Weeping, the good dame related the episode of finding the prisoner’s bed empty one morning, and the yellow bird on the window-ledge. Groans and hisses greeted her testimony. There was no reason to doubt her word. It was plainly observed that she was suffering, and that she walked over her own heart in telling the truth. It was not simply terror and superstition that actuated Goodwife Higgins, but rather the stern determination bred in the very bone and blood of all Puritans to meet Satan face to face and drive him from the land, even though those dearest and best beloved were sacrificed.
The next witness was the prisoner’s father. The heart-broken man had nothing to say which would lead to her conviction. Save the childish naughtiness with which all parents were obliged to contend, the prisoner had been his dear and dutiful daughter, and God would force them to judge her righteously.
“She has bewitched him. She has not even spared her father. See how blind he is to her sinfulness,” the whisper passed from mouth to mouth. And hearts hardened still more toward the prisoner.
Master Wentworth was then dismissed. While on the stand he had not glanced at his daughter. Doubtless the sight of her wan little face would have been more than he could have endured.
Sir Jonathan Jamieson was then called upon to give his testimony. As his name was cried by the constable, Deliverance showed the first signs of animation since she had been taken from the jail. Surely, she thought, he who understood better than she the meaning of her words to him, would explain them and save her from hanging. Her eyes brightened, and she watched him intently as he advanced up the aisle. A general stir and greater attention on the part of the people was apparent at his appearance. A chair was placed for him in the witness-box, for he was allowed to sit, being of the gentry. As usual he was clothed in sombre velvet. He seated himself, took off his hat and laid it on the floor beside his chair. Deliverance then saw that the hair on his head was quite as red as his beard, and that he wore it cropped short, uncovered by a wig. Deliberately, while the judges and people waited, he drew off his leathern gauntlets that he might lay his bare hand upon the Bible when he took the oath.
Deliverance for once forgot her fear of him. She leant forward eagerly. So near was he that she could almost have touched him with her hand.
“Oh, sir,” she cried, using strong old Puritan language, “tell the truth and mortify Satan and his members, for he has gotten me in sore straits.”
“Hush,” said one of the judges, sternly, “let the prisoner keep silent.”
“Methinks that I be the only one not allowed to speak,” said Deliverance to herself, “which be not right, seeing I be most concerned.” And she shook her head, very greatly perplexed and troubled.