The Witch of Salem; or, Credulity Run Mad Read online

  CHAPTER XI.

  ADELPHA LEISLER.

  Oh, my luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; Oh, my luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. --Burns.

  There are moments in every life when the soul hovers on some dark brink.It may be the brink of atheism, of despair, of crime, or superstition.Outside influences go far toward impelling life's voyager on his course.If the current takes a sudden turn, it bears him in a differentdirection from which he had intended. The human mind is inexplicable. Itis not a machine that can be taken apart and analyzed. It is notmaterial that can be grasped and comprehended. It is that mysteriousknowing, feeling and willing, independent of circumstances; thatimmortal, indestructible portion of man called soul. It is governed byno known laws, and at times seems to assume all the caprices of chance.

  Charles Stevens was a youth of good strong, common sense; yet he couldbut feel strangely impressed by the words and the awful look of Mr.Parris. The man was surely more than mortal. His voice, hollow andsepulchral, seemed to issue from the tomb. His thin, cadaverous face wassufficient in itself to inspire wonder. Those great, blazing eyes hadwithin them all the fires of lunacy, fanaticism and cunning. Mr. Parriswas nothing more than an unscrupulous bigot. He was ambitious, as isproven by his machinations in getting himself declared the pastor ofSalem. He was greedy, as is shown by his taking the parsonage and landsas well as demanding an increase in his stipend. He was revengeful, asis shown by the way in which he persecuted those who opposed him. He wasunscrupulous in his methods, as is proven in the means he employed. Hewas filled with prejudice, as is shown in his assailing Cora Waters,because her father was an actor; yet Mr. Parris believed himself arighteous and holy man, walking in the path of the just.

  Charles Stevens failed to tell his mother of the strange interview withthe pastor, somehow he could not. He unaccountably shuddered when hethought of it, and, despite the fact that he had little superstition inhis composition, he felt at times a strange instinctive dread at theawful warning of the pastor.

  Since the evening on which the name of Adelpha Leisler had beenmentioned, Cora Waters had been strangely shy and reticent, so thatCharles Stevens could not tell her of the interview with Mr. Parris,even if he would. Cora was a remarkable girl. She united in the highestperfection the rarest of earthly gifts--genius and beauty. No onepossesses superior intellectual qualities without knowing it. Thealliteration of modesty and merit is pretty enough; but where merit isgreat, the veil of that modesty never disguises its extent from itspossessor. It is the proud consciousness of rare qualities, not to berevealed to the every-day world, that gives to genius that shy, reservedand troubled air, which puzzles and flatters you, when you encounter it.Cora realized her beauty and genius; but, with that charmingversatility, that of right belongs to woman, she had the faculty ofbending and modelling her graceful intellect to all whom she met.

  Her rare genius, however, could not brook the cold reproofs of thebigoted Parris. The flower which might have ornamented his chapel andfilled the little church with sweetest perfume was withered by thechilling frosts of bigotry and prejudice. A player could yield noperfume for Christ, and the sweet, musical voice was stilled, and theheart so full of love, emotion and religion was chilled and driven intoexile; but she lived and hoped in her own little world. The sunlight oflove was on her heart, until the name of Adelpha Leisler shut out thatsunlight and left all in darkness and despair.

  Though Cora was excommunicated for being the child of a player, shenever let go her hold on Christ. Her father, strolling actor as he was,had taught her to look to God for everything, and in her hour of trial,she knelt in the seclusion of her own room and prayed that this cupmight pass from her lips, if it be the Lord's will; but if not, sheasked God to give her strength to bear her suffering and trials. Shefreely forgave Mr. Parris, for she believed his persecution of herselfand others was through mistaken zeal.

  With Charles Stevens, she was more shy than she used to be. She keptaloof from him for two or three days, until her conduct becamenoticeable, and Charles one day sought her in the garden for anexplanation.

  "Have I offended you, Cora?" he asked.

  She turned her frightened eyes to his for a moment and answered:

  "No."

  "Then why do you avoid me? I have scarcely seen you for three days."

