“Back thou, man!” answered Abigail. “Seest thou not she be distract?”
“Verily, an’ thou move not aside, the Lord shall make thee as chaff in my hands, and as beaten stubble,” said Shedlock, threateningly.
“Go to!” cried Abigail. “Thou art as the Levite in the parable, which left the wounded man on the way-side.”
“I will have thee burned for a witch,” cried Shedlock, furiously, and, at the same time, pushing violently against her.
Abigail, throwing all her strength into her hold, caught him by both his arms, and, apparently with but little effort, thrust him bodily back.
“An’ thou be not gone, I will noise thy doings abroad,” she said. “She will be dead anon; and, verily, her ghost shall haunt thee, like thine own shadow, all the days of thy life.”
Shedlock’s pale visage quivered at these words. Though he was an atheist, and believed neither in God nor hereafter, but conceived that the beautiful world, and all its perfect and universal animation, with the thousands of occult worlds above, were the work and offspring of chance, his soul was bound in the grossest superstition. He fairly shuddered at the horrible image with which Abigail had threatened him; and though his rage, in the main, was no way abated, it was not equal to his base fear, and he shrank back appalled.
“Take off the curse, and I will be gone,” he said.
“Begone, then!” exclaimed Abigail; “and repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!”