Silent Struggles Part 51

A shrewd bystander caught these words as they fell from the white lips of Jason Brown, and he cried out in a voice that rang through the court like a trumpet,

"Behold the confederate of her sorcery! The beautiful witch has brought Lucifer himself to plead her cause: mark the fire in his eyes, the breath from his nostrils; see the bronze on his forehead, the proud curve on his mouth!"

At these words there rose a tumult in the house. Women shrieked, and pressed forward to the doors; men broke into wild murmurs, or whispered together in low voices; while the judges stood up, pale as a group of statues; and the jury huddled together, looking into each other's faces aghast.

In the midst of this turmoil, Barbara Stafford felt a breath on her cheek, and looking suddenly up, met the glance of those eyes, which, a moment before, had frightened the people with their burning pa.s.sion, now full of determined purpose.

He whispered something, but in the tumultuous noise Barbara lost its meaning. The next instant the rush of the crowd carried the n.o.ble youth from her sight, and when the court, recovering from its panic, looked around for this emissary of the dark one, who had denounced its proceedings face to face with the august judges, the strange advocate was gone.

Then, while the crowd was hushed with unconquerable awe, and the very heavens bent over it black with a mustering storm, the verdict of the jury ran in a low whisper from lip to lip, till it reached the savages brooding in the forest, and was mingled with the deep, deep curses of the white man--

"Guilty! guilty!"

Then the storm burst over them, shaking the window-panes, like angry fiends, uphurling great trees in the woods, and plowing up the virgin soil; and in the midst of its fury sentence was p.r.o.nounced.

On the second day from that Barbara Stafford was doomed to suffer death by drowning for the crime of witchcraft.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE WIFE'S APPEAL.

Governor Phipps was a changed man during the progress of Barbara Stafford's trial. His character, usually so sternly calm, seemed all broken up. He was restless--almost irritable--and would start as if wounded if any one mentioned her name, or discussed her cause in his presence.

After giving his evidence he had not once entered the court, but shut himself up on a plea of pressing papers to write, and remained almost entirely alone. He neither wrote nor read, but sat with both elbows on the library table, wondering moodily if he were indeed bewitched and given up to the evil one.

One great cause of his depression arose from the awful responsibility which must fall upon him if this strange lady should be found guilty.

With him, as chief magistrate of the colony, rested the pardoning power.

If she was condemned her life would lie in his hands--her death perhaps rest upon his soul should he refuse the mercy that might be demanded of him. He felt that she would be condemned, and the coming responsibility lay heavy on him.

In this frame of mind the afternoon of the closing trial found him. The storm which had been slowly gathering all day broke fiercely over his dwelling; sleet and hail rattled like a storm of shot against the window-panes; the wind howled and raved among the old trees that sheltered the gables, beating their branches heavily against the roof, and forcing weird sounds, almost of human anguish, from every tree and bough.

Sir William shuddered as these dismal sounds swelled around him. It seemed indeed as if some demon were turning the elements into great bursts of wrath. Had the trial ended? Was the beautiful witch condemned; and were kindred demons tearing through the elements, exhausting their fiendish powers there which had been insufficient to save her?

This thought certainly pa.s.sed through his disturbed mind, but took no lasting hold there. But for the strange influence this woman had exercised over his own feelings, his reason, always clear and logical, would have rejected such wild fantasies. But something weird, and yet enthralling in his own soul, rendered the strong man for once clearly superst.i.tious.

The library door was hastily flung open, and Norman Lovel came in, pale as death, though he had been buffeting the winds, and with terrible excitement in his eyes. He was shivering, and cold sleet and ridges of fine snow hung on his garments and powdered his hair.

Sir William started to his feet, cast one glance on that white young face, and sat down suddenly, stifling a groan.

The young man flung himself into a chair, threw his arms out on the table, and buried his face upon them.

"Speak to me," said Sir William, hoa.r.s.ely. "Is the trial ended?"

The young man lifted his head; every feature of his face was quivering.

His eyes, heavy with anguish, turned upon the governor.

"Day after to-morrow they will murder her."

"Day after to-morrow! Great Heavens! so soon?"

"You will not permit it. Thank G.o.d her life rests with you!" cried Norman, pa.s.sionately. "You have the power. Use it, and save the highest and best creature that the sun ever shone upon."

The governor slowly regained his manhood under this appeal. Remembering that he was chief magistrate of the province, he put aside the sensitive tenderness that had almost swayed him for a time, and asked himself whence that strange feeling had come? Could this woman's influence reach him even from her dungeon? Had the evil spirit within her seized upon Norman Lovel, the being held closest to his heart, that she might thus possess him, and force mercy from his hands?

"Norman," he said, gravely, "by what power are you so wrought upon? What is this woman to you?"

"What is she to me? My soul! my life I--every thing that an angel of light can be to a human being. If she dies, Sir William, I will perish with her."

This wild outburst hardened the governor, who absolutely believed the young man possessed.

"Leave me, boy!" he said, not unkindly; "in this matter I must take council with my G.o.d alone. Would that this hard duty had been spared me!

I am admonished by the weakness here, that the scales of justice tremble in my hands. This must not be. Men who govern must be firm, or mercy is but cowardice."

"Oh, if you could but see her as I have! feel for her as I feel!" cried the young man.

"Were I Norman Lovel, and you governor of this province, it might be so," answered Sir William. "But plead with me no more; this heart is heavy enough without that. If it must withhold the mercy you ask, the pain here will far outweigh any thing that you can feel."

Sir William pressed a hand hard upon his heart as he spoke, and there was an expression of such pain in his voice and on his features that Norman forbore to press him further, but arose, and stood up ready to go.

"Yes, leave me," said Sir William, reaching forth his hand with a sad smile. "I have need to be alone."

Norman kissed the hand which Sir William held out to him, and his eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, think mercifully of her, if you would not break my heart!" he said.

Sir William drew back his hand, turning his face away.

"Leave me, boy! leave me!"

Was the strong man weeping, or were all his tears forced back into that thrilling voice? Never in his life had Norman seen the governor so moved.

From the library Norman went to the little breakfast-parlor, where Lady Phipps sat in dull silence with Elizabeth Parris and Abby Williams.

The lady had evidently been weeping, for there was a flush under her eyes, and her cheerfulness was all gone.

"I have heard the sad news," she said, moving upon the sofa, that he might sit by her. "Poor lady! I cannot choose but pity her."

"I knew that her fate would touch you with compa.s.sion. G.o.d help the sweet lady, for men and women both seem hardened against her."

Elizabeth Parris, who sat in a great easy-chair, with her tear-stained cheek gleaming white against the crimson cushions, began to cry piteously, and sobbed out,

"Ah, me! If she could but go over seas and live her years out there! If they drown her I shall never know rest again."

Norman went up to the young girl, and kissed her forehead.