So high a pitch had the excitement reached, so wrought to a frenzied condition were the villagers, that the authorities had been obliged to take extreme measures, and had forbidden every one except the minister and officers of the law to visit the prisoner.
Thus the little maid had not seen one familiar, loving face during the two weeks previous to her trial.
Aside from her deep trouble and anxiety for fear her father were ill, she grew desperately weary of the long monotonous days. Sometimes she amused herself by writing the alphabet or some Bible verse on the hard earth floor with the point of the pewter spoon that was given her with her porridge. Again she quite forgot her unhappiness, plaiting mats of straw.
Short as her confinement had been, she had lost her pretty colour, and her hands had acquired an unfamiliar whiteness. She had never been released from the iron chain, it being deemed that ordinary fastenings would not hold a witch.
A woman, accused like herself, was placed in the same cell. She was brought from Ipswich, owing to the over-crowded condition of the jail in that village. For two days and nights, Deliverance had wept in terror and abhorrence of her companion. Yet some small comfort had lain in the fact that the woman was fastened by such a short chain in the further corner that she could not approach the little maid. Several times she had essayed to talk to Deliverance, but in vain. The little maid would put her hands over her ears at the first word.
One night, Deliverance had awakened, not with a start as from some terrible dream, but as naturally as if the sunlight, shining on her own little bed at home, had caused her to open her eyes. So quiet was this awakening that she did not think of her surroundings, but lay looking at the corner of the window visible to her. She saw the moon like pure, bright gold behind the apple-leaves. After awhile she became conscious of some one near by praying softly. Then she thought that whoever it was must have been praying a long time, and that she had not observed it; just as one often pays no attention to the murmur of a brook running, hidden in the woods, until, little by little, the sound forces itself upon his ear, and then he hears nothing but the singing of the water. So now she raised herself on her elbow and listened.
In the darkness the cell seemed filled with holy words; then she knew it was the witch praying, and in her prayers she remembered Deliverance. Thereat the little maid’s heart was touched.
“Why do ye pray for me?” she asked.
“Because you are persecuted and sorely afflicted,” came the answer.
“I ken your voice,” said Deliverance; “ye be the witch-woman condemned to die to-morrow. I heard the jailer say so.”