabella ! " 
 
 " Yes, I know," stammered Mabella. " Forgive 
 me, Vashti." 
 
 " Oh ! It doesn't matter about my forgiveness," 
 said Vashti ; " but it's a pity to let yourself get into 
 that excitable stsi-ie." 
 
 They were near the spot where their ways parted. 
 
 Mabella looked at Vashti, a half inclination to con- 
 fide in her cousin came to her. It would be such a 
 help to have a confidant, but her wifely allegiance 
 rose to forbid any confidences regarding her husband's 
 lapses ; she must bear the burden alone. A lump 
 tightened her throat as she closed her lips resolutely. 
 These little victories seem small but they are costly. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mabella," said Vashti ; " come over 
 and have tea with us soon." 
 
 " I'll come over after dinner and stay awhile with 
 you," said Mabella, " but I won't stay to supper." 
 
 " Oh, why ? " said Vashti. " Lanty can come in 
 on his way home from Brixton ; if he turns off at 
 the cross road he can come straight up Winder's lane 
 to the parsonage. He's often at Brixton, isn't he ,^ " 
 
 ' 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 m 
 
 "Yes," said Mabella, once more calm in her rdle 
 of defender. " Yes, but I'll come over some day after 
 dinner; Lanty likes supper at home. He's often 
 tired after being in Brixton. I'll bring Dorothy and 
 come over soon for a little visit." 
 
 " Well, you might as well come all of you for 
 supper," said Vashti ; and somehow by a subtle 
 intonation of the voice she conveyed to Mabella the 
 fact that her unconsciousness was only feigned. 
 
 As Mabella went towrrds home the lump in her 
 throat dissolved in tears ; she allowed herself the 
 rare luxury of self-pity for a little space, then with 
 the instinctive feeling that she must not give footing 
 to such weakness she pulled herself together, and 
 went forward where Lanty waited at the gate. 
 
 When Vashti turned away from Mabella to take 
 the little path to the parsonage, her heart also was 
 wrung by regret and pain ; she had made Mabella 
 feel, but how gladly she would have exchanged her 
 empty heartache for the honour of suffering for 
 Lanty's misdeeds. Lanty Lansing was very hand- 
 some, very winning, with that masterful tenderness 
 and tender tyranny which women love ; but it is 
 doubtful if he (or many other men) deserved the 
 love which these two women lavished upon him. 
 And it must be said for Vashti that whatever her 
 faults were, she loved her coufT'n well and constantly. 
 His excesses rent her very heart ; if she saw in 
 them a hope of vengeance upon Mabella she yet 
 
254 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 deplored them sincerely. The hate which was grow- 
 ing in her heart against Mabella was intensified a 
 thousand-fold by the thought that she did not, in 
 some way, drag Lanty back from the pit. Had she 
 been his wife she would have saved him in spite of 
 himself. The thought that the village was sneering 
 and whispering about her idol made her eyes 
 venomous, and in this mood she entered the house. 
 Sidney was waiting for her and suddenly there swept 
 across the woman's soul a terrible sense of the relent- 
 less Destiny which she was working out. As in a 
 mirror she saw herself, not the free and imperious 
 creature she had imagined, but a serf, shackled hand 
 and foot, so that her feet trod the devious path pre- 
 pared for them from time immemorial, and her hands 
 wrought painfully at a fabric whose fashion and 
 design were fixed by other power than her own. 
 
 And Sidney, with his pale spiritual face, his un- 
 earthly exalted eyes, his eager-winged soul, was bound 
 to her side. His footsteps were constrained to hers, 
 only it seemed that whereas the path was chosen 
 for her, his way was simply outlined by her will ; 
 she remembered the Strang mcident which had taken 
 her away from the sewing circle. Again she ex- 
 perienced the thrill, half of fear, half of mad un- 
 reasoning triumph, which had held her very heart 
 in suspense when Sidney had said, " You wished me 
 to come at five." Could it be that whilst his mind 
 was passive, whilst he slept the sleep her waving 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 25s 
 
 t 
 
 hands induced, whilst his faculties were seemingly 
 numbed by the artificial slumber, could it be that 
 he could yet grasp her desires and awake to fulfil 
 them ? The simplest knowledge of hypnotic sugges- 
 tion would at once have given her incalculable com- 
 mand over Sidney. As it was, she could only grope 
 forward in the darkness of half fearful and hesitating 
 ignorance. In her advance to the knowledge that 
 Sidney, whilst in this sleep, was amenable to sugges- 
 tion (although she did not phrase it thus) she had 
 skipped one step which would have given her the 
 key to the whole ; she had seen that he would 
 carry out, whilst awake, a wish of hers expressed 
 whilst he slept. She did not know that he would 
 have been a mere automaton in her hands whilst he 
 was in the hypnotic sleep, but she told herself that 
 she must measure and ascertain exactly the control 
 she had over her husband ; thus nearly every day 
 she cast the spell of deep slumber upon him and 
 gradually, little by little, she discovered the potency 
 of suggestion. 
 
 It must be said that Sidney was entirely acquiescent 
 to her will. The old weird fables of people hyp- 
 notised against their wills have long since been rele- 
 gated to the limbo of forgotten and discredited 
 myths ; and while it is certainly true that each 
 hypnosis leaves the subject more susceptible to 
 hypnotic influence, it is utter rubbish to think that 
 influence can be acquired arbitrarily without the con- 
 
 1. i j 
 
 m 
 
256 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 II 
 
 ■it 
 
 i»t 
 
 i 
 
 currence of the subject. But Sidney had given him- 
 self up to the subtle delight of these dreamless 
 slumbers as the hasheesh-eater delivers himself to the 
 intoxication of his drugged dreams. 
 
 Sidney's mind was torn by perpetual self-question- 
 ings ; not about his own personal salvation, but about 
 his responsibility towards the people of Dole. The 
 more he studied the Bible the more deeply he was 
 impressed by the marvellous beauty of the Christ 
 story. Never surely had man realized more keenly 
 than Sidney did the ineffable pathos and self-sacrifice 
 of the Carpenter of Galilee. Often as he passed the 
 little carpenter-shop where Nathan Peck came twice 
 a week, he entered and stood watching Nathan plan- 
 ing the boards, and as the long wooden ribbons 
 curled off before the steel, and the odour of the 
 wood came to his nostrils, quick with that aroma of 
 the forest which obtains even at the core of the 
 oak, there surged about Sidney's heart all the 
 emotions of yearning and hope, and sorrow and 
 despair which long, long ago had lifted That Other 
 from a worker in wood to be a Saviour of Souls ; 
 and he went forth from the little carpenter-shop 
 as one who has partaken of a sacrament. And often 
 he stood upon the little hill above Dole, his eyes 
 full of tears, remembering that immortal, irrepressible 
 outburst of yearning, " O, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how 
 often would I have gathered thy children together, 
 as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings and 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 aS7 
 
 ye would not! " — the poignancy of this plaint wrung 
 Sidney's very soul. And how sweet it seemed to 
 Sidney to steal away from all these questions and 
 questionings, to fall asleep with Vashti's eyes looking, 
 as it seemed to him, deep down into his very soul, 
 seeing the turmoil there and easing it with the balm 
 of her confidence and strength — to awaken with the 
 knowledge that there was something Vashti wished 
 done, something he could do. Thus, whereas the 
 occasions of Sidney's acute headaches had been 
 formerly the only opportunity Vashti had had of 
 experimenting with this new and wonderful force 
 which she so dimly understood, now it was a daily 
 occurrence for Sidney to cast himself down upon the 
 green leather couch and seek from Vashti the gift 
 of sleep. 
 
 Thus, gradually, surely, Vashti won an ascendency 
 oyer this man which made him in every sense her 
 tool. Happily she did not know the full extent of 
 her power. But if knowledge is power, certainly 
 power brings knowledge, and thus it was that ere 
 long Vashti was turning over in her mind the different 
 ways and manners in which she could apply this 
 power of hers. Thus equipped with her own un- 
 faltering resolution and having the energy of a second 
 person at her command, Vashti brooded over her 
 plans. 
 
 The night after Mabella's visit to Ann Serrup, 
 Lanty was at home, and seated before the open 
 
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 258 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 door, was coaxing plaintive melodies from out the 
 old fiddle, which having been regarded as a godless 
 and profane instrument for several generations in 
 his father's family, had at last fallen upon happy days 
 and into appreciative hands, for Lanty Lansing could 
 bring music out of any instrument, although, of course, 
 he had never been taught a note. The old fiddle 
 under Lanty's curving bow whispered and yearned 
 and moaned and pleaded — the dusk fell and still 
 he played on and on — till Mabella, having put 
 Dorothy to bed, came out to sit upon the door-step 
 before his chair, resting her head against his knee. 
 The fiddle was put down. For a little the two sat 
 in silence. Afterwards the scene came back to them 
 and helped them when they had sore need. 
 
 " Lanty," said Mabella, " will you do something 
 for me to-morrow ? " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Oh, Lanty ! " reproachfully. 
 
 " Of course I'll do it ; but I can't, can I, unless 
 I have some slight idea." 
 
 " Well, you are right there," she said ; " I thought 
 you were going to object! Well, you know Ann 
 Serrup ? " 
 
 " I know her, yes ; a precious bad lot she is too ! " 
 Lanty's face clouded. 
 
 "Lanty, dear, wasn't that just a man's word? 
 She's a woman, you know, and Lanty, I've been 
 to see her, and it's all so forlorn ; and she's so— so — 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 «S9 
 
 oh, Lanty! And Vashti was there and she asked 
 if her baby was deformed, fancy that! And it was 
 the poor little scraps of clothes which made the child 
 look queer. But it was the sort of queerness which 
 makes you cry, and Lanty, I said I would send her 
 some patterns, and you'll take them over to-morrow 
 morning, won't you ? " 
 
 " But, girlie," he began ; just then Dorothy gave 
 a sleepy cry. 
 
 Lanty and Mabella rose as by one impulse and 
 w'='nt into the twilight of the room where the child's 
 cot was. But their baby slept serenely and smiled 
 as she slept. 
 
 " The angels are whispering to her," said Mabella. 
 The old sweet mother fable which e'xists in all lands. 
 
 "Yes," said Lanty. A tremor shaking his heart 
 as he wondered why this heaven of wife and child 
 was his. 
 
 As they passed into the other room they saw 
 the child's clothes upon a chair in a soft little heap 
 like a nest ; and all at once there rushed over 
 Mabella's tender heart all the misery of that other 
 mother, and before Lanty knew it, Mabella was m 
 his arms crying as if her heart would break. 
 
 " Oh, Lanty, Lanty," she sobbed ; " think of poor 
 Ann Serrup ! When her baby cries in the night who 
 goes with her to look after it ? " 
 
 "There, there," said Lanty, searching distractedly 
 for soothing arguments; "don't, Mabella, don't; I'll 
 
 17* 
 
 ^l 
 
26o 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Ptai; 
 
 !'. 
 
 liWi ' 
 
 i: 
 
 
 take the traps over first thing in the morning." And 
 presently Mabella was comforted, and peace rested 
 like a dove upon the roof-tree. 
 
 So early next morning Lanty departed with the 
 parcel. In due time he arrived before the little house. 
 The house door stood open — humbly eager to be 
 entered. Early as it was Ann was up, and came 
 to the door looking neat and tidy. She took the 
 parcel with the undisguised eagerness of a child. 
 Lanty turned away, letting his horse walk down the 
 lane-like road. He was not much given to theorizing ; 
 a good woman was a good one, a bad one a bad 
 one in his estimation, but this morning he found 
 himself puzzling uneasily over the whys and where- 
 fores. It is an old, old puzzle, and like the conun- 
 drum of Eternity, has baffled all generations, since 
 the patriarch of Uz set forth that one vessel is 
 created to honour and another to dishonour. So 
 Lanty found no solution, and was tightening his reins 
 to lift his horse into a gallop when he heard someone 
 calling, and turning, saw Ann speeding in pursuit. 
 She reached him somewhat blown and decidedly in- 
 coherent as to speech. 
 
 " She has sent the yoke pattering, and a white 
 apron and heaps of things ! There ain't nothing but 
 real lady in Mis' Lansing! Sakes! I wisht the 
 preacher's wife could see Reub now! I'll take him 
 to church next Sunday, and if he squalls I can't help 
 it And here — take this and keep it — and don't let 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 a6i 
 
 him harm me, will you ? And I never meant no 
 harm to you personal, but he was for ever pestering 
 me, and he said he was coming over early this 
 morning for 'em, and for me to sign 'em ; but Lor' ! 
 I didn't have no ink — and don't tell Mis' Lansing, 
 she's a lovely lady, and I didn't mean no harm, and 
 he said there wouldn't be no law business, because 
 you'd give me heaps of money, 'cause being as you 
 drank, people would believe anything of you ; and 
 Lor'! hear that baby! Mind you don't tell Mis' 
 Lansing " — with which Ann turned and fled bnck 
 to console her child. Lanty, much mystified, opened 
 the thin packet of papers. An instant's scrutiny sent 
 him into a blind mad rage, which made him curse 
 aloud in a way not good to hear. 
 
 For before him, writ fairly forth in black nnd white, 
 was a horrible and utterly baseless accuscition, pur- 
 porting to be sworn to by Ann Serrup, and witnessed 
 by Hemans, the machine agent of Brixton. 
 
 The witness had signed his name prematurely 
 before Ann, and had written faintly in pencil " Sign 
 here " for her benefit and guidance. 
 
 Lanty gathered the import of the papers and put 
 them securely in his pocket. 
 
 He was just opposite a thicket of wild plums, 
 shooting up through them was a slim and lithe young 
 hickory. Lanty flung the roan's bridle over a fence 
 fork, cut the young hickory, and remounting went 
 on his way. Only he turned away from Dole, and 
 
362 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I 
 
 proceeded slowly towards Brixton, and presently, just 
 as he entered the shadow of Ab Raiij^cr's wood by 
 the roadside, he saw a blazc-facod sorrel iippear round 
 the bend and he rejoiced, for he knew that his enemy 
 was given into his hand 
 
 Hemans was sorely bruised when l.anty flung him 
 from him with a final blow and a final curse. lie 
 tossed aside the short fragment of the young hickory 
 wliich remained in his grasp. 
 
 Lanty's fury had lent him strength, and he had 
 well-nigh fulfilled the promise made in the first 
 generosity of rage to thrash Hemans " within an inch 
 of his life." 
 
 " And now," said Lanty, addressing Hemans with 
 a few words unavailable for quotation. " And now, 
 open your lips if you dare! If you so much as 
 mention my name, I'll cram the words and your teeth 
 down your throat. Remember, too, that I have some- 
 thing in my pocket which would send you where 
 you'd have less chance to prowl. And, mind you, 
 don't try to take it out of Ann Serrup. If you do 
 I'll finish your business once for all. Paugh! Ver- 
 min like you should be knocked on the head out 
 
 of hand. If I stay I'll begin on you again ." 
 
 Lanty swung himself up on the roan. 
 
 " Don't make any mistake as to my intentions," he 
 called over his shoulder. " I've given you one warn- 
 ing, but you won't get two." 
 
 Hemans lay groaning upon the ground, and just 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 af>3 
 
 about that time Ann, having dressed her baby in the 
 white pinafore Mabella had sent, came to her door, 
 and, leaning against it, looked forth at the morning. 
 
 She thought of Hemans and the papers. 
 
 "The fat's in the fire now,' she said, smiling 
 inanely, divided between vague curiosity over tlie out- 
 come and gratification over the baby's appearance in 
 its new finery. 
 
 Lanty had given Hemans salutary punishment, but 
 his heart sickened within him. 
 
 He knew what a leech Hemans would have proved 
 if he had once got a hold upon him; and if he 
 had refused to be blackmailed ? 
 
