This important personage was the missing Abigail Brewster.
When these last arrivals had reached the scaffold, Governor Phipps dismounted, and giving his horse into the care of a soldier ascended the ladder to the platform. His face was pale and his expression ill-favoured, as if he relished not the discomfort he had undergone. The murmurings and whispers had died down. His words were anxiously attended.
“My good people,” he commenced solemnly, “it hath become my duty to declare unto you that I came, not to pardon Deliverance Wentworth, but to declare her innocent of the charge brought against her, for the which she has been condemned to death. Circumstances have been so cunningly interwoven by the Evil One as to put upon this young maid, whom I pronounce wholly free and innocent of blame, the character of a witch. Lord Christopher Mallett, Physician to his Majesty the King, hath matter whereof he would speak to you to warn you of the evils attaching to an o’er hasty judgment.
“But there is yet another word, which I, your Governor, would impress with all solemnity upon you. Assisted by that godly minister, Master Cotton Mather, I have made careful study of the will of the Lord regarding the sin and punishment of witchery. Better, far better, I say unto you, that twenty innocent people should be made to suffer than that one witch should go unhanged when you have catched her. This I say because we are now in a fair way to clear the land of witches. I would have you abate not one jot nor tittle of the zeal you have so far manifested, lest the good work be half done and thereby nothing be accomplished. For but one witch left in the land is able to accomplish untold evil. Therefore, while the Lord hath been gracious to so expediently correct the error of your judgment in sentencing this maid to be hanged, yet I do not condemn your error, but see rather, within the shell of wrong, the sweet kernel of virtuous intent, that you spared not in your obedience to the Lord’s behest, one who, by reason of her tender years, appealed most artfully to your protection.”
Thereat the Governor ceased speaking, and seated himself on a stool which had been carried up on the scaffold for him.
Eagerly the people speculated as to the cause of this unlooked-for pardon. As the Governor ceased speaking, the tavern roisterers sent up shouts and tossed off mugs of sack. One fellow, a merry-andrew of the town, turned handsprings down the road. This uncouth and ill-timed merriment was speedily checked by the authorities.
Meanwhile the Beadle was seen to go up and place a stool on the scaffold. Then he went half-way down the ladder and took a pillow and another stool handed up to him, and arranged these in front of the first seat, after which he descended, for the platform was not strong, and already accommodated three people besides Deliverance: the Governor, the minister, and the hangman.
Now the ladder bent and creaked under a tremendous weight, as Lord Christopher Mallett, panting for breath, pausing for groans at every step, ascended by painful degrees and dropped so heavily upon the stool placed in readiness for him that the frail structure shook dangerously. Assisted by the hangman, he lifted his gouty leg on the pillowed stool. Then he saw Deliverance standing near by, and stretched forth his hands, while a smile lighted with its old-time geniality his worn countenance.
“Come hither, little mistress,” he said, “and let me feast my eyes on you, for I swear no more doughty and brave-hearted lass abides in his Majesty’s kingdom.”
But Deliverance stood still, regarding him with dull eyes. Something in the delicate child-mind had been strained beyond endurance.