e against her."

"And her horse--her black mare--that upset the Reverend Master Parris
into the duck pond; and then went up into the clouds; and, as Master
Cotton Mather solemnly assured me, has never been seen or heard of
since--what of it--where is it, really?"

"In an out-of-the-way place, up in Master Joseph Putnam's woods,"
replied the young man smiling.

"And you are certain of it?"

"As certain as riding the mare for about ten miles will warrant."

"Master Mather assured me that no man--except perhaps Satan or one of
his imps--could ride her."

"Then I must be Satan or one of his imps, I suppose."

"How did you manage it?"

"I put a side-saddle on the beast; and a woman's skirt on myself."

The lady laughed outright. "Oh, that is too good! It reminds me of what
Sir William often says, 'Anything can be done, if you know how to do
it!' I must tell it to him he will enjoy it so much. And it will be a
good thing to plague Master Mather with."

"Please do not tell anyone just now," protested the young man earnestly.
"It may bring my good friend, Joseph Putnam, into trouble. And it would
only make them all angrier than they are with Dulcibel."

"Dulcibel--that is a strange name. It is Italian--is it not."

"I judge so. It is a family name. I suppose there is Italian blood in
the family. At least Mistress Dulcibel looks it."

"She does. She is very beautiful--of a kind of strange, fascinating
beauty. I do not wonder she bewitched you. Was that serpent mark too
from Italy?"

"I think it very likely."

"Perhaps she is descended from Cleopatra--and that is the mark left by
the serpent on the famous queen's breast."

"I think it exceedingly probable," said Master Raymond. My readers will
have observed before this, that he was an exceedingly polite and
politic young man.

"Well, and so you want me to get Mistress Dulcibel, this witch
descendant of that famous old witch, Cleopatra, out of prison?"

"I hoped that, from the well-known kindness of heart of your ladyship,
you would be able to do something for us."

"You see the difficulty is simply here. I know that all these charges of
witchcraft against such good, nice people as Captain Alden, Master and
Mistress English, your betrothed Dulcibel, and a hundred others, are
mere bigotry and superstition at the best, and sheer spite and
maliciousness at the worst--but what can I do? Sir William owes his
position to the Reverend Increase Mather--and, besides