He testified to having seen the prisoner raise her eyes, as she entered the church in disgrace ahead of the tithing-man, and instantly an invisible demon, obeying her summons, tore down that part of the roof whereon her glance rested. This evidence, further testified to by other witnesses, was in itself sufficient to condemn her. The little maid heard the minister sadly. In the past he had been kind to her, and was her father’s friend, and his young daughter had attended the Dame School with her. Later, this very minister was driven from the town by his indignant parishioners, who blamed him not that he had shared in the general delusion, but that many of his persecutions had been actuated by personal malice. And by a formal and public act, the repentant people cancelled their excommunication of one blameless woman who had been his especial victim. “Deliverance Wentworth,” said the chief justice, “the supreme test of witchery will now be put to you. Pray God discover you if you be guilty. Let Ebenezer Gibbs appear.” “Ebenezer Gibbs,” cried the Beadle, loudly. At this there was a great stir and confusion in the rear of the meeting-house. Deliverance saw the stern faces turn from her, and necks craned to see the next witness. There entered the young man whom she had noticed, mounted on a white horse, at the outskirts of the crowd. A buzz of admiration greeted him, as he advanced slowly up the aisle, with a pomposity unusual in so young a man. His expression was austere. His right hand was spread upon a Bible, which he held against his breast. His hand, large, of a dimpled plumpness, with tapering fingers, was oddly at variance with his handsome face, which was thin, and marked by lines of hard study; a fiery zeal smouldered beneath the self-contained expression, ready to flame forth at a word. He ascended the platform reserved for the judges, and seated himself. Then he laid the Bible on his knees, and folded his arms across his breast. A pitiful wailing arose in the back of the house, and the sound of a woman’s voice hushing some one. A man’s voice in the audience cried out, “Let the witch be hanged. She be tormenting her victim.” “I be no witch,” cried Deliverance, shrilly. “Dear Lord, give them a sign I be no witch.” The Beadle pounded his staff for silence. “Let Ebenezer Gibbs come into court.” Chapter VIII The Last Witness In answer to these summons, a child came slowly up the aisle, clinging to his mother’s skirts. His thin little legs tottered under him; his face was peaked and wan, and he hid it in his mother’s dress. When the Beadle sought to lift him, he wept bitterly, and had to be taken by force, and placed upon the platform where the accused was seated. The poor baby gasped for breath. His face grew rigid, his lips purple. His tiny hands, which were like bird’s claws, so thin and emaciated were they, clinched, and he fell in convulsions.