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^il 
 
Hester Hepworth 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 KATE TANNATT WOODS. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A FAIR MAID OF MARBLEHEIAD," ETC., ETC. 
 
 MONTREAL: 
 
 JOHN LOVELL & SON, 
 23 St. Nicholas Street. 
 

 2117 
 
 Entered according to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by 
 John Lovell 6* Son, in the office «)f the Minister of Agriculture 
 and Statistics at Ottawa. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LITTLE HESTER. 
 
 It was a glorious June morning in 1692, and Desire 
 Hepworth, the honored wife of Thomas Hepworth, 
 was much exercised in mind. She had endured 
 hardships and privations with wonderful sweetness, 
 had lost her only and tenderly-loved brother through 
 the treachery of the Indians, and within a few days 
 had been called upon to testify concerning the sup- 
 posed evil doings of an unhappy woman accused of 
 certain arts called witchcraft and sorceries. All this 
 was quite enough to cast a shadow on the delicate 
 face of Madame Hepworth, and yet a new cause for 
 sorrow had arisen, and she was struggling with 
 silence, though much occupied with domestic 
 matters. On the morrow Captain Hepworth pro- 
 posed to raise a fine barn, the largest, most costly 
 and sightly structure ever yet seen in or near Salem 
 village. 
 
 Preparations for the great event had occupied the 
 minds of many excellent people, who were weighed 
 down with sorrow and anxiety at the horrors of the 
 witchcraft delusion then at its height. 
 
^mmmmmmmmmim 
 
 HESTER IlEPWORTIl. 
 
 I t 
 
 Anything which approached festivity was hailed 
 with delight. 
 
 Two days previous to the raising, Deliverance 
 Jacobs came over from her home near Endicott 
 river, bringing with her two children, her son 
 Samuel, a bright boy of fifteen years, and Ruth, a 
 daughter of nine. 
 
 Deliverance cared little for the tiresome journey 
 on horseback through the woods with Ruth seated 
 behind her, while sturdy Samuel trudged by her side 
 with his rifle on his shoulder. The weather was fine, 
 the air matchless, and the prattle of the children 
 pleasing to the fond but stern mother. Captain 
 Hepworth received his kinswoman with kindness 
 and dignity, while his good wife rejoiced " in that 
 more help had come when so much remained to be 
 done." 
 
 While the elders bustled about in the kitchen of 
 the " mansion," the children were instructed to 
 hasten away to find Hester. 
 
 "The little one was singing on the beam yonder 
 but now," said the captain, " and she is not far 
 away." 
 
 " My father told me I was to help you, sir, and 
 not spend my time in idleness," said Samuel, with a 
 respectful bow to the captain. 
 
 '' Did he so, my lad "i Well, you cannot do better 
 service now than in finding my little daughter and 
 in resting yourself after your journey." 
 
 As he looked in the boy's sunburnt face and saw 
 there a trace of disappoiiup jnt, he added kindly : 
 " I shall doubtless find heavier duties for you ere 
 
HESTER HEPWORTII. 
 
 5 
 
 long. My little Hester must have many things to 
 say to her cousins, and I think you will find her in 
 the grove yonder, where she passes some happy 
 hours." 
 
 Samuel and Ruth hurried away, eager to meet the 
 beautiful cousin whose father was so learned and 
 wi?e, and whose mother had high connections across 
 the sea. The Puritan children were as unlike our 
 petted modern boys and girls as possible. 
 
 The grand gloomy forests ^ad their own silent in- 
 fluence, while Indian barbarities and vague supersti- 
 tions of the past, combined with present horrors, 
 gave them an air of thoughtfulness and gravity be- 
 yond their years. 
 
 Books were rare treasures, games almost unknown, 
 and the oft-repeated admonition "to behave in a 
 seemly manner " naturally produced a shy awkward- 
 ness, the sure result of repression. To attend meet- 
 ing on the " Lord's da}^ " was an event in their lives, 
 to pay a neighborly visit quite as serious and impor- 
 tant an undertaking as a journey to Europe in the 
 present time. 
 
 As we look back and study the history of those 
 early days we are filled with pity for the children 
 who were never permitted to enjoy the freedom and 
 joyousness of childhood ; nor can we marvel that the 
 active imagination, the powers of imitation common 
 to all, should by their surroundings culminate in the 
 terrible superstition which brought death and disaster 
 to so many. The customs and restraints of that 
 period, combined with the influences under which 
 they lived, were all calculated to increase a morbid 
 
HESTER IIEPWORTir, 
 
 V ■ 
 
 belief in supernaturalism and a deeper confidence 
 in the horrible faith which made the devil able to 
 hold communication with mortals. 
 
 Upham, in his admirable " History of Witchcraft," 
 says : "Those individuals who were supposed to be 
 conversant with demons were looked upon by the 
 credulous multitude as a highly privileged class, and 
 they arrogated the credit of being raised to a higher 
 sphere of knowledge than the rest of mankind." 
 
 This statement is a necessary introduction to our 
 story, for witchcraft in New England began with 
 childrf. n, and innocent happy people often became 
 the vict{*^s of the evil-minded, jealous and malicious. 
 
 Zoroaster, the great philosopher and astronomer, 
 was charged with using magic arts because he 
 possessed remarkable acquirements. So during the 
 witchcraft period the gifted were assailed. The 
 people of Salem village brought with them a haunt- 
 ing memory of the trials and executions of witches 
 in England and Scotland. In 1645 and 1646 Mat- 
 thew Hopkins was known in England as "witch- 
 finder general," with a regular salary, and he alone 
 caused the death of more people in one year than 
 suffered during the entire delusion in Salem village. 
 Even the venerable William Baxter aided this in- 
 human creature in his work. Can we wonder, then, 
 that ignorant and superstitious people should find 
 demons in the old New England forests, or detect 
 " magic arts " in persons unusually gifted ? That the 
 educated ministers and magistrates were among the 
 persecutors will ever remain a mystery and matter 
 of regret. 
 
HESTER HEFWORTH, 
 
 Hester Hepworth was the child of cultivated 
 parents; her father was respected by all for his 
 military bearing and knowledge, and his wealth 
 naturally added to his power; her mr her, the 
 daughter of a proud old English family, brought with 
 hei from the Old World a rare poetic temperament, 
 a mind well stored with general information, and w 
 ^ love of books which led her practical neighbors to 
 regard her with awe. " Litt.le Hester," as her father 
 fondly called her, resembled both parents, possessing 
 her father's independence and love of justice, with 
 her mother's poetic tastes. During the child's in- 
 fancy, a little brother had died, who bore the cap- 
 tain's name and was much beloved by the relatives 
 across the sea. From the day when his little grave 
 was covered in a quiet corner of the Hill Farm, Cap- 
 tain Hepworth never mentioned his name, and Hes- 
 ter soon learned that her mother alone cared to speak 
 of the dear one in a better land. 
 
 It was a happy household despite the shadow of 
 the little grave, and fortunate indeed were the guests 
 at the mansion house. 
 
 On this particular morning, little Hester was very 
 happy, even Goody Herrick, who was assisting in 
 the kitchen, praised her, and Goody seldom spoke 
 words of praise. Her father had caught her in his 
 arms for a stolen kiss, and now duties being done she 
 had gone to her " hiding spot," a place well known 
 to her father ; there he had made a little seat for her, 
 and there he sometimes sat by her side when weary 
 with his public and private duties. 
 
 Her chief companion was Datsy, a frousy dog 
 
8 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTIl. 
 
 which her father had brought her one day from the 
 famous " Orchard Farm." Here she sat on that June 
 morning so long ago with Datsy curled up by her 
 side, while she was tracing her father's features on a 
 huge chip with a bit of charcoal which she had taken 
 from the kitchen hearth. The young artist, heaven- 
 endowed and all untrained, except an occasional 
 lesson from the mother, worked diligently, now turn- 
 ing her pretty head this way, now that, to examine 
 her work. 
 
 "The father's nose is not quite right," she said 
 aloud ; " it is a handsome nose, and his mouth neither 
 smiles nor looks sorry. I will make him as he looks 
 in the meetirg-house on the Lord's day, for I love 
 him best then." 
 
 " Hester ! Hester ! " rang through the woods, and 
 the work ended with the soliloquy. 
 
 " What do you hide in this black place for > " 
 asked the boy, as he looked about him. " Come out 
 in the sun and watch the men." 
 
 '' I Hke it here best, Cousin Samuel, but I will go 
 wherever you like, and I am glad to see cousin Ruth 
 again." Ruth drew Hester's hand in hers, saying, 
 " And I am glad to see you, too, only you are look- 
 ing pale and not over fleshy this summer." 
 
 " No wonder," said the boy, '^ she has nothing but 
 her dog for company, and she hides in here like a 
 witch." 
 
 " Don't say that ; oh, don't ! " exclaimed Ruth. 
 " It frightens me so that I cannot sleep, and I some-^ 
 times see strange things in my room." 
 
 " Don't think about witches, then," said her sturdy 
 
HESTER IIEPWOP.TII. 9 
 
 brother. " I never lose my sleep. She is so fooh'sh, 
 Cousin Hester, that she cried when a man told father 
 that some witches had been drowned in England." 
 
 Hester drew close to her cousin, who said, in a 
 low tone: 
 
 "It was a great man from Boston, and he told 
 about Sarah Good and the rest in their Majesty's 
 jail in Boston, and he said more trouble would come 
 to us unless God delivered us." 
 
 Hester's eyes opened wide. Her ears were already 
 full of horrible tales told by Goody Herrick, and she, 
 too, had passed sleepless nights. 
 
 " It is all lies," said the boy, stoutly. " They 
 found a broom in the apple-tree and some one said a 
 witch did it ; then two cows died within a week, and 
 that was the witch's work, too. I care nothing for 
 such silliness, and I know not how our elders can 
 hear to it. But come now, let us go and watch the 
 men." 
 
 " I am going to England some day," said Hester. 
 "My mother gives me tasks every day, and I am to 
 learn them well, that I may do credit to her and our 
 kinsfolk over the water." 
 
 " I hate England, and I will never go there of my 
 free will," said Samuel. 
 
 "Hush, brother; only this morning our mother 
 told you that your speech was too bold, and you 
 should ever respect your elders." 
 
 '* Respect is well ; but I was born here and care 
 nothing for kings or queens. We can make our own 
 laws and abide by them without hindrance of those 
 over the water." 
 
to 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH, 
 
 Hester's bri^^ht eyes flashed mi sympathy. She did 
 not share Ruth's alarm concerning such treasonable 
 words, but rather delighted in the outspoken utter- 
 rance of the bold lad, whose proud spirit of indepen- 
 dence found an echo in her own heart. 
 
 Ruth grew dignified and motherly. " Brother," 
 she said, "only last Lord's day you were reproved for 
 using such wild words lest they bring you into 
 trouble, a*'d our mother said you were but a silly 
 boy." 
 
 " I can think, if I am," retorted Samuel. " We 
 came here to be free, and now who wants to be 
 snapped up like a wildcat in father's wolf-pit } " 
 
 Ruth turned away sorrowfully ; she could not con- 
 trol this headstrong brother, but Hester laid her small 
 hand beseechingly on his arm. 
 
 " I am so glad you think without speaking some- 
 times," she said. " Only last night father said we 
 must guard our lips in these troublous times, for foes 
 might be near us." 
 
 "You are right, Hester; I will try to remember, 
 for poor Ruth is in constant fear. What are the men 
 shouting for.? Some one is injured," said Hester, 
 " Or the afflicted children may be here," said Ruth, 
 as her delicate face grew pale with dread. 
 
 -it' 
 
JTHSTER HEPWORTlt, 
 
 II 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FIRST ACCUSATION. 
 
 ** Hurry, hurry, Cousin Ruth," said Hester as the 
 frightened girl followed tremblingly ; '* see, the men 
 are crowding about seme one." 
 
 Ruth quickened her steps and reached the group 
 in time to hear Samuel say, " It is Henry Herrick, a 
 timber has fallen and crushed his foot." 
 
 Before others could decide what should be done, 
 Captain Hepworth had the sufferer carried to his own 
 room, where he stanched the flow of blood and cared 
 tenderly for the sufferer until the arrival of the sur- 
 geon. 
 
 Even this accident was regarded with superstitious 
 awe, for, said the bystanders, " did he not testify 
 against Sarah Good, whose own husband declared 
 her an enemy of all that was good." Before the sun- 
 set whispers had gro\/n to rumors, and all the evil 
 done was attributed to the unfortunate and ill-tem- 
 pered Sarah. Some had seen her sitting astride the 
 beam when it fell ; others saw her riding through the 
 air on a stick, and several knew some trouble would 
 come, for Good had appeared on the handle of Her- 
 rick's saw while he worked, 
 
 A few, like rebellious, stout-hearted, clear-headed 
 Samuel Jacobs thought it a just punishment on 
 Herrick for Iiis cruel persecution of a weak-minded, 
 
m 
 
 
 13 
 
 n ESTER IIEPWORTII. 
 
 '..L 
 
 it 
 
 misguided womriii, but these sagacious ones wisely 
 kept silence lest they should be accused of complicity 
 with the suspected parties. 
 
 The festive day dawned bright and fair. From 
 hill and dale across creek and river came the staunch 
 men and women of the time. The sick man heard 
 their shouts of cheer and moaned over his misfortune, 
 although little Hester ran to him often with gifts of 
 flowers or some dainty from the table. Mrs., or 
 Madame, Hepworth moved about, stately, tall, and 
 most gracious to her guests while watchful and exact- 
 ing with her servants. 
 
 Captain Hepworth grew in favor with his neigh- 
 bors as he poured out generous libations according 
 to the custom of the time, or inquired kindly concern- 
 ing their farms and prospects. 
 
 Priest and people mingled together in the merry- 
 making, all the more enjoyable for the sad days in 
 which they lived. 
 
 " I am told that thy little daughter haih much 
 knowledge of books," said Joshua Rea to their host, 
 as Hester leaned lovingly on her father's arm, 
 
 " Only so much as becomes her stat'on and will 
 render her more happy," said the proud father. 
 
 In this she will resemble her mother, whose skill 
 is a matter of pride in the village," responded the 
 guest. 
 
 " We crave no great honor, good friends," said the 
 captain, stroking his child's hair as he spoke, ''but 
 so much of learning and skill as is desirable to make 
 one honest of purpose and pure in life." 
 
 Even Hester could understand this sentiment and 
 join in the applause which followed. 
 
 ! I 
 
HESTER HEPWORriL 
 
 »3 
 
 The new building rose to its full stature ere the 
 sun was down, and still the guests were urged to 
 linger unless called home by their families or farms. 
 Ample provision was made within r.nd without the 
 mansion, for many had come from homes far away, 
 and not a few would remember until their dying day 
 " ye greate goodness and pleasure of ye day when 
 Captain Hepworth did raise his greate barn on ye 
 hill." 
 
 "I wish your father would raise another one, 
 Hester," said Samuel Jacobs when they were parting. 
 
 " He will doubtless some day, but it will be when 
 we are older and may care less." 
 
 " I am ready for it, old or y(iung," quoth Samuel, 
 as he shouldered his rifle and prepared to go back 
 as he came by the side of his mother and sister, 
 " Good-bye, Cousin Hester," said he ; " if the Indians 
 or the witches come your way, let me know and I 
 will give them a taste of the food my old rifle swal- 
 lows." 
 
 " Samuel is but a giddy youth," said his mother in 
 a reproving tone, although she looked proudly on her 
 first born. " He is somewhat careless. Cousin Hep- 
 worth, and speaks lightly of solemn things, but he is 
 bidable and kind, as his father will tell you." 
 
 " I can see it for myself, good cousin ; and as your 
 .husband was compelled to tarry in Boston attending 
 jto business while we have been merry-making, let me 
 [hope tc see you here soon again when he will accom- 
 Ipany you." 
 
 " And let Cousin Ruth spend a long time with our 
 little one," said Madame Hepworth. " It is some- 
 
 4. 
 
 >'* 
 
14 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 what lonely here, with no others of her age and her 
 father so much from home." 
 
 " She shall come when I can spare her, but the day 
 speeds on and so farewell." 
 
 When the last guest had departed and Madame 
 Hepworth was seated, with her little daughter's book 
 upon her knee, the good woman was startled by 
 Hester asking, in a half-frightened tone, *^Why 
 Cousin Ruth grew so pale and cried out so in the 
 night ? " 
 
 *' The child may not be well." 
 
 "She dreams of the Indian women, she says. 
 Mother, is Tituba a witch ? " 
 
 " My daughter, keep your mind at rest, and do not 
 think of these hard matters ; we may not even speak 
 our thoughts in these troublous times." 
 
 "But, mother, the children think all the time. 
 Last Lord's day, in the meeting-house, some of them 
 said they had seen red and black cats and more 
 wicked yellow birds. Does God make such evil 
 creatures .•* " 
 
 Madame Hepworth was alarmed. She knew the 
 ignorance of those about her, the terrible sufferings in 
 Mr. Parr's family and others, and her mother's heart 
 was filled with dread. Neither her husband nor her- 
 self believed in the delusion, although the physicians 
 had one and all declared that the afflicted children 
 suffered from an evil hand.. Even the clergy pro- 
 nounced it witchcraft, and the dreadful scenes in the 
 meeting-house were calculated to unnerve adults, much 
 more so sensitive and delicate children. 
 
 These things gave good Mrs. Hepworth sincere 
 
 ii ! 
 
HESTER IIEPWOkTH. 
 
 >5 
 
 trouble. If her child did not attend the service she 
 would be suspected of evil, and yet how could a loving 
 mother subject her to an exhibition of disgraceful 
 scenes which might fill her yo'mg soul with never-to- 
 be-forgotten horrors ? 
 
 The prevailing excitement reached every corner, 
 aud Hester's poetic temperament lea her to accept, 
 or reject the popular statements. Terribly solemn 
 were the good mother's words of warning, blended as 
 they were with dread of the delusion. 
 
 ' My dear one, I fear much that Tituba is a woman 
 of evil mind, but God alone should judge ; much in 
 His word and works are mysterious, and we do not 
 call them evil. Be calm and patient, my child, for He 
 will give us wisdom to discern the good and courage 
 to denounce sin." 
 
 " But, mother, Tituba has confessed." 
 
 " She is an ignorant creature, my child, and her 
 testimony should not have weight against those who 
 have led virtuous lives." 
 
 " Why, mother," said the child, this time with a 
 burst of genuine childish grief, "Ann Putnam said 
 I was a witch, because I wrote on my book some 
 words which came to me I know not how." 
 
 Madame Hepworth clasped her child in her arms 
 and soothed her tenderly. " Tell me about it, my 
 daughter; there is nothing to fear; tell me all you 
 think, for God will help us in time of trouble." 
 
 " The words came to me and I put them down be- 
 fore I thought it might be sinful, and Ann Putnam 
 said the devil did tempt me and make me do it." 
 The child's sobs were again silenced by the mother's 
 caresses, who at length asked ; 
 
m 
 
 i6 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 " What were the words, my darling ? " 
 
 Hester tried to answer when the door opened and 
 
 her father stood before them, much distressed to see 
 
 his child weeping. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 t- -! 
 
 TO GO OR STAY. 
 
 " Our friends are sirging your praises, good wife," 
 said the captain, cheerily, " and — but what is this, our 
 daughter in tears ? Was the lesson so poor after the 
 festivities ? Well, forgive it, my dear ; our little one 
 must not grieve thus early, for the days of childhood 
 are all too short" 
 
 '• I will talk with you of this hereafter. Our 
 daughter is troubled ana sorrowful, having heard too 
 much of the afflicted children," replied Madame Hep- 
 worth. 
 
 " If that be so, rest and be happy, dear one, With 
 thy father in the General Court and thy mother loved 
 and respected, not only in Salem village but through- 
 out the colonies, we have little to fear, well knowing 
 that God is just and good, however much men go 
 astray." 
 
 " She was about to tell me concerning some words 
 which she was moved to write, and it grieved her much 
 that Ann Putnam did incite the children to call her a 
 witch" 
 
 Captain Hepworth sprang to his feet, uttering 
 soniething between his teeth which in a less godly 
 
HESTER HEPWOPTH, 
 
 «? 
 
 man might have been an oath. lie recovered him- 
 self speedily, and, stooping low over his prostrate child, 
 took her in his arms, caressing her like an infant. 
 
 *' Let us talk no more of it now, my darling ; when 
 you are calm we will hear all that you desire to tell 
 us : it is enough that we are all as safe within the 
 Almighty arms as you are now in mine. Let us sing, 
 good wife, one of the songs our Hester loves best, and 
 forget the babble and confusion outside." 
 
 Madame Hepworth's fine voice was often heard in 
 the meeting house, but never did she pour it forth so 
 fully and sweetly as in her own home. 
 
 Affection, music and rest did much to ^uiet the 
 excited child, and in the early evening both parents 
 were pleased to find her sleeping well with just a 
 shade of sadness on the young face, which was pain- 
 ful to behold. 
 
 " My dear wife," said the captain, when the house- 
 hold was wrapped in slumber, " I have a proposal to 
 make, which will cause you no less grief than myself, 
 but the sacrifices of love and affection bring ultimate 
 happiness. I have observed with sincere pain the 
 change in our little one, and I well know that these 
 are days of horror. Her very brightness, beauty and 
 talent will make her a mark for the envious, and but 
 yesterday David Skelton brought me a fanciful picture 
 which he had found in the grove, declaring it must be 
 the work of the evil, one." 
 
 " What was it like ? " asked Madame Hepworth in 
 a tremulous tone, 
 
 " The child had dressed Datsy with sticks for horns 
 
 and made him stand erect ; she had then, with the 
 
 2 
 

 i8 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 •Ml 
 
 i \ 
 
 talent inherited from you, made a picture so strange 
 and odd that I laughed heartily, althougii David stood 
 by with a countenance expressing great awe. 
 
 " ' Ah, good David,' I said, ' fear not ; my little 
 maid hath the same cunning fingers and keenness of 
 eye which her mother and her grandmother possess, 
 and if it be the Lord's will the best masters in the 
 world shall counsel and direct both, when she comes 
 to years of discretion.' " 
 
 " * You are sure, captain,* said David, • that she hath 
 not covenanted with the devil, for there be those who 
 think as much, seeing she is so unlike most of the 
 children hereabouts.' " 
 
 " I will not repeat my words to David Skelton, good 
 wife ; they were perhaps stronger than becomes a 
 follower of the Most High, but henceforth his voice 
 will not be heard uttering such idle tales." 
 
 " Did he not communicate with others concerning 
 it > " 
 
 " It may be that he did so before speaking to me ; 
 if so, I desire to suppress the evil at once. Our little 
 Hester has never been as robust as most maidens of 
 her age, and after much prayer and thought I think 
 it will be both wise and proper for me to send you 
 both to England on a visit to our relatives, while I 
 remain here and attend to my duties." 
 
 "This separation would cost us both more anxiety 
 than we could well endure. If the times are troublous, 
 as indeed they are, we have need of each other, for 
 only a few are like-minded with us, and the delusion 
 will increase without steadfast opposition," said 
 Madame Hepworth. 
 
 \% 
 
 i 11 
 
 ! I i 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 »9 
 
 " I know well your heart and mind, dear wife; it 
 but reflects my own ; and yet our child is most dear 
 to us. She must be spared further details of these 
 dreadful things, and the illness of your aged father 
 in England may well demand your presence there 
 without exciting the suspicion of the ignorant and 
 superstitious. For myself, my duties in the General 
 Court and the care of our lands here will not only 
 occupy my time, but aid me in supporting my loneli- 
 ness ; for your dear sakes privation must needs come, 
 and yet in no way shall I send you from me unwill- 
 ingly. If after due prayer and consideration you 
 decided otherwise and prefer to remain with me, I 
 will, as ever before, do my utmost diligence to shield 
 you from harm or annoyance." 
 
 Madame Hepworth slept little that night, and 
 early on the morrow visited her child's room near her 
 own. 
 
 Hester, blessed with the rich inheritance of children, 
 miscalled forgetfulness, had put her trouble away for 
 a time and appeared with a smiling face to receive 
 her mother's kiss. 
 
 " How bright and warm the sun is, dear mother, and 
 how sweet the air is corning over the woods yonder 
 ^The world is very beautiful, and I would like to grow 
 [on and on forever and never die." 
 
 " That you will do, my daughter, for the soul can 
 [never die ; but come, your father is among his books 
 land papers below and we must bring him to break- 
 [fast, for he leaves us for Boston as soon as may be." 
 " Will he be away very long "i " 
 " No longer than duty demands, my child." 
 
l1 
 
 30 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 " I hope he will soon come back ; we miss him so 
 much, and the house is never the same ; even Datsy 
 is glad to welcome him home." 
 
 Seated among his books and papers Captain Hep- 
 worth had found time to think of his child ; indeed 
 she was always with him, and now, as he folded and 
 sealed important documents, or wrote down his orders 
 for the men in his absence, he heard her little feet on 
 the floor above. 
 
 While the mother was brushing out Hester's luxu- 
 riant hair, he called from the hall below : 
 
 " Come, little sluggard, come ; the day begins ill 
 without you, and Datsy is begging for his break- 
 fast." 
 
 " I am coming, father, dear ; the mice have built a 
 nest in my hair, as Goody Herrick says, and when it 
 is in order I shall come to you." 
 
 What a pleasant picture it was when she ran to greet 
 him. He the gallant soldier still bearing in his body 
 a bullet in memory of the famous " Battle of Bloody 
 Brook," standing with open arms to receive her as she 
 flew over the grim staircase in he** dainty gown of 
 white, and the queenly, youthful mother looking upon 
 them both with affectionate regard from the hallway 
 above. Who can fathom the terrible anxiety of these 
 tender parents as they watched their gifted child and 
 thought of the careless utterances which too often 
 became open accusations ? 
 
 " Daughter," said the captain, when family worship 
 had supplemented the morning meal, " would it 
 give you pleasure to cross the sea and attend school 
 for a season with some of your young cousins ?" 
 
 i ! 
 
HESTER IlEPWORril. 
 
 %l 
 
 " If you are going, too, dear father." 
 
 " I cannot leave here now, but your mother will go 
 with you and a servant to care for you until such time 
 as I might follow with justice to myself and others." 
 
 " Must we leave all the friends here, the beautiful 
 forest, the river and our pleasant home ?" 
 
 " Only for a time, my child. Your grandfather 
 would be glad to sec our little Puritan, and 1 fear he 
 will not remain long on earth." 
 
 " Is it your wish, dear father ? " 
 
 Captain Hepworth glanced at his wife before 
 answering. Her encoura.-^ing smile led him to believe 
 that her decision had already been formed. 
 
 " It is not our wish to separate, even for a short 
 time, but many thin'js combine to make it desirable, 
 if your mother consents." 
 
 " And you wish to go, mother ?" 
 
 " It would please me much to see my aged father 
 once more, and England is my childhood's home ; but 
 I am loath to leave your father here, lest his health 
 may suffer from overmuch care." 
 
 " Does grandfather expect us .•• " 
 
 " No, my daughter ; he thinks I will detain you 
 here, and the surprise will be a pleasant one. I will 
 not send you from me unless you are willing tra- 
 velers ; for tht ocean is often an enemy to comfort, 
 and I should reproach myself if aught should harm 
 my wife and child. Give the subject serious thought, 
 and when I come to you again, before next Lord's 
 day, wc will make such arrangements as become us. 
 Meant 'me let no word of this escape you, for servants 
 are over busy in spreading news." 
 
aa 
 
 IlEHTER II Em 'OK Til. 
 
 It 
 
 An hour later the good captain mounted his horse 
 and rode away toward Boston, thinidng tenderly of 
 the dear ones who stood upon the vine-covered porch 
 waving a fond farewell to him. Even Datsy joined 
 in the salute, as Hester held him upon her shoulder 
 and bade him say good-bye. 
 
 How could any of the group foresee the terrible 
 events which were so soon to follow ? Not Madame 
 Hepworth, who entered her home with a prayer on 
 her lips for her beloved traveler ; not little Hester, 
 who began counting the hours of his absence and 
 planning for hij return ; and, least of all, the brave 
 Christian soldier who rode away saying to himself, 
 •' Surely, God hath been most gracious to me in giving 
 me so noble a wife and so fair a child." How changed 
 farewell would be could we read the lines between the 
 now and then. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A LETTER OF WARNING. 
 
 Captain Hepworth had been absent three days 
 when the good people at the Hill Farm were surprised 
 to see Samuel Jacobs ride up to the door bearing 
 an important message from his mother. 
 
 " What sore distress hath brought you in such 
 haste .-*" asked Madame Hepworth as the lad sprang 
 from his jaded horse. 
 
 " No sickness, save that of the head, with certain 
 ones who should know better ; but I am charged to 
 mind my peace and give you this letter, which no 
 
HESTER HErWORTH. 
 
 «3 
 
 other should see save our cousin, Captain Hepworth ; 
 and, lest evil tongues should wag, my mother hath 
 sent for some of your famous rising, which gives your 
 bread a name throughout the village ; the rest her 
 letterwillsay to you, and I will speak with my cousin 
 Hest' r while you may read it and return answer." 
 
 Beluic opening the ponderous epistle, made secure 
 with much wax and entrusted for safekeeping to 
 Samuel's waistcoat, where it was doubly secured with 
 sundry stitches, Madame Hepworth gave orders that 
 the horse should be well cared for and her young 
 kinsman refreshed with a substantial meal, after which 
 she betook herself to her own apartment and sat 
 down to read the following most remarkable and 
 startling tidings : 
 
 " Beloved Kinswoman, — Knowing well that your 
 husband is now absent, I make bold to tell you some 
 things concerning the welfare of your family which 
 so grieve and torture me that I can neither sleep nor 
 rest, and during the day such are my distractions 
 that my children and husband do remark upon it. 
 Verily the hand of the Lord is upon us. Before the 
 meeting of the council at Salem in April last I did 
 hope much and pray most fervently that the evil 
 would remove from us and we should be once more a 
 united people. 
 
 " But the council hath decreed otherwise, and war- 
 rants are so much increased that my heart fails me 
 as I write. I learn with much pain and feebleness of 
 spirit that your young daughter and our beautiful 
 kinswoman is privately accused of strange doings, and 
 I send you this greeting that you may be on your 
 guard lest you offend some servants or other persons 
 
 II 
 
•^^ 
 
 H HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 about you and thereby make them inch'ned to perse- 
 cut*^ her, and ourselves through her. On last Lord's 
 day she was absent from meeting, and not a few 
 stated she was in league with the Evil One, but I 
 made haste to say that having sat too long on the 
 ground in the woods poring over her book, as is her 
 wont, she was troubled with a lameness common to 
 many ; whereupon Elizabeth Herrick said it was most 
 uncommon, and strange things were told of her ] how 
 she wrote strange words on her book in the meeting 
 house and drew pictures of the devil to make the 
 children laugh ; also that she spoke in a strange 
 tongue to her dogge, and had secret converse with 
 certain wicked birds. 
 
 " These things filled me with much alarm, and my 
 husband therefore forbade me to speak of them ; but 
 Samuel, my son, who is overmuch given to plainness 
 of speech, and fears nothing save dishonor and the 
 wrath of God, he hath spoken fearlessly and told the 
 babblers that the child did speak the words of French 
 which her wise mother taught her ; and her grand- 
 mother in England, like the mother here, did make 
 beautiful pictures of things seen in the world and of 
 things thought of through the fancy, whereat some 
 wore satisfied, but more displeased. And so I write 
 you at this present, entreating you to conceal all such 
 works as may tend to prejudice her cause, and also 
 to use such measures as may seem good in your 
 wisdom, which so far exceeds my own ; and such 
 service as we may render to you or yours will oe most 
 dutifully and lovingly given by 
 
 " Your kinswoman, 
 
 •' Deliverance Jacobs." 
 
 11! 
 
 L 
 
HESTER HEPWORTlh 
 
 25 
 
 When Madame Hepworth had finished reading 
 this epistle she sat as one dumb for a few moments, 
 and then rose and looked from the window. 
 
 Hester and her cousin were seated on the lawn 
 playing with Datsy ; the child had never before 
 seemed so beautiful in the mother's eyes. Her slight 
 lameness, due to an inherited rheumatic tendency, 
 had entirely disappeared, and her nervous dr^ad had 
 greatly abated since that important conversation with 
 her parents. She was herself once more, a bright, 
 happy, gifted child, the pride and joy of her home. 
 
 The mother struggled to conceal her tears as she 
 saw them. Hester was evidently telling Samuel of 
 her conjing birthday, when her father promised to 
 make merry, as the friends did in Old England, and 
 the young people should be bidden to a little feast. 
 
 " On the 3rd day of July you are to come, and all 
 day on the 4th from the rising to the setting sun we 
 are to be happy. My dear mother promises me a huge 
 cake, such as her mother made for her, and already 
 my father's friends in Boston have spoken of their 
 coming. It will be a great day, Cousin Samuel; 
 greater than the raising of the new barn, only the 
 same people will not all be here." 
 
 *' It will do Ruth good," said Samuel. " She grows 
 too grave and sad, and I sometimes wish she were 
 more like you, Cousin Hester." 
 
 "Oh, no; not like me. Dear Ruth is so gentle 
 and quiet ; and sometimes when I feel quite well I am 
 almost as wild as a boy. Then my father laughs 
 and calls me Hector. He is teaching me new tricks 
 with my horse now, and some day we are to travel 
 with him to Boston and visit our fine friends there." 
 
 #1 
 
26 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 " I wish your father was not there so much, al- 
 though Jonathan Kenny does well in his absence ; 
 it is very lonely for you women folks." 
 
 "Ah, but when he comes it is so fine, and we are 
 all so happy. He hides little gifts for me in his 
 pockets and in the saddle-bags, and I must search for 
 them. Then he tells us all the news of the great 
 Boston; and my mother helps him with his papers 
 before he goes back. You ^^''e, Cousin Samuel, if he 
 did not leave us sometimes we should never know 
 how good he was, and only yesterday Deodat Law- 
 son said th^i; my father's clear head sat on broad 
 shoulders." 
 
 " I care little for Deodat Lawson," said the boy. 
 " Why cousin, he is a learned man, and my father 
 says hath seen much of the world." 
 
 " Then he should be too wise to be taken with 
 tricks and become a believer in lies ; he was among 
 the great college men and officers of state who 
 crowded into the meeting house to see the sorcerers 
 play their tricks, and he it was who said they were 
 truly bewitched." 
 
 " Did he > But, Samuel, so many people believe it 
 now." 
 
