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

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The latter had now fixed his spy-glass in the direction of the churchyard.

“I see a patch o’ orange tiger-lilies far down the hillside,” he announced, “and near by be a little grave grown o’er with sweetbrier. And there, with her head pillowed on the headstone, be Mistress Deliverance Wentworth, sound in sleep.”

Thus the little maid was found by the tithing-man, and wakened and marched back to church.

As the two neared the entrance the watchman called her softly, “Hey, there, Mistress Deliverance Wentworth, what made ye fall asleep?”

“The Devil set a snare for my feet,” she answered mournfully, not inclined to attach too much blame to herself.

“Satan kens his own,” said the watchman severely, quickly hiding his pipe behind him.

Now, at the moment of the disgraced little maid’s entrance, a great rush of wind swept in and a timber in the rafters was blown down, reaching the floor, however, without injury to any one.

Many there were who later testified to having seen Deliverance raise her eyes just before the timber fell. These believed that she had summoned a demon, who, invisibly entering the meeting-house on the wings of the wind, had sought to destroy it.