 Lanty knew well with what insidious, untraceable 
 persistency a scandal springs and grows and spreads 
 in the country. He knew how hard it is to kill, how 
 difficult to locate, hke trying to catch mist in one's 
 hands. He had heard often that wicked proverb 
 which says, " Where there's smoke there must be 
 some fire." A man has often self-possession to extri- 
 cate himself from a danger, the retrospect of which 
 makes him nearly die of fear. And so it was with 
 Lanty, as there grew upon him the sense of what a 
 calamity might have overtaken him. 
 
 How Mabella mig^ht have been tortured by this 
 horrible falsehood. Mabella, his wife, who blushed 
 still like the girl that she was! It was a very tender 
 greeting he gave his wife and child when he reached 
 home, and he made Mabella very happy by his 
 
(I : 
 
 m I 
 
 ■ !*' 
 ill V' 
 
 2^)4 
 
 A DAUGHTER 01' WITCHES. 
 
 account of Ann's delight over her gift. And then he 
 strode off to his fields, and all day long he remem- 
 bered two things — that Mabella's charity to the poor 
 disgraced girl had already brought its blessing back 
 to the giver, and that one phrase of Ann's, " being 
 as you drank." 
 
 Lanty had never realized fully before what he was 
 doing. But his eyes opened. He could look for- 
 ward to the future, but the thought of the past gave 
 him a ,ense of helplessness which made his heart 
 ache. 
 
 With every honest effort of his hands that day he 
 registered a vow. The peril he had escaped had 
 opened his eyes to the other dangers which 
 threatened the heaven, which he had thought he pos- 
 sessed so securely, of wife and child. 
 
 The real purification of Lanty's life from the 
 sporadic sin which had bes-^t him took place that 
 day as he worked in his fields, but his friends and 
 neighbours always thought the change dated from 
 another day a few weeks later. 
 
 For although we have learned our lesson well, yet 
 Destiny, like a careful schoolmaster, takes us by the 
 hand, and leading us over sharp flints and through 
 thorny thickets, revises the teachings of our sufferirgs. 
 
 
s6. 
 
 CHAPTER XTTI. 
 
 Three days after Lanty's interview with Hemans, 
 Mabella paid a visit to Vashti. 
 
 Sally, grown in stature if not in grace, promptly 
 carried off Dorothy, and the two cousins sat down 
 opposite each other in the dainty room which served 
 as a sitting-room and drawing-room in the Dole 
 parsonage. 
 
 There was a great contrast between the two 
 women ; despite the beauty and hauteur of Vashti's 
 face there was a shadow of ineffable sadness upon 
 it. Life was none too sweet upon her lips. 
 
 The seed sown in barren Mullein meadow had 
 brought forth a harvest of bitter herbs — wormwood 
 and rue, smart-weed and nettles. 
 
 Shadowing her eyes was the vague, ever-present 
 unrest of those who do battle with spectres of the 
 mind ; there is no expression more pitiful, because 
 it speaks of unending warfare. But upon her brow 
 there shone the inajesty of an unconquered will ; 
 she had not been bent beneath the knee of man's 
 authority, nor ground into the mire by poverty's 
 

 
 
 
 ill * 
 
 '■ 
 
 i 
 
 
 266 
 
 A DAUGHTEP OF WITCHES 
 
 liJ,. J; 
 
 I'j 
 
 r )1! 
 
 li-lij 
 
 ■it] 
 
 iron heel, nor bowed beneath the burden of physical 
 pain. 
 
 She was in some strange way suggestive of the 
 absolute entity of the individual. 
 
 Human ties and relationships seemed, when 
 considered in connection with her, no more than 
 the fragments of the wild vine, which, having striven 
 to bind down the branches of the oak, has been torn 
 from its roots by the merciless vigour of the branch 
 to which it clung, and left to wither without sus- 
 tenance. 
 
 Now and then against the background of The 
 Times there stands forth one figure sublimely alone, 
 superimposed upon the fabric of his generation in 
 splendid isolation — a triumphant, individualized ego. 
 
 It is almost impossible to study and comprehend 
 these individuals in their relations to others, the 
 sweep of impulse and energy, the imi:3erious flood 
 of passion, the tumultuous tide of life which animates 
 their being and stimulates their actions is so different 
 from the sliu^gish, well-regulated stream whose 
 current controls their contemporaries. 
 
 They must be regarded as individuals ; adown 
 the vista of the world's perspective we see them, 
 splendid, but eternally alone in the centre of the 
 stage, brilliant nnd brief, like the passing of a meteor 
 counng from chaoh, goiny; — alas! almost inevitably 
 — to tragedy ; leaving a luminous trail to which 
 Irembling shades creep forth to light feeble lamp^ 
 
A DAUGHTER CF WITCHES. 
 
 267 
 
 of imitation, by which to trace the footsteps of the 
 Great Unknown. 
 
 But we never understand these people, who, great 
 in their good or evil, baffle us always — defying the 
 scalpel which would fain anatomize them — now and 
 then, as by revelation, we catch a glimpse of their 
 purpose, a hint of their significance, but when we 
 would fix the impression it eludes us as the living 
 sunshine mocks at the palette of the painter, and 
 spends itself royally upon the roof-trees of peasants, 
 when we would wish to fix it for ever in unfading pig- 
 ments and hang it upon the walls of kings' palaces. 
 
 In her degree Vashti Lansing was one of these 
 baffling ones. 
 
 Compared with her cousin Mabella, she was like 
 a beautiful impressionistic picture beside a carefully 
 designed mosaic. 
 
 The one compound of daring and imagination, 
 gorgeous in colour, replete with possibilities if barren 
 of achievement, offending against every canon, yet 
 suggesting a higher cult than the criticism which 
 condemns it ; the other typical of the most severe 
 and elaborated convention, executed in narrow limits, 
 yet charming by its delicacy and stability, an ex- 
 ponent of the most formal design, yet winning 
 admiration for the conscientiousness with which its 
 somewhat meagre possibilities have been materiahzed. 
 
 Yet Mabella Lansing's face was eloquent. 
 
 It was composite of all the pure elements of 
 
268 
 
 A DAUGHTER OP WITCHES. 
 
 
 1^' i 
 
 1 "i 
 
 1 ' 
 'i \ 
 
 i : 
 
 
 ' i: ■ 
 
 Ml 
 
 ■ 'li 
 
 4- 
 
 ! ■ 1 
 
 i' , 
 
 womanhood — the womanhood which loves and bears 
 and suffers but does not soar. In her eyes was the 
 soft fire of conjugal and maternal love. With the 
 tender, near-sighted gaze of the home-maker, her 
 eyes were bent upon the simple joys and petty pains 
 of everyday life. 
 
 Upon her countenance there shone a tender 
 joyousness, veiled but not extinguished by a certain 
 piteous apprehension ; indeed, there was much of 
 appeal in Mabella's face, and bravery too — the 
 bravery of the good soldier who faces death because 
 of others' quarrels and faults. 
 
 But above all it was the face of the Mother. 
 
 Surely no one would dispute the fact that mother- 
 hood is the crowning glory of woman, the great holy 
 miracle of mankind ; but while it is impious to deny 
 this, it is unreasonable and absurd tc say that for 
 all women it is the highest good. 
 
 There are different degrees of holiness ; even the 
 angels differ one from the other in glory ; why, then, 
 should the same crown be thought to fit all women ? 
 
 The golden diadem may be more precious, but 
 shall we deny royalty to the crown of wild olive 
 or to the laurel wreath ? 
 
 The mother is the pole-star of the race, but there 
 are other stars which light up the dark places ; why 
 should their lonely radiance be scoffed at? 
 
 Women such as Mabella Lansing are the few 
 chosen tnit of the many called. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 269 
 
 There was in her that intuitive and exquisite 
 motherliness which all the ethics on earth cannot 
 produce. A simple and not brilliant country girl, 
 she yet had a sense of responsibility in regard to 
 her child which elucidated to her all the problems 
 of heredity. 
 
 It is probable that she was a trifle too much im- 
 pressed with her importance as a mother, that she 
 had rather too much contempt for childless women, 
 but that is an attitude which is universal enough 
 to demand forgiveness — it seems to come with the 
 mother's milk — yet it is an unlovely thing, and whilst 
 bowing the head in honest admiration of every 
 mother, rich or poor, honest or shamed, one would 
 wish to whisper sometimes to them that there are 
 other vocations not lacking in potentialities for 
 good 
 
 " What a lovely house you have, Vashti ! " said 
 Mabella, irrepressible admiration in her voice, a hint 
 of housewifely envy in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes. it is very comfortable," said Vashti, with 
 a perfectly unaffected air of having lived in such 
 rooms all her days. 
 
 " Comfortable ! " echoed Mabella ; then remember- 
 ing her one treasure which outweighed all these 
 things, she added, a little priggishly : " it's a good 
 thing ihere are no babies here to pull things 
 about." 
 
 Vashti smiled in quiet amusement 
 
n- 
 
 370 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 1 j . 
 
 m 
 
 M 
 
 " What's the news in the village ? " she asked. 
 " You know a minister's wife never hears anything." 
 
 Mabella brightened. Good little Mabella had a 
 healthful interest in the social polity of the world in 
 which she lived, and Vashti's disdain of the village 
 gossip had sometimes been a trial to her. Vashti 
 usually treated " news " with an indilference which was 
 discouragingly repressive, but to-day she seemed dis- 
 tinctly amiable, and Mabella proceeded to improve 
 the opportunity. 
 
 " Well," she said, " the village is just simply all 
 stirred up about Temperances quarrel with Mrs. 
 Ranger. I always knew Temperance couldn't abide 
 Mrs. Ranger, but I never thought she'd give way 
 and say things, but they do say that the way Tem- 
 peraT-'^e talked was just something awful. I vv^asn't 
 Lliere ; it was at the sewing circle, and for the life 
 of mc 1 can't find out what started it, but, anyhow, 
 Temperance gave Mrs. Ranger a regular setting out. 
 I asked Temperance about it, but the old dear was 
 as cross as two sticks and wouldn't tell me a thing. 
 So I suppose it was something about Nathan. 
 Young Ab Ranger has got three cross-bar gates 
 making at Nathan's shop, and they've been done 
 these three days, and he has never gone for them ; 
 he's fixing up the place at a great rate. 1 suppose 
 you know about him and Minty Smilie ? Mrs. 
 Smilie's going about saying Ab isn't good enough 
 for Mmty ; and they ' y ]\Irs. Rr>nger is just worked 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 271 
 
 life 
 
 low, 
 out. 
 was 
 ning. 
 han. 
 <i t.es 
 done 
 em ; 
 Dose 
 Mrs. 
 
 3Ufjh 
 
 ked 
 
 up about it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if matters 
 came to a head one of these days, and Ab and Minty 
 just went over to Brixton and came back married — " 
 suddenly Mabella arrested her speech and a more 
 earnest expression sweetened her mouth. " Vashti," 
 she resumed, " there is something I wanted to ask 
 you. Ann Serrup sent me word that she was coming 
 to church next Sunday, and I want you to speak 
 to Sidney and get him to preach one of his lovely 
 helpful sermons for her, I'm sure he will if you 
 ask him. Something to brace her up and comfort 
 her, and, Vashti — I'm awfully sorry for her." Mabella 
 paused, rather breathlessly and a little red ; " one 
 never knew exactly where one was " with Vashti, 
 as Temperance was fond of saying. 
 
 For a fleeting instant during Mabella's little recital 
 Vashti's eyes had contracted in almost feline fashion, 
 but she replied very suavely : 
 
 " I'll tell Sidney, but, well — you know I never 
 interfere in the slightest with his sermons." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Mabella with really excessive promp 
 titude ; " Oh, no, you wouldn't dare to do that." 
 
 " Of course not," said Vashti with so much ol 
 acquiescence in her voice that it was almost mocking. 
 
 " I know how men think of these things, ' continued 
 Mabella with the calm front of one thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with the world and its ways. " But Sidney 
 is different ; he is so good, so gentle, and he seems 
 to know just how one feels " — a reminiscent Lone 
 
I 
 
 373 
 
 /I D. kJGhter of witches. 
 
 \ i 
 
 ia; 
 
 
 came to Mabella's voice, she recalled various hours 
 when she had needed comfort sorely and had found 
 it in the gracious promises Sidney held out to his 
 listeners. " It is a great comfort to me," she went 
 on ; " lately it has seemed to me as if he just held 
 up the thoughts of my own heart and showed me 
 where I was strong and where lay my weakness." 
 Mabella arrested herself with an uncomfortable 
 knovvledge that Vashti was smiling, but when Vashti 
 spoke a silky gentleness made her voice suave. 
 
 " I will tell Sidney what you say, and no doubt 
 he will preach with a special thought of you and 
 Ann Serrup." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad I spoke of it," said Mabella ; 
 " I wasn't sure how you'd take it." 
 
 Vashti continued to smile serenely, as one who 
 recognizes and understands cause for uncertainty. 
 Her gaze was attracted to the window. 
 
 " Look ! " she said suddenly. 
 
 Passing in plain view of the window was a most 
 extraordinary figure. A creature with a face blacker 
 than any Ethiopian, surmounted by a shock of fair 
 hair — this individual was further adorned by the 
 skirt of a bright blue dress, which, being made for 
 a grown up woman, drag^ged a foot or so on the 
 ground behind ; about the neck was a pink silk tie, 
 showing signs of contact with the black, which was 
 evidently not " fast " ; above her head she held 
 a parasol bordered with wiiite cotton lace — thus 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 273 
 
 most 
 icker 
 fair 
 the 
 for 
 the 
 tie, 
 was 
 leld 
 thus 
 
 caparisoned Sally paced it forth for the amusement 
 of little Dorothy, who tottered upon her legs by 
 reason of the violence of her laughter. Surrounding 
 the pair, and joining apparently in the amusement, 
 were the two dachshund puppies (Sidney's latest 
 importation to Dole), the collie, who followed with 
 the sneakii expression of one who enjoys a risquk 
 joke (and yet he could not forbear biting surrep- 
 titiously at the dragging flounces as they passed), 
 and little Jim Shinar, who followed in a trance-like 
 state of wide-eyed fascination. He lived nearer to 
 the parsonage than any other child, and between 
 the evil fascination which Sally exerted over him 
 and the dread of finding himself within the gates of 
 a man " who spoke out loud in church," Jim's life 
 was oppressed with continual resistance to tempta- 
 tion, but he had frequent falls from grace, for Sally 
 could do more things with her mouth and eyes 
 than eat and see, indeed her capabilities in the line 
 of facial expression were never exhausted, and there 
 was a weirdness about her grimaces which fascinated 
 older children than poor round-faced little Jim 
 
 Sally peacocked it up and down before her 
 admiring satellites, until suddenly there rang through 
 the parsonage a vigorous expression uttered in a 
 rich brogue, and at the same instant a large, red- 
 faced woman rushed out of the kitchen door and 
 appeared round the corner of the house. 
 
 Sally arrested her parade, paused, showed an 
 
 18 
 
!i'. 
 
 i' 
 
 274 
 
 A DAITGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 inclination to flee, paused ngnin, then with a gibe 
 tor which she dived back into her Blueberry Ally 
 vocabulary, fled from the irate " work-lady," who had 
 unwittingly furnished forth the fine feathers in which 
 Sally was strutting. Mary promptly gave chase, 
 and that too with an agility which her bulk belied. 
 The area of the hunting ground was not very great 
 being bounded by the prim palings of the little 
 garden, but no landscape gardener ever made more 
 of his space than did Sally. She doubled and 
 turned and twisted, and eluded Mary's grasp by a 
 hand-breadth as she darted under her outstretched 
 arms, but Sally was very unwise, for she used her 
 breath in taunts and gibes, whilst Mary pursued the 
 dishonoured flounces of her Sunday gown in a silence 
 which was the more ominous because of her wonted 
 volubility. 
 