 " I shall never believe it," said the boy, stoutly. 
 "Those girls began it in fun, and then they were 
 afraid to stop ; even Mary Warren said * her head was 
 distempered,' and that is all there is to it. Why, 
 Cousin Hester, some even say j'ou are a witch, 
 because you talk to your pet birds and make droll 
 pictures of Datsy and queer people like John Indian." 
 " Yes, I know ; but father says nothing can harm 
 
HESTER IlEPWORTH, 
 
 VI 
 
 ns 
 
 US while God holds us in His arms. I love to talk 
 with my birds, and I close my eyes oftentimes to hear 
 the sweet music of the trees and listen to the lapping 
 of the water under the hill ; but tho<:e are pleasant 
 things, and you know witchcraft is only evil." 
 
 " You are a good girl, cousin, and the evil tongues 
 had best leave you in peace ; if we cannot sing or 
 speak without being watched and gossipped about, 
 then America is not free after all, and I will find 
 another home when I am out of my time." 
 
 ** You are so brave and bold, Cousin Samuel, but 
 you must not say such strong words when they 
 trouble pooi Ruth and your mother. See, my 
 mother beckons us; how tired and pale she looks! 
 She has too much care with the farm and so many 
 under her. She must go to Boston soon and rest. 
 My father tells her she is the bond-servant of that 
 hard taskmaster. Duty. Do you think you could 
 always do right because it was a duty, Cousin 
 Samuel .? " 
 
 "I might not see my duty as you would, dear 
 cousin ; I am only fifteen, you know, and as my 
 mother says, a giddy boy, but I do a man's work, 
 and even beat Josiah Putnam at lumber cutting, but 
 if harm came to any I loved I would make it a duty 
 to defend them if they hanged me for it." 
 
 "You are a brave boy, and my father says you 
 will be a man of mark yet ; but see, we must hasten ; 
 my dear mother looks troubled, and she is still wait- 
 ing for us on the porch." 
 
 " Come to my room, children, I wish to talk 
 with you," said I\Iadamc Ilepworth, and even brave 
 
 
 i ? 
 
 i i 
 
s8 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 \\'\ 
 
 Samuel Jacobs was alarmed when he saw the death- 
 like pallor of her face. 
 
 Before many hours had passed he recalled again 
 and again his young cousin's question, **Do you 
 think you could always do right because it was a 
 duty, Cousin Samuel ? " and his heart made answer, 
 " I can do my duty and die." 
 
 The grand old forests of that early time bred 
 superstition and fostered bigotry, but let us not forget 
 that they also gave to the world heroes and heroines, 
 whose brave deeds can never be forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A CONFIDENTIAL MESSENGER. 
 
 ii 11 
 
 " Sit down, my dears ; young as you are I must take 
 you into my confidence. I think, Cousin Samuel, 
 that you are neither giddy nor quarrelsome, and it is 
 in my heart to trust you as if you were quite a man.*' 
 
 " Indeed you may, dear lady, if aught troubles 
 you, for my good mother told me at parting to make 
 no delay in reaching you, and to remain as long as 
 you desired, if one so young could serve you." 
 
 " Your mother has added to my love for her by 
 this her latest kindness ; and now, my dear boy, I 
 must ask you if you would fear to take some impor- 
 tant papers to my husband in Boston ; the journey is 
 somewhat tiresome, but my own man, John Colson, 
 shall attend you, and I will send a messenger to your 
 mother, for it is a great thing to spare one so iiseful 
 
ifm 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 ^ 
 
 at this busy season, and your father must allow one 
 of our men to perform your duties." 
 
 " My father will be glad to have me serve Captain 
 Hepworth and yourself." 
 
 " I find on my husband's desk some important 
 papers which he may require. I wish you to carry 
 them as you have brought me your mother's letter ; 
 even my own man must not know that you have them. 
 To his care I will commit certain articles of dress, 
 and also some messages to be delivered to my 
 cousins in Boston. As my kinsman you will be 
 received there, and I trust jou will use both eyes 
 and ears to good purpose." 
 
 " That I will," exclaimed Samuel, rubbing his 
 brown hands together for very joy. " I have wanted 
 to visit Boston these three years, but no way has 
 opened ; this is a case where duty is a pleasure, 
 Cousin H'^ster." 
 
 " Will Samuel be in danger, mother ? " 
 
 " No more than any other traveler, my child. 
 John Colson is familiar with the road and quite 
 accustomed to the Indians, if any chance to lurk 
 about. I fear nothing save some fatigue to our 
 young cousin." 
 
 " I know nothing of fatigue," said Samuel, with 
 sparkling eyes. "I can walk if you desire it, and I 
 fear not to go alone." 
 
 "That I cannot permit, brave as you are, and 
 early on the morrow you will start on your journey, 
 pledging yourself not to mention the papers to John 
 Colson or anybody whatsoever until you speak pri- 
 husband." 
 
 
 V: 
 
 u 
 
 
 itely 
 
 my 
 
30 
 
 HESTER HEPIVORTTT. 
 
 IHI 
 
 " I promise, dear lady, and will do my utmost 
 diligence to reach him ; nothing shall separate me 
 from the papers you entrust to me." 
 
 " We live in strange times," said Madame Hep- 
 worth. " Our own servants may at any time be our 
 accusers, and each eir seems open for rumors of 
 evil ; therefore your mission is of great importance, 
 while it must appear light ; ant! you, my dear daugh- 
 ter, will not mistake me when I tell you that I do 
 not wish you to hold communication with any one 
 outside of our family until your father's return." 
 
 " Have we anything to fear now ? " asked Hester. 
 
 Madame Hepworth's voice trembled as she re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Our only fear is for ourselves, lest I make some 
 unwise move, and thereby bring trouble upon those I 
 love." 
 
 " You are never unwise, dear mother, never; the 
 dear father always- comes to you for counsel. Will 
 my cousin ask him to return ? " 
 
 " No, my daughter ; I would seek him myself were 
 it not for the cares of our home and your somewhat 
 delicate health. But here we will remain until he 
 desires otherwise, but my only request is that you 
 will not walk abroad unless I am with you." 
 
 **That will be pleasant indeed, for our walks 
 together are always happy ones, and Datsy will never 
 answer me, no matter how much I talk to him." 
 
 Datsy, hearing his name mentioned, barked at 
 once. 
 
 In the early morning John Colson sped away, 
 looking veiy important on his grey mare, while 
 sturdy Samuel trotted close beside him. 
 
 he. 
 anci 
 
 « , 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 3« 
 
 The evening before Madame Hepworth entered 
 her kitchen where several servants were assembled, 
 and inquired for Colson. 
 
 " He went out but now, lady," said the old cook, 
 " and one of the lads will summon him." 
 
 Colson soon entered — a young, athletic man of six 
 and twenty, with a jaunty air. 
 
 "I find," said Madame Hepworth, gravely, "that 
 my husband has left behind some important docu- 
 ments, which I wish to entrust to you, and as my 
 young kinsman, Jacobs, is here, I will give him a 
 pleasure he has long coveted, and send him under 
 your care to my husband, who will introduce him to 
 friends there, and thus give the lad a pleasant holi- 
 day." 
 
 " Wnen shall I start, madame ? " asked Colson, in 
 a haughty tone. He had made other plans for him- 
 self, and was displeased that he could not carry them 
 out. 
 
 Madame Hepworth saw the look of vexation, and 
 immediately sought to conciliate him. 
 
 " Early on the morrow," she said, " and you will 
 please select some one of the men to bear a message 
 to our kinswoman, Mrs. Jacobs, telling her concerning 
 her son's journey, and instruct him to remain at the 
 farm on Endicott river until Samuel may return." 
 
 " I think Kenny might be spared, madame, if it 
 pleases you." 
 
 Kenny hearing his name called, cam? forward with 
 a polite bow. 
 
 " Any service you may wish me to be at, madame, 
 I will attend with speed." 
 
 
 
32 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 ** Thank you, Kenny ; our cousi.i desires some of the 
 copk's excellent emptings for bread, as they have had 
 much trouble in their locality of late, and as I take 
 her messenger it is but just to return another. You 
 would not mind assisting Mr. Jacobs for a few 
 days ? " 
 
 " I am your servant, madame, and it matters little 
 where you bid me work, whether here or there." 
 
 " I could not spare you long, Kenny, for I depend 
 upon you for many things." 
 
 Kenny's eyes brightened, but Colson frowned. 
 
 *' I wish you all speed, and as early as may be I 
 will myself attend to your wants and give some 
 money for the purchase of a gift in Boston, which 
 may remind you of your journey," said madame 
 Hepworth, addressing Colson. 
 
 The man's smiling face and polite bow did not de- 
 ceive any of the observers, who inwardly resolved to 
 speak with his mistress as soon as possible. It was a 
 difficult matter, for Madame Hepworth spent her 
 evenings with her books after her daughter retired, 
 and it was well known that a visitor marred her 
 pleasure, consequently the servants were instructed 
 to make known their wants earlier in the day. 
 
 " I know how I wi.l manage it," said the man ; 
 ** young Jacobs is fond of me, and I will question 
 him concerning the road betwixt our place and 
 theirs." 
 
 Colson upon receiving his orders, hurried away 
 for the trip, after casting a triumphant glance at 
 Kenny. 
 
 The latter sat for a time listening to the tales 
 
HESTER HEPWORTIl. 
 
 33 
 
 ; of the 
 vehad 
 
 1 take 
 You 
 
 a few 
 
 s little 
 »> 
 
 depend 
 
 ed. 
 
 y be I 
 
 ; some 
 
 which 
 
 ladame 
 
 not de- 
 lved to 
 [t was a 
 ;nt her 
 retired, 
 ed her 
 itructed 
 lay. 
 
 2 man ; 
 [uestion 
 ce and 
 
 d away 
 ance at 
 
 he tales 
 
 of those about him concerning Bridget Bishop and 
 her dreadful deeds as a witch, and then rose with a 
 start, saying : 
 
 " I must go speak a word with young Jacobs, if 
 I am to fill his place," 
 
 In a few minutes he was seated on the door stone 
 of an outbuilding with Samuel beside him 
 
 " Is the bridle path good beyond Bradstreet's, or 
 do you still go by the creek ? " asked Kenny. 
 
 " My father and Mr. Bradstreet have mended all 
 that, and the way is clear and fair now to the 
 meeting house." 
 
 " Thank you sir," replied Kenny respectfully ; 
 "it's more than a year since I was that way, and a 
 young man like yourself can give a little informa- 
 tion, I see. What might be the work you were at 
 when you left home .-* " 
 
 "Chiefly fighting the weeds in the corn fields 
 and helping about the garden place. My mother 
 is fond of that, and we raise some good vege- 
 tables for our ^able." 
 
 "I think I have heard some one say that you 
 were in nowise idle, and that your things took much 
 credit with Captain Hepworth, both for size and 
 goodness. I remxmber some turnips which he re- 
 marked were finer than any on the Hill Farm." 
 
 "Captain Hepworth never waits for kindness in 
 speech ; he himself gave me an abundance of seeds, 
 and my mother has knowledge and skill in such 
 matters. My father cares more for the heavier work 
 of the farm, and is so busy with clearing his new land 
 
 3 
 
34 
 
 HESTER IIEPWORTII, 
 
 that he takes little heed of oar work until he eats the 
 fruits of it at table." 
 
 " I dare say it is of the best, lad, and when I am at 
 your farm I will make bold to see if there is anything 
 I can do to help you, although it is no goodness of 
 heart which sends me from my own work when the 
 crops need my eye and hand. In this Mr. Colson 
 has his way, but an old man is sometimes a match 
 for a young one." 
 
 "Does Mr. Colson oversee the Hill farm in our 
 cousin's absence } " 
 
 •* Indeed that would be his pleasure, but he is 
 neither wise enough nor industrious enough, and 
 Captain Hepworth bade him come to me for counsel, 
 a thing which vexes him much." 
 
 " I should think it a good thing to ask instruction 
 of you, for my cousin tells me that you were a long 
 time with Madame Hepworth's brother in England." 
 
 " Yes, yes,, lad; so long that I will not see harm 
 come to them without speaking or striking. My good 
 mistress is in sore distress, although she striv^es to hide 
 it, and I would help her. The man she trusts is not 
 trusty, my young lad. I will not grieve or alarm her. 
 Can I trust you } " 
 
 " In all things where my cousin may be served." 
 
 " Would you, for their sakes, be willing to suflfer 
 even seeming wrong ? " 
 
 " I would be willing to do anything for them." 
 
 *' Then listen to me. If ihis man ask questions, 
 be ignorant : if he tempt you to visit any place what- 
 ever, refuse him ; if he rail at those you love, keep 
 silence. Whatever your message from our good lady, 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 35 
 
 deliver it, though he use force, and you fight your 
 way to my master. I have keen eyes, young man, 
 and I have knowledge of th's man's doings which he 
 thinks not of God bless you and bring you safe to 
 my master, who is a good man and true." 
 
 Samuel shook the old man's hand heartily and 
 thanked him for his warning while he pondered on his 
 words. 
 
 Could John Colson be treacherous ? Would he 
 prove false to his kind mistress? Surely Kenny must 
 know, for all through the village men, women and 
 children called him ** Honest Kenny." 
 
 Before the day dawned Samuel was astir, and 
 " Honest Kenny" on his way to Endicott River. 
 
 */ j 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GOODY IIERRICK S REVELATIONS. 
 
 Madame Hepworth bade adieu to her young kins- 
 man with a smiling face and a heavy heart. 
 
 The rumors which she had for a long time tried to 
 conceal from her husband were now open accusations, 
 and the very air was full of absurd falsehoods. Even 
 the family physician who attended young Hcrrick 
 nntil he was able to be removed to his home declared 
 that the afflicted ones were bewitched,and the minister 
 had invited neighboring clergy to unite with him in 
 invoking the aid of the Almighty. 
 
 Madame Hepworth attempted argument with the 
 doctor and found it useless ; no reasoning power 
 
36 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 could affect him, however much he might respect the 
 fair combatant. 
 
 " Indeed, madame, after much examination, I am 
 most truly convinced that the Evil One has taken 
 possession of these people." 
 
 Madame Hepworth replied : " But the Lord Him- 
 self is mightier than the Evil One, and medical men 
 should surely understand the peculiarities of mental 
 diseases." 
 
 Whereupon the doctor shook his head and made 
 no further speech, evidently thinking Madame Hep- 
 worth a woman of strange mind. 
 
 This apparently innocent conversation was turned 
 to evil as we shall see. 
 
 Madame Hepworth went about her duties quietly 
 and serenely. Having despatched her messengers 
 she must aw lit the result, and activity would shorten 
 the time. With the assistance of Hester and Goody 
 Herrick, the great chests, where much bedding was 
 stored for ye colde weather, were examined carefully, 
 and the captain's room was refreshed with new win- 
 dow hangings and fresh flowers. 
 
 " Are you expecting the master soon ? " asked 
 Goody, who was unconsciously an inveterate gossip. 
 
 " I know not," replied madame ; '* but it pleases me 
 to have things in such order that he seems to be here 
 when he is not." 
 
 " I like to put the flowers on his table," said Hester, 
 " because he told me one day he knew they were 
 standing here, however busy he might be far away." 
 
 "Priscilla Pease said to me at meeting that all 
 witches could tell the doings of their friends ; and for 
 
HESTER HEPWORTir. 
 
 37 
 
 that she was ' charged,' and her husband testified 
 against her." 
 
 Madame Hepworth was silent. 
 
 " I shoviid think he would be ashamed to speak ill 
 of his wife," said little Hester ; "would you like to be 
 so treated, Goody ? " 
 
 " We know not what may chance, Miss Hester, for 
 when the Evil One takes possession all good is dri' < u 
 out, and the men should speak the words of truth. * 
 
 " But it cannot all be true," persisted Hester, with 
 childish zeal. " John Londer did tell in court that a 
 black pig came into his room when the doors were 
 shut, and he tried to kick it away, and he himself was 
 sick. I cannot believe it, for sick people have strange 
 fancies, do they not, mother ? " 
 
 " Very often, my dear," said Madame Hepworth, 
 while she was secretly wondering how to silence the 
 conversation. 
 
 " Don't you know how strangely dear father talked 
 after he was wounded, and the young man did the 
 same when his fever came upon him ? I never can 
 think that men and women are so evil." 
 
 " Better be careful of your words. Miss Hei ter, or 
 there will be some to say that you favor the witches. 
 It is well known that William Bly found puppets 
 in the cellar wall of the house where Bridget Bishop 
 lived, and they were full of headless pins and hogs' 
 bristles." 
 
 " Hester, my dear, will you go to my room and 
 arrange my work-box until I come ? " said Madame 
 Hepworth. " I will teach you the pretty lace stitch 
 you so much admired, when our task here is ended." 
 
38 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTff, 
 
 Hester ■walked quickly away, for in 1692 children 
 reverenced and obeyed their elders. 
 
 When the child was fully occupied, her mother did 
 not reprove Goody for her chatter, but permitted her 
 to continue her talk, thinking she might gain some 
 knowledge of the feeling among her own servants. 
 
 " Have you heard of any new arrests, Gooay .? " 
 
 " Indeed, madame, each hour increases them ; and 
 but this very day, before Mr, Colson left us, he was 
 telling us that not only the jail in Prison Lane was 
 full, but also other prisons in Ipswich, Boston and 
 Cambridge. And then he told us much of the won- 
 derful preachment given by Mr. Lawson concerning 
 witchcraft. I was bad with my back that day, you 
 remember, but Mr. Colson tells us it was very grand, 
 and did make many quake and tremble. You heard 
 it yourself, mistress, and are wiser than all of us to 
 understand much learning." 
 
 " I heard it, and It was dreadful indeed ; but he 
 charged the people to give no place *o the devil by 
 rash censuring of others." 
 
 *• Did he not say also that if innocent ones were 
 suspected it must be ascribed to God's pleasure "i " 
 
 « He did." 
 
 '* Such words did Mr. Colson speak, and he charged 
 it upon us that it was God's will for us to denounce at 
 once any suspected person, even if it be a husband, a 
 child, or a wife, that thereby the evil might cease." 
 
 " I fear that much wrong may be done in haste, 
 and suffering both now and in the future come from, 
 this thing, for many have already declared themselves 
 innocent." 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 39 
 
 "Ah, mistress, all the doctors and Mr. Parris him- 
 self, beside the council, are sure of the evil in our 
 village, and women are neither so wise nor so strong. 
 When Mr. Parris told us at the communion concern- 
 ing Mary Sibley using diabolical means by the making 
 of a cake, through his Indian man, I was made to feel 
 that neither high nor low would escape the clutches 
 of Satan, and she did confess." 
 
 " Only concerning the temper which caused her to 
 leave the meeting house after her sister had been 
 treated so ill. The door did not slam through her 
 evil, but owing to the wind. Much that seems 
 strange to others seems but natural to me, and I 
 pray that no wrong-doing may trouble our souls in 
 the future." 
 
 " There be those who think you are now favoring 
 the witches," said Goody, leaving her work to look 
 earnestly in her mistress' face; "and though I could 
 never be of like mind, or find evil in one so gracious 
 and good to me and mine, still I thought to speak 
 with you about it before I slept, for save Kenny and 
 myself there is not about the place any who are 
 disposed to think it impossible for evil to ab'de with 
 you or Miss Hester." 
 
 " Surely," said Madame Hcpworth, " surely my 
 good woman, no one has dared — " 
 
 She paused. Had the accusers not dared all 
 thirgs } Were not good women and excellent wives 
 and mothers now in irons in the jails } Could she 
 forget Sarah Cioyse, whose sensitive soul was har- 
 rowed until physical exhaustion ensued and she 
 fainted } Was not the air filled with cries of evil 
 against her and that pious woman Rebecca Morse ? 
 
 <j 
 
 
40 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 It was dreadful. The mockery, the screaming, the 
 contortions of the girls, and John Indian's writhings 
 and twistings so repulsive to behold. 
 
 Never could it be forgotten. She had endeavored 
 to screen Hester from such madness ; she did not 
 wish to darken her sweet young life with such 
 memories, and more than once her thoughts had 
 turned lovingly toward the English home where she 
 was sure of shelter and quiet. 
 
 How could she leave her husband ? How respect 
 herself when seeking only her personal safety ? If 
 he were but near at hand he co^ H speak calmly the 
 right word ; but she, a woman vwin only one child to 
 love, and that child under suspicion, what could she 
 say ? " 
 
 With the sweet faith and trust of that early time 
 she sought relief in prayer. 
 
 Goody Herrick looked on in silence. Could it be 
 true ? Her mistress neither spake nor stirred, but 
 sat with clasped hands, while her lips moved, 
 
 Goody watched her for some time, and then ap- 
 proached her, taking iier mistress by t^ hand. 
 
 " My speech was over bold, misti she said, 
 
 " and I should have heeded Kenny's wo/'.- that you 
 were not strong like most of the women hereabouts, 
 and nothing should grieve you." 
 
 " Thank you, Goody. I was only asking God for 
 strength, and He will give it. Say no more of this 
 to any one save myself, and tell me of such evil things 
 as may be planned against us." 
 
 ** Ah, mistress, your lips are white as the dead, and 
 your face is ill. Miss Hester will see it, and why 
 should her heart be troubled .?" 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 4« 
 
 "True. Bring me some water, Goody, and I will 
 go to her. I fear it was not wise to send Kenny 
 from me." 
 
 " You sent your best friend, dear lady, but Mr. 
 Colson was pleased, knowing your dependence on 
 him." 
 
 " Does Mr. Colson dislike him } " 
 
 '• He hates him, madame, for being under him in 
 place and wages since April, and but two days since 
 Kenny did threaten to strike him sore if he so much 
 as breathed aught against Miss Hester or yourself. 
 Since then Colson hath hidden his rage only to 
 increase it. I fear his anger greatly, dear lady. He 
 was close at hand when you talked with the doctor, 
 and he it was who carried Miss Hester's toys to the 
 minister's house. 
 
 " My daughter's } " gasped Madame Hepworth. 
 
 " Yes, mistress ; the dolls and puppets she is fond 
 of making to call her brothers and sisters while she 
 plays in the grove ; and Sarah Churchill showed us a 
 bit of verse which Miss Hester had made about the 
 talk of the trees in the forest. It sounded over sweet 
 to be the work of Satan, for Kenny read it aloud and 
 was angry with the maids for their foolish words." 
 
 " My child ! my child ! " exclaimed Madame Hep- 
 worth. " Surely God's gifts are turned to evil, and 
 your pretty bits of verse will be ascribed to Satan's 
 power. Oh, my darling ! my darling ! why can I not 
 suffer for you ! " 
 
 " Be quiet, dear lady," said Goody, alarmed by the 
 effect of her own words. " Lie down here on this 
 couch, for you tremble so. Miss Hester will suffer, 
 and the master will punish me for my speech." 
 
4» 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 Madame Hepworth sank upon the pillow and 
 groaned in anguish. Again and again her lips moved 
 in prayer, as she sought for aid in this dire distress. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SAMUEL IS DESERTED. 
 
 " I WILL go to my child now," said Madame Hep- 
 worth, after a season of intense mental agony. " Let 
 me bathe my face. Goody, and bring me a glass of 
 milk. The wife of a soldier must not faint, and 
 daughters must take courage from the mothers. I 
 will be brave and fear not, for God reigneth." 
 
 Hester, all unconscious of the threatening danger, 
 met hek" mother with a smiling face. 
 
 ** Here is the box all in order, mother, and the 
 needles are ready. I want to be a fine needle- 
 woman, for Cousin Deliverance tells me that your 
 lacework and embroidery was the pride of your 
 family in England, and I shall strive to be like you." 
 
 How can we best paint the picture of the Puritan 
 mother as she sat with breaking heart besice her 
 gifted child, already doomed to be the prey of an 
 infuriated community.? How can we portray the 
 bitter woe and the brave spirit which struggled within 
 that mother as the lesson went on } 
 
 " How patient you are, dear mother, when I make 
 mistakes ; and how gentle, too ! Does your head 
 pain you again, that you say so little .? " 
 
 " My head pains me, darling, and I have much to 
 think of;* 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 43 
 
 make 
 head 
 
 "Then we will put the lace away now, for your 
 hand is feverish and your eyes bright. You must 
 not be ill while my father is away, dear mother," said 
 the affectionate child as she smoothed the mother's 
 hair. 
 
 " I will be strong for your sake, my love. Sit by 
 me while I rest on the couch and advise myself, since 
 no one is here to counsel with." 
 
 " If I were older I might help you, but now I 
 trouble you so much and tax your strength, which 
 my father says is never great since you came to 
 America." 
 
 "Would you like to go with me to England, 
 Hester ? " 
 
 " 1 would go wherever you might wish if you 
 would never look pale and ill, dear mother." 
 
 " I shall be better soon, my love. You always 
 rest and comfort me, dear child." 
 
 ** Then why do your eyes fill with tears as you 
 speak, and why are you so sad } " 
 
 '* Matters distress me which you will hear of soon, 
 but now I await your father's return. Will my 
 daughter read to me .'* " 
 
 "Anything you please, dear mother; shall it be 
 one of the psalms ? " 
 
 " Yes, my child, something from the Word may 
 come to me now as never before." 
 
 During the reading Madame Hepworth shaded her 
 eyes with her hand, lest her child's beautiful face 
 might distract her attention. As Hester closed the 
 Bible reverently, she saw that the fair, June sky was 
 overcast, and she exclaimed earnestly, " Oh, mother, 
 
44 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 a heavy shower is coming, and what will become of 
 Samuel ? " 
 
 Madame Hepworth concealed her uneasiness, and 
 replied lightly that the boy would seek shelter some- 
 where, for Mr. Colson was very careful of his own fine 
 clothes. 
 
 " I hope he will think more of our cousin than of 
 himself," said Hester, " when he has charge of him. 
 If the papers should get wet, mother, dear, would it 
 not worry father ? " 
 
 " I trust not ; they are well secured." 
 
 The sky grew darker and darker and the thunder 
 rolled heavily. One by one the men hurried from 
 the fields and took shelter in the large barn, while 
 Goody Herrick kept the frightened maids in order 
 within the kitchen. 
 
 " Where is madame," asked a young woman who 
 was crouching in one corner. 
 
 " In her own room, of course, with Mis'? Hester." 
 
 " Is she not timorous } " 
 
 " Madame fears nothing, as you should know by 
 this time," replied Goody, testily. 
 
 " Those who are in league with the Evil One fear 
 naught," retorted the girl. Suddenly a terrible crash 
 came, and a large tree fell, breaking the kitchen 
 window and scattering glass among the frightened 
 group. 
 
 " The witches did it," exclaimed the excited girl. 
 
 " I know it ; I saw one riding upon a stick." 
 
 " Peace, girl," exclaimed Goody. " Bestir yourself 
 to remove the sticks and glass ; there's many a tree 
 falls in the forest by the storm, and surely one may 
 come down on a hill-top like this." 
 
 "'.( 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 45 
 
 [Tie of 
 
 s, and 
 some- 
 mfine 
 
 han of 
 f him. 
 ould it 
 
 hunder 
 d from 
 while 
 order 
 
 an who 
 
 ster.' 
 
 enow by 
 
 »» 
 
 Dne fear 
 
 Die crash 
 
 kitchen 
 
 ightened 
 
 ited girl. 
 
 k." 
 
 f yourself 
 
 ny a tree 
 
 one may 
 
 The maid at once began to weep and laugh hys- 
 terically, all the while exclaiming that the witches 
 were working evil ori the house and its inmates. 
 Confusion reigned, notwithstanding Goody's efforts, 
 and the noise within drowned that without. 
 
 Madame Hepworth in her room far away saw the 
 tree when struck by lightning, and with Hester in her 
 arms watched the storm in its fury. 
 
 " I am afraid some one wa; hurt, mother. I hear a 
 sound of crying." 
 
 " The branches may have touched the wing near 
 the kitchen ; we will go and see." Adown the old 
 staircase they went hand in hand, through the long 
 dark hall, the sombre dining-room, and into the 
 kitchen. In the doorway mother and child stood 
 amazed. Sarah Churchill, the young maid whose 
 chief duty it was to serve at table, lay prone on the 
 floor filling the air with shrieks, while Goody bent 
 over her and the other servants cried aloud in terror. 
 
 "Bring me some water. Goody," said Madame 
 Hepworth. " There is no cause for fear. God guides 
 the storm, and although we have lost our beautiful 
 tree and the window is broken, we are unhurt." Her 
 calmness reassured all but the prostrate girl, who still 
 continued to writhe, moan and scream. Madame 
 Her;worth threw a plentiful supply of water upon her, 
 which caused her to be very angry, and the shrieks 
 changed to abusive words. " You bewitched me," 
 said she, ** and now you free me when you like. The 
 whole village knows you are a witch, and your child 
 also. I will go away when it is fair once more, lest 
 you still further torture mci." Madame Hepworth had 
 
46 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 not power to reply, while Hester clung to her mother 
 and sobbed. 
 
 " She doesn't know her words, mistress," said 
 Goody ; " she has been fretting since last Lord's day, 
 and her mind is unsettled." 
 
 " Put her to bed at once," said Madame Hepworth, 
 "and show her every kindness. If need be we will 
 ca.' a doctor." As the storm abated some of the men 
 came from the barn to examine the fallen tree and 
 comment upon its destruction. The hysterical, ill-tem- 
 pered maid was put to bed, where Madame Hepworth 
 visited her, showing her much kindness and attention. 
 During all this excitement Hester never left her side, 
 and the patient little face might well have reproved 
 the rebe'lious Sarah. Not so. Envy and jealousy 
 raged within her, and while the soft hand of Madame 
 Hepworth was bathing her brow she was plotting evil 
 and longing for the return of Colson. The travelers 
 were well on their way when the storm arose, and as 
 the woods were dense they thought it best to halt for 
 a season. Colson soon discovered a wood choppers' 
 hut, where they took refuge until the storm had spent 
 its fury. 
 
 During their journey the man had used all arts to 
 impress the lad with a sense of his great importance, 
 but the sturdy Yankee was a match for his witty 
 opponent. " Why do you not return to England if 
 you like it so much better } " asked Samuel, after his 
 companion had described his former home. 
 
 " I came expecting better wages and fair treatment, 
 but a gentleman is of less account here than a rough 
 husbandman, and Captain Hepworth has seen fit to 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 \n 
 
 47 
 
 reduce my salary and place a low-born man over 
 me. 
 
 " Do you mean Kenny ? " 
 
 "Aye, Kenny; it is better worth in the captain's 
 eyes to raise a field of turnips than to keep a fine lawn 
 or trim the hedges as they should be." 
 
 " My cousin likes everything well done ; tiie Hill 
 farm has long been famous for its neatness and order, 
 and its crops as well. Whatever Captain Hep worth 
 touches prospers. Only last week I heard my father 
 say he would make a noble governor." 
 
 " He will never be that, lad ; he has enemies like 
 all men." 
 
 •* I see no reason for enemies. He is much too 
 good, and he is always striving to make people wiser 
 and better." 
 
 "You will be wiser before you die. See here, my 
 lad, when we reach Boston I wish o call on a friend 
 of mine before we find the captain," 
 
 " I heard you promise Madame Hepworth to use 
 all diligence to reach her husband." 
 
 "So did I; but an hour, more or less, will not 
 matter, and this friend knows every part of the city." 
 
 Samuel pondered much concerning this act on the 
 part of Colson, and recalled Kenny's warning. For 
 himself he must see his kinsman without delay. 
 Could he go alone ? 
 
 When the storm had passed by and they were once 
 more in their saddles Colson renewed his talk about 
 the captain, which Samuel heard for a long time in 
 silence. 
 
 " They say he has the witches' mark upon him, and 
 
FT 
 
 48 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 if it be so there is little hope for him. As to his wife 
 and child, they have been in league with the devil this 
 six months. Even Ann Putnam so said, but it was 
 silenced, because they had wealth and were of good 
 family." 
 
 Samuel's hot blood was stirred, but he remembered 
 his errand, and only replied : "Idle rumors are all 
 about, and no one will believe evil of such good 
 people." 
 
 " But numbers do, lad, and trouble is to come. I 
 shall slip over to England ere long, and wait there 
 until America is a place of safety." 
 
 " I shall stay here and fight it out if need be," said 
 the boy. Colson laughed derisively. 
 
 " Well, lad, this turn will bring me to my friend's 
 house," said Colson, when they were safe within the 
 limits of Boston, "anc^ we will go just there." 
 
 " Not I ! " exclaimed Samuel. " I will first see my 
 cousin, and take directions from him " 
 
 " But you will lose yourself, and you are in my 
 charge." 
 
 "All that may be, but right is not less than right, 
 and I promised to use all speed. A civil tongue will 
 win a civil answer, and I can find my way." 
 
 Colson seized the bridle of the lad's horse, and 
 would have detained him, but Samuel pulled quickly 
 away, and was soon galloping up the street. 
 
 " If Mr. Colson is plotting evil against my kinfolk, 
 he can do without me," said the boy as he hurried 
 on. 
 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 COLSON DISAPPEARS. 
 
 "There's a lad without who would like to have 
 speech with you, sir," said a servant to Captain Hep- 
 worth, who was seated in his room, engaged in writ- 
 ing. 
 
 " Show him in, Stephen ; lads are always welcome 
 here." 
 
 " He is much bespattered with hard riding, sir." 
 
 " Then all the more important must be his mes- 
 sage, Stephen; show the lad in." 
 
 " You are to go in, boy," said Stephen haughtily, 
 " but mind the mat and the scraper when you call on 
 quality." Samuel's ruddy face wore an amused smile 
 as he followed this pompous servant, who threw open 
 the door of a small room and announced him as " The 
 lad, sir," in a scornful manner. Great was the good 
 captain's astonishment and hearty his greeting, while 
 Stephen stood amazed when he heard him addressed 
 as " My dear, young kinsman." 
 
 ** And why am I thus favored ? " asked the cap- 
 tain. " Truly I did not know how much I was long- 
 ing for a sight of my dear ones until you came. Are 
 all well "i I left them in great haste to prepare some 
 papers much needed in court." 
 
 " They bade me farewell from the porch at day- 
 
jT 
 
 SO 
 
 IIESTE/i HEPWORTir, 
 
 break, and for further tidings I will give you shortly 
 your good lady's message, which is securely sewed in 
 my waiscoat." 
 
 " The best tidings ', busy man can have is the 
 safety of his dear ones, my boy ; but how, pray, did 
 you travel, and why did your cautious mother send 
 you to me in these perilous times unattended ? " 
 
 " I came as Madame Hepworth's messenger, sir, 
 and her own man Colson jame with me until we 
 reached the town, and then left me to meet a friend." 
 
 "Did not his mistress desire him to accompany 
 you hither ? " 
 
 " Her orders were most particular, sir, but his 
 speech throughout the journey has been angry and 
 untruthful. Once or tw'^'i I was minded to answer 
 him with sharpness, b Madame Hepworth and 
 Cousin Hester both made me give solemn promise 
 not to reply to any man's words with more than civil 
 speech until these papers were safe in your hands." 
 
