The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1877-01-18

very little while ! made him whispe
over and over, with my arms about hi
neck. And then he pulled from his I'm
ger that ring, with its dark yellow ston
and the little bright pearls, and slippc,
it over mine,
The summer crcpt on, and the hot day
shortened their fierce fires, and the Au
gust haze was in the sky; the golden 70,
shook out its plumes all along the dry
dusty road, and the ragged white thistle
down blew here and there. watched
Tor the FIRST change along tie dark Dor
ders Of the woods for the red leaves, ant
for Roger; but one morning woke W
aud saw the white frost glittering or
some blackened, dropping vines around
my window, and a broad splash Of scar,
let, like blood, dashed across the maple
trees, and no lover came riding down the
road or s%traying through the Salem wood
to find me.
Never, never more, | had the last
kiss on my lips forever, for none touched
them after Roger Nanc. The lcaycs
turned crimson, and golden, and russell.
brown, and withered and dropped from
the bare trees; the dark November days
gIoWed over the land, and my lover never
came. No word had | from him-no
sign; ! knew not if 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 Nane.
$50 ! knew that Roger Vanc was Iiv.
ing, and had forgotten me. 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 faces, and in gloom and soil,
tude ate my own heart away with brood
ing upon its despair, Omy vain beauty
. cruel dover that brought my fall
Two soft months Of early summer,
against the long, drcary winters cold
the warmth Of kisses in green, CHANGING
wood, and the icy walls of Salem Jail
the crowd on Witch's Hill, the strang-
ling rope, the darkness of the death
struggle, and the tracklcss abysses of
etcrnity-thesc things my fair face
brought me-mc, old ChilIingworth's
proud daughter?'
" had no fear Of God or man. muir.
INJURED on the voice again "and my
mouth was full Of bitter words, and /
deticd both in my heart and on my lips"
"The land was still aslir with cries OF
%witchcrait, and parson Mathcr was at
his bloody work, in the name of God.
On the long, low hills beyond Salem
stood the gibbets, where old Mrs. Nurse
had suffered, and Goodwiic Corey, and
the old and fraiI, and the strong, young
limbs had swung against the sky for pit
less mobs to jibe at, There were cruel
tongues in Salem that whispered against
me, and brought me before the Judges
me, Esther Chillingworth, nineteen years
Old, in that wretched April-whom
Roger Van" had loved! There were
those who wore to bitter threats that |
had made, and strange muttcrings and
wailings heard when | was alone, and
prayers and cries that had another name
in them than Gods; and it was said that
| stole out in the forest to meet my foul
master and worthy Goodman Giles had
heard me call him to my side us he stray
ed through the trees near me. And a
child whom | had pushed from my way
as ! walked down Salem street, had fall
len in, and cried, in its strange fits. that
Esther Chillingworth tormcnted him ;
and my old fathers honor and his gray
hair could not save me, nor my youth,
and my poor, fadins beauty. They
dragged me from his house and cast me
into Salem Jail; they locked the heavy
door, and drew the Creaking bolts fast,
and left me crouchcd under the grated
window to stare up, in my blind anguish
at the glimpse Of tender sky that had no
pity for me-nOnc. God, like Roger,
had forgotten me.
"Ihen came the crowded courtroom.
day after day the solemn, %unninching
face of the gray old judge; the hot, still
ling air, and the sunshine through the
glaring row Of windows, and the i%eering,
cruel women, and mcrcilcss men, the
writhing children, who in their lying fits
played like devils babes with my life,
and flung it away the screams and
curses lifted up againt me the slow, cold
yioces OF the wise old men who were
giving me to death for an old wifc's tale;
and the dark walls of the iaiI--the damp.
the icy chill, the silence and the death.
in-liie. SO, day after day, | came and
went, and asked no mercy at their
hands.
"There was one face in the crowd
that had Il plying look for me, though
it was only Il young lad's--youug Mar
tin Brown's--whom | had counted a
child only a year ago, but who had
grown of late to look with a mans ewes
at me. | saw the hot rage and the bit
ter tears on his face as he stood with the
crowd in the court room, and listened
and could not speak to mo and one
night-a wild, rainy night-he stole
under the window Of the Jail, where 7
was pressing against the grated bars, and
whispered my name.
Esther, Esther do you hear me p"
he said softly. Esther, will you answer
me?'
"And spoke, and the poor lad pour.
ed out a passion of grief, 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,
it | could but save you-you so limo
cent o, God ! what can | do against all
this cruel persecution You are no
witch, Esther You are purcr than any
soul of them all, and | must stand by SO
helpless, and see you die for their wicked
"'NIarton,' | whispered to him, cling.
ing to the bars, if you cannot save will
you do for me what you can
"'Die for you if ! may, Esther {? he
cried with a boys eagcrness.
"And | reached up and pushed my
had through the window bars, out to
meet him.
"'Will you carry a message for me to
=. D.. Mil. y !