 Sally was getting slightly winded, and was wishing 
 she could get the gate open and give Mary a 
 straightaway lead, but she had her doubts of the 
 gate, sometimes it opened and sometimes it didn't. 
 Sally knew if it was obstinate that her fate was 
 sealed ; she was casting about for another means 
 of escape when her adherents began to take a share 
 in the proceedings. First, little Jim Shinar, standing 
 rooted to the spot, saw the chase descending upon 
 him ; Sally dodged him, but Mary was too close 
 behind and too eager for her prey to change her 
 route quickly, so she charged into him and went 
 
 
 
A DAUGHTER OF W ITCHES. 
 
 275 
 
 over like a shot. Jim g<'i\e a howl, and Mary 
 gathered herself up, and, breaking silence for the 
 first time, ordered him home in a way not fit for 
 ears polite, and then resumed the chase ; but the 
 dachshunds, seeing their playmate little Jim in the 
 thick of it, concluded that ihere might be some fun 
 in it for them also, and promptl)- precipitated them- 
 selves upon Mary in a way which impeded her 
 progress so much that Sally was able to make the 
 gate and get it half open before Mary shook herself 
 free, but when she did she came like a whirlwind 
 towards the gate, cheered on by the collie, whose 
 excitement had at last slipped the collar and vented 
 itself in sharp barks. S;illy whisked through the 
 gate, but Mary was at her heels. Sally felt the 
 breath of the open, and knew if she escaped Mary's 
 first sprint that she was safe. So with a derisive 
 taunt she sprang forward, jubilant, but alas, in the 
 excitement of the crisis Sally let go her hold of the 
 long skirt, which immediately fell about her heeb;, 
 and in an instant the chase was ended, for Mary, 
 panting, blown, and enraged beyond expression, was 
 on Sally in a second, and fell with her as the long 
 skirt laid her low — the dachshunds arrived a little 
 later, and the collie, seduced by their evil example, 
 threw decorum to the winds, and seizing an end of 
 the bright flounce where it fluttered under the angry 
 clutch of Mary, he tugged at it with might and 
 main, and this was the scene which greeted Sidney, 
 
 18* 
 
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 fliotographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
> 
 
 
376 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
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 as, returning from his walk, he approached his own 
 gate. 
 
 He had met a herald of the war in the person of 
 little Jim Shinar, who was fleeing home as fast as 
 his sturdy legs would carry him, crying at the same 
 time from pure bewilderment. 
 
 A word and a small coin healed all little Jim's 
 hurts, and Sidney proceeded, wondering what had 
 frightened the child, whom he was used to seeing 
 about the kitchen or in Sally's wake when she went 
 errands. 
 
 Now, as was recorded afterwards in Dole, Sidney 
 conducted himself under these trying circumstances 
 with a seeming forgetfulness of his ministerial dignity 
 which was altogether inexplicable, for, instead of 
 immediately putting the offenders to open shame, 
 he laughed, and even slapped his leg (so rumour 
 said, though this was doubted), and called to the 
 dachshunds, who were amusing themselves demolish- 
 ing Mary's coiffure, in a way which savoured more 
 of encouragement than rebuke. 
 
 It is hard to live up to " what is expected of us," 
 and for once the Dole preacher was disappointing 
 — ^but, nevertheless, his presence brought the peace 
 which he should have commanded. For Sally's 
 unregenerate soul owned one reverence, one love 
 — ^for her master she would have cut off her right 
 hand. To have him see her thus! There was a 
 violent upheaval in the struggling mass, then Sally 
 
 t-l" 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 277 
 
 was free of it and speeding towards the house at 
 a rate which suggested that her former efforts hnl 
 not been her best Mary gathered herself up, and 
 seeing Sidney, by this time outwardly gc^\c, stand- 
 ing looking at her, she too mads for the house, and 
 Sidney was left, still very stupefied, gazing upon 
 the two dachshunds, which, suddenly finding them- 
 selves deprived of amusement, fell upon each other 
 with a good will which proved them fresh in the field. 
 Sidney entered the house where Mabella aiid 
 Vashti waited laughing. 
 
 Sidney was very pleased to see his wife's face 
 
 irradiate with girlish laughter. She had been so g^ve 
 
 and quiet of late that his loving heart had ached over 
 
 it Was she not happy, this beautiful wife of his? 
 
 She had a far keener appreciation of the real 
 
 humour of the situation than had Mabella, and when 
 
 her husband entered her eyes danced a welcome. 
 
 He was enthralled by the sight and was more than 
 
 glad to give Mary the price of two dresses to mend 
 
 her flounces and her temper. Nor did he rebuke 
 
 Sally too severely for the unauthorized loan she 
 
 had levied upon Mary's wardrobe. He knew Sally 
 
 had been sufficiently punished by his apptarance. 
 
 Mabella had rescued Dorothy at the first alarm, 
 
 and the child had looked upon the whole proceeding 
 
 as an amiable effort on Mary's part to amuse her. 
 
 Shortly after Sidney's arrival Mabella departed, 
 having enjoyed her visit greatly, and Lanty and 
 
F 
 
 H 
 
 27S 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 she spent an hour that evening listening to Dorothy, 
 as, with lisping baby tongue and inadequate vocabu- 
 lary, she endeavoured to describe how Sally had 
 blackened her face with blacklead to amuse her. 
 
 That night Sidney sat alone in his study ; his 
 shuttered window was open, and, between the slats, 
 the moths and tiny flying creatures of the night 
 came flitting in. Soon his student lamp was 
 nimbused by a circle of fluttering wings. Now and 
 then an unusually loud hum distracted his attention 
 from the loose-paged manuscripts before him, and 
 he laid them down to rescue some moth, which, 
 allured too near the light, had come within 
 dangerous proximity to the flame. 
 
 These poor, half-scorched creatures he sent flutter- 
 ing forth into the niglit again, yet, in spite of this, 
 several lay dead upon the green baize below the 
 student lamp ; others walked busily about in the 
 circle of light cast by the lamp-shade upon the 
 table, and presently he put aside all pretence of 
 work and watched them with curious kindly eyes. 
 
 His heart, that great tender heart which was for 
 ever bleeding for others, whilst its own grievous 
 wound was all unhealed, went out even to these 
 aimless creatures of a day. 
 
 Surely some leaven of the divine Eternal Pity 
 wrought in the clay of this man's humanity, making 
 it quick with a higher life than that breathed by 
 his nostrils. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 479 
 
 i 
 
 , " Not a moth with vain desire 
 
 Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, 
 Or but subserves another's gain," 
 
 he said to himself, and then before his watching 
 eyes there seemed to be mimicked forth all the 
 brave-hearted struggle of humanity towards the light, 
 which, alas! too often scorched and blasted those 
 nearest to it Well, was it better, he wondered, to 
 have endured and known the full radiance for an 
 instant, even if the moment after the wings were 
 folded for ever, or was it wiser to be content upon 
 the dimmer plane as those little creatures were who 
 ran about the table-top instead of striving upward 
 to the light? But happily, as he looked at these 
 latter ones, his attention was diverted from the more 
 painful problem, as his eyes, always delicately 
 sensitive to the beauty of little things, dwelt with 
 delight upon the exquisite, fragile little creatures. 
 
 How marvellously their delicate wings were poised 
 and proportioned! Some had the texture of velvet 
 and some the sheen of satin ; and nature, out ol 
 sheer extravagance, had touched them with gold 
 and powdered them witli silver. And did ever 
 lord or lady bear a plume so daintily poised as those 
 little creatures bore their delicate antenncB? And 
 presently a white creature fluttered in from the bosom 
 of the darkness, a large albino moth with a body 
 covered with white fur and two fern-like antennce ; 
 white as a snow-flake it rested upon the green baize. 
 
aRo 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Just then Vashti entered, coming up to his table 
 in her stately fashion. 
 
 " How foolish you are to sit with your window 
 open," she said. " Don't you know that the light 
 attracts all those insects ? " 
 
 Sidney had risen when his wife entered the room. 
 He was almost courtly in his politeness to her. F»ut 
 it was so natural for him to be courteous that all 
 little formalities were graceful as he observed 
 them. 
 
 As he rose he knocked down a book. He stooped 
 to pick it up ; as he straightened himself he saw 
 Vashti's hand upraised to strike the white moth. 
 
 " Oh, Vashti ! don't ! don't ! " he cried, irrepressible 
 pain in his voice; but the blow had fallen. 
 
 The moth fluttered about dazedly, trying to escape 
 the shadow of the upraised hand ; there was a 
 powdery white mark on the green baize table-top 
 where the first blow had fallen upon it, maiming it 
 without killing it outright 
 
 Sidney's face grew pale as death. 
 
 "Oh, Vashti! Vashti!" he cried again. "Do 
 not kill it, there is so much room in the world." 
 
 He gathered the half-crushed creature, which 
 would never fly again, into a tender hollowed palm, 
 and, opening the shutter, put it forth to die in the 
 darkness from whence it had been drawn by the 
 glimmer of his lamp. 
 
 Alas! alas! how many wounded and maimed have 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES 
 
 381 
 
 ne 
 
 been cast forth to die in the darkness from out which 
 their aspirations had drawn them to receive their 
 death wounds. Sidney came back to his table, a 
 sick pain at his heart. 
 
 Presently Vasliti put her arms about his head, 
 and drawing it back upon her breast, placed her 
 cool finger-tips upon his eyes. 
 
 He accepted the mute apology with swift 
 responsive tenderness. And as she held him thus 
 the woman's weakness, latent even in her, forced 
 itself to the surface for a moment. 
 
 " You suffer for every little thing," she said. " I 
 can only feel when my very soul is torn." 
 
 He felt two tears fall upon his face ; he drew her 
 towards him ; she sank beside his chair upon her 
 knees, and he pressed her head against his breast, 
 and she submitted to th? caress and rested upon 
 him in a sort of weary content, as one who pauses 
 upon a hard journey ; he put down his fare till it 
 leaned upon her hair, and thus, so near together that 
 heart beat against heart, so far apart thnt the cry 
 of the one soul died and was lost ere it reached 
 the other, they remained for long, whilst before them 
 the silver lamp and its white flame grew dimmer 
 and dimmer, as its light was obscured by the shim- 
 mering veil of tiny creatures who danced about it. 
 
 Oh, piteous allegory! Can it indeed be that by 
 our very efforts to find Truth we hide its radiance 
 from others? 
 
 \ 
 
a8f 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 { 
 
 There are certain flowers which, when placed with 
 other blossoms, choke and stifle and wither them by 
 some evil emanation so subtle that it cannot be 
 analyzed. The heliotrope is one of the flowers which 
 murder other blooms. As with flowers so with 
 spirits. Which of us that is at all sensitive to psychic 
 influences but has felt at one time or another the 
 devitalizing influence of certain personalities, and one 
 can readily imagine how continuous, how fatal such 
 an influence would be, when the eyes were so blinded 
 by love that they could neither perceive the evil 
 plainly nor guess its genesis at all. And sometimes 
 thinking of these things, one wonders if the old, 
 weird tales of vampires and wehr-wolves are not 
 cunning allegories instead of meaningless myths, in- 
 vented by men who, searching the subtleties of soul 
 and spirit, had discerned this thing, but living in 
 times when it was not wise to prate too familiarly 
 of the invisible, had been fain to cloak their dis- 
 covery in a garb less mystic. 
 
 But if the strife be wrapped in mystery the effect 
 upon the subjective spirit is very visible. 
 
A DAUGHTER OJ^ IVJTCHES. 
 
 283 
 
 Many of the Dole people eyed their pastor 
 anxiously as he arose to address them the next 
 Sunday, for he was very dear to them. Dole was 
 not prone to let its affections go out to strangers. 
 Life was very pinched and stinted in Dole, and it 
 would seem almost as if their loves were meagre as 
 their lives ; at their repasts there was rarely much 
 more than would go round, and ijcrhaps they re- 
 membered better the injunction ii<;jiinst giving the 
 children's meat to the dogs, than they did the com- 
 mand to love thy neighbour as thyself. The great 
 luxury of the poor — loving — they did not half enjoy, 
 but bounded their affections as they did their fields. 
 
 Between Dole and strangers t he-re was usually an 
 insurmountable barrier of mutual incomprehension. 
 It was, indeed, difficult to find the combination which 
 opened the Dole heart, but Sidney had done it. 
 
 He was a very tender pastor to his people ; what- 
 ever doubts, whatever questionings, whatever fears 
 troubled and tormented his own soul, he permitted 
 :ione of them to disturb the peace of the doctrine he 
 ;>reached. These people striving with irresponsive 
 oarren acres, and bending wearily above hopeless 
 furrows, were told how they might lighten the labours 
 both of themselves and others, and promised places 
 of green pastures and ruuning brooks. The gates of 
 their visionary celestial city were flung wide to them, 
 and in the windows of the heavenly mansion cheer- 
 ing lamps were lit 
 
a84 
 
 A D AUGHT F.R OF WIT CUES. 
 
 i\ 
 
 I' 
 
 Was this false doctrine? Perhaps. Protestants 
 are fond of saying with a sneer that Catholicism 
 is a very " comfortable religion." The implication 
 would seem to be that a religion is not to be chosen 
 because of its consolations. Therefore, it is perhaps 
 regrettable that Sidney's preachment to Dole was so 
 pronouncedly a message of " sweetness and light." 
 
 His hearers loved him, and looked upon his un- 
 ministerial ways with a tolerance which surprised 
 themselves ; often, as he passed upon these long, 
 seemingly aimless, walks which Dole could not com- 
 prehend, a hard-wrought man would pause in his 
 work, straighten himself and look after him wistfully 
 even as the eyes of the fishermen followed the 
 Galilean, or a weary woman would stand in her door- 
 way until such time as he drew near, and then, with 
 some little excuse upon her lips, arrest his steps for 
 a moment, to turn away comforted by the benediction 
 of his mere presence. 
 
 Nor was Sidney insensible of, or irresponsive to 
 this output of affection. He felt the full force of 
 it, and returned to them their full measure heaped 
 up and running over. And for a time the comfort 
 of the mutual feeling helped to sustain his spirit, 
 fainting beneath the burden of morbid introspection, 
 and sapped by the ignorantly exercised power of 
 his wife, for, not understanding the influence she 
 wielded, Vashti used it rashly. Suggestion was 
 super-imposed upon suggestion until the centre of 
 
A DAUCItTEIi Ot WITCHES. 
 
 285 
 
 Ition, 
 of 
 she 
 
 I was 
 of 
 
 his menial j^ravity was all hut lost, and in his walks 
 he often paused bewildered at the upspringing of 
 certain thinjjs within his mind, grasping at the elusive 
 traces of his vanishing individuality. 
 
 The hour is past when these things might he 
 scoff (d at ; the old legends have given place to 
 scientific data more marvellous than the myths they 
 discredit. The law has recognized the verity of 
 these things, and justice has vin licated its decision 
 with the extreme fiat of deatfL Alas, the justice of 
 men is for those who kill the body ; it cannot reach 
 those who murder the mind. 
 
 The church was unusually crowded when Sidney 
 arose. It had been hinted abroad that Ann Serrup 
 was to be there, and Dole stirred with pleasurable 
 anticipation, for Ann Serrup was an unregenerate 
 individual so far as religion was concerned. 
 
 It was related of her that once at a revival meet- 
 ing in Brixton, when the fiery revivalist of that place, 
 Mr. Hackles, approached her, asking in sepulchral 
 tones where she expected to go when she died, Ann 
 replied, unmoved, that she would go to where they 
 put her, a response calculati> j, in the mind of Mrs. 
 Ranger, to bring a " judgment onto her." 
 
 The Rev Hackles denounced her as a vessel of 
 wrath and clesi;j^nated her as rhaff ready to be cariL 
 into the fire, but Ann sat dreamily throurli it all, 
 and, as Lanty related afterwards, " never turned a 
 hair." And this was when she bore no other shame 
 
386 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 |i 
 
 I 
 
 than the stigma of being a Serrup, and therefore 
 predestined to evil, and now she was coming to Dole 
 church. What would their gentle pastor say? 
 