 "And you came on alone, my boy, and found me 
 here, without serious hindrance ? " 
 
 ** I asked but twice concerning the way, and I was 
 determined to find you ; though my horse should fail 
 I would not." 
 
 " The poo fellow must be well cared for, Samuel ; 
 let me speak a word or two to my Cousin Willard, 
 whose house we are in ; she will welcome you, so 
 soon as we despatch our business." 
 
 While the captain was issuing orders concerning 
 the weary animal before the door Samuel was en- 
 gaged in removing sundry stitches from a large letter 
 covered with seals which Madame Hepworth had 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 5« 
 
 fastened securely. When this was done, the captain 
 returned. " And you tell me that Colson left you 
 in this cowardly manner," said the captain after he 
 had read the first lines of his wife's letter ? " My good 
 wife says : * I send our young kinsman in charge of 
 Colson with strict orders to deliver him to you in 
 safety.' " 
 
 " You will find more by further reading, sir." 
 
 Captain Hepworth's handsome face clouded as he 
 read. 
 
 " This business is most distressing," he said, '' and, 
 as you know its import and have already shown your 
 zeal and love for us, I may talk with you concerning 
 this. Docn my daughter know aught of these 
 charges ? " 
 
 " I know not how much, sir, but something, for she 
 has told me some things which Ann Putnam said to 
 her ; also some evil words of Abigail Williams ; and 
 last winter they were vexed with her because your 
 good lady would not permit her to attend the meet- 
 ings at Mr. Parris' house wL^re the children told 
 fortunes and did much magic." 
 
 " Abigail Williams is older than my little girl, is 
 she not ? " 
 
 " She is eleven, sir, and Ann Putnam is twelve, 
 but neither do seem so wise and good as my Cousin 
 Hester, although she is but ten." 
 
 " My child has been wisely taught by her good 
 mother," said the captain. " But tell me, did Colson 
 speak of any evil ? " 
 
 " He was much vexed at the promotion of Kenny, 
 and said your wife and child were in league with the 
 
 
 n 
 
 U 
 
n 
 
 52 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 \m 
 
 !lll 
 
 ■ 
 
 devil, and it was well known, for s6 it was publicly 
 charged." 
 
 " Did he mention his wages ? " 
 
 " Only to say he expected better when he (.ame, 
 and lie would soon return to England." 
 
 " Do you fear any evil act from him ? '* 
 
 " I think he is full of evil, sir, and his refusal to 
 deliver the messages entrusted to him proves him 
 dishonest. My mother is wont to say that he who 
 withholds a message is a thief." 
 
 ** He has done more, my boy ; Madame Hep worth 
 gave him some money to purchase a good suit of 
 clothes for you, the money to be delivered to me, 
 with a list of things to be purchased." 
 
 " I knew nothing of that, sir." 
 
 " Let me read her words : * For some reason I do 
 not like the manners of Colson ; for several months 
 he has been surly and almost rude, but I made no 
 complaint, seeing that you were already much per- 
 plexed. In order to conceal from him the real 
 intent of this hurried journey, I have given him a 
 small packet of papers marked " Important," also the 
 sum of ;^4, all I now have by me, v;ith which, should 
 you have time, you will please make purchase of the 
 following : 
 
 * Knee breeches, waistcoat, long hose, buckles and 
 shoes, with one large handkerchief of handsome pat- 
 tern, all for our kinsman, Samuel Jacobs, who has 
 shown us much love in this undertaking. You will 
 direct Colson to attend to this matter if you are 
 much occupied, and whatever gift you may think 
 wise and good for our Cousin Deliverance you will pay 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 53 
 
 for her in my name. The sore anxiety in which you 
 are now placed should lead us to increase our affec- 
 tionate rejard for those who are true and faithful.' " 
 
 " Well, my boy, the four pounds is still with Col- 
 son, and I much wish my good wife had given it to her 
 trusty messenger ; however, you shall not miss her 
 , kind intent, for we will go about the furnishing at 
 once and make you in good trim for the table of our 
 Boston cousin." 
 
 " I do not desire better, or deserve it, Captain 
 Hepworth. I care now only to place my cousins out 
 of danger, and while you make ready to Veturn I can 
 look about me and see much of this famous town." 
 
 " I cannot think that danger is so imminent ; verily 
 they would not dare annoy my wife and child, save 
 with their tongues ; true, I do not like this sudden 
 move of Colson, and I mourn that our people should 
 be so misguided, but a noble and good lady of fine 
 tamily and most exemplary life should be unmo- 
 lested in her home while her husband is doing honest 
 service, althougl faulty, in the court" 
 
 " I think, sir, you believe all others to be as just 
 and good a- yourself, but the people are given over 
 to this thing and unbelievers are suspected. Your 
 good wife said to Mr Parris that she prayed God to 
 open their eyes to the truth, and this was turned to 
 her evil. Then she refused to appear at the hear- 
 ings, and the servants have told of her much praying," 
 
 " Surely, my lad, her piety cannot be a sin ! I am 
 no believer in necromancy, and the treatment of the 
 aflflicted children has been unwise in my eyes; but 
 there can be no treason in prayer, nor evil in honest 
 
 1 
 
Ft 
 
 ili 
 
 54 
 
 HEUTEK HErWOKTIJ. 
 
 opinion. This I shall assert boldly, fully believing 
 that God will not permit further wrong-doing." 
 
 " So thought Martha Corey, sir, and although she 
 said many times * I am a gospel woman,* they paid 
 no heed, nor would they allow her to utter prayer. 
 I am but a young boy, sir, but I hear and see much, 
 and am made to suffer many things because of my 
 unbelief in witchcraft, but I am made co laugh also 
 for some of the tricks. Only last week I thought to 
 make sport of a stupid maid who was helping my 
 mother, and I made of some hay and a bit of rag or 
 two a queer puppet which I placed in her room ; I 
 thought only of sport, but the puppet was carried to 
 the minister, and he has been to visit my mother 
 about it, declaring it the work of the Evil One. My 
 Uncle Cheever told his boys to put up in the corn- 
 field an image to frighten the birds and lo, the 
 afflicted call that the Evil One." 
 
 "Well, well, lad, jests are no longer jests. I 
 remember our own sports in England, and I sometimes 
 think with pity of our lads here, therefore I raise a 
 barn, or build a wall, or offer a prize for a canoe race 
 that they may know the pleasure of youth. Come, 
 now, let us go out and find some tidy dress before we 
 meet the guests in our house. My young kinsman 
 must do credit to himself and Salem village. After 
 that I must leave you to be entertained as you may 
 while I have speech with the governor and make 
 ready for our departure. We may chance to meet 
 our recreant messenger while we are out, and I will 
 leave special charge to detain him if he calls in our 
 absence." 
 
HESTER HEPWORTIL 
 
 55 
 
 Colson was not seen that night, or ever after, but 
 the evil he had wrought stirred Salem village to its 
 depths, and brought misery to once happy hearts in 
 both New and Old England. 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE DESOLATE HOME. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning when Captain Hepworth 
 mounted his horse before the door of the old Willard 
 mansion in Boston and bowed his adieux t^ Madame 
 Willard, her daughter and guests. 
 
 Samuel was resplendent in his new suit, while his 
 homespun garments were neatly folded and packed 
 in his saddle-bags. The Boston relatives were much 
 pleased with his manly bearing, and many small 
 gifts were stowed away in his capacious pockets. 
 
 Captain Hepworth had not made known the cause 
 of his sudden return to Salem village, and it was 
 sufficient for these excellent women to learn that mat- 
 ters at home required his presence. 
 
 " Bring Madame Hepworth and our small cousin 
 with you," said Mrs. Willard, as they rode away ; 
 " we would much like to greet them." 
 
 ** I will do my best to urge them," said the captain, 
 "if all things favor." 
 
 In his secret heart he said : " Please heaven they 
 shall be on the sea forthwith, until this pestilential 
 talk and delusion is overcome." 
 
 But human love cannot always guard its objects. 
 
n 
 
 5« 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 During the journey Samuel found his kinsman very 
 silent; sometimes they would ride a mile without 
 speaking, and again the captain would surprise the 
 lad with a question which completely showed his train 
 of thought. 
 
 " Do I understand that Kenny is at your farm, my 
 lad, by Colson's desire ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; Madame Hepworth thought to please 
 him, and allowed him to send whom he liked ; he at 
 once said Kenny." 
 
 "Because of all men I trusted him most, and had 
 but last month given him special charges concerning 
 my wife and child." 
 
 " Then you feared some evil, sir ? " 
 
 " One knows not what to expect vlien men other- 
 wise sober accuse simple-minded invalids and babes 
 of four and five years of age of sorcery and witch- 
 craft, and cry out upon all who disagree with them. 
 I am sure future generations will recall these things 
 with shame," 
 
 *' My sister," said Samuel, " wept bitterly when 
 little Dorcas Good was accused and carried to the 
 jail in Boston, where her mother is in chains, and I 
 will never think that the poor babe knows aught of 
 evil. Mr. Parris so alarmed Ruth that she was sick 
 with fever for many days. He told her the devil had 
 lodgment in Salem village, and some of the most 
 pious were in his power ; and Mr. Lawson hath said 
 many times that this village was singled out for thd 
 first seat of Satan's tyranny." 
 
 " How is it that one so young should not believe 
 these scholarly men .^ " 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 57 
 
 " I know not ; my father calls me perverse, for he 
 IS much stirred with these things, and my sister is 
 so affrighted with Indians and witches that she can- 
 not sleep; but my mother, Hke your good l^dy, 
 speaks boldly against the sin. My mother hath often 
 told us of a maid servant at home who would fall in 
 a fit and foam at the mouth if she were reproved for 
 wrong doing, and whenever it pleased her to want 
 her own way. Some of these children seem of like 
 mind, and John Indian and his wife Tituba were of 
 low and evil design." 
 
 Captain Hepworth smiled. 
 
 " You are indeed a bold, brave lad to speak in this 
 manner, seeing you listened to the talk of the minis- 
 ters and magistrates, and have witnessed such things 
 at the meeting house. Beware, lest the evil tongues 
 assail you, and thus cut you off from defending your 
 mother and sister, if need be." 
 
 " I do not talk x^'reely with others, sir, and I can 
 fight for the truth if I am but a boy." 
 
 Again silence fell, and they journeyed on over the 
 wooded turnpike, or " highway," until they saw before 
 them the house of a friend. 
 
 " Here is good Neighbor Swimerton's," said the 
 captain, " and we will dismount and ask for a glass of 
 milk. It may be that he can tell us how matters go 
 in the village." ^ 
 
 Mr. Swimerton greeted the gallant captain with 
 great respect and urged him to tarry and rest. 
 
 " I am in haste to reach home, good friend ; but 
 tell me what tidings have you, and when were you in 
 the village } " 
 
 
 ]j 
 
 v t 
 
 ; If 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
 i v 
 
 
58 
 
 HE3TER HEPWORTH. 
 
 ii I : 
 
 '• I came from there this morning ; there has been 
 another sad murder at Newbury, and Captain Haynes 
 was shot while mountin-s^ his horse before his own 
 door." 
 
 " A brave man and true ; but what of matters 
 nearer home, good friend ? " 
 
 " Alas, the air is filled with rumors, and you can 
 judge of their truth shortly." 
 
 It was useless to question the old man ; he had 
 knowledge which he could not or would not impart, 
 and after a few moments' rest, while the horses were 
 drinking, with a kind word or two for the children of 
 the house, Captain Hepworth and his companion 
 hurried homeward. 
 
 "Ah, my lad," said the captain, as they came near 
 enough to see the mansion house on the hill, ** the 
 lightning of yesterday has made sad havoc with our 
 trees, and the great one near the porch has fallen. 
 Well, well, trees are plentiful, but this one we could 
 ill spare from our lawn, for my wife and child were so 
 fond of it." 
 
 " It was the largest hereabouts," said Samuel, 
 "and I have heard my father say that travelers took 
 it for a guide, and counted themselves safe when they 
 could see the big tree at the Hill farm." 
 
 As they came nearer and saw the windows, no 
 one appeared to be in sight ; an ominous silence 
 reigned. 
 
 In response to the captain's cheerful call, a young 
 boy came forward and took the tired horses. Samuel 
 saw his pale, frightened face, but the captain, in his 
 eagerness to greet his loved ones, hurried in after 
 asking, " Are all well within ? " 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 59 
 
 " All here are well, sir," was the guarded answer. 
 
 No loving faces greeted the captain ; no childish 
 voice gave him joyous welcome, 
 
 *' My poor wife is ill again," said he, as he stepped 
 softly over the stairs. 
 
 At the upper landing Goody Herrick met him, 
 wiping her eyes on her huge check apron. 
 
 " Ah, Goody, where is your mistress 1 " 
 
 "Alas, master, they carried her to jail, and the 
 child also." 
 
 " Do you speak the truth, woman t My wife and 
 child in jail ? " 
 
 " Aye, master ; I would that the truth need be 
 better for your hearing, for my heart breaks with 
 thinking of them." 
 
 Captain Hepworth sank down upon an old settle 
 in the hall and buried his face in his hands. Goody 
 stood by attempting his comfort after her own igno- 
 rant fashion, while Samuel, who had followed the 
 captain closely, leaned against the staircase, unable 
 to speak in the presence of such a sorrow. 
 
 After a few moments of agonized silence the cap- 
 tain raised a haggard face, saying, **Tell me all, 
 Goody, and briefly." 
 
 "Well, sir, a dreadful shower overtook us yester- 
 day, and the great tree fell down ; some of the 
 maids were sore afi*righted, and one, Sarah Churchill, 
 was seized with fits. My poor mistress was most 
 kind, and never left her for long until the supper was 
 brought in. After supper she returned to Sarah, 
 who never ceased to abuse her and call her a witch. 
 Being much worn out, I besought our lady to go to 
 
 
(pnsaipi 
 
 ■PF 
 
 60 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 i"' I 
 
 I 
 
 her rest ; so she summoned all to prayers, and soon 
 after went to her room, the child with her. There I 
 followed her and bathed her head, and was just say- 
 ing good-night when the officers came in. Had I 
 been below they should not have entered ; but they 
 came to her straightway, and did read the warrant to 
 her while she lay with the child's arms about her 
 neck. I did entreat them to let her abide in peace 
 until day, but they would not hearken to us, and hur- 
 ried her away." 
 
 Goody paused, overcome with her emotions, and 
 Samuel clenched his fists with boyish, nay, manly 
 resentment, that a delicate woman should receive 
 such treatment. 
 
 " Go on. Goody ; each moment is precious, and I 
 must know all that happened here." 
 
 Goody ceased her sobs and continued : 
 
 ** When the officer said she must go with him, my 
 mistress made answer that God's will should be done; 
 she feared nothing and was ready to die ; and the 
 child called most pitifully for you, sir, but her mother 
 said, * Be patient, my darling ; even here we find 
 mercy, for did they take you from me my heart would 
 break ; now we go together.* Then the officer said 
 that several had charged her and her child, but chiefly 
 her own servants, John Colson and Sarah Churchill. 
 When my dear mistress heard this she said to me, 
 * Acquaint your master with these facts, and care most 
 kindly for the girl Sarah, for no doubt her mind is 
 disordered ; she therefore requires pity rather than 
 blame.' Then they went away in the darkness and 
 dampness of the evening, our dear lady holding her 
 
 Hill 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 6l 
 
 child fast, while her h'ps moved in prayer, and the 
 officer said that new chains had been ordered for them, 
 which should cost the matter of fourteen shillings." 
 
 Captain Hepworth groaned aloud. 
 
 Samuel ventured to approach him and, putting his 
 hand on his shoulder, said : 
 
 " I was bidden by my parents to remain with you 
 as long as you desire it, and now there is much to be 
 done, and Kenny is most trusty ; if you will it so, I 
 will return to Endicott river speedily and send him 
 to you." 
 
 ** Stay with me, lad ; stay with me ; I have need of 
 your stout heart, and the love they bear you brings 
 you near to me in this sorrow ; Kenny will come when 
 he hears the tidings. Let us go now to my wife's 
 room and see if she hath left a word to guide us." 
 
 " Indeed no, good sir," said Goody, " that you can- 
 not do, for all her belongings are under lock and key, 
 and the officer said none might enter until all should 
 be examined ; o they could not leave a message, save 
 the words I told you and the child's whispered good- 
 by to me, asking me to tell you to come for them 
 speedily." 
 
 " God willing, I shall do so, but the blow is sudden 
 and it strikes deep. Courage is not wanting, but the 
 Ruler of all must supply wisdom." 
 
 i 
 ^ I 
 
 
 'I 
 
 At 
 
61 
 
 HESTER IlEPWORTir. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CALL FOR HELP. 
 
 Captain Hepworth arose and paced the long hall 
 with bowed head. 
 
 His wife and child prisoners, even loaded with 
 chains, her private papers attached subject to the 
 investigation of a bigoted, curious crowd, and his own 
 servants unfaithful. 
 
 What could he do ? How moveto avoid suspicion 
 and help his dear ones ? How guard himself that he 
 might secure consideration for them ? 
 
 One rash act, one hasty .speech might cause the 
 afflicted to denounce him, and if so who could defend 
 his helpless ones ? 
 
 Danger in some form confronted him in every 
 direction; for his personal safety he cared but little, 
 save as it endangered others. What could he do ? 
 Ministers, doctors and magistrates were zealously 
 engaged in the persecution. 
 
 At the council held in Salem in April the deputy- 
 governor, Thomas Danforth, with James Russell, John 
 Hathorne, Isaac Addington, Major Samuel Appleton, 
 Captain Samuel Sewall and Jonathan Corwin, 
 Esquires, had conducted the examinations, and did 
 not this "honorable council " commit some excellent 
 and worthy women to jail after submitting them to 
 much indignity? 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 «3 
 
 Could a man of refined tastes and manly sentiments 
 think of such scenes witho' . a shudder ? 
 
 Judge Sewall, filled with a sense of the horror, 
 although a member of the council, made this record 
 in his diary, and yet the evil went on: 
 
 " Went to Salem, where, in the meeting house, the 
 persons accused of witchcraft were examined ; was a 
 very great assembly; 'twas awful to see how the 
 afflicted persons were agitated," and on the margin 
 was written, " Vee, voe, vce ! Alas, alas, alas ! " 
 
 If such men were deceived, could any one hope for 
 mercy ? 
 
 Before that council met the subject had been local, 
 now it was widespread and under the control of the 
 colonial government at Boston. Salem could not be 
 held responsible. 
 
 Would Captain Hepworth, an active participant in 
 public afifairs, receive grace or favor ? Should he 
 intercede with the authorities at Boston or appeal to 
 the sheriff at Salem ? 
 
 "There is one source of help, and one only," said he. 
 "I will first ask counsel of the righteous Judge." 
 
 " Samuel, I will be with you presently," he said. 
 "When dire distress visits us we need Divine aid and 
 assistance," and he entered his library, closing the 
 door behind him. 
 
 •* I never saw his face like that before," said Goody, 
 to the boy who had taken the captain's place on the 
 settle. ** Even when he came from Bloody Brook it 
 was net so white or so sad." 
 
 " He could better bear pain himself than think of 
 them," said Samuel, " and I wish the Boston folks had 
 not meddled with it." 
 
 'l 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 ! 
 
 " Take heed to your speech, lad ; it is less than 
 two weeks since Colson said you were writing in a 
 book, and there is much talk of that sort." 
 
 " I would that John Colson'shead was beneath my 
 knuckles now," said Samuel, with spirit ; " he is not 
 worthy to be called a man when he will lie and steal. 
 Did he not leave me alone in Boston and take away 
 with him all Madame Hepworth's money and the 
 message she sent to his master ? " 
 
 " How could I know that ; but tell me about your 
 book." 
 
 Poor Goody was curious, and, although she stoutly 
 maintained the innocence of her mistress, she was 
 ignorant and superstitious, and wholly unable to ex- 
 plain the marvellous phenomenon she had witnessed. 
 
 " My book," said Samuel, bravely, " is my own, and 
 has neither sin nor wickedness between its boards; if 
 you will stop but a little to think, you will find cause 
 for laughter, ai I do, or did before my kinsfolk were 
 dragged away. Last winter my mother, who is wise 
 i- such matteis, said to my father that I was worth 
 more to him. than any help on the farm, and she 
 thought it but fair that I should have my way to 
 make some trijls for myself; so my father said, as I 
 was the only sjn, I would have all I could desire, for 
 his farm was large, and he should give me a good 
 portion of it uhen I was out of my time; but my 
 mother knew that a boy wanted many things, and I 
 was thinking of a new gun, so she said much concern- 
 ing it to my father, and before the spring came he told 
 me that he would give me the southwest lot to be as 
 mine for the year, and I might do my pleasure with 
 
 g iWMit ' n w ufv y ^ m t vk 
 
HESTER IIEPWORTH. 
 
 H 
 
 it. Thus far \\. has clone well, and each week my sister 
 and I send to our kinsfolk in Boston such things as 
 they like for their table and Ihcy send us good pay- 
 ment for them. All this I write in my book." 
 
 " But why did you write in it on the Lord's day 
 while you were on the ground outside of the meeting 
 house ? " 
 
 •' Who says that I did ? " 
 
 "John Colson told me." 
 
 Samuel thought earnestly for a few moments, and 
 then exclaimed ; 
 
 " He is right, too. My mother was sick at home, 
 and she charged me to bring the place of Scripture 
 from Avhich the minister spoke to us, and for a little 
 time I carried it in my mind, but I feared that it might 
 escape me, so I wrote it down in my book, where are 
 also the records of my garden lot. That is all, and 
 you see now how innocent things are made evil." 
 
 Before Goody could reply Captain Hep worth came 
 out and gave Samuel a letter. 
 
 "You will eat something, my lad, and take a fresh 
 horse from my stable before you deliver this to my 
 worthy friend, while I will go at once to Nathaniel 
 Ingersoll and, if possible, have speech with my wife." 
 
 " Stay for food, good sir," said Goody. " I will 
 have something for you at once." 
 
 " I care nothing for food or rest until I can relieve 
 my family." 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," said Goody, respectfully. " There 
 is a long task to be done, and much strength will be 
 needed. In order to help my mistress you must keep 
 
 5 
 
 il 
 
 
 
! 
 I I 
 
 i 
 
 rii 
 
 i!iiiii:ii! 
 
 19 
 
 66 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 yourself at the best, and the wound may give you 
 trouble, as it has done, unless you are most prudent." 
 
 *'You are right, Goody, and my young kinsman 
 should be cared for ; let us take food and hasten away, 
 for help must be given quickly. While we eat let 
 some one call Willi:im Robinson to bear the lad 
 company, for it is a long ride to the Orchard farm, 
 and he is already worn with his journey from Boston. 
 
 Nothing could make the large dining-room cheer- 
 ful with the graceful mistress of the house away and 
 Hester's chair vacant Captain Hepworth did not 
 trust himself to look about, but diligently served his 
 companion while he talked earnestly of things to be 
 done, and Goody served them herself. 
 
 ** Will you have speech with Sarah Churchill, sir, 
 before you leave } " she asked. 
 
 " Is the woman still here ? " 
 
 " Ye5, sir; and a child of the house could not be 
 better cared for. A committee, with the minister at 
 its head, visited her a few hours since, and she hath 
 openly charged our lady and the child. W^hen they 
 came she was quiet, but no sooner did they enter the 
 room tLan she was taken and handled grievously, 
 saying the child sat upon her and was pinching her." 
 
 " Send her away to her own people," said Samuel, 
 indignantly. " She is not worth your care." 
 
 ** Madame herself besought us to show her kind- 
 ness," said Goody. 
 
 " And she is rjght. Let us not profess more than 
 we feel when we pray for enemies, persecutors and 
 slanderers ; give the maid of the best we have, Goody; 
 and now, my lad, I will speed you once more, for I 
 
 ' I' g wm i w iiwfMiitiyy 
 
//£Sr£^' HEP WORTH, 
 
 67 
 
 know your heart is m this matter. Vou may give the 
 letter to our good friend Endicott, and he will de- 
 liver it safe in Boston, and you had best remain there 
 over night for it is now late. Early on the rrorrow 
 I hope to tell you that our dear ones are more com- 
 fortable." 
 
 ** You should have power to release them r"/' 
 said the boy. 
 
 " I have none, Samuel, and the friends Wv. hi.- e 
 known for years may prove false. I will see some of 
 our leading men, and perhaps T may obtain for them 
 comforts which are necessary." 
 
 Samuel once more sprang into his saddle and went 
 away to the Orchard Farm, while Captain Hepv. orth 
 rode with all speed to the house of Nathaniel Inger- 
 soll 
 
 In our wealth of rapid transit, our telephones and 
 telegraphs, we forget the poverty and fatigue of that 
 early time, when long rides over highways and by- 
 roads, over marshes and hills, made interchange of 
 thought a laborious operation. The journey from 
 Salem to Boston was then attended with difficulty ; 
 now we fly through thriving towns and villages, 
 almost literally performing the operation described 
 by the afflicted concerning the witches^ who " rode 
 oa sticks and were soon where they would be." 
 Canoes or, as it was then spelled, canowes, or " water- 
 horses," were much used, and their lightness ren- 
 dered it easy to transfer them from point to point. 
 
 Samuel Jacobs was fond of listening to his grand- 
 father's stories of that early period, and many times 
 had he rehearsed to Hester the first celebration of 
 
 r s' 
 
 i^ifl' 
 
 
 1 
 
 ■ >•■' "fL 
 
68 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 the Foiirth of July in America. It was in 1636, and 
 an order was issued that all canoes should be exam- 
 ined and the surveyor's seal set upon them. ** It, was 
 a great day," said Samuel, " for every man who 
 neglected to bring his canoe for inspection was fined 
 for hii fault ten shillings. Grandfather says it was a 
 goodly sight. All the boats were out, and the women 
 and children wore their best clothes. When the men 
 ran races the women on the shore cheered them, and 
 much fun was made when some were tipped over. 
 I wish I could have seen it ; " and then the girls, Ruth 
 and Hester, would urge him to tell more stories of 
 the past. 
 
 All that was far away from the boy's thoughts 
 now, as he rode along the bridle path to the Or- 
 chard farm. He had always loved his sister Ruth 
 tenderly, and he had sometimes said that Cousin 
 Hester was like an^ ther sister to him. He had been 
 calm and quiet in the captain's presence, but once 
 alone his feelings overcame him. 
 
 '* Poor little cousin, poor girl! " he said ; "so young 
 and beautiful, so wise and good. These brutes will 
 hang her, I am sure ; they have long hated her. No 
 one was so prompt in the scripture lesson, none 
 knew half so much, and there she is in that 
 wretched prison, with chains on her dear small 
 hands and feet. I would suffer for her if I might. 
 I would die to save her," and for the first time 
 in many years teais came to the boy's eyes. 
 
 In his boyish zeal he longed to rush upon the jail 
 and deliver his relatives from their enemies, but 
 Madame Hepworth had taught him the wisdom of 
 self-control. 
 
HESTER IIEPWORTH. 
 
 69 
 
 ■oung 
 
 \s will 
 
 No 
 
 none 
 
 that 
 
 small 
 
 light. 
 
 time 
 
 ^e jail 
 but 
 lom of 
 
 William Robinson eyed him suspiciously as they 
 rode on their way, but did not speak, for well did he 
 know the power of Samuel's stout arms, and many 
 times had he envied him at the wrestling matches on 
 lecture days. 
 
 It was late when our travellers arrived at the 
 famous Orchard farm, and learned, to Samuel's great 
 distress, that its master was even now in Boston ; 
 and, as good Madame Endicott suggested, they could 
 not do better than to rest themselves. 
 
 Already the sad tidings had reached her, and she 
 was filled with anxiety for the beautiful and gifted 
 woman who had so often been her guest. 
 
 In the privacy of her own room she questioned 
 Sr.muel concerning the arrest, and entreated him to 
 be most discreet for evil tongues spake out the evil 
 thoughts of bad hearts. 
 
 ** My heart is indeed sore for all these grievances," 
 said the lady oi" Orchard farm, "but my chief dis- 
 tress is that dear Madame Hepworth's health may 
 fail, and the child be left to suffer alone. Would 
 that she had been speeding to England ere now." 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN THE JAIL. 
 
 While Samuel was sleeping, or trying to sleep, in a 
 comfortabie bed at Orchard farm, Captain Hep- 
 worth was vainly endeavoring to visit his wife. Like 
 one distracted he went from friend to friend, hoping 
 
70 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 fi iipilill 
 
 to find ready assistance where he had so often aided 
 others, but, alas ! madness had seized upon the people 
 and disorder reigned. * y^ 
 
 No pen could describe thehornqr and dread which 
 filled every heart. If a lady of such worth and 
 sweetness was cried out upon, who was safe? If 
 beautiful babes were victims, surely the prince of 
 darkness was on the throne. 
 
 Captain Hepworth found to his dismay that all 
 were supposed guilty who were charged, and the 
 high position of a suspected one only increased 
 their danger. In vain he besought the sheriffs to 
 permit him to send a bed to his family, but he was 
 gruffly told that, " ministering to witches was a 
 crime." Even the brief note which he penned was 
 destroyed before his eyes. 
 
 Hope turned to despair, and he left the village to 
 hasten into Boston, where he might make a personal 
 appeal to members of the council. 
 
 Meantime Jonathan Kenny had heard the sad 
 news at the farm on Endicott river, and made all 
 possible haste to reach his master. Well did he re- 
 member the recent disgraceful scenes when Captain 
 John Alden was examined ; how a ring was formed 
 in the street before Deacon Ingersoll's door, and how 
 the reckless, audacious girls abused the noble gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " There's not a speck of good in it," said Honest 
 Kenny, as he hurried on, " and they will never be 
 spared. Many times have I worried over it, for 
 madame never fears the evil she knows nothing of, 
 and the captain worships her next his Maker. It's a 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 71 
 
 baH business, and worse than all else is the little 
 lass. Dear little lass, how bright she was, and 
 how pleasant her words to us all, and what playful 
 ways she had. Ah, there's few like her in the world, 
 and now these inhuman creatures would be at her and 
 hang her. Go on, old horse, go on ; let's speed to the 
 master j there's trouble before and behind. Good 
 woman Jacobs is down with sickness since the word 
 came, and her child is nearly dazed with the wretch- 
 edness. Go on, old horse, go on ; if this work con- 
 tinues the sweetest flowers of the colony will be 
 buried from sight." 
 
 Morning was dawning at last, and the first rays of 
 light struggled into the gloomy bare room in Prison 
 lane. Madame Hepworth was seated on the floor 
 holding her child's head. Neither chair nor cot was 
 there, and the night had been chill for June. 
 
 " Daylight is coming, mother, and I am glad for 
 your sake." 
 
 " I know not whether to rejoice or grieve, but God 
 will care for us." 
 
 " How I should like a drink of water," said Hester. 
 
 " When they are astir outside I will ask for some. 
 You are feverish, my darling; the weight of the 
 chains must oppress you ; let me plait your hair." 
 
 "Your own hands are very hot, mother; did you 
 rest } I fell asleep, for the long, dark ride tired me, 
 and I was not afraid while you were with me." 
 
 " I have not rested, child. Long ere this Samuel 
 has seen your father, and I am thinking of him and 
 his sore distress. His unhappiness hurts me more 
 than these galling chains." 
 
m 
 
 72 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 " He will come soon to us, I know, and then he 
 will set us free, will he not ? " 
 
 "My darling, I know not; let us rejoice that we 
 were not separated ; it is my only consolation." 
 
 " Do you suppose that Cousin Samuel knows we are 
 here ? " 
 
 " He must, now, dear ; but rest again ; you are 
 much worn, and we must keep ourselves calm and 
 clear for the examination." 
 
 "'What examination, dear mother ?' 
 
 " Do you not know that the accused must be 
 brought into the presence of the accusers, and there 
 answer such questions as are put to them ? " 
 
 " Oh, mother, like poor Goody Corey ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " And can no one save us ? Must those dreadful 
 girls point their fingers at me and make their wild 
 screams, as they did in the meeting house ? " 
 
 " Your father will be there, my child ; and although 
 he cannot save us he will help us." 
 
 " Mother, I wish I might die now and be buried 
 near my seat in the grove ; the thought hurts me \ 
 I fear all those people, I fear the cruel sheriff, and, 
 mother, mother, I cannot go there, I cannot." 
 
 " Be patient, darling, God will sustain us ; let us 
 pray to Him ; do not move, my love, lest these hard 
 chains injure you. We will ask a merciful Father to 
 protect His children." 
 
 The excited, feverish child grew calmer as she 
 listened to her mother's voice, and once more she fell 
 asleep. 
 
 Madame Hepworth sat motionless, lest she might 
 
 iiiUij 
 
 iiii 
 
HESTER IlEPWORTIT. 
 
 73 
 
 disturb the child, the wall behind supporting her 
 exhausted form. 
 
 Owing to the large numbers confined within the 
 jail it was late before food was brought them. Hester 
 roused from her slumber, but could not eat ; she was 
 thirsty, worn and nearly ill. 
 
 "Take but a little, my child," said Madame Hep- 
 worth, "that you may be strong to greet your 
 father." 
 
 Thus entreated, Hester tried to eat but could not. 
 
 " If I had some water, dear mother, like that on the 
 Hill it would cure me." 
 
 "I'll bring water, miss, if you wish," said the 
 keeper, " but it will be harder if you do not eat a bit ; 
 there be those you know who think it a sure sign, for 
 even some of the judges say a witch hath no need to 
 eat." 
 
 " I am not a witch, sir, only a little girl, and I 
 v/ould harm no one." 
 
 "There be plenty to charge it upon you, miss, but 
 that is neither here nor there ; I have a little lass of 
 my own, and I am sorry to see you in such plight, 
 although I must do my duty. Did you chance to 
 own a little doggy, miss .'' " 
 
 " Yes, sir; have you seen him ? His name is Datsy, 
 and he knows very much. Might I have him, sir } " 
 
 " The sheriff would never allow that, miss ; but a 
 small doggy hath been howling around here since 
 daybreak, and he whines and cries most piteous. 
 Some about said he was bewitched, but I told them 
 he seemed seeking his master. All of a sudden it 
 came to me that it might be yours, for I have heard 
 of queer doings with a doggy at your place." 
 
 
 % 
 
74 
 
 JlESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 "Call him Datsy, please, sir, and he will come to 
 you and harm no one. Poor Datsy, I want him, and 
 he needs me." 
 
 The child burst into tears, and the keeper with- 
 drcvv looking much vexed, but in reality moved by 
 her sorrovv. 
 
 Madame Hepworth had remained silent while her 
 child talked with the keeper. 
 
 " It will do her good," she said to herself, " to find 
 a friend even in her jailer." 
 
