Walter replied to Mary's letter, and informed her that no measure had been left untried with Sir William Phipps and his advisers; but nothing could be done; the delusion had seized the minds of the most gifted men in the land, and it was vain to hope for relief until the public malady had run its course; and he expressed his fears that her own standing in society, and the general esteem in which she was held, might not prove a sufficient protection against the envy and malice of some, and the credulity and superstition of others. He expressed his admiration of the course she had taken, but in the present violent stage of the delusion he thought it would be best for her to retire from active participation in any remedies which might be applied, as they could not benefit others, and might be attended by the worst consequences to herself.
Stoughton's court was now in full operation. His associates were Gedney, Winthrop and Sewall. This court was confessedly illegal, but the urgency of the occasion was considered a sufficient warrant for its organization. It was, in fact, an exparte tribunal, as all the judges were known to favor the superstition, and the only hope for those who were brought before it was in the jury, who were so perplexed and overawed, as in general to conform their verdicts to the known opinions of the court.
While affairs remained in this state, there was little prospect of relief from courts and judges. No other hope remained than that the delusion would soon show itself in forms so extravagant and revolting as to excite the contempt and rouse the indignation of the public. This conviction soon reached the mind of Miss Graham, and she forbore to remark upon the subject with her accustomed freedom. In fact it was no longer safe to ridicule or condemn; and with all her popularity and the universal esteem in which she had been held, it was evident she was now regarded with distrust and suspicion. Mr. Ellerson, whose views in general agreed with those of Mary, was extremely guarded and cautious, and often suggested to her his fear that she spoke with too little reserve. In fact, she was soon painfully convinced on this point: many of those whom she loved, began to withdraw from her society, and in various methods discovered their coolness and reserve. She was no longer welcomed with the smile of confidence and affection, and her evening walks, in which she was usually attended by several young ladies and gentlemen, were either wholly omitted or kept up in solitude. This change of the public feeling towards Mary was equally sudden and startling. She was unable to perceive the causes, or trace the insidious agents, who were fastening their toils around her. Neither explanation nor satisfaction could be had, and the mysterious reserve still gathered and increased, wherever she went. Some of her friends, particularly the Higginsons, confessed they dared not be seen in her society, while they privately assured her that their friendship was unabated, and begged she would still regard them with confidence and love.
There was a beautiful walk on the ground now occupied by the Salem Common and the buildings on its left, in the direction towards Beverly. This was a favorite resort for Mary, a place where she indulged in many a happy contemplation on the works of nature, and the wonders of Providence: here too, in the sweet interchange of sympathy and affection with her young companions, she found sources of innocent and unalloyed satisfaction, and sometimes when alone, as she penetrated the depths of the forest and sat down on the green border of the rivulet, or under the shade of the magnificent elm, she realized what the poet many years after sung, in numbers that will never cease to move the contemplative and pious mind:
'The calm retreat, the silent shade
With prayer and praise agree;
And seem by thy sweet bounty made,
For those who follow thee.'
Though forsaken in great measure by her friends, Mary continued her visits to this chosen retreat, and there, in pensive recollection of other days, and a humble trust in Providence, she found solace and support for her disturbed and anxious mind. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson, conscious of her innocence, did every thing in their power to soothe her feelings and sustain her sinking courage, but her sensitive mind drooped under the cold neglects of the world, and she even imagined that Walter's letters, though written in all the warmth of affection, began to show symptoms of coldness. Mr. Ellerson thought it his duty to inform Lyford of the state of things, and request his immediate attendance at Salem: this was accordingly done without her knowledge, and on the evening of the twenty-sixth of June, she found herself in the arms of her affectionate and sympathizing brother.
Lyford was soon convinced that some deep laid plan had involved Mary in the suspicion and distrust of the community; but while he trembled at the dangers which surrounded her, his first object was to soothe her feelings, by the kindest offices which affection could suggest, while he constantly revolved in his mind the most probable methods for her deliverance. He wrote immediately to Strale, concealing none of the difficulties and dangers of the case, but requesting he would not now visit Salem, as he feared it might increase the danger, and excite a greater watchfulness against any means that might be devised for her escape.