The supreme test in all cases of witchery was to bring the victim into court, when he would generally fall into convulsions, or scream with agony on beholding the accused.
The Beadle and his assistants would then conduct or carry the sufferer to the prisoner, who was bidden by the judge to put forth his hand and touch the flesh of the afflicted one. Instantly the convulsions and supposed diabolical effects would cease, the malignant fluid passing back, like a magnetic current, into the body of the witch.
Tenderly the Beadle lifted the small convulsed form of Ebenezer Gibbs and laid it at the prisoner’s feet.
“Deliverance Wentworth,” said the chief justice, “you are bidden by the court to touch the body of your victim, that the malignant fluid, with which you have so diabolically afflicted him, may return into your own body. Again I pray God in His justice discover you if you be guilty.”
Despite the severity of her rule, the little assistant teacher of the Dame School had a most tender heart for her tiny scholars. She bent now and lifted this youngest of her pupils into her lap.
“Oh, Ebenezer,” she cried, stricken with remorse, “I no meant to rap your pate so hard as to make ye go daffy.”
Doubtless the familiar voice pierced to the child’s benumbed faculties, for he was seen to stir in her arms.
“Ebenezer,” murmured the little maid, “do ye no love me, that ye will no open your eyes and look at me? Why, I be no witch, Ebenezer. Open your eyes and see. I will give ye a big sugar-plum and ye will.”
The beloved voice touched the estranged child-heart. Perhaps the poor, stricken baby believed himself again at his knitting and primer-lesson at the Dame School. In the awed silence he was seen to raise himself in the prisoner’s arms and smile. With an inarticulate, cooing sound, he stroked her cheek with his little hand. The little maid spoke in playful chiding. Suddenly a weak gurgle of laughter smote the strained hearing of the people.