 The morning passed and the evening came, but 
 still no word reached the captives, and the long night 
 of pain wore slowly away. Heste** slept little, while 
 her mother's eyes were only closed in prayer, and her 
 thin, small hands grew parched with fever. All night 
 long she heard the howling of a dog not far away, and 
 she knew that one poor, dumb friend was faithful to 
 her and her child. 
 
 Poor Datsy, he did not know that even dogs were 
 hung for the crime of witchcraft ; he only knew that 
 the little mistress he loved was taken from him, and 
 his pitiful cries grew almost human like the love he 
 bore her. 
 
 During the day men spurned and kicked him near 
 the prison door, and at night he crept farther away, 
 where he could still see the prison walls and express 
 grief in his own way. 
 
 " She does not hear him," said the weary, anxious 
 mother, " and it is well, for her tender heart would 
 break Datsy has been companion and friend since 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 75 
 
 the day he was given her, and my poor darling loves 
 him as she might a brother or sister." 
 
 Hester moved restlessly and moaned in her sleep, 
 while the mother watched and prayed. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 MADAME HEPWORTH'S ILLNESS. 
 
 Confident that neither reason nor justice could 
 assume sway in the present state of public feeling, 
 Captain Hepworth hurried back to Boston, after inter- 
 ceding in vain with the jailer and authorities in 
 Salem. True, he was permitted to pay for " her diet 
 in prison," but the food must be such as the author- 
 ities might dictate. 
 
 With all the eloquence he could master did he 
 beseech them to allow his delicate wife and fragile 
 child the luxury of a bed. 
 
 After his visit in Boston two blankets were per- 
 mitted, which must have been luxurious to the weary 
 bodies of the prisoners. 
 
 Madame Hepworth grew faint and weary as the 
 heat increased. Always scrupulously neat and pains- 
 taking about her toilet she suffered much, but her 
 chief anxiety was for her husband and child. 
 
 " Tt is very warm, dear mother," said Hester on 
 the following day. "I wish we might have a bath; 
 do you think our jailer would let us \ " 
 
 *.* No, dear ; we must not ask too much. In our 
 hurried departure from home I did not think of aught 
 
 ii 
 
 fi 
 
^^ 
 
 7« 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 ii»flr 
 
 
 save your father's misery. We might have taken some 
 little comforts for you." 
 
 " For yourself, mother ; how bright your eyes are 
 and how rosy your cheeks ; you are very pretty ; I 
 wish dear father could see you now." 
 
 " God help us ; I would that he might," replied the 
 fevered captive. 
 
 Well did she understand the fatal prettJness which 
 pleased her child, and most earnestly did she pray 
 that the dread fever might spare her reason. Once 
 before she had suffered in the san^e manner, and 
 then everything which love could suggest or wealth 
 furnish was hers. How tender and thoughtful her 
 husbp \ was ; how hushed the house ; how cheerful 
 the re >m; how delicate the cooling drinks. It was 
 a precious dream — making the horrors of the present 
 more terrible. 
 
 When the keeper came at nighthe found her pros- 
 trate on the floor, unconscious of all about her, while 
 Hester patted the fevered cheeks and begged her to 
 speak. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Jailer," said the child, " my mother is 
 very ill. She will not speak to me. Please call the 
 doctor and send for my father and give me some 
 cooling drink. See, vhe chains hurt her ; they are 
 heavy and she is weak." 
 
 " Your own chains are heavy too, miss, but I have 
 no power to remove them." 
 
 " Please remove my mother's, sir ? I care not for 
 mine until my father comes ; but my mother is often 
 ill, and all the spring and summer my fati i was 
 most careful of her. I am only a little girl, Mr Jailer, 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 77 
 
 but I will pray to God every day and every night to 
 bless you if you will help my mother." 
 
 The jailer frowned. 
 
 The child continued her entreaties. 
 
 ** See, good jailer ; on my finger is this little ring, 
 sent me from England ; it is costly, my father says, 
 but you shall have it for your little girl if you will 
 bring a pillow for my dear mother, and some cloth 
 to bind those cruel bruises." 
 
 "Child, you must not t'-mpt me t<j sin. I would 
 that you were free and your mother also, for many 
 times have I watched you in the meeting house and 
 thought your face as pure and sweet as an angel's 
 might be could we see one; but I must do my duty, 
 child ; an officer in my place must needs be wary." 
 
 Hester bent over her mother and kissed the burn- 
 ing cheeks once more, while her tears fell upon them. 
 
 "We are all Go( 's children, sir; my father and 
 mother tell me that daily, and do you think He 
 would want my mother to suffer for drink in His 
 beautiful world ? Please hear me, sir ; take my ring; 
 carry it to the sheriff, to the judges, and tell them that 
 a little girl will pay them if they will give her but cool 
 water every day to bathe her sick mother. No; 
 that will not do; they will not hear me if they refuse 
 wiser and better ones. Take it, as I said, to your little 
 girl, and tell her that Hester Hepworth entreated 
 you, and you would not hear, though her mother was 
 dying." 
 
 The child's chains clanked as she threw herself 
 beside the prostrate form and sobbed aloud, while 
 the keeper made all possible haste to get away. 
 
 4P 
 
7« 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 After an hour's absence he returned, bringing a 
 pewter tankard filled with water under his coat and 
 some fragments of cloth. 
 
 Hester had fallen asleep holding her mother's 
 hand, while the sick woman neither moaned nor 
 moved, so complete was her prostration. 
 
 The keeper, after closing the door and looking 
 about, carefully placed the tankard on the floor and 
 the rags beside it, hoping to steal away unobserved, 
 but the child stirred and opened her eyes. 
 
 "Ah! you came, good sir; I knew you would ; I 
 have been praying for you since you left, and then I 
 slept. Give me the water, and let me wet her lips. 
 Poor, poor mother ! the help you asked for has come." 
 
 The moisture revived Madame Hepworth for a 
 moment, and she tried to move, but the cruel chains 
 hurt her, and she sank back, saying : 
 
 " Hester, my love, my darling, I fear I am dying. 
 Be brave and true." 
 
 " It's a hard place for a lady of your quality," said 
 the keeper, "but the heat and the journey have over- 
 come you. Drink this sup which I found here, and 
 you will be stronger to care for the lass." 
 
 " Stronger for the lass." Through the mental mist 
 which enthralled her, despite the burning fever and 
 the racking pain, this thought inspired her. She 
 must live for her child. God would not let her die 
 and leave her darling in the hands of these cruel 
 judges. 
 
 The sup proved to be a drink of herbs which the 
 keeper's own wife had prepared when he told her the 
 story of Hester, and he, notwithstanding his desire to 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 help his beautiful prisoner, was loath to carry it, lest 
 he might defeat the ends of justice. A woman's 
 argument won the victory. 
 
 ^* Take it at once, good man, for sec you not that 
 the court now coming together here she must be 
 examined soon, and how can she stand before them 
 all unless you do your duty to keep her alive ? " 
 
 " You are right, wife ; to keep her in heart for the 
 court I must allay the fever ; but put it in a small jug 
 that I may conceal it und.r my waistcoat, for there be 
 many who will not see this thing as you do." 
 
 " I will wrap it in cloth to keep it warm," said the 
 wife, " for its taste may be over bitter if too chill, and 
 a fine lady like Madame Ilepworth is not likely to 
 know much of prison fare or prison ways." 
 
 Blessed forevermore be the ingenuity of woman ; 
 thrice blessed that kindly (!ame of long ago. 
 
 Enrolled within some harmless bits of cast-off 
 garments was the blank page of an old copy book, 
 and on it, in quaint figures of the time, simply Joshua 
 X. 25. 
 
 The keeper, half ashamed of a tenderness he could 
 not wholly conceal, poured out a second potion of 
 the medicine and gave it with clumsy eagerness to 
 the thirsty patient. 
 
 "There, lass, you may keep the rest, and if you 
 will bathe her face and hands well she will be better 
 on the morrow. Keep your ring on your finger, 
 child ; I have no use for it, and the time may come 
 when you will need it more." 
 
 " I knew you would be kind to us ; we have never 
 harmed any one, and I know my dear father will 
 repay you," said Hester. 
 
 u 
 
So 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 Pi 
 
 *' Take no thought of that, miss ; your father fought 
 at Bloody Brook, and I fought under him. A 
 braver man cannot be found, and this poor lady, my 
 good wife tells me, sat by her in her sickness while 
 I was gone, and brought her many a plate of dainties. 
 You must not think hard, miss, if my ways and 
 speech seem rough, for I .am sworn to do my duty 
 like a man." 
 
 " I shall always love you, good jailer, for helping 
 my mother, and you M'ill not believe evil of her, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " Ah, miss, the devil is crafty indeed if he can 
 possess the heart and mind of so grand a lady, and 
 so sweet a child, but there be those who think it true. 
 Sleep if you can, lass, and good-night; I will look in 
 upon you when I may." 
 
 Again the night came and went, but no tidings 
 reached the prisoners from Captain Hepworth. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GOODY HERRICK'S RESOLVE.. 
 
 Captain Hepworth neither slumbered nor slept; 
 all day he went from one to another trying in vain to 
 soften hard hearts, and at night planned methods of 
 escape for his dear ones. Many who witnessed his 
 grief and saw his haggard face were moved to pity, 
 but few dared express it. During these bitter hours 
 Honest Kenny v/a'^ his steadfast friend, while Samuel 
 Ji'.cobs forsook the iarm aiul took employment near 
 
HESTER HEPWORTiI. 
 
 %x 
 
 ^ain to 
 pds of 
 led his 
 
 )ity, 
 
 hours 
 lamucl 
 It near 
 
 Prison Lane that he might be near to furnish informa- 
 tion, or if need be, aid and comfort to the prisoners. 
 
 It was Samuel Jacobs who first learned that 
 Madame Hepworth was ill, and his ready wit led 
 him to prepare and send into the prison a loaf of 
 bread containing a letter from Captain Hepworth to 
 his wife and child. No prisoners had ever received 
 such consideration, and none were more closely 
 watched. Wherever Madame Hepworth was known 
 her wisdom and learning were regarded with super- 
 stitious awe, save by the few who knew her v/el!. 
 
 The multitude pitied her husband in that he had a 
 witch wife and child, while the afilicted children 
 never cersed to cry out upon them. 
 
 "T will keep the Hill farm well in order," said 
 Honest Kenny, " for every tide turns, and when the 
 master comes he must find naught to distract Inm." 
 
 " Little will he care for the '"irm with his wife and 
 lass under the sod," said Goody Herrick with a sob, 
 "and the talk is that our dear lady was examined i;i 
 her cell by the committee and the doctor yesterday, 
 and the witches mark was found upon her." 
 
 "Curse them for idiots," exclaimed Kenny indig- 
 nantly. "What can't a pack of old women say with 
 a fool of a doctor to help them ? It angers me past 
 all spct-di to think of their laying hands on my mis- 
 tress while sh^ is out of her head with fever." 
 
 " Are you so sure of it "^ " 
 
 " I know it well. Young Jacobs is keen as the 
 
 best of them, and the child got word out about it. 
 
 If you were but as close-mouthed as you are kind of 
 
 heart, Goody Herrick, I might tell you about the 
 
 letter she wrote to her cousin." 
 
 6 
 
 i 
 
83 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 " I can be as secret as the dead when I choose, and 
 if you think I would raise a finger or wink a lash to 
 the hurt of the sweetest mistress in America, then you 
 must think ill of your neighbors, Mister Kenny, and 
 that is not being honest or kind according to the 
 Word." 
 
 " No offence to you, Goody," said Kenny, eagerly, 
 " but they are as dear to me as my own eyes, and I 
 could well fight the council, sheriffs and judges if the 
 strength of my arm was equal to the indignation I 
 feel. You see it's not oversafe speaking here in the 
 master's house." 
 
 "Then hold your silence, Mister Kenny, until such 
 time as you find a person to trust that loves our lady 
 as well as yourself. If the truth be told, I have never 
 slept since they were torn away from us, and " — here 
 Goody's sobs choked her speech. When was a man 
 of tender feelings and brave deeds ever proof against 
 a woman's tears ? Honest Kenny was surprised and 
 troubled, and as Goody Herrick thought of heryoung 
 charge her sobs increased until Kenny declared he 
 would tell her, not only all he had heard in the vil- 
 lage, but much also that he feared, if she would cease 
 fretting and aid him in his efforts to clear the mis- 
 tress and child they both loved. 
 
 Goody's broad face beamed upon him once more, 
 and Kenny produced a letter written or copied upon 
 some brown paper which he read to the listening 
 woman. 
 
 " I am /lOt to mention how things come to us," said 
 Kenny, " for a servant has many ways unbecoming 
 to a fine gentleman like our master, and young Jacobs 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 83 
 
 \k V 
 
 carries a head on his shoulders which will match 
 that of any king. These arc the young lassie's own 
 words." 
 
 " Poor dear ! poor little heart," exclaimed Goody, 
 "to think of her writing in that prison, with no bed 
 to sleep on and her own pretty room waiting for her 
 here." 
 
 " How many times have you made that bed since 
 she was carried away ? " asked Kenny, fearing much 
 that Goody's tears would flow afresh. 
 
 " Every morning, Mister Kenny. It eases the 
 hurt a little; and when I tucks in the sheets and 
 smooths the pillows I can see her pretty head there 
 as it used to be, and I am hoping she may soon come 
 back." 
 
 " We must think how we can best get them back," 
 said Kenny, '• but here is the note or letter which 
 our young lady wrote." 
 
 Goody rested her elbows on the table and looked 
 eagerly in Kenny's face while he read : 
 
 Dear Cousin Samuel : — I found your letter and thank 
 you for it. Before it came some one sent rrie a paper on 
 which was written '* Joshua x, 25." I knew not what it 
 meant, but after it came the jailer brought my mother's 
 Bible w'lich my dear father had sent, and in it I read the 
 words *' Fear not nor be dismayed," I cried for joy when 
 I read them, for my mother still suffers from fever and 
 knows nothing of our trouble. All day long she calls for 
 my father, and is never quiet save when my hand is in 
 hers ; her mind is greatly disturbed although she prays 
 much. I too pray day and night. It is very dark here 
 when the sun is gone, and the rats make much noise in the 
 wall, which tries mc somewhat, but T fear not since God 
 will watch over us. Yesterday was a most bitter time, the 
 Women came in with a doctor to examine my dear mother's 
 
84 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 body to see if she had the witches' mark upon her. I 
 cried and begged them to leave her in peace, but they had 
 neither pity nor shame, and when they found on her sh(HiIdcr 
 a small scar, whicliwas made by a fall in her English home, 
 they said it was the witches' mark, although 1 told them 
 many times how it came there. The doctor made the 
 women examine me also, and I think I must have fainted 
 through fear, for when I awoke the horrible women were 
 gone, and I was lying on the floor near my mother. I tell 
 this that you may know how prisoners are cared for in this 
 place. If my mother is not soon removed she must die ; 
 but this you need not say to my dear father. I pray daily 
 to be strong for the examination, which fills me with fear. 
 Let me hear through your messenger all that goes on out- 
 side. Our jailer tells me that many grand people have 
 signed a paper, asking the judges to release us. We have 
 done no harm and lived in peace ; why can we not return 
 to our homes ? Please care for Datsy, Cousin Samuel, 
 and make my dearest love to your sister and mother. 
 
 Hester. 
 
 Before Kenny had finished reading, Goody's head 
 was bowed upor the table, but no sound escaped her. 
 
 " You have . trd the dear lassie's own words, 
 and now what can you say to help her 1 " asked 
 Kenny. 
 
 "I can say that vengeance will come to them," 
 said Goody, angrily ; ** that such inhuman deeds must 
 be punished. How dared they put their vile hands 
 on our mistress ) How dared they touch the child 
 who is as innocent as the bird on the tree yonder 1 
 No wonder the mistress is distempered and she is 
 crazed in speech ; no wonder the lass fainted, I tell 
 you, Kenny, that God will punish these unmerciful 
 men and women." 
 
 Kenny sat loolv-'r^p- at thv. voman in silent admira- 
 tion. For several ye. ';, \\- bud been under the same 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 «s 
 
 roof, and knew well her skill in cooking and her 
 orderly habits, but he had yet to learn the power of 
 a woman's righteous indignation, and Goody's devo- 
 tion to her mistress formed a new bond of union 
 between them. 
 
 "Tell us what we can do, Goody, and I am ready 
 to strike though I die for it." 
 
 " You may do as you please, Mister Kenny, but 
 this night I will go to the jail and be with my mis- 
 tress. If she is a witch, I am one, and there I will 
 stay until we are free, for the child must not suffer 
 alone." 
 
 Kenny's eyes sparkled with pleasure. He had been 
 anxious for days to secure some help for the sufferer, 
 and Goody might further his plans. 
 
 " They may try you and hang you," said Kenny. 
 
 '* Have they not tried better women and men, too } 
 Did they not torture my Cousin Gary, who was a 
 gospel woman and harmed none } I shall go to the 
 jail and make no lie when I ask to be with my mis- 
 tress that 1 may tell all the evil she utters and this I 
 would do if they bid me die to-morrow." 
 
 " Heaven will bless you for this," said Kenny, tak- 
 ing her hands in his and rcvcicutly kissing them. 
 " Heaven will indeed bless you, and I shall be near 
 at hand whatever may come." 
 
 " Tell the master why I go, and if I confess to being 
 a witch for their sakes, tell him he will know the 
 truth. While I am away Sarah Houlton will mind 
 the work ; and now let us hasten with all speed, for 
 there be many little things which I would hide in 
 such fashion that my mistress may have comfort 
 therein," 
 
 if 
 
86 
 
 'f ESTER HEPWORTir. 
 
 In the darkness of night two figures stole quietly 
 from the doorway of the Iliil farm and walked rapidly 
 away toward the jail in Prison lane. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I 
 
 GOODY'S STRATEGY. 
 
 Upham, in his concise history of witchcraft at Salem 
 village, to which we have referred before, says ; " We 
 cannot, by any extent of research or power of imagin- 
 ation, enter fully into the ideas of the people of that 
 day, and it is, therefore, absolutely impossible to 
 app/eciate the awful condition of the community at 
 the point of time to which our narrative has led us. 
 
 " At Andover, Mr. Bradstreet, the magistrate, 
 having committed forty persons to jail, refused to 
 arrest any more, and he was immediately cried out 
 upon, and with his wife obliged to fly for their lives. 
 Fear sat on every countenance, terror and distress 
 were in all hearts, silence pervaded the streets ; all 
 who could, quit the country. A special court of Oyer 
 and Terminer was appointed for the witchcraft trials. 
 This court was opened in Salem in the month of June, 
 1692. After the condemnation of Bridget Bishop, 
 the first victim, the court took a recess and consulted 
 the ministers of Boston, who earnestly recommended 
 that the proceedings should be vigorously carried 
 on." 
 
 All this was known to the gallant Hepworth, and 
 most strenuous efforts were made by himself and 
 
 witi- 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 87 
 
 friends to relieve the victims of persecution in Salem 
 jail. 
 
 The clergy, physicians and magistrates were united, 
 while the unbelievers either fled or suffered death. 
 On June 29 the courts would reassemble, and no time 
 could be lost. Captain Hcpworth worked unceas- 
 ingly, but was steadily refused admission to the jail. 
 The fever which held its course spared the delicate 
 and refined woman much mental agony, but the child 
 suffered bravely. Owing to the crowded condition 
 of the prison and the constantly increasing numbers 
 of accused, little care was bestowed on the victims, 
 whose limbs were worn with galling chains and their 
 bodies neglected. To add to the horrors of the 
 situation July was fast approaching with its heat and 
 the diseases peculiar to the season, but little Hester's 
 heart never failed. Day by day she searched the 
 Scriptures for words of comfort, nursed the unconscious 
 mother and wrote by stealth brief notes to the nearly 
 frantic father, whose remorse Wcia grievous " in that 
 he had retained them in America." 
 
 One close uncomfortable niyhl, as the child sat fan- 
 ning her mother with some feathers given her by the 
 jailer, the door opened, and a woman's form could be 
 dimly seen. Hester shrunk back in alarm, but soon 
 a whispered "Miss Hester, dear young lady, I am 
 here," roused her into new life, and she was folded 
 once more in Goody Herrick's arms. 
 
 " Oh, Goody, how came you ? Are you accused ? 
 Are we to be free ? Can you help my mother ? Did 
 my father sent you ?" 
 
 " There, there, darling ; one question must hold for 
 
 :S^! 
 
88 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 a first answer, and I'm here safe, thanks to the good 
 God and that noble man, Mister Kenny. Let me see 
 to the mistress now, and we will have speech hereafter, 
 for many long days will pass, I fear, before we go 
 hence." 
 
 "Ah, Goody, I care not, now you have come. It 
 all seems brighter, and dear mother will soon speak 
 to us again. The doctor is not kind, seeing we are 
 accused, and the jailer can only do his duty." 
 
 " Dear mother, do you see Goody ? She has come 
 to nurse you," said Hester, bending over the fragile 
 form on its hard bed. 
 
 Madame Hepworth turned her head wearily as 
 Goody spoke to her, calling her ** Dearest mistress," 
 ** Most noble lady," and many other endearing names. 
 
 The familiar voice arrested the attention of the 
 sufferer, but consciousness was not restored. 
 
 " Ah, the poor child, the poor dear lady, it would 
 break her old father's heart to see her now. Give me 
 your hand. Miss Hester, while I put into it some small 
 matters I have brought." 
 
 " Did they not search you. Goody } " 
 
 " No, no. Miss Hester. Kenny and Samuel Jacobs 
 have managed well, fori was wilful to come, and they 
 dared not have your father seen in the matter. Here, 
 lass — here is a small bottle of rose water from your 
 mother's own store closet, and also some cordial to 
 strengthen her. There must needs be a place for hid- 
 ing them here, since I brought them in my own hair 
 from the Hill Farm." 
 
 " Oh, Goody, how could you } " 
 
 " Well; Miss Hester, I have a full mop of my own, 
 
HESTER hKPWORTH. 
 
 «9 
 
 both lon^ and heavy, and you ; lurself have laughed 
 at the queer big comb I would iicver part with, save 
 to sleep. It has done you a good turn, dear child, 
 for close to it I put the bottles, ind drew over it the 
 hair it pleased God to give me, and there's many 
 another thing hid in my 'kerchief and petticoat, not 
 to mention these shoes. If it were but light now, 
 dear heart, you would see such shoes as Goody Her- 
 rick never wore before, and the lining is most 
 uncommon." 
 
 " You dear, kind Goody, you have thought of every- 
 thing." 
 
 "There's many a thought of thing left behind, Miss 
 Hester; but here is a spoon for the cordial, and I 
 must give some to our dear lady without delay." 
 
 Goody raised the sick woman's head from her 
 blanket, the only support Captain Hepworth had 
 been permitted to furnish, and administered the 
 medicine. 
 
 "There, dear, if you could keep your poor eyes 
 shut now and hear Miss Hester sing a bit, you might 
 sleep," said Goody, as she stroked the fevered brow, 
 
 "She does not hear me when I sing," said Hester. 
 " I have tried it often, but her back is weary with the 
 hard floor, and the sores made by the chains fret her. 
 If they would take mine off I could help her, but 
 they clank when I stir and it always makes her 
 shudder." 
 
 " May those who put them on wear chains them- 
 selves," said Goody. " But listen. Miss Hester, you 
 must not seem fond of me, you must seem to fear 
 me. I have promised the sheriff to nurse your mother 
 
 o 
 
 
90 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 and fit her for the examination. Morecer I have 
 sworn to tell them the words you utter if aught sh( uld 
 sound evil. Be cautious ; when no one is near lam 
 your faithful servant Goody ; while other ears listen 
 I am acting for these men to discover all I may." 
 
 " Did they make you tell falsehoods, Goody ? " 
 
 " No, dear heart, I told none, for sure am I that 
 no word of yours or our dear mistress will be evil. 
 Still I must remain with you while our friends outside 
 strive with the judges." 
 
 ** You will not leave me again, Goody, will you } 
 I do not fear, but the nights are long and my mother 
 talks, talks, talks, until I grow sick, for she does not 
 know m .low." 
 
 " Listen, Miss Hester ; Goody Herrick will never 
 leave you until she is dragged away. But rest, now, 
 little one ; here, put this shawl under your head and 
 sleep. I wore it through the long way here, hoping 
 it might be of service to you. When morning comes 
 and the jailer has gone his round you shall see the 
 gifts I have for you in the folds of my garments." 
 
 The invalid passed a more comfortable night, and 
 the jailer duly reported that Lady Hep worth's maid 
 had done her much good and, without doubt, she 
 would be strong enough to answer the questions of 
 the examiners ere long. During the day Samuel 
 Jacobs sent in the food permitted, and great was 
 Hestet's surprise when she found it nearly double in 
 quantity* 
 
 **They must have known you were here," said 
 Hester. 
 
 "They well knew it, my child. Young Master 
 
HESTER IlEPlVORTff, 
 
 9» 
 
 Jacobs sewed the money in my skirt and hid the 
 books in my sle* \cs, well knowing that I must show 
 a clean bag and simple kerchief." 
 
 Goody looked on in silence as Hester dipped from 
 the soup a small nut-shell and proceeded to open it. 
 
 •* This is our mail-bag, Goody," she said ; " here is 
 my father's last word of love and comfort; they will 
 not let him come to me when we need him so much." 
 
 Hester pinned the lampened paper in her bosom 
 and waited patiently until she might read the precious 
 words. 
 
 " Is my father much c.ianged, Goody ? " 
 
 " No more than he mi t be, Miss Hester ; he deeps 
 little and his wound wears upon him, but his spirit 
 never fails, and only last Lord's day he made a prayer 
 which set us all to weeping, so gentle and gracious 
 were his words." 
 
 " Does he speak of us often ? " 
 
 " Ah, child, bethinks of nothing else. He is at the 
 farni but seldom now, for he lodges near here that he 
 may see the window where you are. I saw him but 
 a moment, and dared not tell my errand lest he for- 
 bid me, but his eyes never left the portraits of your 
 mother and yourself which once hung in his room." 
 
 "Who cares for him, Goody; who is near him?" 
 
 " I thought he had told you how Samuel Jacobs 
 or Kenny are always near, though the lad Jacobs is 
 on hire with the baker near by." 
 
 " And Cousin Samuel, what does he say ? " 
 
 " His tongue is idle while his brain works, Miss 
 Hester. Your father leans upon him as true when 
 many are false, and the lad has the sense and strength 
 
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 23 WIST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N". 14580 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
 
 -^ 
 

 M.0 
 
9» 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 of a judge. Only once did he show signs of weak- 
 ness." 
 
 " Why, Goody ? " 
 
 "Your father gave him a little locket you had worn, 
 and bid him keep it until you sh^-uld meet again." 
 
 "Yes, and cousin Samuel?" 
 
 " Kissed it as if it were the Book itself, and went 
 his way with it in his bosom, and tears in his eyes." 
 
 "What of his mother. Goody ?" 
 
 " Ah, miss, her husband was cried out upon and is 
 now in prison, and Samuel hath sent Ruth and his 
 mother to friends in Newbury where they may rest 
 in safety." 
 
 " Dear Cousin Samuel," said Hester," he told me 
 nothing of this sorrow. Goody." 
 
 " Hush, miss, the jailer is coming." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE RED BOOK. 
 
 While Madame Hepworth and her young daughter 
 were languishing in prison the work of death went on 
 outside. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Parris had prudently removed his 
 daughters to a place of safety while he diligently 
 pursued the investigations. Delusion, fraud and 
 impostures increased. Falsehoods were overlooked, 
 and truth given the lie. Brave women met their fate 
 unflinchingly ; to confess themselves to be witches 
 would restore them to liberty; to stand firm and 
 declare the truth was certain death. 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH, 
 
 93 
 
 rhter 
 Inton 
 
 Itches 
 
 Knowing the uprightness of his wife's character, 
 Captain Hcpworlh was convinced that neither threats 
 nor agony would induce her to utter the monstro ~vs 
 confession, and, although the news of her severe illness 
 filled him with dread, he counted it a mercy that the 
 trial was delayed. Her sv/cet faith would sustain her 
 spirit, if the flesh failed. In this case he felt that 
 delay was most precious, and little by little the friends 
 of the accused gained ground. 
 
 Letters were written from the prisons to the judges ; 
 honest men and women dared to sign depositions 
 concerning the worthiness of the accused, and the 
 petitions of Rebecca Nourseand others still tell a sad 
 story of that fatal summer. 
 
 " Will they examine us whi^e my mother is so ill, 
 Goody } " asked Hester after a wretched night. 
 
 " There's no knowing, miss ; if so good a Christian 
 woman as Rebecca Nourse must suffer, and she in 
 years, too, none may escape." 
 
 " How long have we been here now, Goody ? ** 
 
 " More weeks than I care to count. Miss Hester ; 
 but your mother is coming to her mind a little now, 
 and if the ministers will keep aloof until she is able to 
 speak, and not weary her with their words, we may be 
 heard before the jury ero long." 
 
 " I do not like Mr. Parris, Goody; his eyes make 
 me shake, and when he was last here he said he would 
 not pray with me because I was a witch." 
 
 "And Cotton Mather is like minded. How did 
 you speak with him, Miss Hester ?" 
 
 " I told him God was in heaven, and He could 
 know that I was innocent, and to Him I prayed daily. 
 
 
 It 
 
94 
 
 HESTER IIEPWORTTI. 
 
 li 
 
 111 
 
 I! 
 
 it 
 
 II. 1 ■ 
 
 wlicreupon he said : * The devil's teachings have 
 made you old for your years.' I know nothing of the 
 devil, Goody, and 'when they asked me if I had a red 
 book I told them that my mother had a beautiful 
 one, which my grandfather had sent her from Lon- 
 don." 
 
 ** Ah, Miss Hester, the innocence of your 'leart may 
 lead to evil ; do you not know the talk of Abigail 
 Williams and others about the books ? " 
 
 " Was it not the Bible, Goody } " 
 
 " No, no, lass ; they were brought by the devil, and 
 in them are many lines written, and at the end of every 
 line a seal." 
 
 " And were they red books. Goody } " 
 
 " Yes, lass, as red as blood, they say, and full of 
 evil." 
 
 " I know naught of such books. Goody, and so I 
 will say when they question me ; but I tremble much 
 at the thought when all the people look upon me. My 
 father says God will sustain me if they call me to go 
 alone. Shall I see my fath'^r. Goody } " 
 
 " None can tell. Miss iiester, for all is v^ild and 
 strange. Ann Foster hath made a confession, which 
 many will hear. Last night, while you slept, I had 
 speech of the jailer, who is grectly distressed in mind. 
 He said much concerning the witches* meeting, to 
 which they did go on sticks, and there promise to 
 serve the devil. They were carried in the air over 
 the tree tops, and there were in all three hundred and 
 five witches. I should much like to hear Mr. Kenny's 
 mind in this matter." 
 
 " I fear that Ann Foster has a distempered brain, 
 as my father calls it." • 
 
HESTER HEPWORTII. 
 
 95 
 
 " Say nothing of your father, Miss Hester, if they 
 call on you to speak, lest you draw him into the 
 prison and our hopes of escape be destroyed." 
 
 " You will escape, dear Goody, foi you are not 
 accused." 
 
 " You little know the evil of the times, my young 
 mistress, for no sooner did I come hither \\\2.\\ Ann 
 Putnam cried out upon me and Mercy Lewis did like- 
 wise. 
 
 " And will you be tried also ? " 
 
 '* I know not ; but such trial as is given me I must 
 endure, being thankful to be near my dear mistress 
 in her sore need." 
 
 ** Why did the jailer put heavier chains upon me. 
 Goody } " 
 
 " Lest, bemg a witch, you might fly away or dis- 
 tress the children ; one of the afflicted said you sat 
 on her breast all night." 
 
 " How could I when I was sleeping on this floor or 
 listening to my dear mother's moans .■* " 
 
 " The children make no hardship of coming at the 
 thing they wish to say." 
 
 " I have never harmed them." 
 
 " True, young mistress ; but their word is taken, 
 and none will believe you." 
 
 " My parents know that I s^eak the truth." 
 
 ** Neither your father nor mother can defend us," 
 said Goody. "We must stand firm and fear not, 
 though we die." 
 
 " I fear not to die. Goody, here or in my home ; 
 but to die in that dreadful way, to be mocked by the 
 crowd, to be called a witch, and never never again 
 
 •M 
 
 :s 1 
 
ur 
 
 96 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 to see the dear home and my father. Goody, it is 
 horrible to die so. Can we not go free ? Will not my 
 father or the Governor help us ? Can Cousin Samuel 
 do nothing ? Must my dea" dear mother stay here 
 and suffer without me ? God m'lst be very angry 
 when we suffer so much. Where are the friends my 
 father loved ? Where are the men he has protected 
 in trouble, and the people who crowded about him 
 when he fought the Indians ? " 
 
 "You ask more questions than my ignorance can 
 meet, Miss Hester; but this I have seen, that it is a 
 sin to befriend the accused, and a crime even to offer 
 them aid or comfort ; therefore I say we must stand 
 in the strength of the Most High, and live or die as 
 He wills. Your mother is restless again. Sing to her 
 once more while I bathe her hands with the water 
 we saved from, dinner. It is hard, indeed, when a 
 lady of her quality is reduced to such straits." 
 
 Hester drew near v/hile Goody put the mother's 
 weary head into her lap. 
 
 " They tell me that new chains are being made, 
 Miss Hester, and the delay is for our pleasure. When 
 these old feet are in fetters, it will be liard to care for 
 my dear mistress and move her poor worn body." 
 
 " Do you think she hears us to-day ; she is so silent 
 now, and no longer moves about her head and hands 
 in that restless way .? " 
 
 " Ah, dear heart ; the strength has gone with the 
 fever, and there is neither bite nor sup fit for her. I 
 Mr. Kenny or young Jacobs could get us a bottle of 
 wine from your father's cellar it would give her new 
 life. She seems content when you sing, lass, and the 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 97 
 
 If 
 
 silent 
 hands 
 
 ears are often open to hearing when the tongue is 
 past speech." 
 
 Hester caressed the dear face and began to sing in 
 a low tone the hymn her mother had taught her during 
 .a severe illness ; 
 
 "When dangers, wcos, or death are nigh, 
 Past mercies teach me where to fly ; 
 Thine arm, Almighty God, can aid, 
 When sickness grieves or pains invade. 
 
 The last note still resounded through the gloomy cell 
 when the door opened, and the sheriff, in all the pomp 
 and glory of his office, stood before them. 
 
 "Hester Hepworth, you are called," said the jailer. 
 " Come forth and answer to the charges." 
 
 With reverent, trembling hands the girl once more 
 placed her mother's head on the blanket vhich had 
 so long been her bed, and rose slowly, while Goody 
 Herrick whispered, " Fear not, God will hear your 
 prayer." 
 