  She was overwhelmed with hope and confusion for some moments; then, witha faltering voice, she asked:

  "Did you wish to see me?"

  "I did, Cora. I would not give offence to you for the world, and Ifeared I had in some way wounded your feelings."

  "Charles, was not Mr. Parris here the other morning?"

  "Yes."

  "You went away with him; I saw you through my window."

  "I did."

  "Why did he come?"

  "Don't ask me about that man. He is one whom I would to God I had neverknown."

  "Don't speak so of him, Charles."

  "Cora, he is a bad man."

  "He is the pastor."

  "For all that, he is cruel and bloodthirsty. I know it. I feel it."

  Cora shuddered and made a feeble effort to defend the pastor who hadpersecuted her; but Charles, who had the retaliating spirit of humanityin his soul, declared he was a pious fraud and a disgrace to his cloth.

  On their return to the house, Mrs. Stevens met them at the door with aglad smile on her face, and cried:

  "She has come, Charles."

  "Who?" he asked.

  "Adelpha Leisler."

  Mrs. Stevens saw an immediate change in the face of Cora. The featureswhich had begun to glow with happiness suddenly grew sad and clouded,and the eyes drooped. Charles did not perceive that sudden change soapparent to his mother, for, at the announcement of the arrival of onewhom he had known in his happy childhood days, his heart bounded withjoy.

  "Where is she, mother?"

  "With Goody Nurse."

  He hastily took leave of Cora, who, with an oppressive weight on herheart, which seemed to almost suffocate her, went to the little room inwhich she had known so much joy and misery. All was dark now. Her heartvibrated painfully in her breast. Hope and joy seemed forever banished.He was gone. She could hear his footsteps moving away from the house,and, throwing herself on the couch, she gave way to a fit of weeping.Never did Cora Waters so feel her utter insignificance and loneliness.She was a child of an indented slave, utterly dependent on the one whomshe had had the audacity to love.

  When she realized how unworthy she was, the unfortunate girl sobbed,half aloud:

  "Oh, God, why didst thou create me with desires and ambitions above mysphere? Why didst thou cast me into this place, where I would meet him,only to suffer? Father, father, come and take me hence!"

  Meanwhile, Charles Stevens, unconscious of her suffering, was hurryingas rapidly as he could to the home of Goody Nurse, where he was to meetAdelpha Leisler. He reached the house and was greeted by a tall,beautiful young woman, with great, black eyes and hair.

  The greeting she gave him was warm, almost ardent, for, although Adelphawas an accomplished young lady, she had all of the genial warmth ofyouth. They were soon talking pleasantly of those happy days of longago.

  Glorious past, gone like a golden dream to return no more! The verymemory of such pleasure produces pain, because it is forever gone. Greatchanges had come since last they met. His father was living then, ahandsome, strong man, noted for his kindness of heart. Many friends, whonow existed only in pleasant remembrance, then lived, breathed and movedupon the earth. Then he loved Adelpha, and she loved him, and he halfhoped that this meeting in mature life would reproduce the pleasantsensations of childhood; but there is a love which is not the love ofthe thoughtless and the young--a love which sees not with the eyes andhears not with the ears, but in which soul is enamoured
of soul. Thecave-nursed Plato dreamed of such a love. His followers sought toimitate it; but it is a love that is not for the multitude to echo. Itis a love which only high and noble natures can conceive, and it hasnothing in common with the sympathies and ties of coarse affections.Wrinkles do not revolt it. Homeliness of features do not deter it. Itdemands youth only in the freshness of emotions. It requires only thebeauty of thought and spirit.

  Such a love steals on when one least suspects and takes possession ofthe soul. Such a love cannot be uprooted by admiration or fancy. CharlesStevens found Adelpha grown so beautiful, so witty and accomplished,that he was awed in her presence at first; but her freedom of mannerremoved all restraint, and in an hour they seemed transported back tochildhood's happy hours.

  Next day they wandered as they had done in earlier years by purlingstreams and mossy banks, under cool shadows of friendly trees. Every oldplayground and hallowed spot was visited once more, and they lived overthose joyous scenes of childhood.

