HATHORNE
You see this woman cannot stand before you.
If you would look for mercy, you must look
In God's way, by confession of your guilt.
Why does your spectre haunt and hurt this person?
MARTHA
I do not know. He who appeared of old
In Samuel's shape, a saint and glorified,
May come in whatsoever shape he chooses.
I cannot help it. I am sick at heart!
COREY
O Martha, Martha! let me hold your hand.
HATHORNE
No; stand aside, old man.
MARY (starting up)
Look there! Look there!
I see a little bird, a yellow bird,
Perched on her finger; and it pecks at me.
Ah, it will tear mine eyes out!
MARTHA
I see nothing.
HATHORNE
'Tis the Familiar Spirit that attends her.
MARY
Now it has flown away. It sits up there
Upon the rafters. It is gone; is vanished.
MARTHA
Giles, wipe these tears of anger from mine eyes.
Wipe the sweat from my forehead. I am faint.
She leans against the railing.
MARY
Oh, she is crushing me with all her weight!