e, conscious or unconscious, of
revenge on those whose conduct had been in any way displeasing to them.
Where evidence takes a supernatural character, there is no disproving
it. This argument comes up: 'You have only the natural powers; I have
supernatural. You admit the existence of the supernatural by the
condemnation of this very crime of witchcraft. You hardly know the
limits of the natural powers; how then can you define the supernatural?
I say that in the dead of night, when my body seemed to all present to
be lying in quiet sleep, I was, in the most complete and wakeful
consciousness, present in my body at an assembly of witches and wizards
with Satan at their head; that I was by them tortured in my body,
because my soul would not acknowledge him as its king; and that I
witnessed such and such deeds. What the nature of the appearance was
that took the semblance of myself, sleeping quietly in my bed, I know
not; but admitting, as you do, the possibility of witchcraft, you
cannot disprove my evidence.' This evidence might be given truly or
falsely, as the person witnessing believed it or not; but every one
must see what immense and terrible power was abroad for revenge. Then,
again, the accused themselves ministered to the horrible panic abroad.
Some, in dread of death, confessed from cowardice to the imaginary
crimes of which they were accused, and of which they were promised a
pardon on confession. Some, weak and terrified, came honestly to
believe in their own guilt, through the diseases of imagination which
were sure to be engendered at such a time as this.

Lois sat spinning with Faith. Both were silent, pondering over the
stories that were abroad. Lois spoke first.

'Oh, Faith! this country is worse than ever England was, even in the
days of Master Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder. I grow frightened of
every one, I think. I even get afeard sometimes of Nattee!'

Faith coloured a little. Then she asked,

'Why? What should make you distrust the Indian woman?'

'Oh! I am ashamed of my fear as soon as it arises in my mind. But, you
know, her look and colour were strange to me when first I came; and she
is not a christened woman; and they tell stories of Indian wizards; and
I know not what the mixtures are which she is sometimes stirring over
the fire, nor the meaning of the strange chants she sings to herself.
And once I met her in the dusk, just close by Pastor Tappau's house, in
company with Hota, his ser