Edward Cole was greatly troubled. If Hanna Neall could do this much, she could do worse things. He was almost "beside himself" with fear and worry when he remembered the horseshoe nailed over his threshold. It was there to keep off witches. If he could induce Hanna Neall to cross over the horseshoe he could find out once and for all if she was a woman or a witch. And so it came about that Edward Cole at "a certyne time sent for Mrs. Neall to come to see his wife." Witches are usually thought of as being old hags, but from portions of these statements it seems that Hanna was not an ordinary witch. She was at least a fairly young woman, and quite possibly an attractive one. Records of early land patents show that she and her father were landowners, which gave her certain social distinctions, and only a small number of persons of the best condition had the designation of Mr. and Mrs. prefixed to their names in the seventeenth century. The Northumberland records prove that she was fearless, for she answered Edward Cole's invitation by coming at once. Did she live near enough to walk? Since individual landholdings were large then we do not think that she lived close enough to walk. Did she come riding on a pillion? Or did she come across the water in a barge rowed by her servants? These are questions for speculation. We can assume that she was dressed in the usual outdoor costume of women of that time and place. In April the air is still sharp in the Northern Neck of Virginia so she probably wore a linsey-woolsey gown of blue with undersleeves of white kenting, a dark mantle of wool, a hood with a bright lining turned back around her face, and a white muslin apron. Perhaps she carried a basket with some delicacy for the sick woman--a pair of quail shot by her husband and roasted by herself on the spit in her fireplace. What feelings of dread must Edward Cole have had as he watched the approach of Hanna Neall! We can see him slowly opening the door and standing far aside for her to enter. We can picture Hanna, looking into the dark room where the candle in the tin lanthorn threw shadows across the strained faces, and a pomander ball gave off the sickening odors that were supposed to ward off infection. And there in the dimness of the bed with its heavy hangings lay the sick woman. Was Hanna frightened when she looked into the face of her accuser? Was she angry? Or did she pity him? In any case, when she trod on the threshold, brushed the horseshoe with her skirts, and entered the room--nothing happened. Hanna crossed to the sick woman, knelt beside the bed and "shee prayed so heartily for her" that Edward Cole believed in her sincerity. It was in this way that Hanna Neall was saved from being banished from the county, or from lashes at the whipping post, or from the ducking "stoole" at Northumberland County court-house, down in Hull's Neck. Saved by a horseshoe and a prayer!