“Tromple on her!”
“Stone her!”
“Let her drown!”
There was nobody to speak for me, except such as would not be heard.
Sexton was gone home. He was a fair-minded man, and I think he’d have
stood for me. Most of the people were strangers. Some were neither for
me nor against me.
Felena pushed her husband forrard, telling him to speak for me, but they
shouted—
“Thee’s in danger of damnation thyself, shepherd! How do ye pay yer
rent?”
They came on me like the rising of a winter flood. They sent some to the
church for the ducking-stool. And still the voice of Huglet went roaring
on.
“Suffer not a witch to live!”
I do think I fainted for very terror, for I knew no more, till I felt
the chill water, and came up gasping, feeling the ropes that tied me to
the ducking-stool, and hearing the roaring of Huglet, which seemed like
the blaring of some great demon.