  "I sometimes wish that childhood would last forever," said Charles.

  "Childhood brings its joys, but its sorrows as well," Adelpha answered,as she sat on the mossy bank at his side, her bright eyes on his face."One would grow weary of never advancing. Don't you remember how, inyour boyhood, you looked forward with pleasure to the time when youwould be a man?"

  "I do."

  "And how you planned for a glorious future?"

  "I remember it all."

  "To doom you to perpetual childhood, to constantly have those hopes ofbeing a man blasted would eventually bring you to endless misery. No,Charles, childhood, to be happy and joyous, must be brief. The youthwith ambition longs to enter man's estate. He sees life only in itsrosiest hues, and his hopes and anticipations form half his happiness."

  "Your words, Adelpha, teach me how foolish and idle was my remark. Letus change the subject to something more practical. Will your father, asgovernor of New York, be disturbed?"

  Her face grew sad.

  "I have great fears."

  "For what?"

  "Father and Jacob Milborne may be declared usurpers."

  "But it was on the accession of William and Mary to the throne ofEngland that your father became governor."

  "True. It was not until Andros had been seized in Boston, imprisoned andsent to England, that my father suggested the seizure of Fort James. Hewas made commander and afterward governor, and so holds his office tothis day. I don't know how William and Mary, our dread sovereigns, willbe affected by this seizure of the government of New York."

  "It was in their interest."

  "It was so intended; but we have all learned not to put our trust inprinces. It is quite dangerous to do so, and I sometimes fear thattrouble will come of it."

  "Surely, Adelpha, one of your happy turn of mind would not borrowtrouble. It will come quite soon enough without, and a philosopher wouldwait until it comes rather than seek it."

  "You are right, Charles; let us be young again, romp in the wood, chasebutterflies and forget the dark clouds that may be hovering over us."She started to her feet and asked: "Charles, who is that lovely, butshy young girl, whom I see hurrying along the path?"

  He looked in the direction indicated by Adelpha's jewelled finger, andsaid:

  "She is Cora Waters."

  "And who is Cora Waters?"

  "A very sweet and amiable girl tarrying here for the present. Her fatherwas a player, and he became involved in the rebellion in England."

  Charles did not care to tell all, for Cora was a disagreeable subject todiscuss with Adelpha; but the companion of his childhood was not to beso easily put off.

  "Charles, she is very pretty. Why have you not told me of her before?"

  "I did not suppose you would be interested in her," the young mananswered.

  "Not interested in her, with all the romance attached to her. A childreared in old England, of which I have heard so much, the daughter of aplayer, perchance an actress herself. Oh, Charles, I am very anxious tosee her and talk with her."

  "Adelpha, do you forget that she is a player?"

  "Oh, no; we descendants of the Netherlands look on such things in a fardifferent light from the fanatical Puritans of New England. I must knowthis Cora Waters."

  "You shall."

  As Charles strolled away from the spring with Adelpha, the face of SarahWilliams appeared from behind some bushes. Her jet black eyes flashedwith fire, and her teeth gnashed until they threatened to crack betweenher angry jaws.

  "He hath another! Which of the two doth he love most? I will know, andthen--woe betide her!"

  Sarah Williams was cunning and utterly unscrupulous. As she glared afterCharles and Adelpha, her fertile brain was forming a desperate, wickedscheme. She watched them until they disappeared over the hill, and then,turning about, walked hurriedly to the parsonage.

  Adelpha, who was a merry, light-hearted girl, in love with all theworld, insisted on forming the acquaintance of Cora, until Charles, togratify her, granted her request, and the maids met. Cora was distantand conventional, while Adelpha was warm-hearted and genial. They cameto like each other, despite the fact that each looked on the other as arival.

  Cora had given up Charles Stevens, realizing that she was inferior andunworthy in every sense, and certainly not capable of competing with thedaughter of the governor of New York. On the other hand, Adelpha saw adangerous rival in this mysterious maid with eyes of blue and hair ofgold; but Adelpha was honest and true, as were the old Knickerbockerswho followed her. She realized the maid's power and, in her frank andopen manner, loved her rival. Despite the fact that they were rivals,the girls became friends, and as Adelpha had learned more of Cora'strials, she gave her the full sympathy of her warm, loving heart.

  Sarah Williams, who watched them with no little interest, asked herself:

  "I know he loves both. Can a man wed two? No; he must choose between thetwo, so I will stand between."

  Charles, on account of his superior education, was regarded as anextraordinary personage. He was gloomy and sad of late, for SarahWilliams, with her keen woman's instinct, had probed his secret. He wastroubled to know which maid he loved most.

  Cora, with her melancholy beauty, appealed to his strong emotions; butAdelpha, with her fine figure, her great, dark, lustrous eyes andcharming manner, seemed equally attractive. If Cora were the stream thatran deepest, Adelpha was the one that sparkled brightest. At one momenthe was ready to avow his love for one, and the next moment he waswilling to swear eternal fealty to the other.

  Late one afternoon, he wandered with Cora at his side across the flowerymeadow to a point of land presenting a grand and picturesque view ofgreen fields, blue hills and the distant sea. They had come to watch thesunset, and Charles wished to be alone with Cora, that he might soundthe depths of his heart and ask himself if he really loved her.

  Her father was to come in a few days and take her away to the far-offwilderness, so, if he spoke the promptings of his soul, he must do itnow. Long they sat on the grassy knoll and watched the declining sun.

  "How long have you known Adelpha?" Cora asked.

  "We were children together."

  "Has she always lived in New York?"

  "Yes; but our grandparents knew each other. Matthew Stevens had a Dutchfriend, Hans Van Brunt, whom he met in Holland. When Van Brunt emigratedto New Amsterdam and Matthew Stevens to New Plymouth they renewed theirfriendship. Their descendants have always kept up the friendship.Matthew Stevens was my grandfather, and Hans Van Brunt was AdelphaLeisler's great-grandfather. When quite a child, Adelpha's mother, thewife of a prosperous New York merchant, spent a year in Boston where Ilived. It was then Adelpha and I first became acquainted."

  Cora's eyes were on the distant blue hills; but her thoughts seemedelsewhere. Charles would have given much to have known what was in hermind. Did she, in her heart, entertain hatred for Adelpha? Her remark amoment later convinced him to the contrary.

  "Adelpha is a lovely maid and as goo
d as she is beautiful. Her lot is ahappy one."

  There was no bitterness, no regret in the remark; yet her words were sosad, that they went to the heart of Charles.

  "Cora, there is such a difference in the lots of people, that sometimesI almost believe God is unjust."

  "Charles!" she cried, quite shocked.

  "Hear me out, before you condemn me, Cora. Here is Adelpha, who hasknown only sunshine and happiness, health and prosperity. She was bornin a wealthy family, and has all the luxuries that riches can buy----"

  "She is good and deserves them," interrupted Cora. "God has rewardedher."

  "But, on the other hand, you are just as good; yet your life has beenone of bitterness. Misery seems to steal some people at their birth; butsometimes there come changes in the lives of people. All may runsmoothly for a while, then storms gather about the head of the child offortune, while, on the other hand, to one who has fought and struggledthrough storms and adversity a peaceful harbor may open----"

  Cora suddenly said:

  "God forbid, Charles, that our lots should be reversed. I would not haveAdelpha Leisler drain the cup of bitterness, as I have done; but we mustchange our subject, for, see there, Adelpha and Alice Corey are coming."

  He looked up and saw the two near at hand.

  Alice Corey was a bright-eyed girl of fourteen, a niece of Goody Nursewho had been accused of witchcraft. She was a girl of a light and happydisposition, and, as yet, cares sat lightly on her brow.

  "Watching the sunset, are you?" said Adelpha, breathless with rapidwalking.

  "We have been," answered Charles.

  "Well, it is a pretty thing to see, and I wish he would always besetting," declared Alice Corey.

  "A child's wish," answered Adelpha. "What would become of your flowers?"

  "I am sure I don't know. I do so love that red tinge over there, justwhere it touches the gray."

  "It is somewhat like that queer sea-shell which Cora showed meyesterday," said Adelpha. "What splendid paints these mermaids must use,down in their deep sea-caves! It is a kind that does not rub off withwetting. The shells are their pink saucers."

  "What! Do they really paint?" cried the credulous Alice.

  Charles Stevens laughed softly and answered:

  "No, child. You must not believe such stories. I will tell you aprettier one if you'll listen."

  "Oh, I'll listen!" cried Alice, who, like all children, was ever readyto give ears to a story. Charles began:

  "Once upon a time, long before Adam and Eve lived, I believe it was,while the earth was young, there lived on it a fair, radiant maiden,sweeter than the breath of fresh-blown roses and more lustrous than themorning star. All the world was her own paradise, and she traversed itas she chose, finding everywhere trees bearing golden fruit, which neverturned to ashes, flowers in perpetual bloom, fountains that bubbled andbirds that sang in the linden groves, all for her. Nothing was forbiddenher. No cares, no fears, or griefs marred her pleasures; for she had nolaw to consult but her own wishes. When she would eat, the trees bentdown their boughs, and whispered, 'Choose my fruit.' When she wouldlisten, the birds vied with each other in their melodies. When shewould walk, the green sod was proud to bear her, and, when weary, thegentlest flower-laden zephyrs soothed her to rest. Thus she might haveremained always happy; but one day she chanced to see herself in thewater, and she thought how every thing else was double. Then she becameconscious of a strange pain. Every thing now lost its charm. She soughta companion; but she could find none. Nothing was wanting but the thingshe most desired--the sight of her own kin. At last, she instinctivelyfelt that the burning gaze of a lover was bent upon her face, and,looking up, she saw only the sun in the sky, shining as though myriadsneeded his light. 'Alas!' she sighed, 'He is as lonely as I, and heshall be my lover;' but the sun was coy and timid. He gazed proudly ather from a great distance, and veiled himself behind a cloud when shewould see him, that his brightness might not harm her; but he never camenigh. At last, when she was worn out with longing for a closercompanionship, she set out to find her adored sun; and as she sighed,'Shall I find him never?' some one from a grotto near by answered,'Ever?' 'Who are you?' cried the maid. 'I am a bodiless spirit,' was theanswer, 'the voice of one that is gone. I tell impossible things. I amthe shadow of the past, the substance of events to come. Man is amocker.' 'Can you tell me where to find my lover?' asked the maid. Echotold her not to look up for him, for he was too high above her, not toseek him in the east, for then he was hastening away; but to seek him inthe west, where he laid himself and rested at night, for the night wasmade for lovers. Then she hastened joyously, till she came to theextreme west, to the very edge of the world."

  "How could she get to the edge, when it is round?" interrupted Alice.

  "Probably the world was not round at that time," explained Adelpha.

  Charles went on:

  "The maid summoned all the powers of nature and the air, and bade thembuild a palace. It was not like other palaces. There were no jewelsthere; but every thing was warm and crimson and ruddy. The gates wereparallel bars of cloud, with the west wind for warden. Crystals ofrain-drops paved the court-yard. The architecture was floating mists anddelicate vapors, filled with a silent music, that waited only for thewarm touch of the player to melt it into soul-subduing harmonies; andalong the galleries ran a netted fringe of those tender whispers, whichonly the favored may hear. So she built her palace and filled it withall things such as she thought the sun would like, not forgetting anabundance of fire to warm him, lest even her love would proveinsufficient for one of so fiery a nature. Then she dismissed herattendants and sat down alone to wait his coming. The day seemed longand drear and weary; but she had seen him watching her, and he wascoming at last. Down the slope he glided, holding his fiery steeds incheck. There was joy for the desolate one, for her lover was coming; butthe pitiless sun descended and swept by, scorning the open gates, andher siren voice, that would have wooed him thither. The next day passed,and the next, and the next, and she was still disappointed; but shecould not believe that all her labor had been in vain, and still shenursed her sickly, dying hope. Though that sun has set thousands oftimes since then, she hopes for their union still. In the day time thepalace is dark like the clouds; but, as evening approaches, she lightsit up for his coming. Then we see those glorious tints of crimson andgold and purple and dun, dimming till they mingle with the white cloudsabove, and, were we near enough, we might possibly hear the tones of thereviving music, as it melts; but as the sun goes fairly down, the musichushes, the beautiful tints fade and die, the palace becomes a dark spotagain, and the poor little watcher within sighs forth herdisappointment and composes herself to wait for another sunset."

