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

4 страница из 52

The Cavalier’s face grew grim. “Ay,” he muttered, “the Lord will yet make these people repent the innocent blood they shed. Hark ye, little mistress, I have travelled in far countries, where they have the Black Plague and terrible diseases ye wot not of. Yet this plague of witchery is worse than all,—ay, even than the smallpox.” He shrugged his shoulders and looking down at the ground, frowned and shook his head. But as he glanced up at the maid’s troubled countenance, his gloom was dispelled by a sunny smile. He reached out and took her hand, and patted it between his big warm palms.

“Dear child,” he said, “be not afeared of witches, but bethink yourself to keep so fair and shining a conscience that Satan and his hags who work by the powers of darkness cannot approach you. We have a play-actor in England, a Merry Andrew of the town, a slender fellow withal, yet possessed of a pretty wit, for wit, my little maid, is no respecter of persons, and springs here and there, like as one rose grows in the Queen’s garden and another twines ’round the doorway of the poor. Well, this fellow has written that, ‘far as a little candle throws its beams, so shines a good deed in a naughty world.’ Many a time have I catched myself smiling at the jingle, for it minds me of how all good children are just so many little candles shining out into the black night of this evil world. When you are older grown you will perceive that I spake true words. Still, regarding witches, I would not have you o’er bold nor frequent churchyards by night, for there, I, myself, have seen with these very eyes, ghosts and wraiths pale as blue vapour standing by the graves. And at cockcrow they have flown away.” He released her hand. “Come now,” he said lightly, “you have not told me why you were made to stand on a block of wood all day.”