 "Make all speed," said the jailer, gruffly, as the 
 girl's chains dragged slowly on the bare floor. "The 
 court waits, and you witches are wont to move faster 
 on your sticks." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IF 
 
 
 ■ft 
 
 r 1 
 
 \}^, 
 
 HESTER BEFORE THE COURT. 
 
 It was midsummer, and the once beautiful farms of 
 Salem and vicinity were now desolate and neglected. 
 
 Many of the owners were in prison charged with the 
 
 7 
 
S8 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 cnme of witchcraft, others had fled " over the seas," 
 and others still were vainly endeavoring to aid their 
 friends and relatives. 
 
 Captain Hepworth was not idle. He knew that 
 the blow struck at his accomplished and much be- 
 loved wife caused many to waver. He had listened 
 with silent indignation to the insults oflfered the 
 accused when called for examination. He was in the 
 meeting-house when that excellent woman and 
 devout Christian, Rebecca Nourse, was excom- 
 municated and delivered over to Satan. He had 
 witnessed the unfeeling handling of her feeble frame, 
 and sick with dread and horror had seen her ascend 
 the rocky path to the place of execution. She went 
 to the gallows protesting her innocence and praying 
 for her tormentors. Would not his beloved wife do 
 the same if spared to undergo such horrors } Must 
 he permit it and still live? Could nothing stay 
 the wrath and madness of the rulers ? 
 
 Even George Burrough, the faithful, true-hearted, 
 guileless pastor, was among the accused, and subjected 
 to most degrading insults. His marvellous strength 
 was attributed to dealings with Satan, and his 
 character blackened by malicious slanders. Surely 
 none could hope to escape. 
 
 In this time of trial Captain Hepworth received 
 several secret letters, showing him that friends were 
 strong, though few in numbers. 
 
 Joseph Putnam, forevermore to be honored, de- 
 nounced the proceedings of the council, and boldly 
 took his life in his hands against relatives and rulers. 
 
 A fev — so fie w that 11. .ir power was not felt openly 
 —-stood courageously and fearlessly for the truth. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 99 
 
 If 
 
 as, 
 heir 
 
 that 
 ? bc- 
 ;ened 
 
 the 
 in the 
 
 and 
 :com- 
 !e had 
 frame, 
 iscend 
 e went 
 iraying 
 vife do 
 > Must 
 g stay 
 
 earted, 
 bjected 
 trength 
 Ind his 
 Surely 
 
 ived 
 
 lece 
 
 Is were 
 
 led, de- 
 
 boldly 
 
 rulers, 
 openly 
 ruth. 
 
 When a messenger reached Captain Hepworth 
 saying his child had been called for examination, he 
 hurried to the court room. 
 
 Crowds were already assembled, and, as the pale 
 delicate girl was brought in, silence prevailed. This 
 subdued feeling did not suit the purpose of the 
 afflicted children, who immediately cried out, causing 
 Hester to look that way, whereupon their distress 
 increased, and such was the confusion that the 
 afflicted were ordered to I :: removed. 
 
 Captain Hepworth requested permission to support 
 his child, who, weak from long confinement and im- 
 proper diet, was seen to stagger as if about to faint, 
 but the court denied him his request. 
 
 " If she be strong enough to afflict these, she may 
 stand alone," said the judge. 
 
 Her father drew nearer that she m'ght feel sus- 
 tained by his presence, but the child was commanded 
 to look neither to right nor left, lest her evil eye 
 might afflict some, and her slender arms were 
 extended by order of the court. 
 
 ** Hester Hepworth^ you understand whereof you are 
 charged^ vis., to he guilty of sundry acts of witch ^ 
 craft. What say you to it ? Speak the truth as you 
 will answer it before God another dayT 
 
 Hester trembled visibly, but could not speak, 
 
 " Speak the truth, girl," demanded the judge in a 
 loud tone. 
 
 The girl raised her eyes with an appealing look, 
 and almost whispered, *' I am innocent ; " then, like 
 a pu*-e lily br Dken on its stem, she fell fainting to the 
 floor. 
 
lod 
 
 HESTER IIEPWIRTH, 
 
 Her father rushed forward to her rescue and v/us 
 rudely pushed aside, while Honest Kenny covered 
 the captain's eyes, that he might not see the rude 
 handling of that precious form. 
 
 One heart in the assembly beat wildly; one hand 
 grasped hers as she fell, and then, as the pompous 
 officers bore her away, he left the building and hur- 
 ried to the river's brink. 
 
 He did not seek death j his was no coward's heart ; 
 but he must be free to think, to act, if need be. 
 
 Hester's pale, patient face was before him ; it 
 danced on the water, it mocked him in the sunlight 
 and for ^ade him to close his eyes. 
 
 " * I am innocent,* she said. God knows she is ; 
 innocent as His stars, pure as His truth. Hester, 
 Hester, poor little cousin, I wish I could die for you. 
 Why did the captain feel so secure ? Why did he 
 not send her away } Why must we see her die and 
 make no sign ? " 
 
 For hours the youth sat there unmolested, until 
 the summer sun went down and the stars came out. 
 
 Something came to him which renewed his cour- 
 age, some plan which fed his hopefulness. 
 
 " I will try," said he, rising. " Oh, God, if you 
 still hear prayer, if you know the misery upon us, 
 help us now," he said, as he Lurried away. 
 
 Well was it that he could not see within the dun- 
 geon. Well for his peace of nind that thick walls 
 obscured his vision. 
 
 Captain Hepworth left the court room with Kenny, 
 who hurried him to his lodgings near the jail. 
 
 " Do i»ot despair of the lass, my dear master, for 
 
HESTEK mPWOkfti. 
 
 \\i 
 
 you 
 us, 
 
 dun- 
 Iwalls 
 
 jnny, 
 
 ir. for 
 
 fainting is a trick of maids, and it spared her further 
 questioning." 
 
 *' JBut her thin, haggard face, her sorrowful eyes, 
 her weak helpless form. My darling, my darling, 
 you are doomed for ever. Surely a just God will 
 punish such iniquity." 
 
 "True, He will, captain, for generations to come, 
 but now we must bestir ourselves to get such things 
 as they may need. If Goody be not taken from 
 them the lass will not suffer." 
 
 " Ah, Kenny, she has suffered ; she does suffer. 
 Her face is old with care and grieving, her dear eyes 
 sad and dull. She is dying, Kenny, and they are her 
 murderers." 
 
 " Hush, good captain. Thoughts are secret 
 weapons. Now and there be folk who are ever 
 listening. Bestir yourself to write some word of 
 cheer which young Jacobs will contrive to send them. 
 Do you not remember the charge of Miss Hester in 
 the letter she last sent, that you must not grieve over 
 much for it would weaken you, and the whole 
 strength must be kept for better need } " 
 
 " Yes, yes, Kenny, but such speech from one of her 
 years betrays the sudden age which has come to her. 
 I was strong until I saw her face ; hopeful until I 
 heard her voice. Why was I mad enough to keep 
 them here } But for my selfish love my precious 
 ones would now be over the sea." 
 
 "Write your word, good captain, and let it be 
 brief, while I find your young kinsman, who is only 
 less wounded than yourself, but he carries a brave 
 heart in his bosom." 
 
 I 
 
ton 
 
 fiESTER HEPWORTtt. 
 
 " Did he see my child ? " 
 
 " He was near her and caught her as she fell. I 
 saw him clasp her hand a moment, and, if I mistake 
 not, the lad has found means of his own for further 
 converse with them. Be of good cheer ; so grand a 
 soldier must bear to see his dearest friends stricken 
 down, and my own heart is neither light nor joyous 
 while my dear mistress and the lass are in peril." 
 
 " Peril ; yes, Kenny, that is the word, deadly peril ; 
 death would be welcome if my wife and child were 
 free; but find young Jacobs and deny me to all visi- 
 tors, save those you trust." 
 
 " I have searched for your kinsman in vain, cap- 
 tain," said Kenny, after a brief absence. ' The baker 
 tells me that he asked liberty to look after matters 
 at the farm, and he is doubtless traveling thither ; but 
 it is more than strange for him to leave us with- 
 out a word." 
 
 "The boy has need of rest, Kenny, and I am 
 sure his cause for leaving will yet appear. When 
 he comes send him to me, for I find great comfort in 
 his presence. It speaks ill for humanity that your- 
 self and the lad are so faithful to me in this so'-row, 
 while hundreds of friends are not heard of." 
 
 " It speaks well, good captain, for two at least, and 
 many a man would rejoice to see you and your 
 household at ease once more who would not dare 
 speak boldly, knowing the danger they would be in. 
 Here is a letter I had but now from Madame Willard 
 in Boston, in which she bids me remember the family 
 I served in England, and for their sakes to be true 
 and faithful to you in your distress." 
 
 i! 
 
 if 
 
HESTER HEPV/ORTH, 
 
 103 
 
 
 " Good kinswoman. She urged my remaining 
 there for a time ; but I am torn with restlessness, and 
 must be near the scene of action." 
 
 " Here is a postscript which may please you, sir. 
 The lady writes : ' I charge you, good Kenny, to see 
 the lad Jacobs, who is so manly he is less lad than 
 his years, and bid him come to me for the time until 
 these troubles are better understood. With his 
 mother now absent and his father committed, he 
 must needs be worn with care, and I beseech you to 
 remind him that he is our kinsman, and therefore we 
 claim the honor of his charge until such time as he 
 may see fit to leave t^s.'" 
 
 " Good Madame Willard," exclaimed the captain ; 
 " she is quite right, and I will speak to our cousin at 
 once ; no selfish thought shall keep him by my side 
 to incur danger. When he returns, Kenny, send him 
 to me, and we will urge him to Boston as quietly as 
 may be. What of his father, Kenny ; do you hear 
 more ? " 
 
 " Only that he will surely be sentenced, and no 
 bettei man or honester lives in the colonies." 
 
 "Can we do nothing for him, Kenny .^" 
 
 " To do more would endanger others' lives, sir." 
 
 " What tidings did Samuel bring us from the jail 
 this morning, Kenny ; the examination has made me 
 forgetful ? " 
 
 " Your wife was sleeping since we got the wine to 
 them, and Goody's irons were not yet on." 
 
 " Yes, I remember now ; it is a long time s^nce 
 morning, Kenny ; a long, weary time, and the chains 
 are stiil on my wife and child. Chained, helplesa^ 
 
 
304 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 insuited, handled in the most unfeeling manner, and 
 subject to judicial oppression, could human cruelty 
 add more ? " 
 
 " Will you write the note now, sir ? " 
 
 " What can I write, Kenny ? Shall I bid them 
 hope when others are condemned ? Shall I tell them 
 ^alse words and despise myself? Shall I seem cour- 
 ageous when my heart fails, and able to help them 
 when ci cl hands thrust me away and would not let 
 me embrace my child ? " - 
 
 " Write something, sir, and briefly, for by special 
 permission the soup goes in from here in an hour and 
 the message must be concealed." 
 
 Thus urged, the captain seized a pen and wrote: 
 
 My Darlings, — While God reigns we will hope j while 
 I li 76 I will love and labor for you. t. h. 
 
 An hour later Goody Herrick opened the message 
 and delivered it to her young mistress. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A SECRET MESSAGE. 
 
 When Hester was carried back to her cell uncon- 
 scious, Goody Herrick received her with well simu- 
 lated anger. 
 
 "Well, well," she said, "we are beginning to find 
 out now how matters may be; I fea^-ed as much, ^r»d 
 your honors can leave her with me. A stra'ige _ace 
 might disturb her if she was moved to talk, and it's 
 a poor day that does not give us something new to 
 ponder upon, your honors." 
 
■—- ™^ 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTir, 
 
 105 
 
 " How is your fine witch lady ? " asked one of the 
 men, gruffly. 
 
 " She hath more knowledge of things since morn- 
 ing, and if she could have che food she is best used 
 to I dare say she would soon speak to your honors 
 for herself. It is plain that her testimony would 
 help you in your worriment, if you have patience and 
 wisdom to wait for it." 
 
 " All right, woman ; pay good heed to her words." 
 
 '^That I will, your honors." 
 
 No sooner had the door closed than the woman's 
 whole manner changed. Taking the child in her 
 arms she hugged and kiss.ed her frantically until the 
 large eyes slowly opened. 
 
 "Oh, my sweet inistress, my dear lamb! they will 
 kill you with their cruel eyes and evil words. Here, 
 precious, take this sup of wine, it will warm you and 
 give you courage. That is right; a little more — ^just 
 a little. Dear heart, it is so cold and still ! Put its 
 head on old Goody's breast and forget it, my lamb — 
 forget it all and we will ask heaven to forgive them. 
 How they dragged her in and threw her on the hard 
 floor ! How they kicked her pretty feet and rattled 
 the cruel chain ! There, deary, there ; if you might 
 sleep forever it would not matter, seeing the world 
 you must come back to. She opens her eyes, poor 
 thing! It is only Goody, dear lamb; v*»ey are all 
 gone now, every one, and the motl ^r is better. Can 
 she speak now ? Does she feel all right, sweet one?" 
 
 " Goody ? " 
 
 "Yes, miss, I am holding you; it was a faint like, 
 and you pre better. 
 
 
lo6 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 " Where is my father ? I saw him." 
 
 *' Thank God for that, my lamb." 
 
 " He looked so ill, and they would not let me 
 speak to him." 
 
 Goody was silent. 
 
 " Goody ? " 
 
 " My dear mistress." 
 
 " How came I here ? Those girls were screaming, 
 then all was still, and I tried to speak, but could not." 
 
 " What did you try to say, dear ? " 
 
 "I am innocent! That was all; but the words 
 did not come farther than my lips. I saw the judges, 
 the sheriff, the cruel faces, and then it was dark, and 
 Samuel whispered. I am sure it was Samuel." 
 
 " Whispered what, my lamb ? " 
 
 " Help is coming." 
 
 " Only those three words, miss } " 
 
 "Yes, Goody. Was Cousin Samuel in the court 
 room .? " 
 
 " Dear heart, I could not tell you ; I was here on 
 my knees beside your mother, praying for your better 
 wisdom, and then they brought you in, pale and 
 stili." 
 
 **What is it in my sleeve. Goody, which pricks me 
 like a pin } " 
 
 "Oh, heaven spare us! Dear Mistress Hester, 
 must you go that way, too, and be like all the rest } " 
 
 " I am like my parents, I know, dear Goody ; but 
 raise my head ; why am I so weak, and why do my 
 fingers tremble V 
 
 " You were faint but now ; take one more drop of 
 the wine and rest." 
 
nnsTER HEPWORTff. 
 
 toy 
 
 II 
 
 "We must keep the wine for my mother, Goody." 
 
 "But more may come, Miss Hester; see here is 
 enough." 
 
 The girl swallowed it obediently, and again lay 
 quietly in the woman's arms. 
 
 " How beautiful you are, Miss Hester," said Goody, 
 as faint bits of color crept into the girl's cheeks ; " it 
 is an evil heart that can ftnd aught but goodness in 
 you." 
 
 "And I used to trouble you, Goody, in the old 
 days. I am sorry now. Do you know how often 
 Datsy walked on your clean linen and carried away 
 your shoes ? I laughed then. Goody, but I shall 
 never laugh again ; it seems such a long, long time 
 ago, and j ou will forgive me, will you not ? " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Hester, there is nothing to forgive ; you 
 was the brightness of your beautiful home, and we 
 were proud of you. Often have I said on a Lord's 
 day, when we were in the meeting house, that no 
 maid was as fair as our young lady, and none so 
 sweet." 
 
 " You were always kind to me, Goody, even when 
 I took your seed-cakes for my birds, and fed Datsy 
 with your nice fruit puddings. Goody } " 
 
 **Yes, miss.*' 
 
 " If I die you will go back to Hill farm and stay 
 there with my father and mother, will you not ? " 
 
 " But you must not die. Miss Hester. Your father 
 could not live without you, and your mother's heart 
 would break. You are to live and comfort them 
 when they are old." 
 
 " Dear Goody, you do not know how cruel they are 
 
 I 
 
j68 
 
 HESTER tlEPWORTH, 
 
 I 
 
 even to me. Men look on me with scorn, and 
 women hate me, calling me a vile witch. In all the 
 crowded houses I saw only hard, stern faces, and 
 when I turned to my father they bade me look away. 
 They will hang me. Goody ; I know it now. Until 
 I saw them I thought they would spare me, being so 
 young and my father so much loved ; but the people 
 are blind ; they neither see goodness nor truth." 
 
 Goody's tears fell on the girl's face. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Hester, say no more lest I forget to act 
 my part, and they take me from you • surely heaven 
 will be merciful." 
 
 " I must tell you many things, dear Goody, for we 
 know not how soon we part. They will not hurt 
 you, I am sure ; you do not trouble them, and they 
 will make you free ere long. Will you promise to 
 remember all I say ? " 
 
 " I promise, dear lamb." 
 
 '* When I am gone you will care for them first, my 
 father and mother, and you will tell them how I loved 
 them, and was not afraid to die. You will ask them 
 to bury me in the little grove where we used to sit — 
 Goody, are you listening ? " 
 
 " With ears and soul. Miss Hester." 
 
 " Give my books and clothing to Cousin Ruth, and 
 to Samuel — " she paused. 
 
 " Your young kinsman, Samuel Jacobs, Miss 
 Hester > " 
 
 "Yes, Goody; tell him I loved him always, and 
 always will ; tell him he was like a brother in my 
 heart; and ask him to be patient for my sake, and 
 noble for his own. Can you remember, Goody } " 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 10$ 
 
 " The words are like fire in my ears, Miss Hester; 
 but you will not die. It will be long yet ere you can 
 be tried, and some hind will appear to save you. 
 Tell me, dear lamb, wh> you spoke of something 
 pricking your arm but now ? " 
 
 " I feel it yet. Goody ; here, just here, within my 
 sleeve. Do you not find it ? " 
 
 Goody raised the slender arm tenderly and shook 
 it Something fell upon the floor near them. 
 
 "It is a word of some sort, Miss Hester, and we 
 must get the feeble light upon it." 
 
 Hester crept softly from the sheltering rms and 
 held it to the light. It was indeed a note, and in 
 the handwriting of Samuel Jacobs. In the moment 
 when she fell he had concealed it in her sleeve while 
 all about was confusion. 
 
 " Hath the lad more tidings, Miss Hester ?'* 
 
 " He says : * Be not alarmed. Receive all visitors 
 kindly and watch their hands' What can he mean, 
 Goody .? " 
 
 " More than appeareth, it would seem. The lad is 
 quick to think and swift in action : we may safely 
 trust him." 
 
 " Can my father be coming to us } '* 
 
 " I know not, Miss Hester, but there can be no evil 
 to us where ycnr kinsman is. Only the day before! 
 came hither Mr. Kenny told me of his brave doing, 
 and more than one in the village has learned to fear 
 the strength of his arm." 
 
 "My father said that Cousin Samuel would yet 
 appear as a great man, since he is true and fearless as 
 well as kind, and my mother makes much of him and 
 
 ii 
 
 
 
tio 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 has sought Cousin Deliverance to spare him to us 
 that he may study with my father, since he reads 
 much and can get few things for study at the farm." 
 , "Talk no more now, miss, for you are over- weary, 
 and my mistress may call for you as she comes to her- 
 self. Take my shawl for your pillow, lassie, and 
 dream while you can." 
 
 " Do you think they will tak i me away from my 
 mother and you, Goody ? " 
 
 " Not while my tongue serves me and my will holds, 
 for it is better here with you in darkness and want 
 than outside without you at the Hill farm. Rest, 
 las.'.ie, rest ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XVni. 
 
 MADAME WILLARD MAKES A PROPOSAL. 
 
 Two days and nights passed before Samuel Jacobs 
 Returned to the bakery in Prison lane and reported to 
 his master, bearing certain gifts in his hands calculated 
 to appease any anger which ♦night have been stirred 
 by his long absence. 
 
 "How are matters at Endicott river?" asked the 
 baker as Samuel rubbed his tired horse. 
 
 ** Bad enough to bring ruin on us all, sir ; the crops 
 are neglected, the cattle have strayed and my poor 
 father might well be dazed could he see matters as 
 they now stand." 
 
 ** They tell me your father will not confess, although 
 he is urged and threatened," said the baker. 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH, 
 
 III 
 
 "Why should he confess to a lie ? He knows his 
 own heart and it is pure ; he wronged no man or 
 woman." 
 
 " Sarah Churchill saith otherwise, but that is neither 
 here nor there, lad. I need your quick hands in the 
 shops, for the crowd will gather to-morrow, when 
 more examinations are to be had, and plenty of bread 
 must be ready for their eating." 
 
 "Are you sure that to-morrow will be the day, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " Only sure that more are condemned, and will be 
 executed soon, and a messenger hath just said that 
 Mr. Parris and others were eager to push matters 
 speedily. ' 
 
 Samuel shook his head. 
 
 " I must see Captain Hepworth," said he, " and 
 then I will make good all the hours of my absence," 
 
 " If I mistake not, the captain has friends with him ; 
 some gentlemen from Boston were going to him a 
 short while since, and Mr. Kenny is at the prison. You 
 have quick wit. Master Jacobs, and might contrive 
 some way of getting food convenient to such others 
 as are able to pay us for it. The sheriff is not easily 
 reached now, and if some one would speak a word or 
 two in his ear, your friends in prison would be none 
 the worse and our pockets somewhat fuller for the 
 business." 
 
 Samuel's first impulse was to retort that money 
 made out of others' misery would bring little peace, 
 but the youth had learned the wisdom of silence and 
 was already planning new methods of assistance, so 
 he answered pleasantly : 
 
ira 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 "True, friend, and in these dull days of business he 
 who thrives must needs help all. I have little power 
 myself, with my father in prison and my kinsman in 
 deep sorrow, but I will counsel with a friend, and if 
 there be a chance to further yoar work it shall be 
 done." 
 
 " Spoken well, my lad, spoken well ; and since you 
 can go to the prison on my errands, there will none 
 be the wiser if a loaf more or less should slip into the 
 cell where that fine lady and her child are held. How 
 they stared when the little maid was brought in, and 
 how frightened she was. My wife's sister was faint 
 when she saw her, and thought of her own dead girl 
 the age of this one; you see she hath an uncommon 
 face, neither like father iicr mother, and yet like both. 
 Did you not see her, lad ? " 
 
 " I saw her, sir ? " 
 
 " Did you heed the long, flowing hair, which hung 
 in wavelets below her knees, and her large, full eyes, 
 which made me think of a young fawn's ? " 
 
 " I minded all, sir." 
 
 " Well, well, it was a great sight, Master Samuel. 
 The great men of the court, the sheriff ?nd his deputy, 
 so grand and fine, the crowd of people about, the 
 tortures of the afflicted children, and in the midst that 
 tall, slender figure, over-tall for her years, standing 
 alone, so young and beautiful ; oh, it was a great sight, 
 and many were sad like my wife and her sister, until 
 Mercy Lewis and the rest cried out that she was tor- 
 menting them. Yes, it was a great showing of faces, 
 and one man said he should see that face of the girl's 
 before him until his dying day." 
 
HESTER fJEPWORTll. 
 
 «i3 
 
 [:sshe 
 DOwer 
 lan in 
 and if 
 all be 
 
 ce you 
 il none 
 nto the 
 How 
 in, and 
 as faint 
 ead girl 
 ;ommon 
 tce both. 
 
 ch hung 
 ull eyes, 
 
 Samuel. 
 5 deputy, 
 lOut, the 
 idst that 
 |standing 
 lat sight, 
 Iter, until 
 was tor- 
 of faces, 
 ;he girl's 
 
 Samuel was still silent, and the garrulous old man 
 went on : ■ 
 
 " I did think they might have let her father stand 
 by her, seeing she is so young, but when he would do 
 so they drove him back, and being close to him I saw 
 great drops like rain fall down his cheeks, and his lips 
 were white as the child's face. It's a sad time, lad, 
 when the devil takes possession of a rich man's only 
 child, and he must see her scorned in open day." 
 
 " If you will give me my duty, sir, I will do it at 
 once," said Samuel, rising from his seat on the door 
 stone. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my lad. Well, you are eager to be doing ; 
 I was myself at your age. Sandy has the oven ready 
 now, and we will be at the loaves, after which you 
 may find by hints or questions how we shall brew 
 and bake for the days to come. If they hang the 
 little lassie great crowds will be sure to come, for my 
 cousin in Newbury tells me that the people are stirred 
 by it far and near, and an Andover parson, who is 
 free to speak, and as brave as our noble Captain Hep- 
 worth, hath written a letter, which many have signed, 
 against persons of good fame and upright lives being 
 charged by children who are distempered." 
 
 " The two ministers of Andover are good men," 
 said Samuel. 
 
 " There is some who dare, but more are fearful. I 
 hear it said that Joseph Putnam keeps a horse saddled 
 night and day that he may fly if the magistrates dare 
 attack him. From first to last he has stoutly main- 
 tained the innocence of the accused, and hath openly 
 said that a sound horse-whipping would stop the 
 proceedings." 
 
"4 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 " Better dc good man Putnam fleeing for his life 
 and honest than some I wot of stirring up strife while 
 they pray," said a deep voice, and on looking up from 
 his work Samuel saw his good friend Kenny. 
 
 " The captain wishes to see you, lad, when you can 
 be spared," said Kenny. 
 
 " I will be there presently, when the loaves are in 
 and the doors shut. Is he alone ? " 
 
 " Scarce five minutes alone since the child was 
 carried back to her cell, and it is better so, for he never 
 ceases to reproach himself." 
 
 " No one has less cause." 
 
 " If he had sent them to England they would now 
 be safe, he says ; but Mr. Green tells him \' hat no 
 man can be always wise. The captain is much worn, 
 and unless some measures can be taken for the further 
 comfort of his sick wife I fear he will be overcome, 
 for his wound is painful, and food is distasteful to 
 him." 
 
 At last the crisp loaves were deposited on the table 
 ready for delivery, and Samuel was free for a time. 
 
 Hurriedly brushing his clothec and smoothing his 
 hair, he walked quickly into the lane and upstairs to 
 the captain's lodgings. Some one was within, and the 
 boy knocked softly, but no response came. He 
 knocked once more, and this time the door opened 
 slowly, revealing two gentlemen and a lady dressed 
 in deep mourning. 
 
 " This is my young kinsman, Samuel Jacobs," said 
 the captain ; " he is in deep sorrow himself, but never 
 fails me in mine." 
 
 The lady arose and took the young man's hand. 
 
r^ESTER IIEPWORTTT. 
 
 !' '" ^"air i:,::- s:s. '-T' ^^ 
 
 's my cousin. Rev. Samue W L;! '"V" ^'"'^ 
 to give you su-h help as "" "''' '"'^ ''^"-e 
 
 -"y message, senf to good ZTk ^'t ^°" "^^"^^ 
 " T ^:j I s^^u man ivennv ? " 
 
 comfort unti, .omeTre reZlTV^' ""^ °- 
 tress." ^ relieved from their sore dis- 
 
 my cousin offers wil be vo/k^^"^" ' "'"^"ome 
 t'--- matters change^^Lrout!" '''"'' ""'" ^^^ 
 
 -™ntTr:rni-r '"-■"--- 
 
 ^^Me my father is "onde ' 7^ "°' ^'' ^'^^^'■^'"e 
 
 ■^msfolk suffering „7,tnTH° '"'k '""" ">"'- 
 for getting bettfr Ld to ;h ' ''"' "°^ '^ P'^" 
 
 4fsr£::rsru,r°-^ 
 
 J could not ume th^ lo^ 
 ^'■" I plead with him to tav '1° l""^'' '"''^'' 
 any of us in this sad busine,, f u- "" '^° """'^ "'a" 
 taken for t. at purpose "nd' v' f ^'"P'°>"«ent was 
 -hen mine failf TZTlL^'' -'t serves me often 
 and yet no word of mtne hint uT- '■^°'" "^ ^'■''^• 
 dear to me as a son ^ ''' '"'"' ^°' ^^ ''« «= 
 
 fatheHlrrHLgtdrl" '"^' ' ^^ '"^^ '» "e 
 ■ne as a father.'"^' ^' "*° ""^^"^^ ">« most regards 
 
Ii6 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 ** And he may well be proud of you, sir," said the 
 clergyman, with glowing eyes; "if the evil of our 
 time hath wrought out bad passions it hath also 
 developed most noble traits ; I would that you were 
 my kinsman as well." 
 
 Samuel's sterling good sense kept him all unspoiled, 
 while the hardness of his lot and the care suddenly 
 thrust upon him rendered him mature for his years. 
 His mother's health was extremely delicate since her 
 husband's imprisonment, and Ruth required all her 
 care. Anxiety Tor them added to the youth's burdens, 
 for letters were expensive and mails irregular. 
 
 Madame Willard and her daughters regarded the 
 boy as a hero, and great was their disappointment 
 when he refused to join them in Boston and thereby 
 escape annoyance and trouble. 
 
 " I honor the lad more than I can tell," said 
 Madame Willard to the clergyman, "and I would that 
 his mother and sister had come to us since he might 
 see them." 
 
 " It is better for the good woman's peace of mind 
 that she is far from these trying scenes, for I am told 
 that she would speak fearlessly even to her cost, and 
 the girl has been prostrated by much talk concerning 
 witches and evil-doers." 
 
 " Ruth is frail at the best," said Madame Willard, 
 "for our Cousin Deliverance hath often written of it, 
 and I have counselled her to send her away to a less 
 trying climate." 
 
 While Madame Willard and her friends were dis- 
 coursing with the captain, Samuel crept away unob- 
 served, for night was coming, when once more the* 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 117 
 
 fires glov'cd in the oven and preparations must be 
 made for the morrow. But the youth had other 
 business on hand, as we shall see. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GOODY MORALIZES. 
 
 mind 
 told 
 k and 
 lerning 
 
 ^iUard, 
 
 In of it, 
 
 a less 
 
 " My child ! " 
 
 It was a feeble voice which uttered the words in 
 that dreary, unwholesome prison, but Hester heard 
 them. 
 
 " Mother, dear mother," she said, as '^he groped 
 about in the darkness for the mother's hand. 
 
 " I am verv ill, my darling." 
 
 " You have been, mother, dear. You are better 
 now." 
 
 ** Are we alone, Hester?" 
 
 '^ Goody is with us, mother. She is sleeping now. 
 Poor Goody followed us here and she has nursed you. 
 Shall I call her. She is heavy with sleep, for it has 
 been many nights since she left you." 
 
 " Let her rest, my child ; I must talk with you. 
 Have you any tidings from your father ? " 
 
 " He is near us, mother, and is hopeful." 
 
 " Tell him nothing of Our sufferings, my child, lest 
 it add to his. How long have I been ill .<* " 
 
 " Some weeks, mother, I know not quite how long ; 
 it seems years to me, but Goody knows ; she has 
 marks on the wall for the days and hours." 
 
 "I cannot move, dear child, and the pain and' 
 
 fin 
 
Ii8 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 burning;, in my back is great, but it cheers me to hear 
 your voice and touch your lips once more. Have 
 they been very cruel to you, my Hester ? " 
 
 " Not over kind, mother, but it matters not while 
 you suffer." 
 
 " Could your father visit us } " 
 
 " No, mother; but I saw him once when they called 
 me before the examiners, only a moment." 
 
 " How was he, did he look ill, was he much worn } 
 Tell me, my darling ? " 
 
 " He looked older and graver, dear mother, but it 
 could not be otherwise." 
 
 ' " My poor husband, my dear one, what bitterness 
 is his." 
 
 " He is free, dear mother, while you are a prisoner, 
 loaded with chains, sick, sore and neglected." 
 
 " But I know his heart, dear child ; he will take 
 blame to himself that he kept us here, for no one is 
 more tender, none more loving or noble." 
 
 "These are his words, mother, written on the 
 evening after I saw him * My darlings, while God 
 reigns we will hope ; while I live I will love and labor 
 for you.' Is it not like him, dear mother .-* " 
 
 " It is himself, my child ; only his wife can know 
 the sweetness and strength of his character." 
 
 "Kenny is with him, and Samuel; they never 
 leave him. Cousin Samuel sends us food and drink 
 each day, with hidden messages." 
 
 "Heaven bless them; Hester, is SamueFs father 
 still living > " 
 
 " He lives, and is condemned ! " 
 
 "And his mother?" 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 119 
 
 " With Ruth, at Newbury." 
 
 " Did my letter reach the wife of Sir William 
 Phips?" 
 
 " It did so, mother, and she hath sent many loving 
 messages to you, her * dear friend,' but they will not 
 allow her to send such gifts as she desires. Our Cousin 
 Willard has been most kind also, and hath sent word 
 that she must be present when we are again ques- 
 tioned. She cheers my father, I doubt not. Is she 
 very beautiful, dear mother ? " 
 
 " No woman in Boston hath a more charming 
 presence. She is tall and fair, with a gentle counte- 
 nance, and most winning manners." 
 
 " I have not seen her for a long time, mother ; but 
 do not talk more, your voice is so feeble and your 
 hand trembles ; you are very weak, dear mother," 
 
 " So it pleases heaven to make me ; have we water 
 here?" 
 
 " Both wine and water. When you are stronger I 
 shall make you smile with stories of our secret larder. 
 Cousin Samuel conceals many things in one, and the 
 jailer wonders much that we seem loath to eat when 
 he is by." 
 
 " Is the jailer kind to you ? " 
 
 " He fears to be, since I am called that hated thing 
 — a witch — and yet his eyes sometimes belie his 
 speech. It is a grievous thing to see the hate and 
 scorn in people's faces, mother." 
 
 " Our Saviour knew it well, my child, and yet He 
 bore it meekly." 
 
 "So I tried to think when that cruel man spoke 
 to me in such savage fashion. I used to think the 
 
 ' sM5l 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 xM 
 
ISO 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 world was very beautiful and all people were good, 
 but now it seems another place, and I look in vain 
 for kind faces." 
 
 " Ah, my precious one, sorrow is your portion far 
 too early, and I mourn that the fever has kept me 
 from you when you needed my love and care. Have 
 I talked much aloud ? " 
 
 "At times, dear mother; but you prayed often, 
 and I have cried to ^ .r you lest you might die." 
 
 " I feared that I might leave you forever, and your 
 sweet voice is pleasant to my ears ; when day is here 
 I shall look in your face once more." 
 
 "Goody hears you, mother; she is waking." 
 
 " Did you call me, mistress ^ " asked the woman as 
 she crept closer to the invalid. " I was weighed down 
 with sleep and thought I heard your voice." 
 
 " Mother is better and knows me, Goody ; she is 
 nearly well now, and we have been talking." 
 
 " Heaven be praised ! " exclaimed Goody. " But 
 you must not talk, dear mistress, being yet weak. 
 When morning comes I will give you such care as we 
 may in this vile place, and the child v/ili have much 
 to tell you," 
 
 " She has already told me how brave and faithful 
 you are. Goody." 
 