  "I don't believe your story, Charles Stevens," said Alice, at theconclusion, "and I don't see what good it does, anyhow, to make up sucha one as that."

  "The moral in it is man's faithlessness and woman's constancy," put inCora Waters, who had, for a long time, been silent.

  Adelpha, who had watched the sun sink beneath the distant blue hills, asshe listened to Charles, now chanced to glance over her shoulder at thesea behind, with the moon just rising above the watery horizon, and witha merry peal of laughter she added:

  "Charles, your heroine is more dull than modern maids, or, when the sunjilted her, she would have wooed the moon."

  Alice, rising, said, "It is growing dark. Let us go home."

  "Alice, are you afraid of the witches, which seem to disturb Mr. Parrisand Cotton Mather?" asked Adelpha.

  "There are no witches," Alice Corey answered with a shudder. "Father andmother both deny that there are any witches, and it is wrong to cry outagainst my aunt, Goody Nurse."

  "I dare say it is. The evening grows chill. Let us go home."

  As the four wended their way across the fields and meadows, CharlesStevens, who walked between Cora and Adelpha, cast alternately furtiveglances at each, sorely troubled to decide which he liked best.

  "Both are beauti
ful," he thought. "Ere long I must wed, and which of thetwain shall it be? Both are beautiful, and both are good; but,unfortunately, they are two, and I am one."

  The child, who had lingered behind to pluck a wild flower, at thismoment came running after them, calling:

  "Wait! wait! I implore you, wait for me!"

  "What have you seen, Alice?"

  "A black woman."

  The girls were almost ready to faint; but Charles, who was abovesuperstition, bade them be calm and hurried through the deepening shadesof twilight to the trees on the hill where the woman had been seen. Hecame in sight of the figure of a woman clothed in black, sitting at theroot of an oak.

  "Who are you?" he asked, advancing toward her.

  "Charles Stevens!" she gasped, raising her head.

  "Sarah Williams, what are you doing here?"

  "Prythee, what are you doing?" she asked.

  "This is unaccountable."

  She rose and, turning her white face to him, said:

  "Charles Stevens, which of the twain do you love best?" and she pointedto Cora and Adelpha. He made no answer. "Which of the twain is it?" sherepeated. "Aye, Charles Stevens, you shall never wed either. Do youhear?"

  "Which of the twain shall it be?"]

  "Woman, what mean you?"

  "You cannot decide which you love most. Wed neither, Charles. Wed me!"

  "You!" he cried, in astonishment.

  "Yes, why not?"

  "You already have a husband."

  "No; he is dead, he was lost at sea. I am still young and fair, andwherefore not choose me?"

  Charles Stevens burst into a laugh, half merriment and half disgust, andturned from the bold, scheming woman. She followed him for a few paces,saying in tones low but deep:

  "Verily, Charles Stevens, you scorn me; but I will yet make you repentthat you ever treated my love with contempt. You shall rue this day."

  He hurried away from the annoyance, treating her threats lightly, andlittle dreaming that they would be fulfilled.

  Winter came and passed, and Adelpha Leisler still lingered at Salem.Rumors of trouble came to her ears from home; but the light-hearted girlgave them little thought. One morning in May, 1691, Charles met hercoming to seek him. Her face was deathly white, and her frame trembling.

  "What has happened, Adelpha?"

  "There is trouble at home, Charles," she cried. "Father and Milbornehave been arrested and imprisoned and I fear it will fare hard withthem. I want to set out for New York at once. Will you accompany me?"

  "I will."

  They found his mother and Cora and told them all. He implored Cora toremain with his mother, until he returned, which she consented to do.