 It was a sweet summer day. Mabella and little 
 Dorothy sat by a window, and the yellow sunshine 
 lingered about the two yellow heads, and reached out 
 presently to Lanty's curls when he entered a little 
 later. 
 
 Vashti, white and stately, entered with Sally and 
 took her place in the conspicuous pew set aside for the 
 preacher's family. Sally behaved herself demurely 
 enough in church now, but such is the force of habit 
 that the eyes of all the juveniles in Dole were bent 
 steadily upon the preacher's pew, for in Sally their 
 childish instinct and experience told them there were 
 possibilities, and indeed, to be strictly truthful, it 
 must be confessed that now and then, at decent in- 
 tervals, Sally treated them to a surreptitious grimace 
 worth watching for. 
 
 Mrs. Ranger sat in the body of the church, with 
 the expression of one who perceives an evil odour. 
 This expression was assumed with her Sunday bonnet 
 and laid aside with it. Indeed, Mrs. Ranger thought 
 too much both of her Sunday bonnet and her reli- 
 gious principles to use either of them on week days. 
 
 Temperance and Nathan sat alone in a pew well 
 back. It was reported in Dole that they had been 
 seen to look at each other in church, but that was 
 doubtless one of Mrs. Ranger's slanders. Tem- 
 
A DAUGHTER OF IVITCNES. 
 
 287 
 
 perance would have been the last to do anything 
 scandalous. 
 
 The whole congrej^ation waited. 
 
 Sidney was finding his places in the books. This 
 was always an irritating spectacle in Dole, but was 
 forgiven like Sidney's other delinquencies. Dole 
 liked to see the preacher open his Bible with the 
 abrupt air of one seeking a sign from whence to 
 draw his inspiration for the forthcoming sermon. 
 The Dole children had been used to have animated 
 arguments as to whether old Mr. Didymus knew 
 where he was about to open the book or whether 
 his text came to him in the nature of a surprise. 
 If so, then they marvelled that he should so readily 
 find " the bit." Young Tom .Shiimr had once declared 
 that Mr. Didymus found the place beforehand and 
 substantiated his evidence by saying he had seen 
 little ends of white paper sticking out of the big 
 Bible on the pulpit. But this was coming it too 
 strong for even the most hardened of his adherents, 
 and until Tom rehabilitated himself by thrashing a 
 Brixton boy who said the Brixton church was bigj,;.r 
 than the Dole tabernacle, he ran a great risk of 
 finding himself isolated, as sacrilegious people have 
 often been before his time. 
 
 To see their preacher searching for his places 
 before their eyes was a most trying spectacle, and 
 no preacher save one of extraordinary confidence in 
 himself and his vocation would have risked bringing 
 
a88 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 : !; 
 
 i: 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 himself thus near the level of mortal man. Sidney 
 surmounted this danger nobly, but Dole gave a sigh 
 of relief, as much perhaps for its preacher as itself, 
 when Sidney, after a final flutter of the pages, laid 
 down his books, and rising looked down lovingly 
 upon them ; and just as this crisis was reached the 
 door moved a little, wavered on its double hinges, 
 closed, opened again, and finally admitted Ann 
 Serrup, holding her baby in her arms and cowering 
 behind his little form as though it were protection 
 instead of a disgrace. Poor Ann! her bravado 
 vanished at the critical moment and left her dazed, 
 frightened, shamc^d, given into the hands of her 
 enemies, or so it seemed to her. Now the curiosity 
 of Dole over Ann's appearance had been such that 
 there was no<- one single seat, so far, at least, as 
 she could see, but what held someone. And to 
 advance under the fire of those curious eyes into 
 any of these seats uninvited was more than Ann 
 dare do. Sidney, with the lack of affectation which 
 characterized him, looked about to see the cause of 
 the concentrated gaze of his congregation, and saw 
 a slim, frightened-looking woman standing just within 
 the church door, holding a baby to her breast so 
 tightly that the bewildered child was beginning to 
 rebel against the restraint of the embrace. 
 
 Sidney's swift intuitions grasped at once that 
 this was a new comer, a stranger within their gates, 
 lie looked towards Vashti — Vashti was looking at 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 289 
 
 the congregation as if expecting one or other of them 
 to do something. Sidney reflected swiftly that it 
 might not be Dole etiquette for the minister's wife 
 to move in such a matter, then he turned to his 
 congregation and said in a voice suggestive of dis- 
 appointment, " Will not one of you offer a seat to 
 our new sister ? " 
 
 The effect was electrical. 
 
 The Rangers, Smilies, Simpsons, and all their ilk 
 rose at the summons. Ann followed Mr. Simpson 
 up the aisle, but just as she nearly reached the 
 Simpson pew she gave an imploring look at Mabella. 
 Mabella returned an encouraging smile, and Ann 
 darted to Mabella's pew like a rabbit flying to cover. 
 Mr. Simpson felt the defection and resumed his seat 
 feeling he had been " done," and inclined to think 
 Lanty and Mabella had usurped the privileges of 
 the deaconship. 
 
 Nathan and Temperance gave a sigh of relief. 
 The moment Ann entered the church each had 
 longed to bring the forlorn girl to their seat, but a 
 kind of shyness had fallen upon these two elderly 
 lovers since their marriage ; retracing the steps of 
 their love dream, they were overtaken now and then 
 by the awkward hesitancies of youth. 
 
 Ann put the neatly dressed child down on the 
 seat by Dorothy, and the two babies eyed each other 
 in the frankly questioning manner of innocence. 
 
 The congregation recovered, at least outwardly, 
 
 19 
 
29© 
 
 A DAUGIITLR OF WITCHES, 
 
 ils equanimity, and Sidney's clear, sweet voice said, 
 " Let us pray," and after an instant's pause uttered 
 a brief invocation to the spirit of Truth and Holiness 
 to descend upon their waiting hearts. 
 
 The hymn was sung, and then having read the 
 chapter Sidney closed the Bible and began to speak. 
 
 Afterwards when all Sidney's sermons were passed 
 in review, it was remembered that during this dis- 
 course he kept his eyes fixed upon the face of his 
 wife, and never once bent his gaze upon his con- 
 gregation, the congregation which, gathered there full 
 of trust that their spiritual wounds would be bound 
 up, suddenly awakened to the fact that their beloved 
 preacher was smiting them with the cold steel of 
 spiritual condemnation. 
 
 This man who had been so ready to empty the 
 vials of healing love upon their bruises, this man 
 in whose hcind the spiritual olive branch had blos- 
 somed like Aaron's rod that budded, this man whose 
 gentle human sympathy had wiled forth the secrets 
 of the most obdurate, this man had turned and was 
 rending them. 
 
 He took for his text, " The sins of the fathers 
 shall be visited upon the children," and ere long 
 the faces before him were piteous. 
 
 Never had Sidney spoken as he spoke that day ; 
 spurred on, it would seem, by an irresistible in- 
 spiration he cried to them " Woe — woe." His fiery 
 words seared their hearts as flame scorches flesh, 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 391 
 
 ly; 
 
 beneath the burden of his bitter eloquence their 
 spirits fainted. Nor was he content with generahza- 
 tions, for with striking parallel and unmistakable com- 
 parison he illustrated his meaning with incidents from 
 their own lives. Dole had never known how com- 
 pletely their preacher had been in their confidence 
 till he turned traitor and dragged forth the skeletons 
 of their griefs to point the moral of his denunciations. 
 
 Beneath it all they sat silent as those mute before 
 a terrible judge, only the swift and piteous changes 
 of expression showed when his barbed shafts struck 
 home. These old men and women were suddenly 
 smitten with the thought that their children who had 
 " gone wrong " were only scapegoats for their 
 parents' sins, sent by them into the wilderness, with 
 a mocking garland of religious training, to take away 
 their reproach before the eyes of the world. But 
 though the scapegoat might delude the attention of 
 the world, it did not divert the gaze of the Almighty 
 from their sin-stained souls. Impeached by their 
 preacher's almost personal denunciations, these poor 
 worn old men and women found themselves con- 
 victed of, and responsible for, their own and their 
 children's sins. The ghosts of all the bye-gone 
 scandals in Dole rose from the shades, and for once, 
 parading boldly before the face of all men, fastened 
 upon their victims. 
 
 Sudden deaths were pronounced to be judgments 
 upon hidden sin, and Mary Shinar's blanched face 
 
 19* 
 
292 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 i 
 
 was wrung when she recalled her saintly father, who 
 was found dead in his field with the whetstone in 
 his hand to sharpen his scythe, that other reaper, 
 whose sickle is always keen, had cut him down with- 
 out warning. Mary tried to remember what old Mr. 
 Didymus had said about the Lord coming quickly 
 to those whom He loveth, but she could not, she 
 could only writhe under the shadow of a dreadful 
 uncertainty Death-bed repentances were mocked 
 at as unworthy and unacceptable cowardice, and old 
 Henry Smilie's jaw set, for his son, dead these fifteen 
 years now, had acknowledged between the spasms 
 of the death agony that he had erred and gone astray, 
 and when a merciful interlude of peace was granted 
 him before the end, he spent his last breaths whis- 
 pering forth prayers to the Saviour whom his life 
 had denied, and when he slept with a, kind of un- 
 earthly peace and light upon his worn young face, 
 old Mr. Didymus had spoken of those who through 
 many deep waters at last win safe haven, and his 
 father, ground to the earth by heart-breaking toil, 
 wearied by the reproachful tongue of a scolding wife, 
 looked beyond the horizon of this life to that moment 
 when, transfigured from out the semblance of his 
 
 sins, he should see his only son again. And now 
 
 But Sidney having planted the empoisoned spear in 
 his weary old heart, had turned to other things, and 
 was speaking with strange white-faced fervour of the 
 future. 
 
A DAUGHTER OJ^ WITCHES. 
 
 293 
 
 The congregation had up to this instant rested in 
 spellbound silence, but, as leaving the dead past 
 he entered the hopeful realms of the future and pro- 
 ceeded to lay them waste with the most merciless 
 forebodings, a long suspiration, half moan, half sigh 
 swept about the church, spending itself like a hiss 
 of shame in the corners, and coming vaguely to 
 Sidney's ears, unnoticed at the moment, but to be 
 remembered afterwards in agony of spirit. He made 
 no pause, but continuing in the tense tone of a 
 man who only veils his meaning because it must be 
 veiled, and wills that his words be understood, he 
 pictured forth all the terrors which awaited the child 
 of the shamed mother and the child of the drunkard ; 
 with pitiless imagery he suggested the inevitability of 
 the fate which awaited them. He denounced in 
 bitter terms the sin of giving children such a 
 heritage, and following out his argument with rigid 
 Calvinistic logic he left little hope of good for the 
 victims of this inheritance. Of all the portions of this 
 bitter sermon, this was the most scathing, and a silence 
 like the silence of the grave fell upon his hearers. 
 
 The faces of Temperance and Nathan were wrung 
 with generous, impersonal pain, and they held each 
 other's hands fast clasped, fearing for Mabella, who, 
 her face working with keen, mother anguish, looked 
 at the stony face of her torturer as a lamb might 
 regard the knife which slays it ; Ann Serrup, dazed, 
 half stupefied by the storm which beat upon her, 
 
i 
 
 294 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 had only sufficient intelligence left to shrink from the 
 wounds which followed thick and fast, as a person 
 freezing to death may yet feel the icy rain dashing 
 in his face. 
 
 Lanty sat at the end of the pew, a terrible ex- 
 pression of self-reproach in his eyes, his head held 
 erect, his shoulders squared as one who receives 
 the righteous recompense of his sins. But quicken- 
 ing all this endurance into agony was the thought of 
 Mabella, he knew so well what she was suffering. 
 
 And, lifted up trustingly, in the midst of these pain- 
 drawn faces, like flowers looking up from amid stones, 
 were the faces of the two children, Dorothy and 
 little Reub. 
 
 Having finished their scrutiny of each other they 
 had joined hands and sat silent, looking up won- 
 deringly at the preacher. 
 
 Upon their faces there was still the courage and 
 hardihood seen upon the faces of all infants ; alas ! 
 it is not long before it fades away, abashed by the 
 unconscious recognition of life's terrors. To those 
 who see it, this bravery, the bravery of supreme 
 ignorance, is poignantly touching. And of all that 
 congregation only these two children dared look the 
 preacher confidently in the face. 
 
 And yet there was one other. Vashti Lansing, 
 sitting in the extreme corner of the pew, and facing 
 her husband, had never taken her eyes from his face, 
 nor withdrawn her g^ze from his. 
 
 11; 
 
A DAUGHTER Of WITCHES. 
 
 29s 
 
 Her face was white like his, drawn as if by the 
 intensity of concentrated thought. 
 
 Seemingly unconscious of the troubled faces about 
 her, yet seeing every variation in their agony, she 
 listened to her own thoughts voiced by Sidney's 
 tongue, she heard her own bitterness translated into 
 words of fatal eloquence. 
 
 By the force of her suggestion these ideas, these 
 images, had been impressed upon the mind of her 
 husband, and he read the symbols aloud to his 
 terrified congregation mechanically, only swayed by 
 the more or less emphatic manner in which the 
 thoughts had been suggested to him. And sitting 
 thus, Vashti Lansing saw her own soul face to face. 
 
 Surely there must have been something in its dark 
 reflection to terrify this daring woman, surely her 
 heart must have trembled before the magnitude of 
 her triumph, before the spectacle of the misery she 
 had wrought, but if she indeed felt these things she 
 gave no sign. Indeed it would seem as if this woman 
 had suffered so much in secret, over her baulked 
 desire, that she had gone mad of misery, and as 
 some serpents when wounded strike savagely at 
 stones and trees and even at their own coils, so 
 Vashti, in her hour of power, did not care whom she 
 wounded, if so that she could vent her venom and see 
 upon the faces of others some reflex of the agony 
 which had so long lain at her heart. 
 
 We cannot explain these things, nor dare we judge 
 
 I 
 
296 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 of them, for to take judgment upon us is to be 
 ourselves condemned. 
 
 Sidney's voice was growing weaker, and finally, 
 with a last scathing rebuke, which was perhaps more 
 of a sneer than a reproof, he sat down, his stern, 
 white face sinking out of sight behind the high pulpit 
 desk. 
 
 After a few moments, which seemed a century to 
 the racked congregation, he rose, but the face which 
 they saw was no longer the stern face of thn relent- 
 less man who had so tortured them. The gentle 
 grey eyes had regained their kindliness, the sensitive 
 mouth its sweetness, the lofty brow was no longer 
 black with condemnation, but bright with bene- 
 ficence ; no longer stern with portents of wrath, but 
 grave with reverent responsibility. He gave out the 
 hymn in his usual way and it was sung haltingly, 
 and then with outstretched hands he blessed his 
 people. 
 
 But they wanted none of his blessings. They had 
 trusted him and he had betrayed them into the clutch 
 of their own fears. 
 
 It was the custom in Dole for the congregation 
 and preacher to rest a moment or two in silence after 
 the final Amen of the benediction, and after that 
 there were greetings at the church door ; but to-day, 
 whilst Sidney's bowed head rested upon his hands 
 he heard hurrying feet crowding to the door, and when 
 he raised his head and descended the short pulpit 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 207 
 
 fy. 
 
 Ids 
 m 
 )it 
 
 stairs, he found the church empty, he looked about 
 in amazement. 
 
 " Why, Vashti," he said in surprise, " where have 
 they all gone ? " 
 
 " I don't know whatever has possessed them," 
 she said, although she knew only too well. " But 
 they all hurried out pell mell." 
 
 " How strange," said Sidney wonderingly. Vashti 
 looked at him curiously ; by this time they were on 
 the porch. It was empty. Those who walked to 
 church had taken their departure, fleeing as from a 
 place accursed. Those who had to wait for the men 
 to bring round the democrat waggons in which they 
 had come from a distance, accompanied the men 
 round to the sheds, and mountingr into the vehicles 
 there, drove off rapidly. 
 
