Читать книгу Ye Lyttle Salem Maide. A Story of Witchcraft онлайн

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The crowd, disturbed by the shrill cries, turned its attention and pressed around the scene of fresh excitement. Faces of hearty women and stout men blanched.

“Even the babes be not spared,” they cried; “see, they be bewitched.”

Goodwife Gibbs broke from the rest, and lifted up her little son who lay in convulsions on the dusty road. “The curse o’ God be on the witch who has done this,” she cried wildly; “let her be revealed that she may be punished.”

The child writhed, then grew quiet; a faint colour came back into his face. His eyelids quivered and unclosed. Deliverance called him by name, bending over him as he lay in his mother’s arms. As she did so he struck her in the face, a world of terror in his eyes, screaming that she was the witch and had stuck pins in him.

“Dear Lord,” cried the little maid, aghast, raising her eyes to heaven, “ye ken I but rapped his pate for sniffling and larfing in class.”

But strange rumours were afloat regarding Deliverance Wentworth. Sir Jonathan’s words were on every gossip’s tongue: “Gossips, take care lest you harbour a witch in yonder girl.”