"Whist, Dame Woodley; speak not your mind so freely," whispered Sarah Drummond, "for there be those in hearing on whose ears your words had best not fall."
All the while, Ann Linkon had been struggling with her executioners; but now, helpless and exhausted, she was bound in the chair. The sheriff, who was a humane man as well as a stern official, remonstrated with her.
"Ann Linkon, do not so exert and heat yourself, or else when you be plunged into the water you will take your death."
"Death! Take my death! That is what you want, wretch!" she screamed in her shrill voice.
"Peace, dame; be still!"
"I will not be silent. She is a hussy. John Stevens, I defy your wife," she added as her eyes lighted on Stevens who was near. "I told no falsehood on her. Go to your friend Hugh Price, and if he will speak the truth, he will say I spoke no falsehood."
Again Stevens was seen talking with the sheriff; but he shook his head with the inexorable:
"The judgment of the court--the judgment of the court."
Stevens turned away with a look of disappointment on his face. The sight of him seemed to increase the anger of Ann Linkon, and she railed and struggled until, exhausted, she panted for breath. The sheriff fanned her with his hat until she had partially cooled; but as soon as she regained her breath, she began again:
"It's a merry sight to you all to watch an old woman. Verily, I wish Satan would rend you limb from limb, all of ye."