 Ann Serrup had waited barely till she got to the 
 church door, and then turning with blazing eyes to 
 Mabella, she demanded how she had dared bring her 
 there to be mocked at ; the poor tow of Ann's pas- 
 sion was faii'y ablaze, but something in Mabella's 
 face quieted her, and with an evil word for the 
 preacher, flung out recklessly from the reservoir of 
 sinful knowledge — Ann departed. 
 
 Amid the brief babel of condemnation which had 
 preceded the general departure, the voice of Tem- 
 perance was the only one raised to stem the flood 
 of popular indignation. 
 
 " Perhaps 'twas laid onto him to speak so," 
 
 ft 
 
; 
 
 i 
 
 • I'M 
 
 298 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 said Temperance. " I have heard tell of these 
 things." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Simpson indignantly, " them 
 things is more enjoyable by hearsay. *Twas dis- 
 graceful! that's what it was " and then he made 
 
 off, but Temperance, staunch old Temperance, stood 
 her ground, and spoke to Vashti and Sidney as they 
 emerged. But Sidney was wearied out and be- 
 wildered by the sudden defection of his people, and 
 so had little to say, and when they reached the little 
 gate the two couples separated and took different 
 roads ; the windows and doors were closed in all 
 the houses which Vashti and Sidney passed as they 
 went to the parsonage. Vashti realized that never 
 had she been so identified with her husband as she 
 was that day by the eyes which peeped out of the 
 re-opened doors behind them. 
 
 Dole had withdrawn itself from its preacher. It 
 had been hard to win out, but it retired to its shell 
 with a promptitude which suggested that it had never 
 been quite comfortable out of it. 
 
 " I can't understand it," said Sidney. " It seems 
 extraordinary. I did not preach too long, did I ? " 
 
 " No, indeed," said Vashti ; " you spoke splendidly." 
 
 His face glowed like that of a child which has been 
 praised ; he passed his hand vaguely across his brow. 
 
 " I am so glad you arc pleased," he said. " It was 
 your sermon, you know. It seemed to me I was 
 saying just what you would wish." 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 399 
 
 " Yes, of course you did," said Vashti as they en- 
 tered the parsonage fjate, then, hesitatingly, she said : 
 
 " Have you got it written down ? " 
 
 " No, oh no — I — the fact is I don't seem to re- 
 member what I preaclied about. How strange! But 
 no matter if you were pleased at the time. I would 
 not care to submit my theology to your tests, my 
 dear." 
 
 They were by this time standing together in the 
 little study. 
 
 Moved by a sudden tenderness Vashti laid her 
 face against his sleeve. 
 
 " I think," she said, " you are better than anyone." 
 
 A great joy illumined his face, he put his arms 
 about her, for a moment his old self reasserted itself. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " are you well ? Why, Vashti, 
 how thin you have grown." 
 
 She looked up at him with great hollow grey eyes. 
 
 " Thin ! " she said, and laughed discordantly ; 
 " what should the preacher's wife have to make her 
 thin.?" 
 
 " You are well and happy ? " he asked. 
 
 " Both, am 1 not first lady in Dole ? " 
 
 " You are First and Only Queen of my heart," he 
 said tenderly. " That's your name and title." 
 
 And just then Sally came to say the table was 
 ready, and slipping away from his encircling arms 
 Vashti led the way to the table. 
 
 As the afternoon waned, Sidney's nervousness in- 
 
300 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Il 
 
 j|i 
 
 ! 
 
 creased. He strove to remember his sermon, and 
 wandered restlessly about the house. At length he 
 came to Vashti whcTO she sat, book in hand, but busy 
 with her own thouf^hts. 
 
 " I'm really worried over the people leaving so to- 
 day," he said. " Can it be that they are disappointed 
 in me ? " 
 
 " Why, no," said Vashti, then asking a question 
 which had been on the tip of her tongue all day : 
 " Can't you remember anything of your sermon ? " 
 
 " Not a word," said Sidney, " isn't it strange ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's just a freak of memory," she said. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind that," said Sidney, "but the 
 worrying part is that I seem to remember that I 
 was hai sh, that I said cruel things and used the facts 
 you have told me about their own lives to drive in 
 the nails of a cruel argument. Did I do that? Oh, 
 Vashti, tell me. I spoke, it seemed to me, filled with 
 your spirit, so surely I could not have been brutal to 
 them. It is an evil dream." 
 
 His pale face was strained with the pain of his 
 thoughts. Vashti was alarmed by the distress upon 
 his countenance. She rose and took him by the 
 hand. 
 
 " Lie down, Sidney," she said, " and have a little 
 rest. You are troubling yourself needlessly. Dole is 
 full of freakish people. Temperance has quarrelled 
 with all the women about something and they may 
 have rushed off to avoid some dispute. Your flock 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 30 » 
 
 his 
 
 think you are perfect. Sleep, Sidney, and forget those 
 troubles. You are too sensitive." lie suffered him- 
 self to be led to the green leather couch and 
 stretched himself upon it wearily. She bent above 
 him, passing her strong magnetic hands across his 
 brow, looking at him with almost pitiful eyes. Her 
 pity was that of a vivisector who dares sympathize 
 with the dumb creature he tortures. 
 
 Sidney looked up at her between the passes of her 
 waving hands. For an instant his face was glorified, 
 and he saw her again as he had seen her that first 
 day on the old porch of the Lansing house, with her 
 fingers shining like ivory in the sun, and her noble 
 head set like a cameo upon the green background 
 of wild cucumber vine which draped the porch. 
 
 He saw her thus, his first, last love, and then closed 
 his eyes and floated forth upon the cloud of golden 
 memory into the dreamless realm of a hypnotic sleep 
 with her voice whispering, it seemed within his very 
 soul, saying " Sleep and forget, sleep and forget" 
 
 And he slept. 
 
 It was dusk. Vashti Lansing let herself out of the 
 parsonage, for a wild hour was coming upon her, 
 the proud, impatient despairing spirit was clamouring 
 at her lips for utterance, and she felt as perhaps 
 every married woman feels sometimes that her home 
 afforded her no sanctuary safe from her husband's 
 intrusion. 
 
 And so softly closing the door she fled out into 
 
302 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
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 the night, and as her agitation increased, the moon- 
 less night deepened, and lighted only by a few wan 
 stars she fled along the country road, her turmoil of 
 spirit translated into physical energy. And presently 
 she found herself opposite the gaunt boulders of 
 Mullein meadow. Its hopelessness suited her mood. 
 She entered it, and wandering amid its dreary 
 boulders r-he crucified herself with memories. 
 
 As a stoic who longs to know the extent of his 
 endurance she forced herself to pass where she had 
 trodden through the furnace, but she did not linger, 
 for deny the fact as she might, Vashti Lansing was 
 no longer the superbly strong woman she had been. 
 
 As the " elm tree dies in secret from the core," so 
 Vashti Lansing's strength had been sapped unseen. 
 
 She turned dizzily away from the circle of boulders 
 and wandered on, away to the other end of Mullein 
 meadow, and there sank down upon a little knoll 
 known far and near as Witches' Hill, for it was here, 
 so tradition said, that the unholy fires had been lit 
 to torture the life out of cross-grained old women, 
 with perhaps no worse tempers than their judges, 
 but a poorer art in concealing them. It was because 
 of these executions that Mullein meadow was cursed 
 with barrenness, so said the old story, but Dole, con- 
 cerned with the practical things of food and raiment, 
 did not trouble its head about old tales, only the 
 school children kept the story alive, daring each other 
 to cross Mullein meadow at twilight, or to bring back 
 
A DAUGffTER OF WITCHES, 
 
 303 
 
 a stone from Witches* Hill, for there was a strange 
 outcropping of stone here different from any in 
 the district 
 
 Vashti sat beneath the wan sky solitary upon one 
 of these stones. She knew well the reputation of 
 the place, but felt a perverse delight in carrying her 
 tortured heart to the spot where the old Vashti had 
 suffered. 
 
 Surely her imperious will, her lawless pride, her 
 revengeful spirit, were as stern judges as those who 
 haled her ancestress to her death. 
 
 She sighed aloud, and a wind sprang up and caught 
 the breath and wandered with it up and down the 
 dreary field, till all its barrenness seemed to be com- 
 plaining to the pitiless heavens of the blight laid 
 upon it 
 
 Vashti rose to depart. As she turned away the 
 wind wailed after her and Mullein meadow seemed 
 to cry aloud for its child to be given back to its 
 stony bosom. 
 
 Taking no thought that she might be seen, Vashti 
 crossed to the road, and just as she mounted the 
 fence she heard a cry of terror and saw two figures 
 dash away. The shock to her tense nerves was 
 terrible. She sank to the ground and it was some 
 time ere she regained strength to go on, and when 
 she did, skulking cautiously this time in the shadow 
 of the rough stone fence, she encountered no one. 
 
 She reached home, stole into the house, and went 
 
10 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 W, 
 
 ]» 
 
 to Sidney's room, where he was reading calmly and 
 cheerfully. 
 
 So the day ended in outward calm at the par- 
 sonage. Two days later Vashti smiled palely when 
 Mabella, who was a timorous and superstitious little 
 soul, told her how all Dole was terrified because 
 old Mr. Simpson and young Ab Ranger, going past 
 Mullein meadow, had seen the ghost of a witch 
 descend from Witches' Hill and come straight towards 
 them. They stood their ground till it began to cross 
 the fence, and then they owned frankly they fled, 
 whereupon it vanished into the earth. 
 
 It was described as a very tall, black-robed spectre. 
 
 Mabella shuddered as she related this story, and 
 her attitude was typical of the attitude of the whole 
 village. This apparition, seen upon the same 
 day that Sidney had preached his terrible sermon, 
 reduced Dole to a state of consternation. What was 
 coming upon them? Mrs. Ranger, whose belief in 
 and reference to " judgments " was very strong, felt 
 an awesome premonition that a general judgment was 
 in close proximity, and prepared herself for it accord- 
 ing to her lights by making up with Temperance and 
 giving Ann Serrup a petticoat. 
 
 Having thus hedged as best she could, Mrs. Ranger 
 gfave herself up to lugubrious anticipation. 
 
305 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 anger 
 
 On Monday Dole watched the parsonage gate 
 narrowly, but when Sidney at length came forth 
 he found the little street silent, the doorways dumb, 
 the windows as expressionless as the patch upon a 
 beggar's eye. But silence is often eloquent, speech 
 lurks behind closed lips, and the beggar's patch is 
 frequently only a pretence ; as Sidney advanced, 
 the children, playing marbles or hop-scotch in tlie 
 shade of the houses, rose and ran within, the doors 
 were closed by invisible hands as he drew near, 
 upon the window blinds he could see sometimes 
 the silhouette, sometimes the shadow of a peering 
 face. 
 
 Dole had its preacher beneath its most censorious 
 microscope — beneath the lens of prejudice virtues 
 are distorted to the semblance of vices, but beneath 
 the lens of personal disapproval faults become so 
 magnified that the virtues dwindle to mere shadows, 
 and finally vanish. Furtive scrutiny is nearly always 
 condemnatory, and is in its very nature a thing 
 abhorrent ; to a sensitive spirit it is simply a sentence 
 of death. The chill of it fell upon Sidney's spirit 
 
 20 
 
3o6 
 
 A DAVGHTEif OP WITCHES. 
 
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 I 
 
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 3 
 
 1 
 
 and weighted its wings as with leaden tears. Coming 
 after the curious circumstance of his people's abrupt 
 departure from the church, Sidney could not but 
 connect their present manifestation of coldness with 
 his sermon. 
 
 What had he said? he asked himself, with an 
 agonized effort to force his memory to serve him, 
 but like a spoiled, indulgent servant memory had 
 become a saucy menial and refused to do his bidding. 
 It was impossible for him to dream however that 
 it was the substance of his sermon which had 
 offended them; he had never spoken aught to them 
 but words of peace and hope. It was the spirit 
 doubtless to v;hich they objected. Could it be that, 
 detecting the false ring in his faith, tliey had turned 
 upon him, as one- who had led them from out the 
 wholesome wind-swept places of their stern creed, 
 to the perilous shelter of an oasis of false hope, 
 where they wot^id be crushed in the wreck of the 
 palms of peace, whose stems had no stability, but 
 had sprung up mushroom-like out of human love, 
 instead of spiritual faith? 
 
 And such was the innate generosity of this man, 
 that in the midst of his own personal pain, he 
 endured a yet more poignant pain when he thought 
 how their fears and their sorrows would rise to slay 
 them, strong as lions refreshed by rest. He had 
 lulled them to sleep for awhile, was it only that they 
 might gather fresh strength? 
 
A daVghter of witches. 
 
 3^1 
 
 One would have said that it would have been 
 an easy matter for a priest beset by these thoughts 
 to vindicate himself before his deacons, but Sidney 
 did not want a hearing. If brought before the bar 
 of their stern orthodoxy what reason could he give 
 why sentence should not be pronounced upon him ? 
 And their verdict would break Vashti's heart — the 
 heart which he had striven to satisfy with the gift 
 of his own soul. 
 
 Things must go on as they were, he could demand 
 no explanation — nor risk precipitating the expression 
 of any of his deacons* doubts, for he knew, by some 
 blind, unreasoning intuition that his spirit, upon 
 which he had laid such burdens of deceit, would 
 faint utterly before the ordeal. He knew that never 
 ag^in could he force his lips to fashion a false 
 Profession of Faith. 
 
 Perhaps his search for the Holy Grail had been 
 an unconscious one, }.l he had drawn very near 
 the chalice. However faint his faith in the divinity 
 of the Cup of Christ might be, he yet felt it was 
 far too holy to be profaned by his lips. He abased 
 himself as one who had partaken unworthily. 
 
 There is an old parable anent those who pray at 
 the street corners, and he who does not dare even 
 to lift up his eyes. 
 
 Sidney turned away from the mute condemnation 
 of the village to the bosom of the hill, and presently 
 found himself over the crest and in the hillside 
 
 20» 
 
3o8 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ? \ 
 
 I ' r 
 
 pasture where Lanty*s young horses kicked up their 
 heels and tossed their heads, in the arrogant free- 
 dom of two-year-olds. 
 
 Sidney paused and held out his hands to them, 
 uttering little peculiar calls, and they came to him, 
 at first fearfully, then more confidently, and at last 
 with the boldness of happy ignorance ; they did 
 not know yet that man's hand imposes the bridle 
 and the bit. 
 
 Sidney had a great fascination for dumb creatures 
 whose instinct distinguishes the real love from the 
 false so much more surely than does our reason. 
 As Sidney stroked their velvety noses, and talked 
 to them, and let them lip his hand, a singular ex- 
 pression overspread his face. For suddenly there 
 faded from it every mark and line imprinted by 
 experience. 
 
 The retrospect and dream of love faded from 
 out his eyes and was replaced by the innocent look 
 of the child who enjoys the present moment and 
 anticipates the future with unshaken confidence, the 
 look of one who has neither desired, nor felt, nor 
 yearned, nor suffered. It was a strange thing — such 
 r» transformation as one sees sometimes when Death 
 Vii'O >tiii> out the furrows and gives back to the 
 vor7> booy the brow of babyhood — signing it with 
 the xleron signet of eternal peace which never 
 shiDies save above eyes closed for ever. And when 
 our mortal eyes behold this chrism we tremble and 
 
 h > 
 
A DAUGHTER OF ^ITCHES. 
 
 309 
 
 >i 
 
 bd 
 
 call it unearthly, as indeed it is. And this halo 
 shone upon Sidney's countenance as he fondled the 
 young horses, and talked to them as to brothers, 
 and presently looking at them he began to question 
 •hem. 
 
 " Why is it," he said, " that you have that look 
 in your great soft eyes ? I see it always, always in 
 the eyes of you dumb creatures — a look as if you 
 knew the boon of speech which is denied to you 
 — as if your hearts were bursting with the thoughts 
 you cannot speak ; as if in proud humility you 
 acknowledge that your faculties were maimed — as 
 if you too could render a reason for all that you 
 do, if only you could make it articulate — as if you 
 plead with us to understand you — as if you prayed 
 piteously against the eternal silence which keeps 
 you down. Ah! Do not look at me like that! I 
 know you feel and suffer and think ! Look at me 
 •IS an equal. Surely when you are alone, quite 
 alone, you look at each other with different eyes ? 
 Free eyes bright with the unspeakable boon of 
 equality. May I not see you thus ? Some night 
 when the moon is high above the tree tops, when 
 the meadow lies like a bright green lake beneath its 
 beams, when the cat-bird calls from the bushes atid 
 there is no one here but you, may I not come to 
 you and see you look at each other, and at me, 
 proudly, as brother looks upon brother? For I 
 am your brother! To breathe is to be the brother 
 
iio 
 
 A DAlfGHTER OF WITCHED. 
 
 w \ 
 
 { ■ I 
 
 of all that lives by breath. And see! how ready 
 I am to acknowledge kinship," and so he babbled 
 on and on, all forgotten but the living creatures 
 before him. At length the glory faded from his 
 face, little by little, as a fabric falls into its old 
 folds, his face resumed its normal expression, he 
 patted the outstretched noses all round. 
 
 " What piteous eyes you have, poor fellows ! " he 
 said, and left them stretching their glossy necks 
 over the fence to him, and pressing their broad 
 breasts against it, till it creaked and cracked. 
 
 Dole maintained its attitude unchanged till 
 Wednesday. Upon that day Sidney, passing from 
 the post office, with some books under his arm, met 
 Mrs. Smilie, who, going over to exchange views with 
 Mrs. Simpson about matters in general, and the 
 preacher and the witch's ghost in particular, had 
 left home very early, intending to return before dark. 
 
 There would be no more lonely twilight walks 
 taken in Dole for some time to come. The ghost 
 had been seen by several individuals, all testified 
 to its height, its black robe, its white face. Truth 
 to tell, Vashti, dreading to be questioned about her 
 husband's views, had kept herself close within doors 
 all day long, and had taken her constitutionals in 
 the dusk. Did she intentionally play the part of 
 spectre } Perhaps. Nor indeed is it to be wondered 
 at if she grasped at any distraction from her own 
 thoughts, for Vashti Lansing was beset with terrible 
 
A DAUGHTER OP WITCHES. 
 
 3<< 
 
 ■uth 
 
 vvn 
 ble 
 
 fears. Working with material she did not understand 
 she had wrought havoc in her husband's brain. His 
 mind had g^ven evidence during the last day or 
 two, not only that it had partially escaped her 
 control, but his own. 
 
 Once or twice she had seen the unearthly glory 
 of confident innocence and supernal peace upon his 
 countenance, once or twice his mind had revolted 
 against the charm of her compelling eyes and waving 
 hands ; he had apologized for this, as if his will 
 was gone beyond his own control ; once or twice 
 she chanced to look at him and met his eyes, and 
 incontinently he fell into a deep slumber. 
 
 Vashti's soul fainted within her. How would it 
 end } 
 
 Since the Sunday she had avoided any suggestion 
 of making him sleep. 
 
 Alas! she had played with fire too long. 
 
 Sidney paused to speak pleasantly with Mrs 
 Smilie, but that good woman did not wish to com- 
 promise herself in the eyes of the neighbours by 
 seeming to " side " with the preacher, before she 
 had any idea as to the probable state of the poll. 
 " It will be the first division in the church since 
 long before Mr. Didymus's day," she soliloquized as 
 she proceeded on her way. " I don't believe there 
 would be any division if Temperance and Nathan 
 and Mabella and Lanty wouldn't act up stubborn 
 — ^but them Lansings ! " 
 
1 ■' 
 
 II 
 
 ii 
 
 312 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 These reflections took her as far as her friend's 
 house. The afternoon wore on and Mrs, Smilie 
 was thinking regretfully that it was time for her 
 to get home, and Mrs. Simpson was persuading her 
 to stay with much sincerity, for her larder was full, 
 and Mrs. Smilie was primed with the latest gossip, 
 when there came the sound of voices to the two 
 ladies, and the next moment Mr. Simpson entered 
 accompanied by Mr. Smilie. This solved the 
 problem, both should stay to supper, Mrs. Simpson 
 bustled about with the satisfaction of the house- 
 keeper who knows she can load her table, and 
 presently they sat down and enjoyed themselves 
 hugely over the cold " spare-ribs " and hot biscuits. 
 
 After the table was cleared they sat talking some 
 time. 
 
 The hour for " suppering up " the horses came, 
 Mr. Simpson rose and Mr. Smilie said they might 
 as well be going, and went with him to get his 
 horse. As they opened the door a faint, yellow 
 glare met their eyes. It lighted up the moonless 
 sky weirdly, and gjrowing every moment brighter, 
 was at length pierced by a long spear of lurid 
 flame. 
 
 " Wimmen ! " shouted old Mr. Simpson. " Come 
 on ; Lanty Lansing's being burned out ! " 
 
 The two men and women fled along the quiet 
 road in utter silence. A strange hush seemed to 
 have fallen upon the scene, as if all nature's voices 
 
.'/ DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 3«3 
 
 )me 
 
 liet 
 
 to 
 
 ices 
 
 were silent before the omnipotent flames which leaped 
 ever higher and higher, as if threatening even the 
 quiet skies. The men and women felt themselves 
 possessed by that strange, chilling excitement which 
 thrills the bravest hearts when confronted by un- 
 fettered flame. In the country fire is absolutely the 
 master when once it gains headway, it roars on till 
 it fails for lack of fuel. As they passed the few 
 houses along the way they paused to cry in short- 
 breathed gasps, " Fire ! fire ! " 
 
 Some of the house doors were open to the night, 
 showing their occupants had gone forth hastily ; some 
 opened and let out men and women to join the little 
 party of four. The Rangers passed them on horse- 
 back, and, as they came within sight of the house, 
 they saw dark forms already flitting before the fiery 
 background, living silhouettes against the flame. It 
 was the great old-fashioned shed which was burning, 
 but the summer wind was blowing straight for the 
 house, and three minutes after the Simpsons arrived 
 a flicker of flame shot out from the coach-house cor- 
 nice, caught the gable of the old house, crept up it, 
 and fled along the ridge pole like a venomous ftery 
 serpent. Mabella came rushing up to old Mrs. 
 Simpson. 
 
 "Will you take care of Dorothy?" she said; 
 " Lanty isn't here — oh, isn't it terrible ? " and then 
 she fled back to show the men where the new har- 
 ness was in the house, and to try to get her sewing 
 
314 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 i I 
 
 V I 
 
 machine and a few other of her housewifely treasures. 
 All the neighbourhood was there working with mad 
 energy. These people might gossip and backbite and 
 perhaps misjudge each other sorely, but no need sucli 
 as this found deaf ears. They knew what such a 
 catastrophe meant, how vital a thing it was, and wild 
 with the energy which is born of hopeless struggle, 
 they strove to cheat the firc-ficnd's greedy maw. Ab 
 Ranger and young Shinar were rolling out the barrels 
 of flour from Mabella's well-stocked storeroom, when, 
 high above the noi^e of the flames and the excited 
 hum of voices, there came the sound of wildly gallop- 
 ing hoofs. The next instant the roan, with Lanty 
 on her back, took the high fence as though it were 
 in her stride, and Lanty, flinging himself from the 
 saddle, rushed to the burning house. He could see 
 for the moment neither wife nor child, nor did he 
 know if the neighbours had arrived in time. He was 
 distraught with apprehension. His wild ride since 
 he had first seen the glimmer of the fire had seemed 
 to him as hours of agony. He ran hither and thither 
 through the crowd uttering incoherent demands for 
 his wife and child. 
 
 Mabella appeared in the doorway. The flames lit 
 
 up his face, distorted with anxiety and terrible fear. 
 
 A great throb of relief made his heart leap, and 
 
 released the sanguine blood which rushed to his head. 
 
 Mabella and Dorothy were safe — why was he idle } 
 
 He leaped towards the doorway, but Mabella, 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 315 
 
 la. 
 
 labouring under a deadly apprehension, a terrible fear, 
 had seen his face and been seized by a panic. 
 
 " Lanty ! Lanty ! Don't go in ! " she cried. 
 
 " Not go in ! " he said, and hold on his way. 
 
 Then a terrible resolution came to Mabella ; she 
 had fought bravely to keep up apj)carances, to hide 
 her husband's delinquencies, now she must betray 
 them to save him. Was she, for paltry pride, to 
 risk letting him enter the burning house in that con- 
 dition ? A thousand times no ! He was too dear to 
 her. She caught hold A young Shinar, the strongest 
 man in Dole. 
 
 " Oh, Tom ! " she cried. " hold Lanty— don't let 
 him go in. He is not himself ^ 
 
 Her voice, shrill with fear and agony, rose above 
 the duller sounds, and pierced every ear there. 
 
 Lanty gave an inarticulate sound of grief and 
 wrath and self-reproach. Thi,' next moment he felt 
 Shinar's hand upon his shoulder, heard a persuasive 
 if rough voice in his ear, but what it said he did 
 not know, for a wild, blind rage possessed him, and 
 he flung off the hand with a curse. But Shinar would 
 not let him go. 
 
 Lanty struck viciously, and the other man called 
 between his teeth : 
 
 " Here, Ab — help me hold him." 
 
 Ab Ranger came, but it took another yet to hold 
 Lanty, who, perfectly sober, was at length mastered 
 by sheer weight and held helpless, whilst his neigh- 
 
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 ^'Mi, 
 
 ir 
 
 316 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 bours strove to rescue what of his goods they could. 
 And then for a Httle time hot-headed Lanty, moved 
 beyond himself, raved and cursed, and gave colour 
 lo any supposition his neighbours cared to adopt 
 regarding his condition. Mabella approached him 
 fearfully, yet her heart was high with the courage 
 which had enabled her to keep him from harm's way. 
 But Lanty with an oath bade her begone. Horrified, 
 she fled to where Mrs. Simpson held Dorothy, and 
 clasping her child in her arms fell upon her knees, 
 crying, from which position she was raised by Sidney's 
 gentle touch. He was white-faced and terribly excited. 
 
 " Have you seen Vashti ? " he asked Mabella when 
 he had drawn her to her feet. 
 
 " No," began Mabella. " I " 
 
 " Here I am," said Vashti in even tones, from near 
 where they stood. " I have been here some little 
 time, but Mabella has been too busy to see me." 
 
 Then she turned away and went over to where 
 the men still held Lanty. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " she demanded, her great 
 eyes blazing, her face white as death. 
 
 " Lanty ain't himself," said Ab Ranger. 
 
 " You are crazy ! " said Vashti contemptuously. 
 
 " Mabella said " began yoiuig Shinar. 
 
 " Let go of him,*' said Vashti almost savagely. 
 " How dare you ! Lanty is as sober as I am. The 
 idea of you daring to do this thing! They ought 
 to be ashamed, Lanty ! " 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 317 
 
 jely. 
 jThe 
 lught 
 
 The detaining hands fell from him. He gave her 
 one look of passionate gratitude, the one sole re- 
 compense Vashti Lansing ever received for the love 
 which had ruined her whole life. The young men 
 slunk away. Lanty felt a terrible reaction sweep 
 across him, and fell atrembling with real physical 
 weakness. 
 
 He remembered his repulse of Mabella. 
 
 " Vashti," he said, " go and ask Mabella to come 
 to me." I said something ugly to her. I want her 
 to forgive me." 
 
 Vashti went with seeming readiness. Lanty rested 
 white and trembling, alone, before the flaming ruin of 
 his home. Presently Vashti came towards him slowly. 
 
 He raised his head. 
 
 "Where's Mabella?" he asked. "She's all right, 
 isn't she?" 
 
 " Yes, but, Lanty, I'm very sorry, she won't come." 
 
 "Then she can stay," said Lanty heart-brokenly. 
 " If she has the heart to hold out now she can stay ; 
 can I come home with you, Vashti .-' " 
 
 "Yes, of course," said Vi'shti. "I'll call .Sidney, 
 and you go home with hmi. I'll explain to every- 
 body that you are all right. You had better go and 
 not get them all asking questions." 
 
 So she brought Sidney, and the two men went 
 away together. As they turned their backs upon the 
 scene there came a terrible crash. They turned and 
 looked 
 

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 3i« 
 
 y4 DAUGHTER OF U'lTCflRS. 
 
 The roof-tree of Lanty's liome had fallen in. He 
 resumed his way with tears briinming b*'- - ves. 
 
 Vashti no sooner saw them dene than she 
 hastened over to the group about Mabena. Tem- 
 perance was holding her in her arms. 
 
 As Vashti approached, the group gave way a little. 
 
 Mabella looked up. 
 
 " What did Lanty say ? " she asked c agerly. " Is 
 he ever going to forgive me ? " 
 
 Vashti answered softly and with seeming hesitation, 
 " Don't take on too hard, Mabella, but he has gone 
 home with Sidney." 
 
 Mabella comprehended the words and sank, a dead 
 weight, in Temperance's arms. 
 
 Vashti went about in her quiet way, speaking to 
 the oldest women, explaining, or was it only hinting? 
 to them in confidence, how incensed Lanty was 
 against Mabella, how angry Mabella was because of 
 Lanty's words, how Sidney had taken Lanty home 
 to wrestle with him, and how Mabella and Dorothy 
 were going home with Temperance. 
 
 Some of the men said they would stay all night, 
 and watch, and gradually the others departed, but 
 even before they separated that night they had found, 
 by the corner of the barn, the point where the fire 
 had been lighted ; kerosene oil had been poured upon 
 broken-up shingles, taken from the bundles laid there 
 ready to reshingle the barn when the work grew 
 slack ; more than that, Ab Ranger found a bo.\ of 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 3'9 
 
 was 
 
 upon 
 there 
 grew 
 
 •X of 
 
 parlour matches, a hixury httle used in Dole ; the 
 box was marked with oily fingers. 
 
 Who had done this thing ? 
 
 Mabella, numb with her despair, was taken home 
 by Nathan and Temperance. The tired men whis- 
 pered together as they lay upon couches improvised 
 of the saved bedding, and watched the embers glow 
 and flicker up into flame, and die away, and leap 
 up again and again. 
 
 Vashti was conducted home by the village people. 
 
 They stood at the gate watching her run up the 
 little garden path, and open the door of her home ; 
 she waved to then» from the threshold, and they 
 knew she was safe from the ghost, and as the groups 
 diminished and separated the units composing them 
 drew closer together, for a great fear had laid hold 
 upon Dole. 
 
 At length all found sleep, and some from ex- 
 haustion, some from despair, some by reason of great 
 grief slept well, but none of them all rested so quietly 
 as did an inert white-faced figure which lay upon 
 the road to Brixton, opposite Witches' Hill in Mullein 
 meadow. A sorrel horse sniffed at the prostrate 
 shape, and whinnied in the nigiit, but it was not till 
 nearly noon the next day that the dead body of 
 Hemans the machine agent was found, flis hands 
 and clothes were covered with l-;erosene oil, in his 
 pocket was another box of parlour matches. 
 
 His neck was broken. 
 
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 ''•1 
 
 320 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 The burning of Lanty's home had been terribly 
 avenged. 
 
 Vashti Lansing, actuated by the spirit of unrest 
 which possessed her, had taken her big black shawl 
 about her and fled swiftly through the by-ways to 
 Mullein meadow. She had no fears of the night. 
 Her dark spirit was akin to it. In its mystery she 
 saw a simulacrum of the mysteries of her own souL 
 
 And as she sat upon the stones of Witches' Hill 
 and felt the summer wind raising the heavy locks 
 of hair upon her brow, a sense of peace and rest, 
 fleeting, but inexpressibly precious, came to her. 
 Some strange influence made her turn her head and 
 she saw a tonj^ue of flame shoot up like a flaming 
 dart of defiance hurled from earth to heaven. It 
 was Lanty's home ! As the thought formulated itself 
 in her brain she was aware of the soft thud, thud, of 
 galloping hoofs coming towards Mullein meadow. 
 