 " I have neither sores nor chains, dear lady/' 
 
 " But you have given up all for us, and I fear we 
 can never repay such love." 
 
 "The sound of your voice cancels any debt of your 
 owing, my mistress, and many a bitter hour have I 
 thought that I might have spared you this by telling 
 more of the speech had about you. I feared to griev^ 
 you then, and now it is top late," 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH, 
 
 131 
 
 "Blame no one, Goody, least of all yourself; when 
 all is over my friends will care for you, and your great 
 love for us comforts my sore heart." 
 
 " You will yourself care for me, mistress, and when 
 we are once more safe at the Hill farm we will speak 
 lightly of our present hardships. How grand it will 
 be!" 
 
 " You are very hopeful. Goody." 
 
 " Because hope fattens and fear kills." 
 
 " You will care for my daughter, Goody, will you 
 not, and so far as may be shield her from harm } " 
 
 ** Ah, mistress, you need scarce ask it, since I am 
 here ; but you will mind her yourself ere long, and 
 Miss Hester will soon be a fine young lady, with 
 lovers wanting to marry her and merry-makings for 
 all of us." 
 
 ^*I shall never marry. Goody," said the girl, 
 solemnly ; " never, even if they spare my life and I 
 grow to be the fine young lady you speak of." 
 
 " Plenty of girls have said the same in years past. 
 Miss Hester, and many more will ; but the time comes 
 for them, and I shall be happy in making your wed- 
 ding cake. Let me see, it was sixty pounds thai I 
 n\ade last for that sweet friend of yours in Boston ; 
 but yours shall be finer and richer, weighted with 
 fruit, and worth the eating of your grand English 
 kin." 
 
 Hester could not see the grey eyes which were full 
 of tears as Goody tried to cheer her mistress, grey 
 eyes so true and strong which might never see the 
 happy hours she pictured. 
 
 Faithful Good^, hidings in her heart the evil $h^ 
 
 i 
 
 r ( 
 
122 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 had cause to dread, as she talked lightly of the future. 
 While the drops stood on her lashes, her voice never 
 faltered. Was she not serving the dearest mistress in 
 the world, and had not Kenny sent her word that her 
 brave soul within the prison cheered those without ? 
 So through the midnight hours she fondled the sick 
 woman, and gave both mother and child words of 
 hope and cheer, which concealed her own anxiety, 
 
 " How much better, dear mother, is Goody > As 
 soon as the daylight comes I must write to my father 
 and Samuel." 
 
 Goody stifled a sigh as she made answer : " Yes, 
 dear lamb; say the boldest word you can, for you 
 need it, and by your own mother's teachings even a 
 dungeon hath some ray of light if the soul be free." 
 
 " For now we live, if ye stand fast in the Lord," 
 said the sick woman softly. 
 
 " To stand fast, mistress ; yes, that is the test. One 
 may be an old woman with great sorrows behind and 
 deep troubles before, but the crown will be waiting 
 for those who stand." 
 
 " I never knew how brave yov^ were, dear Goody, 
 until now," said Madame Hepworvh, freely. 
 
 "And I have doubts of it, mistress, but pleasure 
 can never bring people close like sonow, and once 
 together in tribulation should mean forever together 
 in heart. I'm thinking fewer court speeches would 
 be spoken and fewer quarrels made if only the folk 
 could but look into hearts and pay less heed to words, 
 for we are all backward to show the good in us until 
 we are bound in chains and made to speak. Ah, 
 mistress dear, when I have heard fine ladies say cruel 
 
HESTER IIEPWORTH. 
 
 123 
 
 ure. 
 iver 
 5sin 
 :her 
 
 DUt? 
 
 sick 
 is of 
 
 As 
 
 ather 
 
 things of each other I have said could thcv see one 
 of them dead now their hearts wouM ache, but folks, 
 even knowledgable great folks, are slow to learn 
 until trouble comes home to them," 
 
 " You have seen great trouble, Goody, I am sure." 
 " Great troubles and small, dear lady." 
 " Will you tell us about it. Goody ? " asked Hester. 
 " If a plain serving-woman's story can please you, 
 Miss Hester, I will tell it, but not now, for your mother 
 must sleep." 
 
 *Yes, 
 r you 
 :ven a 
 free." 
 Lord," 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE keeper's guest. 
 
 July wore away ana still Madame Heoworth and 
 her child were imprisoned. 
 
 Five more had suffered on Witch Hill, and many 
 condemned remained to be executed. 
 
 From Prison lane through the public streets the 
 cart with its victims toiled over the rough way. 
 Large as it was it could not hold all the doomed, and 
 many waited prayerfully for their release. 
 
 Captain Hep worth grew desperate with resolve as 
 he witnessed these pitiful scenes. 
 
 " Samuel," said he, one evening early in August, 
 " I am told that several more are to be executed this 
 month, and my beloved wife sends word that she 
 realizes her danger, but is too ill to do more than' 
 pray for patience." 
 
 " She is indeed weak, as I hear, sir, and Madame 
 
 <€ 
 
 .Jl 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
1*4 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 Willard has written a letter asking for her release 
 until such time as she can be nursed back to strength 
 in order to bear her trial." 
 
 " What answer was made to it ? " 
 
 " By some secret ways I hear that it was refused." 
 
 " For what cause ? " 
 
 " Chiefly through some who are not friendly to you, 
 and also because the ministers say that no man's life 
 is safe if a witch be unchained." 
 
 " I have heard much of this, and have seen in person 
 several friends who have great influence, beside which, 
 that most estimable lady and dear friend of my wife, 
 the good Lady Phips, has written me a letter by her 
 own hand, saying such monstrous persecution must 
 be put down. She herself has besought release for 
 my wife until such time as her health will permit her 
 to be examined. Each hour of her imprisonment is 
 dangerous. I hear that her cough is much increased, 
 and hei body afflicted with painful sores by reason 
 of fever and long resting on the hard floor." 
 
 " Did you hear that the wife of Sir William was 
 cried out upon for her defence of the prisoners ? " 
 
 " I did, indeed, Samuel. I v;as present, and was 
 much pleased to see how quickly the judges silenced 
 the accusers. We must contrive means to liberate 
 our dear ones or they will die In prison, for I am told 
 by those who are much with the persecutors that they 
 fear to bring them out at present lest the people rebel. 
 The question of moment now is, how shall we proceed 
 to deliver them ? " 
 
 " You will, then, evade the law, sir } " asked Samuel, 
 with sparkling eyes. "Hitherto you have felt that] 
 right must triumph/' 
 
 iltll 
 
release 
 rength 
 
 ;fused." 
 
 to you, 
 an's life 
 
 1 person 
 
 2 which, 
 ny wife, 
 r by her 
 Dn must 
 lease for 
 rmit her 
 nment is 
 icreased, 
 
 reason 
 
 iam was 
 
 ers ? " 
 
 and was 
 silenced 
 liberate 
 am told 
 hat they 
 k rebel, 
 proceed 
 
 Samuel, 
 felt that 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTtt. 
 
 M5 
 
 "Ah, my lad; I have lived to learn that men's 
 passions and tricks will lead them to pervert the law 
 and distort testimony. I am quite sure that this 
 present council is not legally brought together, and 
 this opinion is not mine alone." 
 
 " You will not think me bold if I tell you, sir, that 
 whatever is done for Madame Hepworth must be 
 done quickly." 
 
 " Why, lad, have you fresh tidings ? Is the disease 
 progressing ? Has she made known to you some- 
 thing which her kindness has withheld from me ? 
 Speak, my son ; these days of anxiety are making me 
 most impatient and fearful." 
 
 "There is no fresh cause for anxiety, sir, save the 
 need of fresh air and bathing, which cannot be had 
 while she is in prison ; she herself fears nothing but 
 for you and her child." 
 
 "Why do you speak with such surety.? why do 
 you speak like one having seen her." 
 
 " I have seen her, sir." 
 
 " My wife and child, Samuel 1 Tell me quickly 
 how this was done, when all avenues have been 
 guarded and my every act and word is looked upon 
 with suspicion." 
 
 In his eagerness to hear more. Captain Hepworth 
 seized the youth's hands almost roughly. 
 
 "I delayed telling you, sir, until I was sure that 
 you were ready for work which others have not 
 feared to undertake." 
 
 " To aid in their escape ? Aye, lad, I am ready 
 indeed. The time has passed for justice, and self- 
 defence demands decisive action. Tell me, lad, what 
 
 !' ■■■' i 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 Kil 
 
 
 .4. 
 
 i 
 
 
ia6 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTir, 
 
 you have done. Brave as you are I tremble when I 
 think of you in that wretched plac^." 
 
 "We must not so much as whisper this to others." 
 " Speak, my boy, and I will be dumb." 
 ''Wait until the darkness is upon us and I will 
 show you the disguise. Even your keen eyes would 
 fail to see me in it." 
 
 " It must be strange indeed if I could miss your 
 honest face, Samuel." 
 
 " When I left her after my cousin was returned to 
 
 her cell I hastened to our farm, where I must go at 
 
 times although my heart is here. There I found the 
 
 thing I sought : all the dress of a traveling doctor 
 
 who once stopped for some weeks at our house. He 
 
 was my grandfather's friend, and had great knowledge 
 
 of roots and herbs ; he could also read the thoughts 
 
 of sic!: people. My parents have often talked of him, 
 
 and, although he was strange, mourned for him when 
 
 he crossed the sea. Some of his belongings were 
 
 with us, and when I sat by the river grieving over our 
 
 cousins, suddenly the thought came to me — I will put 
 
 on his garments and assume his name ; if they find 
 
 me out and kill me, it matters little. In the night I 
 
 returned and changed my dress in the woods ; then 
 
 I came in about day and went to the prison, asking 
 
 for the keeper, who had known good Doctor Trehorn 
 
 when he was about. I was old and feeble, much 
 
 bent with years, and my voice trembled. He was 
 
 glad to see me, and asked me if I could remember 
 
 how at one time I had cured his mother of a vile sore 
 
 throat. I said my memory was not so good as of 
 
 old, but I should be glad to have him tell me." 
 
^n 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 127 
 
 vhen I 
 
 thers." 
 
 \ I will 
 I would 
 
 ss your 
 
 rned to 
 st go at 
 und the 
 ; doctor 
 se. He 
 owledge 
 ;houghts 
 i of him, 
 !m when 
 gs were 
 over our 
 will put 
 ley find 
 night I 
 s; then 
 , asking 
 Trehorn 
 :, much 
 He was 
 member 
 vile sore 
 d as of 
 
 "Then," he said, " his mother was sick unto death, 
 with her throat much swollen and past use ; the 
 doctors gave her over to die, and you were sent for. 
 At once you gave orders to find a black cat, and, 
 when she was found, you took her skin from her body 
 and bound it warm upon her throat, whereupon she 
 was speedily well." 
 
 " Ah, yes," I said ; " you remember well, and also 
 how I told the thought passing in the minds of 
 people, especially the sick." 
 
 " I would you might do it now," said he, " tor some 
 under our care will not speak for themselves." 
 
 " I can never reach their mind unless I am much 
 alo.ie with them, and then I could find out their 
 thought." 
 
 " I remember so my mother said, and you told her 
 once where to find the cow which had strayed." 
 
 " I dare say, I dare say ; if I were not pressed for 
 time I would tarry and see some of your prisoners ; 
 but I must be in Boston without delay." 
 
 " There if one I would like much to have you see, 
 even for a few moments. She is a fine lady, the wife 
 of one of our most wealthy and learned men, but she 
 lies now in great sickness within, charged as a witch, 
 while her child is by her also charged." 
 
 " Have you not other women so charged } " 
 
 " Many of them ; but her beauty and noble family 
 make her the chief talk ; she hath been very ill and 
 is now weak from fever, but she speaks to me these 
 three days, and will doubtless soon be called for trial." 
 
 '' if I had time I would speak with her, but if it 
 were known that I did so, many would come to me 
 
laS 
 
 frrSTEJk HEPWORTH. 
 
 and so press for care and cure that my affairs in 
 Boston would suffer." 
 
 "None save ourselves need know this matter; I 
 may take you to her myself, and if aught comes of 
 it we will be in fine favor at the trial ; if not, none will 
 be wiser." 
 
 "But time is short, good friend, although I am 
 tempted to please you for the sake of that good 
 woman, your mother," 
 
 " Then come with me soon, before many are astir.*' 
 
 " How do I know that harm may not come to me 
 through this thing 1 " 
 
 " I will shield you, good Trehorn, and make all 
 clear to the authorities, but first I must tell you that 
 the lady'j own servant. Goody Herrick, is with her, 
 and I dare not remove her. Can you use your art in 
 her presence .?" 
 
 " It will be more difficult, sir ; but I will do my 
 best." 
 
 " And you," asked Captain Hepworth, with almost 
 breathless eagerness ; " and you saw them ? " 
 
 ** As I will tell you shortly, sir." 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 V^THIN THE WALLS. 
 
 Samuel's story was interrupted by Kenny, who 
 came to tell them that Madame Hepworth would be 
 privately entreated with and examined in her cell on 
 the morrow, while the child and Goody were to be 
 brought before the court. 
 
lirs in 
 
 ter; I 
 mes of 
 ne will 
 
 I I am 
 t good 
 
 e astir.*' 
 e to me 
 
 lake all 
 yon that 
 vith her, 
 fur art in 
 
 h 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 1*9 
 
 J ;f 
 
 r fa 
 
 
 Captain Hepworth sprang to his feet and paced 
 the floor in great distress, while Samuel hurried away 
 to keep an appointment. 
 
 The sultry August day at last dawned, and eager, 
 curious crowds again gathered about the prison or 
 surged up and down the narrow streets. Again fair 
 Hester stood before her accusers and could not speak. 
 
 "The Devil hath stopped her mouth," said one, 
 and a yell of fury arose. 
 
 Calm and pale she stood before them, her large 
 eyes unconsciously pleading for her, while Goody 
 Herrick, now in chains, answered promptly all ques- 
 tions put to her. 
 
 '* Kas your young mistress talked with you of 
 sorceries and witchcraft ?" 
 
 "Not often." 
 
 " What hath she said > " 
 
 " That God was good and men evil." 
 
 '* Hath she written strange things in strange 
 places ? " 
 
 " I know not." 
 
 " Did you ever hear her talking with familiars in 
 the woods ? " 
 
 " Only with her dogge and such pets as she loved." 
 
 " Is it true that the birds would feed from her 
 hand ? " 
 
 " Yes, even as the chickens and cattle." 
 
 Here the afflicted made a terrible outcry, and said 
 the girl had written something in a book. 
 
 One of the examiners held a scrap of paper before 
 Goody, and asked if she had seen it before. 
 
 "Yes, in John Colson's hands," answered Goody. 
 
 9 
 
 'i;s 
 
 I, ' ' 
 
 I 
 
«J«> 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 " Did the child write it ? " 
 
 " I do not know ; ask her yourselves." 
 
 The paper being placed before her, Hester nodded 
 
 her head affirmatively, but could not speak, so great 
 
 was her terror and confusion. 
 
 "She admits that she wrote it," cried one of the 
 
 examiners, " and John Colson deposed that she did 
 
 so on a Lord's day." 
 
 " She did ! she did ! " exclaimed the afflicted. 
 The words were then read, while a faint flush was 
 
 seen on Hester's face : 
 
 The earth is still, this bright Lord's day, 
 While here we sit to watch and pray. 
 The birds pray in their songs, I know, 
 For heaven to them is here below. 
 
 This simple childlike thought came to her as she 
 sat in the quiet of the meeting house where she had 
 often heard the birds singing outside. It was the 
 fancy of a child who buried her pet birds, and had 
 been taught that they were soulless. 
 
 Not so did the stern counsel regard it. The 
 afflicted made haste to cry out, "The birds are her 
 familiars; she hath yellow birds sitting on her 
 thumb," and then the outcry being great, Hester 
 was sent to her ceil, while Goody remained to en- 
 dure severe questioning. 
 
 Captain Hepworth's anguish was intense as he 
 heard her own truthful utterances turned against her. 
 
 " Have you never hurt these children } " 
 
 « No." 
 
 Whereupon the afflicted were immediately seize 
 with a fit, and the magistrate in awful tones asked 
 
:ddcd 
 great 
 
 of the 
 tie did 
 
 d. 
 
 ish was 
 
 r as she 
 
 she had 
 was the 
 land had 
 
 it. The 
 are her 
 on her 
 , Hester 
 Id to en- 
 
 je as he 
 linst her. 
 
 ly seized 
 ts asked : 
 
 HESTER IIEPWORTH, 
 
 »3J 
 
 " How can you be clear, when your appearance is 
 Hhus seen producing such effects before our eyes } " 
 
 Then the children went into fits all together, and 
 halloaed and shouted greatly. 
 
 Poor Goody ! Even her stout heart trembled, 
 but she would not confess. Over against the wall 
 she saw Honest Kenny's face full of sympathy rA 
 compassion. This comforted her, and again auJ 
 again she affirmed that neither she nor her mis- 
 tress knew aught of these things, and stoutly main- 
 tained that their innocence was known to the great 
 God in heaven. 
 
 Goody was condemned and confined in a dungeon 
 from that hour. In vain Hester looked for her 
 coming ; all in vain did the sick woman call for her. 
 
 When Hester was carried back to her cell, she 
 was surprised to see an old man seated with her 
 mother, who had grown weaker by reason of the 
 excitement. 
 
 "Are you a doctor, good sir?" asked the girl 
 eagerly. "If so, please do something for my dear 
 mother ; only yesterday she prayed with us, but now 
 she has grown feeble, and when I was carried out 
 could not speak to me." 
 
 The old man bent his head lower over the pros- 
 trate form, as if scanning the pale face, and answered • 
 
 " I have tried to help her ; when I was here before 
 you were sleeping and we did not waken you ; now 
 I have many charges to give you." 
 
 " I will heed them all, good sir, every one, if they 
 will help my mother and Goody. Goody is our 
 maid ; did you see her, sir." 
 
 
 W' 
 
 l\ 
 
 Hi 
 
 !*■ 
 
 'I r 
 
 ■'!:l 
 
 
132 
 
 HESTER lIEnVORTII. 
 
 " I saw her and talked with her ; we are old friends. 
 If she should be given other lodgings I pray you will 
 not grieve, lest it add to your mother's care." 
 
 " My mother was much better ; why is she so 
 feeble, now ? " 
 
 " The air is close for her here, and she has been in 
 sore distress of mind." 
 
 " None can help her but ni> father ; he knows all 
 her ways, and if he might come to her I am sure she 
 would soon grow better. Could you not advise it, 
 good doctor } " 
 
 " I have little power, dear miss ; my life is endan- 
 gered by coming here, but I value it lightly." 
 
 " Why should you, when you are not accused, and 
 can go as you like in the world ? If you were a pri- 
 soner like us you might well think so." 
 
 " Those I love are prisoners." 
 
 " Ah, good doctor, then I am sad for you ; can 
 nothing be done for them ? " 
 
 " Only one thing, and that I fear they will not 
 do." 
 
 " Why do they wait when you desire ? " 
 
 " Dear miss, they do not know the evil forces at 
 work a? I do ; they cannot see victims going to the 
 gallows ; their prison walls shut out much speaking 
 and shut in much sorrow." 
 
 *• I would tell them to listen to your words, for 
 you are wise and kind ; how can they refuse if they 
 love you ? " 
 
 " I said that 1 loved them, miss." 
 
 " True, it is much the same." 
 
 "Far different ; my love for them might lead me 
 to propose plans which they would not follow." 
 
f^F.STER !lP.P]VORTlf. 
 
 »33 
 
 "lYuly. they must, if you put your life in peril. 
 My father would gladly do the same forme if he 
 might." 
 
 " Is there no one else who would venture for your 
 sake ? " 
 
 '* Goody has done so ; poor Goody, I wonder why 
 she does not return ? " 
 
 " Have you no other friends save your father and 
 the servant ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, kind friends, but they cannot help us, 
 save one — he has done much." 
 
 " A brother, miss ? " 
 
 " No, only a cousin ; yet he is very dear to us, and 
 rny father loves him like a son." 
 
 " If he should wish you to follow his plans, as I 
 ask these friends of mine to do, would you consent ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, but he never can ; he has been most 
 wise and wary, sir, but he is young, and my heart 
 aches for him, as h'^^ father is condemned." 
 
 The docter was silent for a moment as if lost in 
 thought. 
 
 " Would you promise this cousin to remain silent 
 if he desired it ; would you go where he might 
 direct, and trust him in all things, if he could aid you 
 as I can aid these dear friends of mine ? " 
 
 The old man's voice was strangely tender, and the 
 girl's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Ah, you do not know my cousin ; he is brave 
 and manly, strong and tender; I could trust him in 
 all things, for since I was babe he has been kind to 
 me. 
 
 " Have you heard from him since you have been in 
 distress ; has he proved all that you say ? " 
 
 ■>« 
 
m 
 
 HESTER ttEPWORT!). 
 
 " You do not know him, sir, or you would not ask ; 
 his wit and care has provided us with many comforts, 
 his words have cheered this dear mother, and I shall 
 never see him again, never." 
 
 Again silence fell upon them, and the sick woman 
 seemed to sleep. 
 
 *' If he is not a. coward he will try to assist you in 
 escaping, for some fine men and women have learned 
 that flight is wisest now, until men's minds are 
 calm." 
 
 " My cousin a coward ! You speak ill, sir, of the 
 absent, and that is strange for one so gentle ; were 
 you younger I should '^ angry with you, for in all 
 the world there is none save my parents dearer to 
 me than my brave noble cousin, Samuel Jacobs." 
 
 There was a sudden movement of the old man's 
 
 hands, and Hester's were imprisoned, while a voice 
 neither tremulous with age nor fearful, said : 
 
 " Hester, my darling cousin ; do you not know 
 me r 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 JT. 
 
 STRANGE TESTIMONY. 
 
 The streets were silent once more when the keeper 
 opened the door of the cell where Madame Hep- 
 worth lay and beckoned to the old man, who went 
 out slowly, casting lingering glances behind. 
 
 " Do you read her mind freely, doctor } " asked 
 the keeper when they were once more seated in his 
 private room. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTffr 
 
 «3« 
 
 " Freely as one can when she is weak and feeble; 
 I have gained much since the last visit, and if I can 
 spare a Ci^y from my duties in Boston and elsewhere 
 I may find out matters which will astonish you." 
 
 "That is well, good doctor ; be private about your 
 coming, for many are suspicious in these days, and I 
 have need of your skill myself, having a troublesome 
 knee, which often pains me by night." 
 
 " That I will bring a remedy for if I can spare 
 time to return ; this witchcraft business hath stirred 
 up many complaints and disorders of the nerves ; but 
 I must not tarry, my friend ; here is a coin for good 
 luck until we meet again ; it shall never be said that 
 the old doctor forgot his friends. Good-night to 
 you and good luck." 
 
 The keeper gazed after the old man as he hobbled 
 away, and said meditatively : 
 
 "Ah, he is a knowing one. If my poor mother 
 was alive how she would rejoice to see h?m, for he 
 has done wonderful cures hereabouts." 
 
 Not long after, Samuel Jacobs entered the baker's 
 shop and set to work with a will. 
 
 " Well, lad, I looked for you everywhere at the 
 court, for, as I told you, the women folks could mind 
 the shop, and when I did not see you I hurried 
 home, for my wife was grumpy and cross not to see 
 the pretty little maid once more." 
 
 " I was attending to some duty for my Cou3in 
 Hepworth, sir, as he himself must be there." 
 
 "And did you hear a word about the extra 
 loaves .^ " 
 
 " Only a secret order, sir, which you may not like 
 to undertake." 
 
 
I3fi 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 ^ 
 
 " Try me, lad, try me ; my old master in England 
 was wont to say that it matters not to us who ate the 
 bread if we received our pence for it." 
 
 "You will in this case, sir." 
 
 "Let me hear the order." 
 
 " Twelve good loaves of bread and meat for each, 
 with such drink as you can furnish, and I am to 
 deliver all and pay you whatever sum you think is 
 just." 
 
 " Bravo, lad; you are well worth your hire; even 
 my wife, who seldom likes the same one with me, 
 declares that you are better worth double than some 
 \ye have had, and she is often at me to give you an 
 extra hour or two." 
 
 " I thank her heartily, sir, but since this trouble 
 with my father I am not quite myself, and whenever 
 I have taken from your time I have repaid it." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; and quite honest it is, too ; but an hour 
 here or there is not much when you can do a man's 
 work." 
 
 , " I am a man in stature, sir," said Samuel, proudly, 
 " and therefore must do more." 
 
 " True, lad, true ; only yesterday we were saying 
 that you were as tall as the captain himself, and he 
 is a good six feet without his shoes, and your shoulders 
 are broad for your years ; most people would think 
 you out of your time, and there's many at twenty-one 
 with less knowledge." 
 
 " You are very good, sir ; as to age, I feel twice 
 my own, and have almost forgotten that I ever was a 
 boy fond of wrestling and setting snares. If these 
 trials keep on, the boys and girls will be old men and 
 women before they are out of frocks." 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 '37 
 
 " Keep up good heart, lad ; if your father's goods 
 and chattels are not all seized by the officers I will 
 take you into business some day, and you may save 
 a snug pound or two and marry some pretty maid." 
 
 " As to my father's goods, sir, they have taken so 
 much as they could, but the farm is my mother's, and 
 that they will not touch while I live to protect her." 
 
 " Then we will have you In the business yet, lad, 
 and build another oven, not to say a room or two 
 beyond the shop where you could be snug." 
 
 Samuel smiled and answered cheerily : 
 
 " That must be as my mother might say ; she shall 
 never have want of care if I can help it, and my sister 
 is likely to be slender for a long time to come ; but 
 the flour must be made ready, and you can think 
 over the matter of drink to add to your order." 
 
 "The tittle lass was stubborn again, Samuel," said 
 the baker, as the youth put on his apron and cap. 
 " Not a word could they get from her, but the old 
 one, the maid, spoke sharply and shortly ; I think 
 she sometimes puzzled the judges." 
 
 " What did they say to her } " 
 
 " Told her she was a witch and she knew it, and 
 the sooner she confessed the better it would be for 
 her, but she stoutly said, * God knows I am no witch ; 
 I speak but the truth.' " 
 
 " Did they commit her > " 
 
 " Yes ; ordered new fetters on legs and hands, and 
 sent her to the dungeon." 
 
 " What was done with my young cousin } " 
 
 " Ah, lad, you should have seen her ; when she was 
 out before she was beautiful enough, but this time she 
 
»38 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTff. 
 
 seemed to be minding other things, and stood with 
 her hands clasped and her eyes raised to I^eaven.'* 
 
 ** Did she answer her accusers ? " 
 
 " Not one word ; they say the devil hath made her 
 dumb, but in all my life I never saw a face like that. 
 Do you remember the schooner that ran hard on the 
 island four winters since ? " 
 
 " I heard much of it, and my father saw it." 
 
 " Well, on board that schooner was a woman with 
 a young babe in her arms. The sailors tried for hours 
 to save them, and when at last two stout men brought 
 them ashore, their faces were turned up to the sky 
 and they were dead. This lassie's face looks like 
 the dead baby's, so gentle and yet so sad ; I could not 
 find it in my heart to harm her, and yet the sheriff 
 was as stern and harsh as if she had murdered some 
 before his eyes." 
 
 " Did they send her back to her cell ? " 
 
 " Yes, lad, and she seemed too eager to go ; glad 
 to be free from them all. Just as they dragged her 
 out of the door she gave one look back and caught 
 her father's eyes, and her whole face was one beam- 
 ing smile. Thus more than one who saw would like 
 to have taken her in his arms then and carried her to 
 her own home and bed, be she witch or no ; but I am 
 talking nonsense, lad ; you '^ee I'm always thinking 
 of my own lass we buried in the sea, and that makes 
 me care more for the poor captain, who holds up in 
 all his trouble like a sold ler, though it's plain to see his 
 heart is breaking. Have you seen him since then, 
 Samuel } " 
 
 " I have not, sir ; but I will go to him soon and see 
 if he has any word to give to friends away." 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 I3» 
 
 ** Get the loaves well in and I will mind them for 
 you, lad, while you attend him ; he walked away from 
 the court dazed with grief, and I saw good man Green 
 draw his arm in his. I suppose you heard that Mary 
 Walcot was taken to see a sick woman, and found 
 there the apparition of Goody Herrick, who did tor- 
 ment her ? " 
 
 " When was this ? " 
 
 "Soon after the exa aination, and now the orders 
 are that Goody's chains must be d-^ubled and fastened 
 well to the dungeon floor." 
 
 Samuel was seen to shudder but did not reply. 
 
 "You see the officers have said that if one chain 
 did not keep a witch from going abroad to trouble 
 others ' in her opposition,' two might, and so many 
 more besides your kinswoman will have heavy chains 
 upon them now. I saw a bill but this day for fetters 
 and mending of them, also some handcuffs, and old 
 Goodman Roots had orders for ten pairs of shackles, 
 with chains for Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and others 
 now in prison ; their trade is good in iron now, and 
 some will be getting rich, but I cannot see how women 
 can bear such weight, seeing that their hands j.ndfeet 
 are over small." 
 
 " Have you never heard that women will endure 
 far greater agony than men ? " asked Samuel. 
 
 " I have not so heard, but must believe it, seeing 
 these things. Did not Martha Carrier have most 
 piteous hands from her chains, and yet she was brave 
 to speak though her lips were white with pain ? " 
 
 " It was most cruel to cause her children to testify 
 against her," said Samuel. 
 
 ,:lX3ri 
 
 
14* 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 "Why not, when husbands appear against wives 
 and parents against children ? " asked the baker. " I 
 was present when one of Martha Carrier's did answer, 
 and my brother being quick with his pen put down 
 her words. I ha\ e them here, and it reads strange 
 for one so young. I will read it. 
 
 " * How long hast thou been a witch ? ' asked the 
 magistrate. 
 
 " ' Ever since I was six years old.' 
 
 " * How old are you now ? * 
 
 *' * Near eight years old ; brother Richard says I shall 
 be eight in November next.* 
 
 " ' Who made you a witch ? ' 
 
 "'My mother. She inade me set my hand to a 
 book.' 
 
 " * How did you set your hand to it ? ' 
 
 ** * I touched it with my fingers and the book was 
 red ; the paper of it was white.' 
 
 " She said she had never seen the black man ; the 
 place where she did it was in Andrew Foster's pasture, 
 and Elizabeth Johnson was there. Being asked who 
 was there beside, she answered her Aunt Toothaker 
 and her cousin. Being asked when it was, she said 
 when she was baptized. 
 
 " * What did they promise to give you ? ' 
 
 « * A black dog.' 
 
 " ' Did the dog ever come to you } ' 
 
 "'No.' 
 
 " ' But you said you saw a cat once. What did that 
 say to you .? ' 
 
 " ' It said it would tear me in pieces if I would not 
 set my hand to the book.' 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 t4l 
 
 irives 
 
 "I 
 
 swer, 
 iown 
 •ange 
 
 dthe 
 
 I shall 
 
 d to a 
 
 ok was 
 
 the 
 fasture, 
 :d who 
 ithaker 
 ,e said 
 
 lid that 
 lid not 
 
 "She said her mother baptized her, and the devil, 
 or black man, was not there, as she saw, and her 
 mother said when she baptized her, * Thou art mine 
 forever and ever. Amen.* 
 
 « ' How did you afflict folks ? ' 
 
 " * I pinched them.* 
 
 " She said she had no puppets, but she went to 
 them that she affl-'cted. Being asked whether she 
 went in her body or her spirit, she said in her spirit 
 She said her mother carried her thither to afflict. 
 
 " * How did your mother carry you when she was 
 in prison } * 
 
 " ' She came like a black cat ? * 
 
 " * How did you know it was your mother } * 
 
 '"The cat told me so that she was my mother. 
 She said she afflicted Phelps' child last Saturday, and 
 Elizabeth Johnson joined with her to do it. She had 
 a wooden spear about as lon^^ as her finger, and she 
 had it of the devil.' 
 
 " Now, Master Samuel, you must confess that such 
 talk is strange for a child but eight years of age. 
 Strange indeed, sir; also the words of Dr. Cotton 
 Mather concerning the mother, that ' the devil had 
 promised her she should be Queen of Hell.' I can- 
 not but wonder what will be said of these things fifty 
 years hence." 
 
 
 '^i 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 \ 
 
148 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 goody's story. 
 
 While Honest Kenny was assisting his master and 
 Samuel Jacobs think out new plans of assistance, we 
 must glance backward and recall the events which 
 transpired in the prison before the good Doctor Tre- 
 horn made his second appearance there. 
 
 It was the night before the second examination, so 
 graphically described by the old baker, and Madame 
 Hepworth had wearied herself with talking. 
 
 "I must tell yru these things now," she said, "for 
 We know not what may happen, and at times I fear 
 that my reason is not quite clear by reason of the 
 pain I bear." 
 
 " Say no more, dear mistress," exclaimed Goody, 
 "for your words have made the child ill with weep- 
 ing ; that good man who called on us the other day 
 said you need never fear for Miss Hester, and the 
 medicine he brought has eased your cough. Dry 
 your tears, dear Miss Hester, and let us think of 
 something far from this. Shall we talk of your Cousin 
 Ruth ? " 
 
 " Her father will die and leave her," sobbed Hester, 
 " and my mother would have me think she will also 
 leave me. Mother, dear mother, you must be better 
 
 soon. 
 
 >» 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 «43 
 
 "Better sooner than you think, my darling; but 
 the words must be spoken that you may not suffer 
 hereafter. Kiss me, daughter, and cease weeping, for 
 your tears add to my pain." 
 
 "Then I will not shed another, dear mother," but 
 even as she spoke great drops fell on her mother's 
 face. 
 
 " Goody," said the sick woman, " it is too dark for 
 reading from the book,and the hours are long ; you can, 
 if you will, tell us the story which you promised. Put 
 your face close to mine, my daughter, for so I have 
 strength and hope." 
 
