'So then we have run away from a shadow, and the devil was this Walter
Strale! I thought the scoundrel was in Boston, and had given up the
witch. I would as soon be hung myself, as have this thing known.'
'But it must be known,' said Bolton; 'how else can we give account of
the lady's escape? We must see the magistrates, tell them the facts,
and take their advice.'
'There is no other way,' returned Harris; 'it is a dreadful
alternative, but I hardly think they will wish to betray us on their
own account; it would cover them with disgrace as well as us.'
So saying, they proceeded to the house of one of the magistrates,
who called in the sheriff and one of his assistants. After a full
conference, they decided to report that the escape of Miss Lyford was
effected by violence. The injury done to the door would support this
view of the case, and the absence of Strale and Lyford, and the sudden
departure of the Water Witch would furnish a plausible story, and allay
the anger of the populace.
It was now eleven o'clock, and the population of Salem and its
neighborhood, near and remote, were assembled on the hill, to
witness another act in the tragedies of the times. The scaffold was
overshadowed by a tree, whose graceful figure and verdant branches had
long attracted the youth and maidens of the vicinity in their summer
rambles, and under its pleasant shade, many a whisper of affection and
many a secret of innocence and love, had been breathed to willing ears
and confiding hearts.
Near this spot stood the unhappy Trellison; around and before him, and
stretching away to the base of the hill, a silent and solemn multitude
were waiting the arrival of the officers of the law and their hapless
victim. On his right, the beautiful town was reposing in the brightness
and calm of a clear summer day; but to the eye of man, a strange and
startling gloom had fallen upon a scene, which up to this fatal period,
had been radiant in the fairest forms of beauty and loveliness. One
spot only riveted the gaze of Trellison, and as his eye explored the
shaded avenue, along which the sad procession must pass, the ashy
paleness of his victim's countenance, the neglected ringlets that once
with magic power had played upon her neck of spotless white, and the
slender figure whose graceful proportions had charmed every beholder,
completely filled his imagination, and threw over his face the gloom of
despair. The heavy moments rolled on, and at length the hour of twelve
was announced by the under sheriff, while neither officer nor prisoner
appeared. A beam of hope now lighted the eye of Trellison; he knew some
unseen power had suspended or averted the fatal sentence, and with
unutterable emotions, he saw the sheriff at last ascend the platform to
explain the mysterious absence of the prisoner. The multitude gathered
around, while the officer declared, as he said, with grief and shame
inexpressible, that Miss Lyford had been withdrawn by violence; that
Ringbolt and the crew of the Water Witch, in concert with Strale, had
effected by stratagem and force, the escape of the criminal, and thus
the law was defrauded of its demands, and the majesty of Heaven of a
sacrifice, which would have done much to vindicate its insulted honor,
and defeat the machinations of the devil. The people were exhorted to
go home, and if any of them felt encouraged in the practice of these
wicked arts, by the escape of Miss Lyford, they might be assured the
law would not relax its demands, nor the officers of justice their
vigilance, but the land must, at all hazards, be purged of Satan and
his devices. They were also charged to pray that the mischievous
and wicked maiden who had escaped, might be overtaken by the Divine
vengeance, and punished for her sorceries.
At that moment, Trellison mounted the scaffold. His face, which till
now had worn the livid hue of death, was covered by the flush of
emotion. Every eye in that immense assemblage was fixed upon him. As he
flung off his cap and threw back his disordered hair, he seemed moved
by an impulse little less than divine. In a few moments his aspect
became composed, and in a calm and clear voice he gave utterance to the
feelings which moved his inmost soul.
'Heaven, to-day, has interposed,' said this master of the assembly,
'and spared the innocent blood. Why slept thy thunders, oh Jehovah!
when the dire machination entered my heart? when I cursed the innocent
victim and laid snares for her life? Thou didst turn back upon my soul
a tide of guilt and horror, which would have drowned me in destruction
and perdition, and now thou hast checked its rage, and given me space
to proclaim the innocence of that victim, whom thou hast this day
saved from the altar of Moloch. Hear me, magistrates and men, and ye
ministers of an insulted God! hear me, old age, middle life and youth!
I proclaim in your ears that the maiden who has this day escaped
death, was guiltless of the crime for which she was condemned to die!
Deceived by my own heart, mistaking the bitter passion of revenge for
zeal in the service of my Maker, it was this hand that brought down the
threatened ruin upon that child of innocence and love. The fetters that
bound me in delusion and shame are broken for ever. But who shall wash
our guilty hands from the blood we have shed? Who shall reanimate the
cold forms that but yesterday lived and breathed in our midst? Here,
from this fatal hill, shall go down a memorial through all departing
generations, which shall brand us for ever. The winds that sweep over
these valleys and rocks shall testify against us. Yonder tree, riven
by lightning, and blasted to its very roots, shall testify against us.
This mount of offence, on which we now stand, shall testify against us.
For me, I go from this place, to solitude, penitence and prayer. Go you
to the like solemn offices, and bless your Maker, as I do, that this
vial of wrath has been stayed. Hold back your hands from blood; already
it cries for vengeance from the ground. Be grateful, as I am, that we
are not yet pursued by his avenging hand, or smitten by the thunders of
his wrath.'
The speaker descended from the scaffold. As he passed through the
spell-bound and awe-struck multitude, no one molested him. He lingered
for a moment on the edge of the forest, and then waving his hand, as if
he would again impress the solemn truths he had uttered, on the minds
of the audience, he disappeared among the tress. An unbroken silence
reigned for a few moments through all that vast assembly, and the
first words that were spoken, were an expression of thankfulness that
the innocent maiden had escaped; but the solemn impressions of the
day failed to arrest the mighty torrent of superstition that was now
rushing over the land. There were not wanting those who attributed this
change in Trellison to the power of her magic arts. This belief gained
ground, as Trellison was never more seen in public, and his retreat was
undiscovered and unknown. The delusion still prevailed; other scenes of
blood were witnessed; and history, faithful to its trust, has branded
that age and its men of power and influence with an infamy which must
abide upon them for ever.