 This was the guilty one fleeing from his work. 
 
 To think thus was to act. She fl'^d across Mullein 
 meadow to the Brixton road, climbed the fence and 
 crouched in the shadow. As the horse drew near 
 she recognized it in the starlight ; knew its rider, and 
 knew her guess was right. Every one knew Hemans' 
 malignant, nature, and his emnity towards Lanty was 
 a matter of common report. 
 
 The horse was almost abreast of her. She sprang 
 out of the gloom, threw up her arms, the black 
 shawl waved uncertainly about her, the sorrel reared. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 321 
 
 was 
 
 )rang 
 
 ilack 
 
 lared, 
 
 the man gave a scream of fear and fell upon the 
 stony road striking upon his head. Vashti gathered 
 her shawl about her and fled towards the light which 
 was broadening and glowing against the dusky sky. 
 
 Thus Dole was not kept long in suspense as to 
 who had set fire to Lanty's buildings, but the cir- 
 cumstances of his death were hidden from them, but 
 it intensified the superstitious fear which brooded over 
 the village to an agony to think Hemans had been 
 found with his neck broken, exactly upon the spot 
 where young Ranger and Mr. Simpson had first seen 
 the ghost of the witch. 
 
 By the afternoon of the following day, Mabella 
 Lansing and the baby Dorothy were installed in the 
 little two-roomed cottage, which alone, of all the 
 buildings upon Lanty's property, had escaped the fire. 
 She had refused all offers of shelter. She would not 
 even stay with Nathan and Temperance. 
 
 " I am Lanty's wife," she said, " and as long as 
 there is a roof belonging to him I will live under it. 
 I made a terrible mistake, but some day he will 
 forgive me." 
 
 Within her own heart Mabella, great in her love 
 and trust, thought it would not be long till he came 
 to her ; she remembered those silent moments in the 
 past when Lanty had made mute acknowledgment 
 of his fault, and she had bestowed voiceless pardon. 
 Mabella knew when she and Lanty met there would 
 be no need for words, and she felt the moment 
 
w 
 
 32a 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 ■ I 
 
 it \ 
 
 
 \s 
 
 \\ 
 
 
 would be too sacred for any other eyes, be they 
 never so loving, to witness. 
 
 The first d?' passed; she saw Lanty at a dis- 
 tance working in the fields. Friday came but did not 
 bring him, and she grew nervous and frightened ; 
 the day passed, and the night, but she was gprowing 
 more and more nc rvous ; she started awake with 
 terror many tiiicb dut-ng the night ; she fancied she 
 saw a face at tli'' wiMtlow ; she thought she heard 
 footsteps round ^nd round • r :ouse. 
 
 Saturday brougut h • rr.n isi^-^rs, Vashti among 
 the rest. Vashti talked to ner douut the finding of 
 Hemans' body, the ghost, and the terror which the 
 village lay under, and then departed. 
 
 As Saturday waned down to night a sick nervous 
 fear oppressed Mabella ; she lit two lamps and tried 
 to fight off her terrors. The ticking of the clock 
 seemed to grow louder and louder. Dorothy tossed 
 in her sleep. Mabella hid kept the child awake to 
 cheer her till the little one was thoroughly over- 
 tired. The tension became almost unbearable. She 
 rose, frightened at the sound of her own footstep and 
 took Lanty's violin from the shelf ; she could not 
 play, but she thought it would comfort her to pick 
 at the vibrant strings which were so responsive to 
 Lanty's touch. She seated herself beside the lamp — 
 her back to the front door, and facing the door in 
 the rear. She thougnt she heard a noise behind her 
 — she turned swiftly to look over her shoulder — she 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 323 
 
 they 
 
 ervous 
 tried 
 clock 
 tossed 
 ke to 
 over- 
 She 
 p and 
 Id not 
 pick 
 e to 
 
 PP — 
 or in 
 
 her 
 
 she 
 
 caught the shadow of a face at the front window — 
 her eyes dilated. There came a sound from the 
 rear door, and a breath of air. She forced her eyes 
 to look. A tall figure, wrapped in black and with 
 gleaming eyes, s ood between the lintels. The fiddle 
 fell ; its strings breaking with a shriek. Mabella gave 
 one scream of terror, "Lansing — Lansing!" and 
 darted toward the cot where the child lay — but ere 
 she reached it the front door came crashing in, as 
 Lanty dashed his shoulders against it, and before 
 Mabella quite lost consciousness she felt his strong 
 arms about her, and knew that nothing could harm 
 her 
 
 With Mabella in his arms Lanty rushed across the 
 little kitchen to the empty portal of the rear door, 
 and looked forth, and in the starlight saw his cousin 
 Vashti, with head down, running like a hunted hare 
 for home. 
 
 " I know you ! " he cried in a clcurion-like voice — 
 and Vashti heard. 
 
 Lanty, eager, yet ashamed to seek Mabella's 
 pardon, had held lonely vigil without the little cot- 
 tage ; it was his footstep which had so terrified her. 
 It was the fleeting shadow of his face which she had 
 seen. As she looked around he had withdrawn out 
 of sight, and was crouched beside the window when 
 he heard her cry of " Lansing — Lansing ! " Only 
 twice before had she called him thus. Once when 
 she came to his arms in Mullein meadow ; once during 
 
 71* 
 
324 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 - 
 
 the terrible day when Dorothy came to them, and 
 when Lanty heard it the third time it was as a 
 chord made up of the greatest joy, the greatest 
 agony of his hfe ; he would have crossed the river 
 of death to answer it. 
 
 Mabella opened her eyes beneath his kisses. She 
 looked at him, and put up her hand to stroke his 
 face. He caught it and pressed it against his eyes. 
 
 They were wet. 
 
 " Don't, my dear," she said. " You break my 
 heart," and then the tears so long repressed gushed 
 from her own eyes — and Lanty and Mabella were 
 each other's again — and for ever. And when they 
 were a little calmer they talked together, and each 
 learned how the other had chosen Vashti as an am- 
 bassadress of peace. 
 
 " Poor Vashti ! " said Mabella, a swift comprehen- 
 sion, denied to the stupidity of man, coming to her 
 woman's heart. 
 
 " Poor Vashti ' " echoed Lanty contemptuously. 
 " Poor Vashti, indeed ! Just wait." 
 
 " Oh, Lanty," said Mabella with a sob in her voice, 
 " don't yoii condemn her ; that would be too cruel." 
 
 Lanty said nothing ; he had his own thoughts. 
 But the joy of their reunion dwarfed all other in- 
 terests and peace rested in their hearts. 
 
 And Vashti ? She had shown no mercy ; she ex- 
 pected none. That Lanty would make her name a 
 hissing in Dole she did not doubt 
 
A DAUGHTEk OF WITCHES. 
 
 335 
 
 hen- 
 her 
 
 oice, 
 el." 
 jhts. 
 ■: in- 
 
 But so strange is human nature, that Vashti Lans- 
 ing, confronted with the prospect of shame and 
 mockery for herself, turned to thoughts of her hus- 
 band. She dreaded the ordeal of the service of the 
 next day upon him. A vague but omnipresent sense 
 of uneasiness, quite apart from dread for herself, 
 weighed upon her. She took a lamp and went into 
 Sidney's room softly ; she bent above him. With 
 the stillness of deep sleep upon him he lay very 
 quiet, the delicacy of his clear-cut countenance en- 
 hanced rather than modified by the white pillow, and 
 as he slept he smiled. To natures such as his, which 
 harbour neither dislike, distrust nor condemnation of 
 any living thing, sleep is indeed beneficent 
 
 As Vashti looked, slow tears globed her eyes, but 
 did not fall. They were, in all honesty, tears for 
 her husband, not for herself. She bent nearer him 
 and touched him with her lips — perhaps the only time 
 she had ever done so of her own volition. 
 
 " I m.ust see him through to-morrow," she mur- 
 mured — then turning away she left the room. What 
 did she mean? It is hard to pierce to the core of 
 such a woman's soul ; but in her great eyes there was 
 the look of one so weaxy that the prospect of Eternal 
 Sleep seems sweet 
 
 ex- 
 ile a 
 
t 
 
 3»^ 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 lif 
 
 The next dawn drew from out the dark bright with 
 the portents of a perfect day. 
 
 All the hollow heaven was blue as a turquoise stone. 
 
 Vashti faced the sunny hours, which yet loomed 
 so black for her, with that courage and calm which 
 grows out of over-much torture. 
 
 Pain became its own anaesthetic in course of time 
 — and this numbness had crept over proud Vashti 
 Lansing. She had made others suffer much, but they 
 all had their compensations. Who can say how much 
 she suffered herself? 
 
 As the hour for the service drew near, Sidney 
 became very nervous. Vashti tried vainly to console 
 him, but all her soothing words failed to impress 
 him. It was as if she strove to grave an image 
 upon quicksilver. 
 
 At last she said to him gently : 
 
 " It will be given thee in that hour what thou 
 shalt say." 
 
 His face brightened. 
 
 " Of course it will," he said simply. " That has 
 happened to me before." 
 
 ''' I 
 
A DAUGHTER Of WIlCHES. 
 
 327 
 
 Ihou 
 
 has 
 
 They left the house together. The sun seemed to 
 be more radiant in its reveahngs than usual that 
 morning, and as Vashti walked down the path its 
 radiance seemed to linger and dwell about her. " A 
 gold frame about the dearest picture upon earth," 
 said Sidney, his loving eyes alight with the adora- 
 tion of first love. And as he saw her that morning 
 she was very beautiful. 
 
 Passing the common height of women she had 
 grown more statuesque and slender, the lithe plastic 
 grace of her girlhood had fixed into a gradous, 
 womanly dignity. Her great grey eyes were pro- 
 foundly mysterious. They looked out desolately from 
 her tragic face, as the altar lamps of a desecrated 
 temple might shine upon the waste places. 
 
 The contours of her strong, beautiful face were 
 solemn and suave as the curves of the Greek Acanthus 
 leaf. Above all there was expressed in her whole 
 face and in every line of her body an intense energy, 
 both of thought and movement With her to think 
 was to act; to will was to strive. 
 
 When distressed by thought or tormented by the 
 behests of her imperious will, she was wont to 
 translate the mental energy into physical exercise, 
 and walk until the demon was laid by physical 
 weariness. 
 
 She wore that Sunday morning one of the gowns 
 Sidney had so lovingly designed for her. It fell in 
 quasi-Greek draperies straight from shoulder to heel. 
 
' 
 
 III 
 
 ! ■ • 
 U 1 
 
 ;» 
 
 i Ik 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 1 
 
 . 
 
 i 
 
 .1 
 
 328 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 Conventionalized by the hand of a clever modiste, 
 it was yet almost classic in its severity. It suited her 
 well. 
 
 They arrived at the church a little late. 
 
 The congregation was already assembled — and 
 such a congregation ! Never in all the annals of Dole 
 had there been such an one. The village had simply 
 emptied itself into the church. 
 
 Lanty and Mabella were there, the light of per- 
 fect peace and love upon their brows. 
 
 Ann Serrup and her baby sat in Mrs. Ranger's 
 pew. That good woman, trembling before the 
 shadow of the " judgment " she was always prophesy- 
 ing, had secured Ann apparently to offer in evidence 
 of good faith, if need arose. 
 
 Nathan and Temperance occupied one end of their 
 accustomed pew, crushed into the corner by the over- 
 flowing of the unprecedented assembly. And seated 
 in the middle of the church, well back, but just in 
 a line from the pulpit, sat a stranger. 
 
 A man with a strong square head, rugged face, 
 and grizzled hair and beard. 
 
 A workman, one could see at a glance, and poor 
 as the people of the congregation, but yet there was 
 a subtle difference. 
 
 His face was more sophisticated in suffering than 
 theirs — ^his poverty more poignant — for he knew 
 which they did not, what poor people miss. He 
 had looked wistfully up the highways he might not 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 329 
 
 per- 
 
 tace, 
 
 tread, they looked only upon the hard road they had 
 travelled. 
 
 He peered yearningly into paradises of learning 
 whose gates are closed to the man whose hours are 
 spent in toil ; they did not lift their eyes beyond 
 the little circle of their immediate needs. He craved 
 to " reach the law within the law " ; they sought their 
 own personal salvation. 
 
 And as Sidney rose the eyes of this man dwelt 
 upon him as one might look upon a master who 
 had betrayed him, whom yet he follows afar off. 
 
 Sidney rose in his place. 
 
 A shaft of golden light wavered about the old- 
 fashioned square panes of the windov, and, finding 
 the centre of one, pierced through it, and streamed 
 in lucent radiance straight above Sidney's head. 
 
 Some in the congregation thought it was like the 
 flaming sword that drove Adam from Paradise, and 
 the old workman, watching the preacher with an 
 infinitude of yearning in his eyes, gave a deep- 
 chested sigh and thought it pity that nature's golden 
 illumination was just a little higher than Sidney, 
 just a handbreadth beyond him. 
 
 With hands outstretched above them Sidney 
 uttered the usual words of his invocation, and then 
 gave out the hymn. There are unwritten canons 
 which govern the selection of sacred songs, and in 
 Dole the clergyman had been wont to begin the 
 service with words suggestive of humbleness, or 
 
330 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 : i ; ] ; 
 
 III 1 
 
 ! 1 ' 
 
 ( 
 
 Mi 
 
 i i! 
 
 1 j 
 
 JMBliK 
 
 
 ^^^H'C^K 
 
 
 k^hH 
 
 \ ' ^ ' 
 
 kMS 
 
 i --■ -f 
 
 :f- ■■-;'!.■' .' 
 1 
 
 if 
 
 - 5 *» 
 
 .. ■• 1'.' 
 
 ji^ ^ 
 
 ':.4 ■ 
 
 
 .A-l--^ 
 
 ,:i- s , 
 
 •'l^K 
 
 ; \ ; 
 
 :'--'A'^ 1 
 
 - » ; 
 
 HhEB 
 
 - '^ I 
 
 wmm 
 
 ■: 1 ■ 
 
 -1 1 
 
 H^ 
 
 "^ii 
 
 LiL 
 
 pleading, or an acknowledgment of the Deity they 
 were addressing, or at least a filial expression of 
 confidence in a Father's love. But Sidney had 
 chosen another hymn than any of these — one of those 
 yearning sweet songs which here and there redeem 
 the hymn-books — usually chosen at the crid of the 
 service ; he took it as the key-note seemingly of 
 his sermon : 
 
 " Oh love that will not let me go." 
 
 The congregation sang it wailingly. The preacher 
 rose again and taking for his text these words " Love, 
 the fulfilling of the law," closed the Bible and 
 resting his folded hands upon it began to speak to 
 them, so winningly, so tenderly, that his words smote 
 the flint of their hearts as Moses' rod did the rock. 
 It is one of the terrible tragedies of our imagination 
 to think that the act which saved the wandering 
 querulous tribes alive, condemned the weary old 
 patriarch to only view the promised land. Our 
 souls rebel against the thought, the dispensation 
 seems too bitter, and it is hard to reconcile ourselves 
 to the idea that Sidney, giving the cup of Living 
 Water to these people should himself die athirst — 
 because he had neglected some outward forms. 
 For surely no one could dream but that Sidney's 
 whole life had been one long act of worship. 
 
 The old workman had never known before how 
 beautiful the gospel of good tidings might be made. 
 He felt it necessary to steel himself against its 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 33» 
 
 how 
 
 lade. 
 
 St its 
 
 insidious charm. Humanized by Sidney's subtle 
 sympathy, and presented to them as a panacea for 
 all human ills, it was little wonder that the old 
 workman began to realize to the full the hold the 
 Christ-word had upon those who believe — though 
 their hearts be rived and strained by earthly cares, 
 though their souls be carded like wool and woven 
 with worldliness, yet there remain ever the little 
 grains of love — the tiny shining particles of faith. 
 
 And, as Sidney quoted gentle passages from Holy 
 Writ, a great hope fell upon the old workman that 
 the man preaching these things really believed them 
 — ^were it otherwise ? He shuddered. The magni- 
 lude of the hypocrisy necessary for such a deception 
 appalled this disciple of the barren truth. And his 
 hope that Sidney believed wus not based only upon 
 the desire to know his idol worthy at least of respect 
 for honesty, if not for judgment ; deep down in the 
 soul of this great-hearted man there lived a great 
 love, a gireat concern for Sidney. He longed to 
 know that Sidney was happ)' There was no need 
 to ask if he had suffered. From his appearance it 
 would seem he had suffered almost to the point 
 of death. It would be some compensation if he 
 had won such consolation as he proffered his people. 
 Now this attitude of the old workman's proves his 
 devotion, for it takes a deep, deep love indeed, to 
 make us willing to forget our personal prejudices. 
 But as Sidney proceeded a sick fear fell upon the 
 
532 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I \ 
 
 I 
 
 i' i 
 
 hi 
 
 grey-haired man. For, if unlettered in the higher 
 sense of the word, he yet brought to bear upon 
 any mental question that intuitional acuteness of 
 perception, which in a worthy way corresponds to 
 the natural craftiness which makes comparatively 
 ignorant men so often successful in business. 
 
 Nature's lenient mother-heart tries to protect all 
 her children — these gifts seem to be the birthright 
 of the poor. Alas! instead of being used as a 
 defence they are too often upraised in offensive 
 menace. 
 
 Beneath the eloquent imagery, the deep human 
 sympathy, the tender lovingness of Sidney's words, 
 the old workman pierced — and found nothing. 
 
 Within the sanctuary of Sidney's soul there was 
 no benignant Christ — only the vague splendour of 
 altruistic ideals. 
 
 And yet — he held up before his congregation 
 this mask of formulated faith and tricked them as 
 the priests, hidden in the hollow images, tricked the 
 credulous people thousands of years ago. 
 
 The old workman almost groaned aloud. 
 
 A man of the most lofty mental integrity, this 
 mummery wrung his heart. 
 
 " Oh," he said within himself, " if he w^ould only 
 only once declare the truth — even now if he would 
 cast away these mummy cloths of deception which 
 swathe his spirit. If he would once, only once speak 
 and redeem himself for ever." 
 
A DAUGiriER OF WITCHES. 
 
 333 
 
 this 
 
 on 
 
 /ould 
 ^hich 
 ppeak 
 
 He looked at Sidney, an agony of entreaty in 
 his eyes, hoping against hope, he looked upon him 
 steadfastly, and suddenly Sidney's voice faltered, a 
 vague expression dimmed his eyes, he repeated 
 himself, hesitated, then in utter silence his eyes roved 
 over his congregation, here and there, as if seeking 
 something definitely defined; and after an interval 
 which keyed up the already tense regard of his 
 hearers almost unendurably, Sidney found the face 
 he sought, and with the unquestioning, unreasoning 
 gladness of a child, he relinquished his eyes to the 
 piteous entreaty in the workman's. 
 
 His congregation, whose prejudices had not with- 
 stood his eloquence, stirred and wondered, but Sidney 
 heeded not, for the crisis in his life had come. 
 Who shall explain these things? 
 In vain the scientist with scalpel and microscope 
 pries and peers, these subtleties puzzle and delude 
 him. For by some curious telepathy, untranslatable 
 in the symbols of spoken speech, Sidney's mind 
 received the impression of the other man's great 
 grief, whose only hope translated itself into a great 
 cry, " Be true ; be true." 
 And Sidney answered it. 
 For, fixing the attention of his congregation with 
 a gesture as of one who confesses before his judges, 
 he began to speak. And in words of surpassing and 
 subtle eloquence he laid bare every secret of his 
 soul to them. With eyes exalted and glorified he 
 
334 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I I 
 
 spoke of his love for Vashti Lansing; he told how 
 she had entreated him, how he had hesitated, " but," 
 he said, " her beauty and her goodness stole my soul 
 and I promised to be Minister of Dole." 
 
 A swift intaken breath told how Dole compre- 
 hended this — the determination to be the minister's 
 wife was easily comprehensible — but the means 
 appalled these people with their faith in the mystic 
 election of priests. 
 
 With searching syllables Sidney brought forth 
 the secrets of his soul, and translated to his hearers 
 the doubts and fears, the hopes and ideals which 
 dwelt with him during the period of his long 
 probation. 
 
 With face wrung with reminiscent agony he spoke 
 of the day when, after his Profession of Faith, he 
 was solemly set apart to the service of the God in 
 whom he did not believe. 
 
 In some way he made them comprehend his 
 suffering, and a long-drawn groan went up from the 
 over-wrought people, nearly every one of whom had 
 at one lime or another agonized beaeath " conviction 
 of sin," to v/hom these spiritual wrestlings were 
 sacred as the birth-pangs of their mothers. With 
 humbleness of spirit he traced his course among 
 them. 
 
 He told them in simple touching words of his 
 love for them, of his hopes for the little village in 
 the valley, of his secret plans for their welfare. 
 
A DAUGTTTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 335 
 
 ge in 
 
 Day by day he traced his path among them till 
 he came to the sermon of the preceding Sunday, 
 and, quite suddenly it all came back to him, all its 
 cruelty, its innuendo, its bitter Mosaic logic, writ 
 as in letters of fire upon his heart. 
 
 With an exceeding bitter cry he said, " Ah, 
 brothers! This is the evil thing of my ministry. 
 I forgot that the true physician uses the knife as 
 well as the healing unguent. I shrank from paining 
 you, I so eagerly wanted your love ; I so dearly 
 coveted your confidences ; I so ceaselessly sought 
 your sympathy that I could not bring myself to say 
 anything to wound you. It seems to me that for 
 hard-wrought hands like yours there must be recom- 
 pense waiting ; for weary feet like yours, which 
 have travelled by such stony ways, I thought there 
 must be pleasant paths, and as we are forbidden 
 to take judgment upon us, so doubtless I sinned in 
 judging you so mercifully, but I am too weak to 
 condemn. But my wife, my beautiful wife, more 
 spiritual than I, did not fall into this error, and took 
 the burden from which I shrank. She chose my 
 text for me last Sunday, and when, after reading 
 it, I found myself without words, dumb for very 
 pity before you, suddenly there entered into me 
 the spirit of Vashti. my wife ; I cannot explain this 
 to you, but it is true. It was her holy spirit which 
 spake through my unworthy lips." 
 
 A quiver shuddered through the congregation ; 
 
i 
 
 i 
 
 il 
 
 11 
 
 ! i, 
 
 i 
 
 r;: 
 
 
 ! i? . 
 
 336 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 they remembered the old witch-wife — was burnihg 
 too bitter a penance for such deeds ? Silently, but 
 with terrible unanimity, Vashti Lansing was con- 
 demned, but their gaze did not wander for a second 
 from the magnetic eyes of their preacher who, with 
 a few more words of eulogy upon Vashti, which 
 were tragically but unconsciously ironic, continued in 
 an almost apologetic way, " I would be the last 
 to question the inspiration of my last Sunday's 
 sermon to you, but yet," more humbly still, as one 
 who, whilst excusing himself, still persists in error, 
 " but yet I can't help thinking we should not dwell 
 too much upon the inclement side of justice ; why 
 grieve over sudden deaths when we have read of 
 those who ' were not, for God took them ? * Why 
 scorn death -bed repentances when we remember the 
 tliief on the cross? Why scoff and turn away from 
 those who sin ; why predict generations of shame 
 for them when it is written, ' Though ye have lain 
 among the pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a 
 dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow 
 gold.' " The imagery of the words he had quoted 
 diverted his thoughts to another channel, the apology 
 died from his voice, to be succeeded by the triumph 
 of the high priest who chants a paean to his divinity, 
 and he uttered ■^n impassioned plea to the men and 
 women before him to endeavour to bring their lives 
 more into accord with the beauty and sublimity 
 of nature, and just as he was soaring into the 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 337 
 
 rhapsodies of pantheistic adoration, there sounded 
 from the elm trees the clear sweet call of a bird. 
 
 Sidney paused and Hstened. It came again. 
 
 And then before the wondering eyes of the 
 startled congregation — Sidney's face was trans- 
 figured into a semblance of glorified peace. He 
 stood before them smiling in visible beatitude. 
 The sun ray which had been wavering nearer and 
 nearer to him descended upon his brow like nn 
 aureola, Nature's golden crown to the soul which 
 adored her; cin instant the congregation saw their 
 preacher thus — for the third time the bird's im- 
 peratively sweet cry sounded, and Sidney, turning 
 as one who responds to a personal summons, des- 
 cended the pulpit stair, and following the bird's 
 voice out into the simshine of the summer day, and 
 was gladly gathered to its bosom. Henceforth he 
 had no part in human hopes or fears. " Heaven 
 lies about us in our infancy," a heaven of infinite 
 freshness, of illimitable joy, of inexhaustible possi- 
 bilities and gladness. 
 
 Sidney's spirit had burst the bars of the prison 
 house and won back to the places of innocent delight, 
 from which each day bears us further away. 
 
 Ere he reached the door the grey-haired workman 
 was at his side ; there were tears in his eyes — a holy 
 awe upon his countenance, as of one who had 
 witnessed an apotheosis. He wrung Sidney's hand 
 — and Sidney gazed upon him with infinite im- 
 
 22 
 
33^ 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 
 I. f 
 
 li '! 1^ 
 
 ii- i 
 
 it' 
 
 |i ■ 
 
 li 
 
 % 
 
 personal loving-kindness — with such a regard one 
 might dream the Deity regarded his creatures. 
 
 The workman strove to speak, but the words died 
 in his throat. 
 
 " I am so pleased to see you," said Sidney gently. 
 " You have been long away." 
 
 " Yes," said the man, " yes — and I must journey on 
 again." 
 
 " Then," said Sidney, " I wish you pleasant ways, 
 calm seas and safe haven." 
 
 He clasped both the workman's hands in his. 
 
 So they parted for ever. The one to tread the 
 hard road down to " the perishing white bones of 
 a poor man's grave." 
 
 The other to stray along the golden vistas of 
 ecstatic dreams — till they merged in the dream of 
 death. 
 
 And as the workman turned away the congregation 
 came forth and gathered about Sidney ; eav:h one 
 in passing the door had turned to give a look of 
 contempt at Vashti where she sat, still and unmoved 
 in her place, and each marvelled at her quietude, 
 but when all the congregation drew from out the 
 church, and yet Vashti did not come, the mothers 
 in Israel went back and found her still sitting there 
 — for she was paralyzed in every limb, though an 
 alert intelligence shone in her great eyes. 
 
 They gathered about her, and she confronted 
 them still and silent as another Sphinx with her 
 
A D AUG I ITER OF WITCHES. 
 
 339 
 
 ited 
 I her 
 
 secret unrevealed The curse of perpetual inaction 
 had fallen upon her impetuous will ; her superb 
 body was shackled by stronger gyves than human 
 ingenuity could devise. 
 
 Ah, Vashti! When only a few hours since you 
 had coolly reckoned with the issues of life and death 
 — saying arrogantly " at such and such a time will 
 I lay down the burden of life — and knock unbidden 
 upon death's portal and present myself an unlooked- 
 for guest before his throne." 
 
 The poorest of us is wont to say " life at least 
 is mine." How we delude ourselves! We are but 
 infants, priding ourselves upon holding the ends of 
 the reins, whilst Destiny shapes our course — ^when 
 we -would linger in pleasant places we are hurried 
 forward, and when we would flee we are held in 
 some bleak country barren of delight. 
 
 They told Sidney gently of what had befallen 
 his wife — but as That Other said " Who is my 
 mother } " so Sidney said, " Who is my wife ? " and 
 let his gaze wander to where, high above the house- 
 tops, the swallows soared black against the blue. . . , 
 
 Mabella and Temperance waited tenderly upon 
 VashtL Whatever her sins were they were terribly 
 expiated. Through the interminable days and 
 nights she rested there, a living log, imprisoning 
 a spirit fervid as flame, a will as imperious as ever, 
 an intelligence acutely lucid. 
 
 We shrink from reckoning up the sum of this 
 
340 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 woman's torture, augmented by each loathed kind- 
 ness to which she must submit. 
 
 With extraordinary resolution she feigned herself 
 dumb in their hands, from the beginning she had 
 crucified this one of the few faculties left her — she 
 did not choose to be questioned, she would not 
 complain. 
 
 She remembered the dream she had had upon 
 the night of her betrothal, and knew that its curse 
 had come upon her. 
 
 Lanty sometimes came to her, when she was 
 alone, and told her that he forgave her — that he 
 was sorry for her ; he told her again and again, 
 and hoped she understood — but she made no sign 
 — ^though this all but slew her spirit. 
 
 They contrived a wheeled chair for her, and when 
 the weather was fine took her abroad into the sun- 
 shine, and sometimes on a summer Sunday, when 
 Lanty did no work, he and Mabella would take 
 her to Mullein meadow, because it was a place 
 of sweet memories to them. 
 
 But one grows heartsick at thought of the refined 
 and exquisite tortures this woman endured. En- 
 dured unsubdued — for never by one syllable did 
 Vashti break the silence wliich she had imposed 
 upon her tormented soul. 
 
 Dole " hoped against hope " for the restoration of 
 its beloved preacher, but it never came. 
 
 He was vowed to the worship of Nature. 
 
A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 341 
 
 iace 
 
 of 
 
 At length another preached in his pulpit, an 
 earnest, commonplace man, wise enough to accept 
 with little question accepted truths, only sensitive 
 enough to feel vaguely that he was an alien to the 
 hearts of his people, but attributing the barrier 
 between them to his great superiority. Dole did 
 not forget its duty to the church, but the congre- 
 gations there were never so great as those which 
 gathered in the churchyard when Sidney cr.nie 
 every now and then to talk to them from beneath 
 the ehn trees, telling the wonderful truths about 
 Nature, revealing to them in parable the pathos and 
 possibilities of their own lives, bidding them aspire 
 always, expounding to them the miracles writ in 
 letters of flowers upon the hillside, and spelled in 
 starry symbols against the sky. They brought 
 their dhildren to him even as the women brought 
 their babes to be blessed by the Redeemer, and 
 Sidney taught them with unwearied patience, and 
 in more than one instance sowed seed which brought 
 forth a hundredfold. He no longer took solitary 
 walks, for one or other of the Dole children was 
 sent with him always, a happy reverent attendant, 
 whose only duty consisted in suggesting that 
 the dreamer turn towards home at noon or 
 nightfall. 
 
 And so we leave Sidney, rapt in the ecstasy of 
 a happy dream, wherein by clairvoyant vision he 
 saw "good in everything." 
 
34« 
 
 A DAUGHTER OF WITCHES. 
 
 \ t 
 
 Nor need we split theological hairs analyzing his 
 claims to mercy. 
 A mortal genius has said : 
 
 *• He prayeth best who loveth best 
 Both man and beast and bird." 
 
 And the Christ forgave a great sinner because she 
 " had loved much." 
 
 Upon these pleas Sidney's case must rest, if ever 
 he is called before the Grand Jury. 
 
 As to the wreck of his mortal life, we can but 
 remember the words of an Eastern martyr, spoken 
 long, long ago—" It is better to be a crystal and 
 be broken than to be a tile upon the housetop and 
 remain." 
 
 THE ENa 
 
 h ;:, 
 
zing his 
 
 »se she 
 
 if ever 
 
 m but 
 poken 
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