 The girl obeyed, and Goody, with many apologies 
 for the poorness of her speech, began ; 
 
 " I was one of a large family in England, and my 
 father was a hard-working man, so it chanced that 
 quite young I was sent to be lady's maid to a gentle- 
 man's daughter near by, and we grew to be more like 
 friends than mistress and servant. When my young 
 mistress traveled I went with her, and often she read 
 aloud to improve her voice while I would be making 
 or mending some of her pretty gowns. We were 
 very happy, and none could be kinder than Miss 
 Mary ; but young folks can never rest easy, and after 
 some years the gardener's son wished me to marry 
 him, and Miss Mary herself gave me my wedding 
 gown. We lived at the manor house as before until 
 my lad took crazy for coming to America, and would 
 not let me come until he should make a home for me, 
 So we saw him sail away, and Miss Mary wished him 
 good luck, while I cried and could not see him for 
 the tears at last, although my mistress told me that 
 
 "it^lf 
 
 I'iiipfaii 
 
144 
 
 HESTER IIEPWORTH. 
 
 he was kissing his hand to me. If I had only known 
 all then I would have looked long and hard at my 
 poor lad. We had good news from him at times, 
 and just before my baby came he sent me some 
 money and wrote to Miss Mary a letter as fine as a 
 gentleman might, asking her to be careful of me, for 
 so soon as the child should be old enough he should 
 want us to come to him where he was saving money 
 for a little home. Ther my little lassie was born, and 
 as winsome a child as you could wish, with brown 
 hair like Miss Mary's and the same sweet look out of 
 her eyes. How good my young mistress was, sitting 
 by me day after day, making pretty gowns for the 
 baby, or painting pictures to hang on the wall ! She 
 was a real lady, like vour mother, Miss Hester, and 
 sometimes I have tl 'ht she had the same look, but 
 her folks were from the North country. She had 
 trouble herself, poor girl, but I did not know it then. 
 When my lassie was near one year old my lad sent 
 for me and I was wild with joy. Such fine times as 
 we had getting ready for the long voyage ; such pretty 
 things as my mistress made for us ; and then with 
 her own hands she painted our pictures to keep when 
 we should be gone. The night before we sailed she 
 stayed \;ith me in Liverpool, and then she told me that 
 she had £l lover, a young artist, who was in America, 
 and her father would not listen to his suit, for he was 
 a younger son and poor ; so, heartsick a nd alone, he 
 had crossed the sea, saying no other woman would win 
 his love. When she told me this I said I would look for 
 him everywhere, but I did not know America was 
 such a great country when I said it. It is very 
 
 (I I 
 
 (( ( 
 
 been 
 
 a 4 
 
In 
 
 M' 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTff, 
 
 «45 
 
 : '■'&% i 
 
 large, indeed, Miss Hester, and some day you will 
 travel and see it all. When the ship was at New York 
 I thought to see my husband's face first, so I took my 
 baby and went on shore, but Joseph was not there. I 
 was young then and much downcast, so I began to 
 weep, for the child was tiresome and I had no home 
 in all the land. Every one had friends to greet them, 
 but I was alone, and I sat down on my box full of 
 pretty things Miss Mary had made, wondering what 
 I should do next. I was too dazed to think, and 
 dizzy with the water ; beside, some rough men were 
 jostling about and looking in my face. Presently a 
 lady came down with a gentleman to talk with the 
 captain, and as she passed me my baby tried to catch 
 her gov i. She turned about and smiled, but seeing 
 the tears in my eyes, she said : 
 
 ** ' Are you alone, good woman ? * 
 
 " * Alone and strange, lad} .' 
 
 " * Did you expect to meet friends here ? * 
 
 " ' My husband, lady.' 
 
 " ' And he is not here ? Well, do not weep ; he has 
 been delayed, perhaps. What was his name ?' 
 
 ** 'Joseph Herrick, ma'am.' 
 
 " * Why, that is the name of my cousin's young 
 gardener up the river. Do you ever hear him men- 
 tion Mr. Van Cortland } * 
 
 " * Often, in his letters ; and he told me his master 
 would have him meet me here when the ship was in.* 
 
 " Then she looked surprised and called her hus- 
 band and talked with him aside for a time, and she 
 came back to me with a sweet smile saying : 
 
 Fret no more, my good girl ; Major Van Cort- 
 
 10 
 
 M 1 
 
 '■':t. 
 
 .j^i) 
 
 il'ir •';; 
 
 1 
 
i^^i 
 
 146 
 
 HESIER HEPWORTH. 
 
 land was called away to his son, who was injured 
 while hunting, and my husband thinks he took the 
 young man with him. ; it was very sudden, and the 
 ladies of the house are abroad now. Will you come 
 home with me until such time as we may hear from 
 them ? ' 
 
 " So I went with her to her grand home, and although 
 she was mDst kind and tender to the baby and me, I 
 grew sick with longing for home and my lad. 
 After long weeks she came to me one day with a 
 letter, which said that the boy who was ordered to 
 meet me and take me to the home he had nearly 
 ready had proved dishonest, and my kind mistress 
 had told him where I was, to be quiet and content for 
 his sake, for his master was much pleased with the 
 new country, where game was plenty, and he would 
 remain for some time longer. So I did my best, 
 being maid to my new mistress and waiting on her 
 day and night. One day a card was brought while 
 she was dressing, and she exclaimed ; 
 
 "* Now, little woman, you will be happy indeed, for 
 Major Van Cortland has come, and baby will see her 
 papa.* 
 
 " I was faint and trembling for joy, and it seemed 
 like months and years before she came back with a 
 sad face, saying the major would like to see me. I 
 went down, and a tall, fine man said, pleasantly : 
 
 " * So you are Joe's wife, are you } Well, I left him 
 out with my son, for we bought some land where 
 game is plenty, and he could do nothing without Joe. 
 I miss the rascal myself, and you may go with me to 
 our home up the river or stay here with Cousin Ellen 
 
HESTER HEPWOkTH, 
 
 »47 
 
 ired 
 the 
 the 
 ome 
 from 
 
 ough 
 ne, I 
 
 lad. 
 nth a 
 ed to 
 learly 
 stress 
 mt for 
 th the 
 would 
 r best, 
 on her 
 
 while 
 
 ed.for 
 ;ee her 
 
 ;eemed 
 with a 
 le. I 
 |ly: 
 
 ;ft him 
 where 
 
 [ut Joe. 
 me to 
 Ellen 
 
 until he returns. There will be none but servants there 
 now, and you may be homesick, but you will see Joe's 
 work everywhere, and can do rs you like until my 
 wife and daughters return.' 
 
 " I thought it would be better so, for I missed the 
 country air, and the lassie did not thrive well through 
 my own fretting and the climate. I'he major was a 
 gentleman, and, although I saw him seldom to speak 
 with, I knew he was pleased with me, for whenever 
 his grand friends came to dinner or lunch, he would 
 ask me to lay the table in good old English style. 
 Madam and her daughters came back, but not my 
 lad. Sometimes his letters were full of new plans for 
 me and the baby ; sometimes he called his master a 
 silly- headed fellow. It was clear he wanted to be back 
 in the garden, and the major wanted him also, for 
 the old gardener was getting feeble and nothing 
 looked as it used to. At last they wrote they would 
 be home on a Saturday and I dressed baby smartly 
 and put on a new frock myself. 
 
 " What did ^^ ^ say to the baby "i " asked Hester, 
 who was listening intently. 
 
 Goody v/as dumb for a few m.oments, and then, as 
 if remembering her present purpose to distract their 
 minds from the great evil, she went on : 
 
 " He never saw her, mi.is ; never., The young 
 master left him by the way, ill of fever, and none 
 ever saw my lad again. I was a long time sick after 
 that, and the family were patient with me, but I 
 could not work. At last the baby went, too, and I 
 was alone. One day, a long time after, so long that 
 I cannot tell, a gentleman came home with the major 
 
 ''ij, I 
 
 I 
 
 1^' I 
 
14$ 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 to spend a few days, and he said he was sore dis- 
 tressed about more help in his home, for his lady was 
 frail and the climate tried her; he would like a 
 settled, trusty woman as housekeeper, if such could 
 be found. I heard the talk, and I told my master I 
 would like to go ; it was clear I could never be happy 
 there for thinking of my lad. The master was loth 
 to let me leave him, but he spoke a kind word for me 
 and did not tell my sorrow, as I asked him not. I 
 wanted to go far away and work God's will, as I could 
 not with the baby's grave so near and Joe's name so 
 often spoken. So I came with your father, Miss 
 Hester, and here I have been since, and often I have 
 wanted to tell you that I watched you because I 
 thought of the little lassie asleep on the river shore 
 far away. She might have been like you, Miss, but 
 God knows best." 
 
 "Are you sleeping, mistress, dear?" 
 
 " No, Goody, only wishing I had known all this 
 before. God bless you, my brave woman." 
 
 And silence fell upon them, broken only by Hes- 
 ter's sobs as she recalled Goody's story. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 
 
 When Dr. Trehorn surprised Hester by asking if she 
 did not know him, she was speechless for joy. 
 
 "You praised me but a moment since, cousin; do 
 you trust me less now ? " 
 
..'+, 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 149 
 
 if she 
 In; do 
 
 " No, oh no ; I will do whatever my mother wishes 
 or my father directs." 
 
 Madame Hepworth tried to touch her daughter's 
 hand, and Hester with much difficulty assisted her. 
 
 " Daughter ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear, dear mother." 
 
 ^* My time on earth is short ; whatever your cousin 
 suggests, that do for my sake." 
 
 " You will not, cannot, must not leave me, mother." 
 
 " It is so ordered, my darling ; I have tried to pre- 
 pare you for it, and Goody has been taken from us. 
 Remember her story, and be brave ; trust Samuel, 
 and live for my sake and your father's." 
 
 " You cannot mean that I should leave you here ? " 
 
 " Even that, my darling ; I am past all harm, and 
 only wait for my release from the court above.* 
 
 It was Samuel's arms which supported the girl as 
 she fell prostrate on the floor ; his voice which first 
 reached her ears as she struggled back to conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 " Lister, to me, cousin," he said, in a half whisper. 
 '* The time is short indeed ; if I leave you here I may 
 not be able to return again ; each visit is dangerous. 
 Will you go with me at such time as your father and 
 I may arrange, or will you remain here and suffer ? " 
 
 " I must remain with my mother.'* 
 
 " Then they may hang you ; cruel as they are, 
 they will not harm her in her present condition ; 
 with you it is widely different. Only yesterday the 
 afflicted children made new charges against you, and 
 your poor little dog was executed because they 
 declare it was bewitched. Your father says there is 
 
 
 
ISO 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 SIS 
 
 no end to the madness ; he urges you to escape while 
 you can, and your mother also desires it." 
 
 " I urge it with my dying breath ; nothing can 
 harm me now, and my last prayer is that you may be 
 spared. Hester, my precious, it will not be long 
 now ; I shall soon be free ! " 
 
 The girl was on her knees by her mother's side 
 kissing again and again the dear face, but she did not 
 speak. 
 
 " Hester, dear cousin, will you not hear me } our 
 plans are complete ; already two prisoners are on 
 their way to England and others are with friends in 
 New York. Will you go with me } " 
 
 The girl rose and drew herself up proudly, while 
 the vile chains clanked. 
 
 " Can you ask me to leave my mother, now } " she 
 said. " Can you think me so inhuman } No, if she 
 cannot be free neither will I ; if she must die in 
 prison so will I. What would freedom be without 
 her.? Could I sleep with her face haunting me.? 
 Could I go anywhere and not hear her voice } You 
 are cruel to think of it, and I should be mad to hear 
 you." 
 
 ** My darling, it was my wish, my own ; and your 
 cousin is but fulfilling my request." 
 
 At the first sound of the gentle voice the proud 
 look left the girl's face, and she knelt once more 
 beside the sufferer, weeping and penitent. 
 
 •* Oh, mother, mother, do not break my heart; I 
 cannot live without you ; there is nothing outside the 
 prison to care for while you are here, save my father, 
 and surely they will let him come when they know — 
 when they hear—" 
 
HESTER IlEPWORTII, 
 
 151 
 
 your 
 
 [proud 
 more 
 
 " That I shall soon be free ? No, dearest, nor will 
 you escape. When I am gone, when this poor body 
 can be no longer tortured, they will torture you." 
 
 " Cousin Hester, will you hear me ? " said Samuel. 
 *' I honor you for your devotion to your mother, and 
 I promise you that she shall not be left alone. She 
 shall have far better care than you could give, and 
 time is flying. Will you go or stay ? " 
 
 The girl's face was pale as death, while she an- 
 swered : 
 
 "I will stay." 
 
 The sick woman whispered faintly : 
 
 " Your father's child, my Hester," and then, as the 
 doctor adjusted his wig and drew his ruffles over his 
 hands, she said : 
 
 " Come soon, very soon, again, and heaven bless 
 you." 
 
 The aged doctor bent low and bade her a fond 
 good-bye. 
 
 With mingled feelings of displeasure at his defeat 
 and admiration for the heroic girl, he once more 
 sought his friend the jailer. 
 
 *' Your patient has coughed less since you gave her 
 your powders," said the keeper, to which the doctor 
 replied that her cough would soon leave her entirely, 
 but her back being bad from long lying upon it, he 
 must as soon as might be bring a famous salve for its 
 healing. 
 
 " She is over-sensitive," said the keeper. " Why, 
 some have been here since March who are much 
 better than she in health and spirits ; but your fine 
 ladies are reared tenderly." 
 
 I ii', 
 
 
 I n 
 i', 5 
 
 I, ' 
 
 
 j}f- — If 
 
 i 
 
 ri 
 
15* 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 " Quite true," said the doctor, who, after giving a 
 lotion for the troublesome knee, went his way and 
 was seen no more that night. 
 
 Captain Hepworth was quite sure that his daughter 
 would not leave her mother. All day he had been 
 urging the great need of seeing his wife, but the 
 authorities were stubborn. So strong was her will, 
 and so firm hcf faith, that none save the strange 
 doctor and Goody realized her danger. At her re- 
 quest the real truth was kept from her husband, lest 
 in his zeal he might use harsh language and thereby 
 endanger his liberty. 
 
 That she was very ill he was sure, but his hope 
 was unfailing, and Mrs. Willard was constantly cheer- 
 ing him with the thought that a few weeks of good 
 nursing, followed by a sea voyage, would completely 
 restore her. Other friends had also counselled him 
 to have the child removed, for should the mother 
 appear in court she would doubtless be acquitted. 
 Not so with Hester, who, by reason of great talent 
 and beauty, was frowned upon by all the " afflicted." 
 
 These considerations, added to his wife's strong 
 entreaties sent through Samuel, led the harassed, 
 anxious father to assent readily to the plans made 
 by Mrs. Willard and others. When their faithful 
 messenger returned good Madame Willard was filled 
 with dismay. 
 
 " The child is not wise enough to judge, my dear 
 captain, and you should lay your commands upon 
 her. It is, indeed, terrible to think of her in that 
 condition, and ere long these wise magistrates who 
 see evil in the winds of heaven, and find witchcraft 
 
HESTER IIErWORTll, 
 
 >S3 
 
 In everything they are too ignorant to understand, 
 will separate them, and all our hopes will be de- 
 stroyed." ^ 
 
 " I know not what step to take," said the perplexed 
 captain. 
 
 ** Let us not worry needlessly, sir," said Samuel. 
 "I may have further tidings through my friend the 
 doctor ere long, and I must speak my honest mind in 
 this matter, that my Cousin Hester has only done her 
 duty." 
 
 " The lad is right, Madame Willard ; he sees far- 
 ther than we do, and we will still hope and pray," 
 replied the captain. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE EXECUTION OF REV. GEORGE BURROUGHS. 
 
 dear 
 
 upon 
 
 that 
 
 who 
 
 icraft 
 
 The escape of several prisoners had alarmed the pro- 
 secutors, and the growing leniency of the magistrates 
 caused them to fear ; consequently, a letter was writ- 
 ten to " Honored John Hathorne and Jonathan Cor- 
 wing praying them to be a terror to evil doers." 
 This condition of affairs made any movement on 
 the part of Captain Hepworth or his friends suspi- 
 cious, and Samuel Jacobs well knew that discovery in 
 his case would be punished with immediate death. 
 He feared not. His father's case was hopeless, Goody 
 Herrick would, doubtless, soon be executed, Madame 
 Hepworth was slowly fading away, and unless he 
 could rescue Hester his work was useless, 
 
 k 
 
 ^ ill 
 
 % 
 
 ,»w1i 
 
IS4 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 it. 
 
 "If I am detected," said he to the captain, "you 
 will see to it, sir, that no further evil comes to my 
 mother and Ruth ; if I succeed, I shall have greater 
 courage to work for them. All this evil to my father 
 comes through the maid he saw fit lo correct for 
 neglect of duty, and it is plain to see that John Col- 
 son began the slanders against you and our cousins, 
 well knowing that you were much talked of for gov- 
 ernor, and they who are jealous are only too glad to 
 injure you." 
 
 " My innocent wife and child should not suffer, my 
 lad, because some would put me out of their way." 
 
 "That is true, sir, but the afflicted children know 
 when and where to strike ; some who were set free 
 have been again arrested in answer to their cries." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; it is maddening to think of, and the 
 ^treatment of the prisoners here, as well as in Boston 
 and Ipswich, is cruel beyond words. Think of it, my 
 lad, the prisoners are brought in one by one, and as 
 soon as they are seen the girls begin their dreadful 
 screams. Thus the poor victims are placed some 
 seven or eight feet from the justices and the accuser 
 between them. The prisoners must stand before the 
 justices with an officer appointed to hold each hand 
 lest they should use them to afflict, and they must 
 stare constantly at the justices, for the afflicted will 
 fall into fits if they look at them. Ah, it is bitter 
 mockery, my boy, especially when they are asked to 
 repeat the Lord's prayer as evidence of their guilt. 
 The great crowd, the uncomfortable position, the 
 rude manners of those about deprive some of speech 
 and cause others to faint, while the weak-minded 
 are wholly distempered." 
 
HESTER flEPVVORTH, 
 
 «55 
 
 some 
 
 "The thing which makes me most angry is when 
 the afflicted are carried to them to be touched, where- 
 upon the justices cry out at once, * They are now 
 well,' before those who look on can see any change 
 whatsoever. Only this day the keeper said to me 
 that many of the prisoners had convulsions through 
 the great weight of irons on their legs," said Samuel. 
 
 " Ah, lad ! I have entreated in vain to have them 
 removed from my dear wife, but none would hear me. 
 How was she, Samuel, itill hopeful ? " 
 
 " Still hopeful, but very weak ; she bade me urge 
 you again and again to remove Hester if it could be 
 done without endangering your own life." 
 
 " And she will suffer alone, trusting to these men 
 for her own release 1 " 
 
 " No, sir ; she is never alone, she bade me say, and 
 her release was but a question of time." 
 
 " Do our friends in Boston and New York know 
 how the case now stands, Samuel } " 
 
 " Perfectl" sir." 
 
 " 1 am more than anxious since Madame Willard 
 commands one to silence, and yet bids me hope. She 
 tells me that the child's freedom is a great movement, 
 but so also is the freedom of the mother." 
 
 "You forget, sir, that Madame Hepworth is too ill 
 to take a journey and too weak to help herself." 
 
 " I never forget it, my lad. Long, bitter, dreary 
 weeks have passed since '-he bade me farewell on the 
 porch. If I might see her for an hour the trial would 
 be less severe, but this they will nor permit. My 
 good kinswoman has implored them to admit her, that 
 
 
 
 ifi 
 li 
 
 11 ill 
 
 ifi 
 
 fr-i 
 
 (^' , 
 
«5« 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 
 she may converse with her of affairs in England, and 
 she has pledged most solemnly that no word will be 
 uttered which the keeper may not hear, and yet they 
 refuse her." 
 
 " Madame Hepworth has always a pleasant word 
 for the keeper when he enters, although she is much 
 weakened, and the man seems kindly disposed, but 
 he fears the officers above him. He does not see 
 that she needs more than she has, for the imcom- 
 plaining may always suffer while the fretful call con- 
 stant attention to their troubles." 
 
 " My lad," said Captain Hepworth with deep feel- 
 ing, " I would gladly die to-morrow if they would 
 permit me to see my wife and care for her. I have 
 left nothing undone. I have worked early and late, 
 but all to no purpose. Such is the animosity of 
 these people that all whom they choose to cry out 
 upon must die either by suffering in prison or upon 
 the gallows." 
 
 " We will free your daughter, sir, and then you 
 will have heart for other things. Her escape will 
 comfort your wife more than the most luxurious bed 
 or the daintiest food." 
 
 " Speed your part, lad, and she will be free. When 
 I think of that godly man George Burroughs, and 
 his horrible death, I am filled with zeal which may 
 seem unbecoming in one of my profession." 
 
 "You followed him to the last, sir, did you not.'" 
 
 ** Yes, lad, I had so promised, and nothing but 
 death would make a soldier break his word. It was 
 cruel, lad ; never on the field of battle did I see 
 greater bravery. Mr. Burroughs was without fear, 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 »57 
 
 and in all his preaching he has striven to make men 
 hoh'er and happier; when he tried to explain some 
 of the charges brought against him they called it 
 'twisting and turning.'" 
 
 " Great stress was laid upon his feats of strength, 
 but my mother knew a slighter man who could do as 
 well, and none called it witchcraft." 
 
 " Poor Burroughs, poor veteran ; he was guileless 
 and gentle ; wiser than they, and they marveled ; 
 truer, and they despised him." 
 
 " He has gone, good captain," said Kenny, who 
 was near by, putting various garments into a knap- 
 sack ; ** think no more of it. I believe you have not 
 closed your eyes since you saw his body thrust into 
 that hole between the rocks." 
 
 " I can never forget it, Kenny, never ; think of it, 
 Samuel, they crowded his once strong vigorous frame 
 into a wretched place, scarce two feet deep, with the 
 bodies of others, and one hand with other parts of his 
 body were left exposed. Oh, lad, it is monstrous, 
 and I much wonder that vengeance does not come 
 upon them." 
 
 Captain Hepworth buried his face in his hands, 
 trying in vain to shut out the horrible sight. 
 
 ** Better give him the message from Miss Hester 
 nov " said Kenny ; " he is not fit for his part of the 
 work without something rouses him." 
 
 " He has been roused too long," replied Samuel, in 
 the same low tonq. 
 
 The captain sat motionless and did not heed them. 
 
 How could one so refined and pianly soon forget the 
 
 m 
 
 iil 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
158 
 
 If ESTER nEPlVORTir. 
 
 dreadful scenes enacted on Gallows hill ? How could 
 he think of his beloved in prison without trembling 
 for their fate, when a kind pastor and godly man was 
 so brutally murdered ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 hlster's lone vigil. 
 
 Once more night in the old prison, and still Hester 
 Hepworth sat by her mother. 
 
 " Could you write a few lines, my child ? " said the 
 sick woman. 
 
 " If I could see, mother, these shackles seem to 
 hurt me less when I am trying to send a word or 
 two ; how strange it is that we can learn to do the 
 things we must. Think of writing in the old days 
 with my pretty desk before me ; we were very happy 
 th( , mother > " 
 
 " Happy, happy ! " repeated the sick woman. 
 
 " What can I write for you, mother dear } When 
 day comes I will put all down which you desire." 
 
 " Only this, love, and write it in your Bible : I 
 am dying; innocent, as God knows; happy in Hia 
 eternal love. My beloved husband and child, fare- 
 well.* Can you write it now, dear one > " 
 
 " I will try, mother. You know Ruth and I once 
 played we were blind, and I am nearly so in this 
 gloomy place." 
 
 She was indeed blind with tears, but her mother 
 knew it not 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 tS9 
 
 ^hen 
 
 >» 
 
 once 
 this 
 
 lother 
 
 Groping in the darkness she found the Bible and 
 
 felt carefully along its opening pages ; then taking 
 
 from her bosom Samuel's latest gift, she wrote the 
 
 words. 
 
 " It is finished, mother dear, but you will smile 
 
 to-morrow when you see the crooked letters ; it will 
 
 remind you of my first lessons in the nursery at home. 
 
 Did I vex you much then, mother ? ** 
 
 " Never, darling ; we were very happy. Hold the 
 
 book near me and guide my hand in the darkness. 
 
 I would write my name once more, once more." 
 Hester followed her directions and the sick woman 
 
 struggled bravely for strength. 
 
 " Is that all, mother ? " asked the girl, " let me do 
 
 something more ? Will you have wine, mother ? " 
 " The tired lips made no sign. 
 " Mother, dear, dear mother, can you hear me ? " 
 The feeble fingers clasped the girl's. " Ah, I will 
 
 get you some wine, dear, and you will be better." 
 A few brief moments of torturing silence after the 
 
 wine was given and again the girl asked : 
 " Do you hear, my mother } " 
 " Yes, my darling. God bless you ! " 
 "You are tired, mother ; sleep a little." 
 " Tired, tired, but the weary shall have rest.** 
 " Shall I sing that, mother, you taught me so long 
 
 ago ? " 
 
 " Sing," was the only response. 
 
 "And you will sleep, dear, while I sing?" 
 
 " Kiss me, my precious one, my brave girl, and I 
 
 will try." 
 
 Hester began. Every word was dear to her, every 
 
 '.^fa 
 
i6o 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 
 note familiar ; and as she forgot herself and thought 
 only of the loved and feeble form beside her, her 
 strength came, the tremulous tones grew stronger, 
 each chord was full and clear. When the hymn was 
 finished, she drew closer to her mother and touched 
 her brow with her lips. ** She is sleeping," she said. 
 " Dear mother, I am so happy, for often in papa's 
 books I have read of sleep which rests and cures. I 
 will pray for it now; surely ncne could speak so well 
 and death be near." 
 
 The girl nestled close and fell asleep. 
 
 Gray morning came and Hester was awake, but 
 the woman did not stir. " Are you better, dear ? " 
 she asked, as she touched the face beside her. 
 
 A sudden chill seized her, and she turned to look 
 upon her dead. With a smothered cry of agony she 
 bowed her head upon the breast where she had often 
 fled for comfort and wept most bitter tears. Suddenly 
 a new thought came to her, and she struggled with 
 herself until the tears were dry. 
 
 " I must not weep," she said. " I must protect her. 
 Samuel knew it all when he was here. Mother, dear, 
 precious mother, they have killed you, but they shall 
 not touch you now. When the keeper comes he must 
 think she sleeps, and I will wait until they bring my 
 food. I will wcit; they shall not harm you, mother, 
 you are free." 
 
 Later when the keeper came he found her reading 
 her Bible, while tiie woman's face was turned away. 
 
 " She is resting, is she ? '' he asked as the girl raised 
 h«"r finger. 
 
 *' Ves. sir. 
 
 »» 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 "Did she have food or drink in the night, miss?" 
 
 " I gave her wine and sang to her." 
 
 " All rightj miss ; when it's lateron I'll look in upon 
 you again. Here's breakfast for you, and soon the 
 old doctor will come to see my wife, and I will bring 
 him here. He's a master hand for healing. Why, 
 your mother's cough was grievous till he came, and I 
 have scarce heard her once for days." 
 
 " He helped her greatly, sir, but do not wak n .her ja 
 gooc sleep brings back health, my nurse was worit to 
 say. You are very kind, good keeper, and some time 
 you will be glad you helped my father's child and 
 wife." 
 
 " Duty forbids much kindness, miss, but my wife 
 is always at me night and day to give you ccse in 
 some way, and yet I know not how." 
 
 " I would be glad if you were free to do her bidding, 
 sir. My hands are red and swoollen with these chains, 
 and if they could be rested but an hour I v/ould not 
 fret again. Your little girl would find it hard to nursf: 
 her mother with Ihose upon her wrists." 
 
 •* She is no witch." 
 
 ** Nor yet am I. Were I, these chains could not 
 wound my flesh. Good keeper, may I have rest for 
 one brief hour, and none know aught of it but you 
 and I } " 
 
 " Ah ! lass, you show your craft in pleading." 
 
 " Were I a witch I would not ask you, sir ; for I 
 could do all things without your help. See, one sud- 
 den touch, one little click., one movement made by 
 you will make me as free to eat my food as your dear 
 little girl." 
 
 11 
 
 is 
 
pii? 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 j 
 
 Thf keeper approached her and looked at the 
 swollen hands, much bruised and torn by constant 
 i^fforts to use then^. 
 
 " It is a hard showing, lass." 
 
 " More hard to feel, sir." 
 
 " If you affirm that neither now nor ever you will 
 afflict me or mine if I give you ease for a brief space } " 
 
 " Never, good keeper ; and if the time should come 
 when my poor hands can do you a prood turn I will 
 make haste to help you." 
 
 "You have made a fool of my girl. Why should 
 you fare better than others ? " 
 
 " Because you are wise, and have a little girl who 
 might be here." 
 
 " There, lass, they're off. I'll hide them here, and 
 if some one should call keep quiet ULtil I am free to 
 come to you again." 
 
 '' Heaven bless you, dea** keeper, I will use my free- 
 dom to send this with Hester Hepworth's love to the 
 little lass you love so well. It is a book with pictures 
 which our Goody bought thinking to please me. I 
 know them all ; please give it to your child." 
 
 " You will want it yourself, miss } " 
 
 '* No, sir ; you see I have counted all the toes and 
 eyes and hands and feet, and know the crook of every 
 nose and 'what each one is doing. We grow wise 
 in prison with so little else. Why, sir, I've counted 
 every crack upon this floor, the seams along the 
 wall and all the window joints up yonder, and I 
 know exactly how that spider works." 
 
 " You are a queer lass, witch or no witch , the old 
 doctor tells me he can read your mind, and faiU to 
 
 (( 
 
 t( 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 163 
 
 find it evil ; he thinks your mother most uncommon, 
 miss, and you may yet be like her. But eat your break- 
 fast, girl ! I'll come again to see how your mother 
 fares." 
 
 "Good-bye, kind friend." 
 
 " Good-bye, lass, for a little season." 
 
 Hester's breakfast stood before her untouched, while 
 she eagerly read a message it contained. It was as 
 follows : 
 
 " Trust the friend who comes to you and follow him. 
 
 All will be well. 
 
 J. H. 
 
 » 
 
 " He does not know," said the girl, wearily ; " he 
 little dreams of this loss. Oh, mother, darling, how 
 can I bear it } I must not weep again, or the keeper 
 will find out the cause, and I must shade that dear, 
 dear face lest he see. This wretched cell has been too 
 dark before, now it is too light. I must drink this 
 gruel sent for \\^x that I may have strength, and I 
 will sit close by her side that no one can see why she 
 is so still. Death is not dreadful as some hymns have 
 said. I do not shrink or start; she is my mother, 
 and . er face is smiling ; she was so glad to rest — so 
 glad to be forever free. How cold she is and yet so 
 fair ! What were the words she said — ' Happy in His 
 eternal love .'' * Ah, mother, and your love has fled 
 forever. I wish tears were not always in one's eyes. 
 I will not weep. They shall not have her body. 
 Mother dear, love, I move my hands now ; I can stroke 
 your hair and touch your cheeks. How you would 
 smile to see my poor Httle hands free from the fetters. 
 
 I If I 
 
 ,! 'I 
 
164 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH. 
 
 I could not help you when I liked, dear, and now 
 Goody has left us, too. I will dress your hair once 
 more as my father loved to see it, and you shall be 
 beautiful to all, beautiful in your last sleep." 
 
 Tenderly she smoothed the ha«r which even the 
 cruel fever had not burned away ; reverently she 
 touched the lips and knelt beside her mother, saying 
 once more the prayer she had learned in childhood. 
 
 The door opened ; not suddenly, as when the 
 keeper entered, but quietly, and there, unseen by the 
 kneeling girl, unheard by her or the mother, stood — 
 Dr. Trehorn. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 " Make no outcry, be calm, and do my bidding," said 
 the old man. 
 
 Hester raised her eyes and answered, " Am I not 
 calm ? I have concealed it from the keeper, he does 
 not dream, he must not until my father knows, and 
 then—" 
 
 The old man's eyes grew strangely moist as he 
 took one swoUen hand in his. 
 
 " And then, dear cousin, all will still be well. When 
 did she find release ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell, she was so tired, she said, and then 
 she fell asleep. I found her cold this morning," 
 
 " You have been watching with her alone since 
 then ? " 
 
HESTER IIEPWORTH. 
 
 i6s 
 
 he 
 Ihen 
 men 
 
 " No. the jailer came, and while my heart was 
 beating like a drum I talked and talked. Do you 
 fear death ? " 
 
 "Not now." 
 
 " I never shall henceforth, she was so glad to go, so 
 happy ; but for us, we must go on and on without 
 her unless they hang me, cousin." 
 
 "That they would gladly do, but you are too 
 beautiful to suffer such a death, too good to be the 
 victim of such cruelty." 
 
 " My mother lies here dead, and she was good and 
 beautiful. There's nothing left upon the earth but 
 misery and wrong." 
 
 " The outrage is deep, deep as the hell they talk 
 of, but, cousin, you must live ; she wished it, and 
 your father is even now pleading to be with you." 
 
 " What does my father wish .-' " 
 
 " What were his written words ? " 
 
 " I know them all — to trust the friend who came to 
 me and all would be well." 
 
 " I am the friend ; can you trust me, Hester } " 
 
 " Yes, dear cousin ; it was my father's wish." 
 
 " Then, listen. Before night comes we must be far 
 away ; we cannot wait, for her sad fate tells its own 
 story. For her sake we must hasten, and these are 
 my instructions. I have obtained permission to come 
 and go to-day. Seeing your mother's low condition, 
 no one will question me, and the keeper is my 
 friend." 
 
 "Yes, Cousin Samuel." 
 
 " I have here with me a wig and suit like mine. 
 This you must wear." 
 
 Ill 
 
 
i66 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 " But, cousin, it is man's attire." 
 
 " True, and in it lies your safety." 
 
 " Three times before 1 bid you go. I will, myself, 
 go out and then return with mixtures for the sick ; 
 the fourth, you go and pass beyond the walls, walk 
 feebly, yet Hke this, holding your stick thus, bending 
 your head, and turn once to your left when just 
 beyond the door ; keep on straight to the water's 
 edge, and there, if some one says : * Doctor, my child 
 is ill,' make haste to step within the boat." 
 
 " Should no one speak, dear cousin 1 " 
 
 " There is no failure unless you should fail. Cour- 
 age and hope should cheer you. Life is at stake, 
 Your father waits to welcome you. No matter who 
 may speak you must keep silence. Can you remem- 
 ber > " 
 
 " Turn to the left without the door and walk on to 
 the water's edge ? " 
 
 ^* Yes ; do not forget the step or bend and deaf- 
 ness. You are old ; and friends are watching as well 
 as foes." 
 
 " Can I not wait for darkness } " 
 
 " Dear cousin, our dead must soon be cared for, 
 and you must hasten that I may escape." 
 
 "What will you do?" 
 
 " As soon as you are safe I shall be far away seek- 
 ing my mother and poor Ruth, while one good faith- 
 ful friend will make all clear behind us." 
 
 '' Do I know him, cousin .? " 
 
 " You will see him ere long." 
 
 « My father .? " 
 
 " No, cousin ; he has yet to suffer striving for this 
 
Jl 
 
 for, 
 
 HESTER HEPWORtH, 
 
 i* 
 
 this 
 
 dear form we all have loved. Can you be brave still 
 for her sake, and quiet for your own ?" 
 
