She stretched herself out on the straw and pillowed her head on her arm.
“Good-night, dear child,” said the woman. “I will pray that God keep us in the hollow of His hand.”
Deliverance, drifting into profound slumber, scarce heard her words. She awoke late. The morning sunshine filled her cell. She was alone. In the corner of the cell, where the woman had lain, were the irons which had fastened her and her straw pallet. Deliverance never saw her again.
Chapter VII
The Trial of Deliverance
At last one fair June day brought her trial.
Her irons were removed, and she was conducted by the constable with a guard of four soldiers to the meeting-house. In the crowd that parted at the great door to make way for them were many familiar faces, but all were stern and sad. In all eyes she read her accusation. The grim silence of this general condemnation made it terrible; the whispered comments and the looks cast upon her expressed stern pity mingled with abhorrence.
On the outskirts of the throng she observed a young man of ascetic face and austere bearing, clothed in black velvet, with neck-bands and tabs of fine linen. He wore a flowing white periwig, and was mounted on a magnificent white horse. In one hand he held the reins, in the other, a Bible.
Upon entering the meeting-house, Deliverance was conducted by the Beadle to a platform and seated upon a stool, above the level of the audience and in plain sight.