Daily Kennebec journal., 1876-12-16
Calls aud Sketfhes.
ESTHER CHILLINGWORTH'S RING.
a TALE OF SALEM WTCHCRAFT, IN THE
LADIES MAGAZINE.
CONTINUED FROM YEsrERpAYL

-'Ssei' heNer lnore ne leaves turn
ed crimson and russet-brown, and with
cred and dropped from the bare trees the
dark November days glowed over the
land, and my lover never came. No oword
had l from him,-no sign; | knew
not II he were among the living or the
dead, until Gideon Giles, coming home
in the early winter from a weeks Journey
to Boston, told me, as he sat in the elbow
chair by our hearth, that he had seen gay
young Roger Vane.
You remember him, Mistress Esther?
A well favored youth, but something light
minded; and yet saw him among good
y company. coming out of the South
church after meeting, and with a fair
young lady on his arm. He had no eyes
for any of the worshippers but her, and |
got no speech with him, else might have
brought back a kindly message for his
friends in Salem, and for you Mistress Es-
ther."
lie looked at me with keen, cruel
glance, and remembered how once he
had crossed our path as we lotered in the
woods, Roger and l. If he searched for
any tel-ia.e sign in my face it was in vain
had the pride of the evil one who fell
through pride from Heaven, and | only
So knew that Roger Vana was living,
and had forgotten me. l could have borne
his death, could not bear his scorn. The
bitterness OF hell crept into my soul, and
| taught me hatred of all mankind. |
shrank away FROM the sight of human fa-
ces, and in gloom and solitude ate nv own
heart away with broodng upon its des-
pair. o my vain beauty 20 cruel dowry
4, baf uuht fal
of early summer. against the long, drear
winters cold-the warmth of kisses in
green. lancing woods, and the icy walls of
Salem jail,-the crowd on Witch's Hill,
the strangling rope, the darkness of the
death struggle, and the trackless abysses
of eternity.-these things my fair face
brought meme, old Chillingworth's
proud daughter.
What a cry she gave! In the dead ST.
lence OF the night it Glove sharp and shud-
dering, and seemed to freeze my senses
within me,-turn me cold and dumb with
fear, The ghost-girl wrung her white
hands. and flung them high above her
head, and her shadowy figure swayed and
waved in the arch between. the curtains,
as the woe almost two centuries old shook
her with the strength of yesterday
81 had no fear of God or man." mur-
INJURED on the voice again ''and my
mouth was full of bitter words, and de-
fled both in my heart and on my lips. In
the glass | saw my beauty wilhering
away, as if ten years had sped since Roger
and | picked the earlier flower together
and yet the May flowers bloomed only
once since then. wandered out to find
them one April day in the old place where
he and had walked; and, as | swept
away the heaped brown leaves. | cried
aloud to the merciless powers above me
to God or Satan. to whom l would have
sold my soul, that hour, only to have
Roger back again beside me. And there
was one in the wood. that day, who heard
me.
Then came the crowded courtroom,
day after day; The solemn, unhinching
faces of the gray old Judge; the hot, sti-
fling air, and the sunshine through the
glaring row of windows, and the ieerine,
cruel women and the merciless men; the
wrlthing children, who, in their lying fits
played like devils babes with my life. and
flung 1t away; the screams and curses
lifted up against me the slow, cold voices
of the wise old men who were giving me
to death for an old wite's tale; and then
the dark walls of the ail-the damp, the
icy chill. the silence and the death-in-lfe.
So, day after day, l came and went, and
asked no mercy at their hands.
There was one face in the crowd that
had plying look for me, though it was
only young lad's,-young Martin
Browns, whom had connted a child only
a year ago, but who had grown of late to
look with mans eyes at me. saw the
hot rage and the bitter tears on his face
as he stood with the crowd in the court
room, and listened, and could not sneak
to me and one night--a wild, rainy night
he stole under the window of the iail
where was pressing against the grated
bars, and whispered my name.
Esther Esther do you hear me pr
he said, softly. Esther will you answer
me %
And I spoke, and the poor lad poured
out passion of grief and pity and anger,
with the muttering Of the wind and rain.
They say there is no hope, Esther" he
sobbed up to me from the dark. "Oh. if
could but save youAyou, so innocent
o God what can | do against all thi,
cruel persecutionp You are no witch.
Esther You are purer than any soul of
them all, and | must stand by so helpless
anu see you ule Tor their wicked sport ~
Martin" | whispered to him, clinging
to the bars, "lf you cannot save me, will
you do for me what you can?
Die for you, if may, Estherr' he
cried, with boys own eagerness. And
| reached up and put my hand through the
wndow-bars, out to meet him.
'Will you carry a message from me to
one n Boston. Martin ?. have none but
you that | may trust to bear ii, and nv
father knows not. Martin, will you find
Roger Vane for me"
listened and held my breath till he an
swered. Then heard him say softly: :.
II WILL Esther s..
Garry this to him. l z9id; and, asI
felt his warm young hand, wet with rain.
touch mine, | slipped the love-gift into
his palm. Take it to Roger Vane, and
tell him that Esther Chilling gworth lies in
the jail in Salem village, charged with
witchcrait, and that she sends him back
his token.-no more than that, Martin.
Go Tor the pity OF God Hurry, and take
est till nd Ia. 4