 " There are no cowards in our race, but I am ovel" 
 Weak, and these fierce, heavy chains eat into flesh 
 upon my limbs." 
 
 " I thought that — so did we all. While I am gone 
 use this strong file in this way ; when I return I will 
 assist you. Now I go to tell the keepers that none 
 must weary her while I am by to see what some good 
 remedies may do. Are you ready, cousin } Your 
 swollen wrists will make poor work upon these 
 fetters," 
 
 " I could work forever with some hope in view, and 
 I must see my father, for I fear these cruel men will 
 even steal the body when the soul has fled." 
 
 "Ah, cousin, I am proud of you; even here and 
 now you neither weep nor fret like other girls, or mak^ 
 me anxious with your dread forebodings." 
 
 *' Nothing could be worse than this, and I have 
 spent my tears before you came. I prayed to be 
 like her, so calm and brave, and if I seem so it is well, 
 for even now my poor hands shake with eagerness." 
 
 " I'll leave you now and come again quite soon. 
 You have the courage of your father, with all the 
 endurance of this silent friend ; good-by, dear cousin." 
 
 " Good-by ; it must be years since yesterday, and 
 months since we came in." 
 
 Dr. Trehorn's bent figure moved in the direction of 
 the keeper's room, where he chatted cheerfully and 
 made such statements as he deemed wise concerning 
 his patient. Then he was seen hurrying along Prisoft 
 lane, shuffling his feet and bobbing his wig as he had 
 
 ,;. M 
 
 -■ 
 
 ■-■■% H 
 
 iflk 
 
 
l6» 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 done for many a year. Dozens of old patients greeted 
 him, and many requested him to call, but to all he 
 gave promises of future aid when he should come 
 again. Just now the keeper's child was ill. And 
 then he must return to Boston, where friends were 
 waiti.nof, p.nd even in New York some were rejoiced 
 to hear he had returned to heal and tarry for a time. 
 With hands full of bottles, back he went to Prison 
 lane. 
 
 This time the keeper did not enter with him, for 
 the cautious doctor said " her life hangs by a thread, 
 and we must not disturb her." Whose life he did not 
 say. Hester had worked faithfully despite pain and 
 weariness. With strong, vigorous arms the " doctor " 
 aided her, and soon one limb was free. 
 
 " Now, I will go again, this time to bring some 
 soup to strengthen one who needs it." 
 
 Again the young girl waited and labored upon her 
 fetters with a calm, patient face, unlike her own ; 
 more like the silent woman near her. 
 
 *' They do not notice me now," said the old man on 
 his return. " I chanced to hear one man say, * That 
 is good old Doctor Trehorn who has wrought many 
 cures and never takes a fee.' 
 
 " ' I thought the old man died some two years 
 since,' replied the other. 
 
 " ' No ; only went to England and has just returned 
 for a brief time. He is so busy and so strange no 
 one can get his care, save some old friend. I heard 
 he cured the keeper's wife at once when the doctors 
 failed, and now the child is ill.' 
 
 " ' He makes a sorry figure for one so learned — his 
 
HESTER HEPWORTtt. 
 
 I(^ 
 
 crooked back and heavy stick, his curling wig and 
 shuffling gait.' 
 
 " ' Yes, yes ; but his deeds of goodness are as true 
 as those with straighter backs. I heard him once 
 long years ago pray with a dying woman.' " 
 
 " You make a fine old man, Cousin Samuel," said 
 Hester. 
 
 " And you will do as well. Come, now, rehearse 
 your part." 
 
 " Wait till the fetters are off." 
 
 " True, you will limp because you must ; I, because 
 I will." 
 
 Again the doctor left the cell and trotted away for 
 a few moments. This time the keeper's child received 
 his care, and when he once more visited the girl he 
 saw no half-grown woman but his counterpart. 
 
 "Most excellent, good doctor, now obey, bend 
 down your head a trifle more, those eyes are over- 
 bright ; there, now 'tis well ; good-bye, and heaven 
 speed you." 
 
 Hester's heart beat rapidly as she once more felt the 
 earth beneath her feet ; but her instructions were con- 
 cise, and she said them over and over as she shuffled 
 on. A little child remarked her as she passed, and 
 said, " There is the funny doctor," and dropped a 
 courtesy; and an old man called, "Heaven spare 
 you, sir; you saved my life." But the compressed 
 lips were white and silent, while the trembli-^^j feet 
 pressed on. 
 
 The few steps necessary seemed as miles, until a 
 figure seated in a boat called out, "Doctor, my child 
 is ill." One moment more and the trembling feet 
 
 I 
 
s 
 
 170 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTIl. 
 
 were resting in the boat. One hour more and Hester 
 Hepworth was speedin^j far from the horrors of Prison 
 lane. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVni. 
 
 RELEASE. 
 
 For three long hours Doctor Trehorn sat beside the 
 dead woman and then crept out to ^ell the jailer she 
 could not live until day ; he rould request him to 
 look in upon her say in half an hour, but he must 
 leave now as the Boston friends were suffering for 
 his ca 
 
 " Better get some woman to be with her," said the 
 keeper. 
 
 " Oh, no ; that ^vould distress the girl ; let her se6 
 none but yourself, my friend, and when I come this 
 way again I hope to find you all both strong and 
 well. Being blessed with substance, keep this bit of 
 gold for me, and if they question as to what I found 
 within the mind of those two yonder, tell them, we 
 quite remember that, no evil, none whatever." 
 
 " Good-bye, old doctor ; I will heed your word, but 
 none will ask, for all about think you come to visit me ; 
 seeing now all things turn to evil, I have told many 
 of my good wife's cure, and now the lad is nearly 
 healed. Farewell, sir ; come whenever you may 
 choose, we'll bid you welcome." 
 
 With eager haste the shui'ling figure made its ^vay 
 along the street and soon was lost to view. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTfT, 
 
 t7t 
 
 
 With slow, deliberate step young Samuel Jacobs 
 entered his master's shop and asked discharge to see 
 his mother. 
 
 " Could you not wait, lad ? I've missed you sorely 
 going to your farm, i 'it better that thou staying." 
 
 " I have a letter, sir. My sister is quite ill and my 
 horse is ready, if I can return I will, for matters need 
 me much, and I have always found you kind and 
 gracious." 
 
 " Well, well, return as quickly as you choose, for 
 there will be great doings hereabouts ; a goodly num- 
 ber will be hanged next month, they tell me, and 
 none may know whose turn will come. When an old 
 man of more than eighty years, like Goodman Corey, 
 must be pressed to death, why things look dark for 
 younger ones more full of sport and evil." 
 
 " They will not carry out the threat, will they, 
 sir } " 
 
 " Have they feared to do anything, lad } I tell 
 you they will follow the vile practice of the old coun- 
 try, for he will not speak, and you know they have 
 been mute there at times to save their property from 
 confiscation. A man may die, Samuel, even under 
 the weights, and it is a cruel death, but it would go 
 hard with him to know that all his lands would not 
 make his heirs the better." 
 
 " And no man can be justly brought to trial if he 
 will not speak, I have heard the captain say } " 
 
 "That is true, lad ; but speaking of the captain 
 reminds me that he has just heard that his wife was 
 dying, and they have told him still he could not see 
 her." 
 
 v3r" 
 
17* 
 
 HESTER I/EPIVORTI/. 
 
 " Poor man — but I must go now, as I have com- 
 pany a good bit of the journey." 
 
 " Good luck to you, lad, for you have a clear head 
 and if your father is hanged I'll call you mine and be 
 proud to." 
 
 Samuel shuddered as he turned away. His father's 
 case had been almost hopeless from the first, owing 
 to the false and cruel testimony given. With a sad 
 heart he rode away towards Newbury. Sad and yet 
 not cast down. Was Hester not free at last } He 
 longed to remain and assist the captain, but he dared 
 not delay. Ruth was ill, and his absence from Salem 
 Village just now was desirable. 
 
 Dr. Trehorn's wig, cane and clothing were once 
 more safely at the farm, while buried beneath the 
 earth in Madame Willard's garden the companion 
 garments were hid from sight. Madame Willard's 
 daughters were famous house-keepers, and why should 
 not their mother visit New York for a season ? 
 
 While Samuel Jacobs is plodding on toward New- 
 bury, and Kenny, having returned from a recent boat- 
 ing excursion, is assisting Captain Hepworth in his 
 efforts to recover his wife's body, let us pay one 
 more visit to the wretched, ill-smelling, small jail in 
 Prison lane. 
 
 The keeper's duties had made him quite weary 
 and forgetful, and thus it chanced that the sick 
 woman was not thought of until his good wife asked 
 for her while he drank his tea. To her surprise he 
 sprang from the table and hurried out without a 
 word. 
 
 In a few moments he returned, with his coun- 
 tenance expressing great alarm. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTII. 
 
 «73 
 
 " What has happened ? is the beautiful lady 
 worse ? " 
 
 " She is dead," said the keeper in a husky voice. 
 
 " Then she can be no further harmed," said his 
 wife, " and you need not be pale and troubled, sad as 
 it is that one so noble should die in prison." 
 
 " That is not all," said the keeper, " the lass has 
 escaped." 
 
 " Were the locks secure ? " 
 
 " Yes, for our good doctor bade me see to it and 
 I did ; it was fast and he left her there. I must go 
 straightway and see the sheriff." 
 
 "Wait, man, ponder it; great blame will come to 
 you if you are not careful ; be sure to speak of 
 witches going through the keyhole as the girls have 
 often stated ; as for the lady that is another matter, 
 and she should be soon laid out for her burial." 
 
 " The doctor could vouch for me if he were here," 
 said the keeper, rubbing h's head. 
 
 " He would only draw thee into trouble for letting 
 him in as I have said. Speak to none of this about 
 here, but go to the sheriff and say the lady is dead ; 
 when all will get together, none can marvel that the 
 child has gone. Only be you most sure to mention 
 the keyhole witches." 
 
 " You are right, good wife. I will do as you wish ; 
 but I much fear trouble will come." 
 
 *' None if you are wise. Go now and send them 
 at once to dress the body decently, for so fine a lady 
 is not to be handled like one of low degree." 
 
 The crestfallen keeper found her advice most agree- 
 able in his disturbed condition, and went away to seek 
 the sheriff. 
 
 :.iii 
 
 I 
 
"^''Wf"?'"T'?'!?'^~"""'''?'*W^W^WW"W"'^'"Wif!!'^»P^ 
 
 174 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 Captain Hepworth expressed less astonishment 
 than grief when lie was told of the flight and his 
 wife's death. " Now, good sirs," he said, in broken 
 tones, " you will not refuse me the poor comfort of 
 receiving her remains and caring for them as becomes 
 her station." 
 
 At first many objected, while others saw no harm 
 in this. 
 
 " She was a witch, and therefore should not be 
 buried like a Christian," saM one, and this remark 
 had its v/eight. 
 
 " It would hot answer to have show and parades, 
 or even such services as is usual said," said a pompous 
 divine ; " seeing she was much beloved and well 
 known, it would increase the boldness of evil-doers." 
 
 Still Captain Hepworth entreated them to deliver 
 to him the body. 
 
 Late in the evening men were seen removing 
 something from the prison, but none cared and few 
 questioned ; many had died there, and more must, 
 for the great heat and wretched accommodation told 
 heavily on people who were accustomed to fresh air 
 and liberal diet. 
 
 Midnight once more. The jailer had returned 
 h'ghter of heart and was now sleeping, for the theory 
 that bolts and bars were no obstacles to witches was 
 firmly rooted in the minds of the masses. 
 
 Out from Prison lane came a slow and small pro- 
 cession, bearing to its last home the body of the 
 gifted and beautiful Desire Hepworth. Lights flashed 
 to and fro as they moved along, and Goodman Kenny 
 led the way. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 175 
 
 In a carriage following sat the agonized husband, 
 partly supported by Rev. Mr. Willard of Boston, who 
 was trying to offer consolation 
 
 " Do not despair ; the child is safe, and the mother 
 knew her own life must be short." 
 
 " Care and tenderness might have lengthened it ; 
 they have murdered her — cruelly, fearfully, disgrace- 
 fully. Ah, friend, nothing can console me now — 
 nothing." 
 
 " Think of the living. This thing will arouse peo- 
 ple. Already many doubt — and when it is known 
 that one so pure and gentle died from neglect while 
 suffering under false accusation, more will awake to 
 the truth." 
 
 '* I can only thank God that she is beyond their 
 reach." 
 
 'And the child also. The heart sickens at the 
 deeds now done, but the tide will turn, and wj 
 shall live to hear these m..:tyrs praised for their 
 heroic lives ; now men dare not express their feelings 
 openly." 
 
 It was a mournful sight when they laid the once 
 lithe, graceful form to rest beneath the waving trees, 
 near lier own home, now desolate and almost for- 
 saken. It was wretched beyond all tragedy to see 
 the wasted, thin face of the anguish-stricken hi^sband. 
 
 Thus they laid her to rest in the darkness of night; 
 she as wife a; id mother had been most faithful, and 
 as a follower of the meek and lowly One most sincere. 
 Years after tears now forbidden would fill many eyes, 
 and blessings now unspoken rest upon her name. 
 
176 
 
 HESTER UErWORTiJ. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 OLD ENGLAND. 
 
 It was many weeks ere Hester Hepworth could 
 realize that she was once more free. Amid the 
 elegance of her New York home, provided by 
 Madame Willard's thoughtful care, the girl still 
 heard the clanking chains, still Hved over the bitter 
 hours in prison. Great prostration seized upon her, 
 and her father, who seldom left her side, saw it with 
 anxiety. At night Hester would start from sleep to 
 call her mother or entreat the jailer ; by day she 
 moaned for those in prison, her faithful Goody and 
 Cousin Jacobs. All amusements failed to divert her, 
 and the once joyous child appeared a sober woman. 
 
 "We must rouse her," said Madame Willard to 
 the doctor. " She must go where no sound of these 
 terrors can reach her, and where her friends can still 
 be with her. The poor girl has sufifered death many 
 times." 
 
 " Take her to her friends in England," said the 
 doctor, **and keep young people about her. She has 
 naturally a fine Constitution and a brave soul." 
 
 Madame Willard at once began preparations. 
 Captain Hepworth, already weaned from his New 
 England home, gave his matters into Kenny's 
 hands, with instructions to obey Samuel Jacobs as 
 the true proprietor. 
 
HESTER HEPWORTlt. 
 
 !>y 
 
 Only one request was made in private, that ever 
 more the grave under the trees should be tended 
 with loving care. 
 
 Then came further tidings from Salem. The elder 
 Jacobs with many more were hanged ; old Giles 
 Covey, brave and firm, had suffered a most horrible 
 fate by being pressed to death. He would not con- 
 fess or yield, and thus the venerable man was crushedi 
 while those about insulted him. 
 
 "It was most horrible," wrote Samuel to the 
 captain, "and I would not here repeat it but for the 
 hope that it may cause you to be thankful for the 
 quieter release of our dear ones. The old man 
 begged them to increase the weight and pile on the 
 rocks, for he would not yield. This they did until 
 his tongue protruded from his mouth, and one stand- 
 ing by forced it in with his cane. He was indeed 
 brave, and his treatment has caused many to doubt 
 concerning the action of the authorities. It :s still 
 whispered about that the people at the parsonage are 
 most active in the prosecutions, as alco those at 
 Thomas Putnam's house." 
 
 All these things were kept from the ears of Hester ; 
 to her Samuel wrote most cheerfully, telling her how 
 Ruth longed to see her, and hoped she would one 
 day come back. 
 
 " Captain," said Madame Willard one evening 
 when Hester had left them, " I have revolved some 
 matters in my own mind, and if you please will sub- 
 mit them to your approval." 
 
 "Anything you like, good kinswoman." 
 
 *' Why should Ruth and our Hester be separated ? 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTIl. 
 
 It will never answer to send that child back to the 
 farm on Endicott river, and if Hester must cross the 
 sea why not send Ruth also ? " 
 
 " My dear friend, it is a most excellent thought, 
 and if her mother will consent to take charge of both 
 I shall indeed be pleased ! " 
 
 *■ Deliverance Jacobs is so crushed by her sorrow 
 and misfortune I think she will gladly leave all be- 
 hind her and strive to forget the horrors of the past 
 months. I will write at once and invite her to join 
 us. Meantime let us keep this matter from Hester, 
 lest she suffer from disappointment." 
 
 " Many have already sold out their lands and have 
 left the country, while others are as far as may be 
 from Salem Village. I am sometimes sorely tempted 
 to dispose of my own property and go far from all 
 these dreadful memories," said Madame Willard. 
 
 " I share your feeling to some extent, good cousin. 
 Still, being a soldier, I am unwilling to fly from any 
 foes. I am convi ""^id that life is short for mc, and I 
 would gladly mak- wise provision for my dear child 
 and all others who have befriended me in this great 
 sorrow." 
 
 "You will go with Hester to England, will you 
 not .? " 
 
 " That I will ; and when once she is happily 
 settled I will return, if my life be spared, ind devote 
 my energies to the comforting of those who are 
 bereft during these dark days." 
 
 ** You speak confidently. Do you think the delu- 
 sion has reached its highest ? " 
 
 " I know it, good cov ';: "When my beloved wife 
 
 V 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 '79 
 
 was imprisoned, doubts increased, and when the wife 
 of Rev. Mr. Hale of Beverly was accused it spread 
 rapidly — even the husband saw then the spirit of 
 persecution, and changed his views. I am almost 
 convinced that Jonathan Corwin and other great men 
 have long doubted, and Corwin's attempts to protect 
 some, especially my dear wife, led the girls to cry 
 out upon his mother-in-law. I pray that these poor 
 afflicted mourners may live to see the stain removed 
 from their name and the memory of their dear ones." 
 
 "There can be no stain without guilt, and only 
 those who persecuted and condemned them are 
 guilty." 
 
 "True, good cousin, so your children's children 
 will see it even as I do now." 
 
 Deliverance Jacobs wrote in reply to Captain Hep- 
 worth's invitation that she would most gladly take 
 charge of Hester and count it a great mercy to be 
 absent for a sea on from so cruel a place, but through 
 the neglect of crops and losses, fees, and otherwise 
 she was unable to purchase the necessary furnishings 
 for a long voyage, their house at Eiidicott river 
 having suffered much in her absence. 
 
 Madame Willard again smoothed her way, her 
 daughters were coming to New York to join her, and 
 as they were well versed in making all manner of 
 garments, being trained thereto by their mother, it 
 would be only pastime for them to aid the maids in 
 purchasing and fitting such things as might be needed 
 for the journey, and for the matter of payment. 
 Captain Hepvvorth desired to advance a goodly sum 
 for the care of his rhild. 
 
U1 
 
 1 80 
 
 HESTFR HEP WORTH, 
 
 All these important ^uties being attended to, our 
 good friends at last set sail. Samuel Jacobs with 
 Goodman Kenny bade them farewell, and then 
 returned to Massachusetts, where Samuel took up his 
 abode at Hill farm, and at the request of its owner 
 began there a course of study calculated to increase 
 his usefulness. With some assistance and much hard 
 labor the home farm was cleared and put in order, 
 and the name of Jacobs forevermore connected with 
 it. 
 
 Faithful in small things, Honest Kenny was made 
 ruler over many, and, although he long mourned for 
 Goody, to whom he was fondly and secretly attached, 
 he chose for a v/ife a stout lass from among the farm- 
 ers* daughters, and thereby increased the comforts 
 at the Hill Farm. 
 
 Captain Hepworth remained abroad a year and 
 then returned to his once-loved home, where he spent 
 time and fortune in building up schools and assisting 
 the heart-broken survivors of the families about him. 
 He was indeed a peace-maker and a blessing to all 
 who knew him. Samuel Jacobs was his constant 
 companion until he entered college, where his energy 
 and courage won him honors and his strict integrity 
 scores of friends. 
 
 It was well known to the Endicotts, the Willards 
 and other friends that the captain desired him to 
 change his name and become legally his son. This 
 the young man refused to do, with many kind and 
 grateful words to his benefactor. " They cast dis- 
 honor on my father," said he, "and for his sake I will 
 bear it ; for his sake I will strive to make it known in 
 the land." 
 
HESTER HEP WORTH, 
 
 i8i 
 
 Thus they lived for years, while Ruth and Hester 
 studied side by side in the old English home. Cap- 
 tain Hepworth visited his daughter from time to time, 
 and then returned to his duties in America, confident 
 that she was receiving most tender care and wise 
 instruction. Overcome by her afflictions and the loss 
 of her husband, Deliverance Jacobs died two years 
 after his execution, but Ruth still remained with 
 Hester. 
 
 " At my next coming," said Captain Hepworth to 
 his daughter, " I must take you back with me, and 
 Ruth's brother is longing to see his young lady sister." 
 
 " Then Ruth may go with you, papa, dear, for 
 unless my mind greatly changes I can never again 
 see the place where my mother suffered so much." 
 
 "And will you compel me to bear it alone, my 
 child ? " 
 
 " Forgive me, dear, dear father. I will go when 
 you wish, although I suffer whenever I hear the 
 slightest mention of those dreadful days." 
 
 •* Ann Putnam has made an honorable confession, 
 my love, and begged forgiveness of those she made 
 wretched ; can you not forgive ]ier, also ? " 
 
 " That will not bring back our dead or wipe out 
 the horrors, my father." 
 
 •' It will bring peace, my child ; but I will not urge 
 you, although I need you at my side, and, if I mistake 
 not, there is one in America who will welcome you 
 most gladly ? " 
 
 " Old Kenny, papa ? " 
 
 "Old Kenny has a wife, my dear," 
 
lS2 
 
 IIEHTER UEPWORTH. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 PRETTY RUTH S FATE. 
 
 If Hester Hepworth was beautiful in childhood she 
 was doubly so in womanhood. In her mother's early- 
 home, surrounded by loving friends and all the refine- 
 ments of life, she had become even more accomplished 
 than the mother she so closely resembled. Ruth, 
 less vigorous and more sh)-, had also found hosts of 
 friends, and was even now betrothed to a young man 
 ev^ry way desirable and trustworthy. 
 
 Hester found none to please her; suitors came and 
 went, much to the amusement of her relatives, who 
 were delighted to keep her still free. 
 
 ** I suppose we must let you go to America, my love," 
 said her uncle one day when he had received a long 
 letter from her father. " It is horribly selfish in us 
 to keep you here while your father finds it necessary 
 to live there, and yet I do not see how we can spare 
 you." 
 
 "You know I only promised to complete my studies 
 here," said Hester, " and I see more and more that my 
 duty lies there ; indeed I should have gone long ago." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. It is hard for poor Thomas, 
 but he will go on bravely doing for others all his life. 
 Whatever you do, child, don't marry one of those 
 unsophisticated, superstitious Yankees, after having 
 a title at your feet." 
 
HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 1^3 
 
 "My mother refused a title, sir," said Hester, 
 proudly. 
 
 " Aye, so she did, and won a man who is every inch 
 a king ; he''i get his crown hereafter." 
 
 Hester thanked him with a kiss. 
 
 " Come to America with us, uncle, come ; I need 
 you very much : your children are all scattered ; you 
 are here quite alone since grandfather died, and why 
 not come with us } If the Hepworth name dies with 
 my father, let my mother's live in the new land." 
 
 "What nonsense you r-e talking, child. Isn't my 
 Jack in India, and won't he be coming home to me 
 some day ? Why, lassie, I want to see him settled 
 here where your mother and I played, and here he 
 must keep up the Winthrop name." 
 
 " Cousin Jack can come to America, too, uncle ? " 
 
 " Pooh, pooh, child ; think of leaving this place for 
 your wretched climate and your barbarous people. I 
 am a stubborn old man, girl, and those rascals over 
 there murdered my beautiful sister. Deliverance told 
 me many things about it, and yet I should like to see 
 your home if it were possible." 
 
 *' It is possible, uncle ; come ; I shall not be happy 
 leaving you here, and the aunties are so busy with 
 weddings and grandchildren they will not miss your 
 help so much as I. Won't you come, uncle, dear } " 
 
 " Bless my soul, girl, I believe you could bewitch 
 me into anything." 
 
 Hester's face flushed. The slightest allusion to 
 witchcraft was painful. 
 
 " I will use no art save that of genuine love for 
 you/* she said. 
 
It* 
 
 HESTER HEP WORTH, 
 
 If 
 
 Will you promise not to marry a boorish Yankee 
 if I will consent to spend a year with you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 '* Will you ride with me and sing to me as you do 
 now ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear uncle." 
 
 "Then I will go, for the thought of this place with- 
 out you and Ruth is unbearable, and that little sly, 
 pale-faced girl has gone and given her heart to a 
 fellow who will carry her off to Paris and keep her 
 there, just like his selfishness." 
 
 ** You have had her a long time, uncle." 
 
 ** Of course I have, and you too ; and now when 
 my hair is getting white and my temper spoiled you 
 both leave me lone." 
 
 " Ah, uncle, /ou are smiling ; you cannot be cross, 
 if you try. We will stay for Ruth's wedding, and 
 then we will make dear papa as happy as we can." 
 
 Ruth's wedding was a grand affair. Did not all 
 the cousins far and near make much of this delicate 
 American } Did they n( t feel a certain family pride 
 in her choice, and rejoice that she would remain in 
 dear old England } Captain Hepworth came to it 
 and brought with him Ruth's brother, who said he 
 could not, would not come, until the captain insisted 
 that his duty pointed that way. 
 
 How pleased Uncle Winthrop was to see the 
 young lawyer's surprise when Ruth and Hester 
 appeared before him ; how he rubbed his hands with 
 glee, when Ruth walked all about the young man» 
 wondering if it could indeed be brother Samuel, and 
 }>ow the uncle's eyes grew moist, when Captain Hep- 
 
HESTER HEl WORTH, 
 
 i8s 
 
 worth gave him some flow< rs from a grave in far 
 away New England. 
 
 "Are you not surprised to see our Samuel so tall 
 and handsome ? " asked Ruth, as the girls sat to- 
 gether for their bed-time talk. 
 
 "No ; I tho jht he would look like that." 
 
 " How droll ; I should not have known him." 
 
 *' I should have known him anywhere; his eyes 
 are just the sam'\ and his voice always deep." 
 
 " He would not have ^nown you," he says, "you 
 are so beautiful, and when he bade us farewell you 
 were so pale and sad." 
 
 " You were even more s* dear Ruth, and yet your 
 mirror tells a different tale now." 
 
 Ruth laughed merrily. 
 
 " I have news to tell you, dear," she said. "Your 
 father will take you to Paris with us, if you will go ; 
 you wish to, do you not "i " 
 
 "Much — very much. Do you remember, when 
 my aunts first took us there, how we were pleased 
 with everything, and you would not speak French } " 
 
 " I dreaded being laughed at,' I dread it still. I 
 never could be brave and fearless like you, Hester." 
 
 "I learned my lesson in a different school, dear; 
 but we must sleep, or your bridegroom will find 
 fault with faded cheeks and heavy eyes." 
 
 " He would not, dear," said Ruth. 
 
 In a darkened room not far away Samuel was 
 thinking of many things, with wide open eyes. 
 
 " Dear little Ruth, how like she is to father with 
 her quiet ways. I wish my mothti could see 
 her now ; perhaps she does. It is well if they can 
 
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 286 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 see the happiness which comes to us and yet are 
 blind to all our woes. And Hester, she is royal and 
 queenly ; sl:e might have taken the title and worn 
 it well. I wonder if she ever thinks of those dark 
 days when I alone could see her ? Now she is 
 courted, petted, rich, beautiful and learned, but not 
 proud, except with pride I like to see ; a certain 
 stately step, a kind of easy grace with just a touch of 
 haughtiness which keeps her to herself. She little 
 knows how long I have loved her, from her cradle 
 up, in all her plays, her dangers, my distress ; and yet 
 she would not, could not love me, I am sure. It's 
 something to be near her, much to find her valued, 
 more to hear her voice. How prettily she said : 
 ' Here, uncle, is the one who saved my life and 
 thought a witch worth saving.' 
 
 " The old man truly wept and hugged me, but her 
 eyes were dry. Poor Hester, she learned to hide her 
 feelings in that prison. It was like her to thank me 
 for my care of her father ; she forgets that he has 
 cared for me through all these years. When she 
 returns to keep his house I shall remain in Boston ; 
 he will not miss me then, and I should miss the more 
 all I have longed and prayed for." 
 
 Captain Hepworth and his brother-in-law slept 
 soundly. 
 
HESTER HEFWORTH, 
 
 E87 
 
 m 
 
 CHAPTER XXXT. 
 
 WAS SHE A WITCH. 
 
 Paris, gay, bewitching Paris, kept our friends 
 enthralled for many weeks, and then Captain Hep- 
 worth must turn his face homeward once more. 
 Hester declined Euth's invitation to travel with her, 
 well knowing that her father's duties required his 
 presence, and henceforth jhe resolved that he should 
 not be alone. She detected a weariness quite new to 
 him, and saw with sorrow that his lonely life had told 
 heavily upon him. Both Hester and her father urged 
 Samuel to visit Switzerland and take a more extended 
 rest, 
 
 " You have no one but yourself to care for now," 
 said Ruth. " I am happily disposed of, and it 19 
 neither wise nor just for you to bury yourself among 
 books." 
 
 " I have a profession, dear sister, and I must work 
 if I would succeed." 
 
 " Quite right, quite right," said Uncle Winthrop. 
 " Whenever you find genuine success, you may be 
 sure there has been hard fighting back of it ; it never 
 comes when you sleep." 
 
 "You are dreadfully hard and practical, uncle," 
 said Ruth ; but in her secret heart she was proud of 
 her manly brother. 
 
«^lf 
 
 188 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 America once more. Great changes had taken 
 place in Hester's absence; she found it hard to recall 
 places she had left, and her father rejoiced that it was 
 so. To her great delight her father purchased a fine 
 house in Boston and only spent a portion of his time 
 at Hill farm. Miss Hepworth became an acknow- 
 ledged belle, and more than one proud man sought 
 her for his wife ; still, she remained the light of her 
 father's home, the wise house mistress and the gracious 
 benefactor. Samuel Jacobs worked on in his profes- 
 sion w'th the same energy which distinguished hin. 
 as a boy. 
 
 " Your young kinsman will soon oe on the bench. 
 Miss Hepworth," said an old lawyer one evening. 
 " He works unceasingly. If you can influence him, 
 do request him to work less and exercise more." 
 
 " He has always been accustomed to athletic sports," 
 said Hester, " and he misses them." 
 
 ** Better invite him to join you on h^iseback/* 
 faid her father; "he has neglected it of late, and I 
 myself have seen a certain weariness about the eyes 
 I do not like. Speak to him as soon as may be." 
 
 Some days after they were seen galloping out of 
 the city, for Hester's slightest wish was better law 
 than Blackstone to this young man. 
 
 " Some time. Cousin Samuel," said Hester, " we 
 must take the ride you took that day with Colson 
 when you sought my father." 
 
 " With pleasure, if you will grant me one small 
 request." 
 
 " What can it be .? " 
 
 " No longer call me cousin," 
 
< 
 
 HESTER HEPWORTH, 
 
 189 
 
 >» 
 
 li'' 
 
 "Ah, I see, Judge Jacobs is no relative of mine; 
 plain Samuel was," said Hester proudly. 
 
 " Not so; Judge Jacobs would be much nearer if 
 he might. He is not satisfied to know that his 
 parents and yours were cousins two removes. My 
 one-time Cousin Hester, will you be m.y wife ? " 
 
 Hester started visibly, but did not reply. 
 
 " I know I'm over bold ; I always was, you will 
 remember. I've watched your lovers come and go 
 and still I dare. For all your life, from baby days to 
 this, I've loved you, and though I am over blunt and 
 no way given to daintiness of speech, I ask in manly, 
 honest fashion if you, with all your beauty, wit and 
 worth, will be my wife ? " 
 
 Hester's lips trembled, and still she did not speak. 
 
 " Have you no word of answer, Hester ? Forgive 
 me if I pained you." 
 
 "You — you — saved my life," she stam.mered. 
 
 " That must not influence your answer. You saved 
 mine also ; for I was mad for vengeance, and might 
 have done some dreadful wrong but for your calm 
 and gentle words. I will not take your gratitude 
 since my own debt is larger. I want love, most pure 
 and simple, such as your mother gave your honored 
 father when she left home and friends and luxury to 
 live with him. You need not have \ these, but still 
 the love I need and want must be as strong to mate 
 my own." 
 
 " Your legal learning has made you critical." 
 
 " My years of patient waiting have made me less 
 than patient now. I am not answered yet." 
 
 " I cannot give you more than is my own to give. 
 I gave it long ago." 
 
190 
 
 HESTER TIEPWORTH, 
 
 "To whom ?" 
 
 " Yourself, my own true cousin." 
 
 " Do I hear rightly ? Speak the answer well ! 
 Once more, deer Hester, will you be my wife ? " 
 
 Slowly but clearly came the solemn words, " I will." 
 
 "Thank heaven, I am content." 
 
 Still on they went, those lovers of the long ago ; 
 she with her proud head half turned aside, he stately 
 as a king. The sun was setting when they turned 
 their horses' steps ; and in the Boston home a white- 
 haired man was saying, " How long the children are 
 in getting back ! I have a letter here from my dear 
 boy, and in it a kind message for Hester. Jack says 
 he'd rather settle in America than be an elder son in 
 England. He's proud, the rascal — thank God he is 
 not poor." 
 
 " Here they come to us at last," said Captam Hep- 
 worth, who was looking from the window. " How 
 well my dear girl holds herself on horseback." 
 
 " Thank me for that, sir. I trained the chit myself, 
 and I must admit she was a ready scholar, being her 
 father's daughter. Ah, there she is, and not a finer 
 face was ever seen in your old Yankee town. My 
 Jack will lose his heart when he sees her." 
 
 They came in together hand in hand, and Hester's 
 conscious blush grew deeper as Samuel said, "Your 
 daughter promises to be my wife if you will but con- 
 sent, sir." 
 
 " Consent } You have been my son for years. 
 Dear ones, God bless you. My precious girl, I only 
 add by law the son I've loved so long. Wish them 
 much joy, good brother Winthrop." 
 
HhSTER HEPWORTH. 
 
 191 
 
 " I'll not ; no, no, I'll not ; the saucy jade gave me 
 her solemn word she would not wed a Yankee." 
 
 " Ah, uncle, you said an ' unsophisticated, super- 
 stitious, boorish Yankee,' and Samuel, is he quite 
 that ? " 
 
 " No, on my soul he is not. Here, judge, give me 
 your hand ; girl, kiss your old uncle. My Jack is 
 coming to America, and here I'll stay." 
 
 " Hester, upon my soul you are a witch — a shy, 
 heart-stealing, man -beguiling witch. I never saw a 
 woman who was not." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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