"You should not have done that; you should have produced them here."
"We can get the book yet; for it was lying only partly burned near the back-log. It would not burn, all we could do to it."
"Of course not. Witches' books never burn," said Squire Hathorne.
"Here are the images," said a constable, producing two little rag-babies, that Dulcibel was making for a neighbor's children.
The crowd looked breathlessly on as "these diabolical instruments of torture" were placed upon the table before the magistrates.
"Dulcibel Burton, stand up and look upon your accusers," said Squire Hathorne.
Dulcibel had sunk upon a bench while the above conversation was going on—she felt overpowered by the curious and malignant eyes turned upon her from all parts of the room. Now she rose and faced the audience, glancing around to see one loved face. At last her eyes met his; he was standing erect, even proudly; his arms crossed over his breast, his face composed and firm, his dark eyes glowing and determined. He dared not utter a word, but he spoke to her from the inmost depths of his soul: "Be firm, be courageous, be resolute!"
This was what Raymond meant to say; and this is what Dulcibel, with her sensitive and impassioned nature, understood him to mean. And from that moment a marked change came over her whole appearance. The shrinking, timid girl of a moment before stood up serene but heroic, fearless and undaunted; prepared to assert the truth, and to defy all the malice of her enemies, if need be, to the martyr's death.
And she had need of all her courage. For, before three minutes had passed—Squire Hathorne pausing to look over the deposition on which the arrest had been made—Mistress Ann Putnam shrieked out, "Turn her head away, she is tormenting us! See, her yellow-bird is whispering to her!" And with that, she and her little daughter Ann, and Abigail Williams and Sarah Churchill and Leah Herrick and several others, flung themselves down on the floor in apparent convulsions.
"Oh, a snake is stinging me!" cried Leah Herrick.