Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-12-15
Calls and Sketehss.
ESTHER CHILLINGWORTH'S RING.
A TALE OF SALEM WITCHCRAFT, IN THE
LADIES MAGAZINE.

sum queer olu Tlnp plched IL out
| OF the old lacquered cabinet, where Aunt
Lucinda's odds and ends of family relics
-memenlo morris, antique trinkets, and
souvenirs of the past; her past, that
seemed so very, very old for she was my
mothers aunt, not mine--were slowed
away in rows of tiny drawers. packed in
soft jewelers. cotton, and smelling sweet
and strong of Tonka beans. 1t was
ring of old yellow gold, curiously dressed
with the iacinth cut crescentwise, and set
| in tiny seed-pearls; and the Jewels and
setting, as in many old rings, opened at
the coaxing OF a finger, and showed wee
space for hair-whose ! asked Aunt
| Lucinda, but she was hurying to shut up
the cabinet, and only said
"Remind me to tell you about it in the
morning, child" for it was late, and she
wanted to send me off to bed.
Cant | keep this, just to wear while
I'm here, it is so pretty,-and I'll take
such good care of it, auntie ?''
well, put it on" said Aunt Lucinda
land then run away. for it's past IL o'clock.
10 think OF you keeping up talking until
| this late hour ~
So went away to bed, slipping the
narrow hand OF fretted, caryen, crusted
gold over my first finger, and watching
| the rich, warm flake OF light in the heart
| OF the lacinth-like drop of clear honey.
slept alone at Aunt Lucindas in a
queer old room, with an open fireplace
and brass andirons, and with q great,
high-posted bed, dark with flowered chntz
curtains, and high and almost inaccessi-
| bic mountain of feathers, into which |
| usually leaped with the aid of chair,
Hyb ban | haI ha II.
went to sleep drowsily specializing upon
the ancestral parsonage who had reposed
In this old ark OF bed, under that ancient
red silk quilt, and wondering if any of
their forgotten dreams lurked round those
lowered curtains, to creep into my brain
when sleep set its gates ajar. | did not
dream that night, at any rate; am sure
OF it, for had not slept 10 minutes by the
when ! was awakened by the pressure of
hand.
1t was not Aunt Lucinda's hand; even
10 sleep knew the difference OF the touch
They were young fingers that slid coldly
over mine soft, round tips, that left
| damp chill upon my flesh where they crept
along. AS my senses awoke gradually, |
felt these fingers working at the rings on
=
my forehead, like little puff of night air.
tried to strike away the hand, but it fas-
tened clingingly on mine, and moaning
voice said, passlonately, and yet piteously
like hurt child:
Let me have it-let me have itr'
"Who are youP Where are youp What
is it ?" l gasped, struggling to sit up
right in the deep trough of the feather
bed. Aunt Lucinda -
The dark, still folds of the curtains wa
vered and moved. the streak of light be-
| tween them widened, and then they were
pushed quite apart. Then saw the moon
shining on the floor, and the fire diving on
the hearth between the brass andirons.
and figure standing bv the bed stand
ing right In the arch made by the parted
cuItains.
1t was woman, and | saw her lust as
plainly rs | see at this moment the words
written by the pen in my hand | could
tell you every item OF the dress she wore.
even to the edging of lace on the tight
sleeves that reached her elbows, and the
little. blue damask figure on her gray gown.
Her face was very pale and quiet, and
there was no light in her eyes; they were
heavy and dark, and the lids were red
dened as if with crying and waking; but
she was beautiful for all that,--beautiful
as some old, dim picture with story in
It, There she stood, with her face and
neck cleaning dull white, like old mar
bic, above the gray gown, and one lock
of her black hair twisted round her throat,
like soft necklace, and her little damp,
cold hand lying on mine, and her lips
moved yet, as If she were saying over
again:
LET me have it -
"Who are you ?n | cried, trembling and
hardly breathing. What do yon wantp
My ring-mine and Rogers. No
other woman can wear my ring. Look
don't you see the blood on it 2''
Aunt Lucinda's ring There was no stain
on 1t when she took it out of the old cas-
ket; but saw it not in the moonlight, ia
dash of ugly red among the crusted cary
ings. tore it off my finger, and flung
ii away as if it were a coal of fire.
"Who are youp cried once more.
And the answer came softly and slow.
like sigh
Esther Chillingworth.
started up at her breathlessly.
Look at me-" she murmured This
is the face that Roger Vane loved nigh 200
ring,-that sent it back to him from Salem
Jail when he cared no longer to remember
how he slipped it on with kisses. They
say was very fair to see in those days.
Look at me. Am l comely now9r
She swept back her long hair from her
face, but without displacing the lock that
curled like snake around her throat and
then. as | looked at her, she broke into
low wailing cry; -
Il had the fairest face in Salem,-old
Chillngworth's daughter. The grass
withereth, the flower fadeth. The parson
used to tell me it was but vain show,
and laughed him to scorn. For in the
woods beyond Salem, when was picking
May-fowers. and rustliug aside the brown
leaves to find their pink-and-whte clus-
tered stars, | met Roger Vane, and he
told me sweeter tale than the preacher
knew. And | let him kiss my mouth, for
he called 1t most sweet-yea, altogether
lovely, y,'-sweeter than the breath OF May
flowers. q the Salem woods o my love.
II