MARTHA.
I see nothing.
HATHORNE. 'T is the Familiar Spirit that attends her.
MARY. Now it has flown away. It sits up there Upon the rafters. It is gone; is vanished.
MARTHA. Giles, wipe these tears of anger from mine eyes. Wipe the sweat from my forehead. I am faint.
She leans against the railing.
MARY. Oh, she is crushing me with all her weight!
HATHORNE. Did you not carry once the Devil's Book To this young woman?
MARTHA.
Never.
HATHORNE.
Have you signed it,
Or touched it?
MARTHA.
No; I never saw it.