_Three weeks later. Lane near Salem overhung by blossoming
apple-trees. Enter_ Hathorne, Corwin, _and_ Parris.
_Corwin._ 'Tis better here, a little removed from the field where
they are putting Giles Corey to death. I could bear the sight of it
no longer.
_Hathorne._ You are fainthearted, good Master Corwin.
_Corwin._ Fainthearted or not, 'tis too much for me. I was brought
not up in the shambles, nor bred butcher by trade.
_Parris._ Your worship, you should strive in prayer, lest you
falter not in the strife against Satan.
_Corwin._ I know not that I have faltered in any strife against
Satan.
_Parris._ Perchance 'tis but your worship's delicate frame of body
causeth you to shrink from this stern duty.
_Hathorne._ This torment of Giles Corey's can last but a little
space now. He hath still his chance to speak and avert his death,
and he will do it erelong. They have increased the weights mightily.
Fear not, good Master Corwin, Giles Corey will not die; erelong his
old tongue will wag like a millwheel.
_Corwin._ I doubt much, good Master Hathorne, if Giles Corey speak.
And if he does not speak, and so be put to death, as is decreed, I
doubt much if the temper of the people will stand more. There are
those who have sympathy with Giles Corey. I heard many murmurs in
the streets of Salem this morning.
_Hathorne._ Let them murmur.
_Parris._ Ay, let them murmur, so long as we wield the sword of the
Lord and of Gideon.
_Enter first_ Messenger.
_Hathorne._ Here comes a man from the field. How goes it now with
Giles Corey?
_Messenger._ Your worship, Giles Corey has not spoken.
_Parris._ And he hath been under the weights since early light.
Truly such obstinacy is marvellous. [_Exit_ Messenger.
_Hathorne._ Satan gives a strength beyond human measure to his
disciples.
_Enter_ Olive _and_ Paul Bayley, _appearing in the distance._ Olive
_wears a white gown and white bonnet._
_Hathorne._ Who is that maid coming in a bride bonnet?
_Corwin._ 'Tis Corey's daughter. I marvel that Paul lets her come
hither. 'Tis no place for her, so near. Master Hathorne, let us
withdraw a little way. I would not see her distress. I am somewhat
shaken in nerve this morning.
[Corwin, Hathorne, _and_ Parris _exeunt at other end of lane._
_Olive_ (_as she and_ Paul _advance_). Who were those men, Paul?
_Paul._ The magistrates and Minister Parris, sweet.
_Olive._ Are they gone?
_Paul._ Yes, they are quite out of sight. Oh, why wouldst thou come
here, dear heart?
_Olive._ Thou thinkest to cheat me, Paul; but thou canst not cheat
me. Three fields away to the right have they dragged my father this
morning. I knew it, I knew it, although you strove so hard to keep
it from me. I'll be as near my father's death-bed on my wedding-day
as I can.
_Paul._ I pray thee, sweetheart, come away with me. This will do no
good.
_Olive._ Loyalty doth good to the heart that holds it, if to no
other. Think you I'll forsake my father because 'tis my wedding-day,
Paul? Oh, I trow not, I trow not, or I'd make thee no true wife.
_Paul._ It but puts thee to needless torment.
_Olive._ Torment! torment! Think of what he this moment bears! Oh,
my father, my father! Paul Bayley, why have I wedded you this
dreadful day!
_Paul._ Hush! Thy father wished it, sweetheart.
_Olive._ I swear to you I'll never love any other than my father. I
love you not.
_Paul._ Thou needst not, poor lass!
_Olive_ (_clinging to him_). Nay, I love thee, but I hate myself for
it on this day.
_Paul_ (_caressing her_). Poor lass! Poor lass!
_Olive._ Why wear I this bridal gear, and my father over yonder on
his dreadful death-bed? Why could you not have gone your own way and
let me gone mine all the rest of my life in black apparel,
a-mourning for my father? That would have beseemed me. This needed
not have been so; it needed never have been so.
_Paul._ Never? I tell thee, sweet, as well say to these apple
blossoms that they need never be apples, and to that rose-bush
against the wall that its buds need not be roses. In faith, we be
far set in that course of nature, dear, with the apple blossoms and
the rose-buds, where the beginning cannot be without the end. Our
own motion be lost, and we be swept along with a current that is
mightier than death, whether we would have it so or not.
_Olive._ I know not. I only know I would be faithful to my poor
father. But 'twas his last wish that I should wed thee thus.
_Paul._ Yes, dear.
_Olive._ He said so that morning before his trial. Oh, Paul, I can
see it now, the trial! I have been to the trial every day since.
Shall I go every day of my life? Perchance thou may often come home
and find thy wife gone to the trial, and no supper. I will go on my
wedding-day; my father shall have no slights put upon him. I can see
him stand there, mute. They cry out upon him and mock him and lay
false charges upon him, and he stands mute. The judge declares the
dreadful penalty, and he stands mute. Oh, my father, my poor father!
I tell ye my father will not mind anything. The Governor and the
justices may command him as they will, the afflicted may clamor and
gibe as they will, and I may pray to him, but he will not mind, he
will stand mute. I tell ye there be not power enough in the colony
to make him speak. Ye know not my father. He will have the best of
it.
_Paul._ Thou speakest like his daughter now. Keep thyself up to
this, sweet. The daughter of a hero should have some brave stuff in
her. Thy father does a greater deed than thou knowest. His dumbness
will save the colonies from more than thou dreamest of. 'Twill put
an end to this dreadful madness; he himself hath foretold it. [_A
clamor is heard._
_Olive._ Paul, Paul, what is that?
_Paul._ Naught but some boys shouting, sweet.
_Olive._ 'Twas not. Oh, my father, my father!
_Paul._ Olive, thou must not stay here.
_Olive._ I must stay. Who is coming? [Paul _and_ Olive _step
aside._
_Enter second_ Messenger. Hathorne, Corwin, _and_ Parris _advance to
meet him._
_Hathorne._ How goes it now with Giles Corey?
_Messenger._ Your worship, Giles Corey hath not spoken.
_Hathorne._ What! Have they not increased the weights?
_Messenger._ They have doubled the weights, your worship.
_Parris._ I trow Satan himself hath put his shoulder under the
stones to take off the strain. [_Exit_ Messenger.
_Hathorne._ 'Tis a marvel the old tavern-brawler endures so long,
but he'll soon speak now.
_Corwin._ Hush, good master, his daughter can hear.
_Hathorne._ Let her then withdraw if it please her not. I'll
warrant he cannot bear much more; he will soon speak.
_Parris._ Yea, he cannot withstand the double weight unless his
master help him.
[Corwin _speaks aside to_ Paul _and motions him to take_ Olive
_away._ Paul _takes her by the arm. She shakes her head and will
not go._
_Hathorne._ I trow 'twill take other than an unlettered clown like
Giles Corey to stand firm under this stress. He'll speak soon.
_Parris._ Yea, that he will. He can never hold out. He hath not the
mind for it.
_Hathorne._ It takes a man of finer wit than he to undergo it. He
will speak. Oh yes, fear ye not, he will speak.
_Olive_ (_breaking away from_ Paul). My father will _not_ speak!
_Hathorne._ Girl!
_Olive._ My father will _not_ speak. I tell ye there be not stones
enough in the provinces to make him speak. Ye know not my father. My
father will have the best of ye all.
_Enter third_ Messenger, _running._
_Hathorne._ How goes it now with Giles Corey?
_Messenger._ Giles Corey is dead, and he has not spoken.
Olive _clings to_ Paul _as curtain falls._
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Giles Corey, Yeoman, by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman