Charles' face was white as death; but his mind was clear and showed not the least agitation.
"There can be but one result," the prisoner said. "An acquittal is impossible. Be good to Cora and mother, and keep them both away on that day. It would be too much for them. They would not forget it to their dying hour."
Mr. Waters assured him that his last requests should be granted, and spoke a few words of consolation and hope. So many good people of late had perished on the gibbet, that hanging was no longer ignominious. The best and purest had died thus.
The jury had been out but a few moments, when a great hub-bub arose without, and voices could be heard crying:
"Wait! wait! stay your verdict!"
A crowd of men rushed into the court room with a tall young man, whose weather-beaten face indicated a seafaring life, at the head of them. His cruel gray eyes, bold manner, as well as the pistols and cutlass at his belt, gave him the appearance of a pirate.
"I am not dead, I trow! Who said I was dead?" he asked.
"Samuel Williams! Alive!" cried a score of voices.
"Who said I was murdered?"
Sarah Williams rose with a shriek and stared at her husband, as if he had been an apparition, while all the witnesses, including the Rev. Mr. Parris, were covered with confusion. The jury was recalled and Samuel Williams himself took the stand. He stated: