ce; oh, could such evil
thoughts have had devilish power given to them by the father of evil,
and, all unconsciously to herself, have gone forth as active curses
into the world? And so, on the ideas went careering wildly through the
poor girl's brain--the girl thrown inward upon herself. At length, the
sting of her imagination forced her to start up impatiently. What was
this? A weight of iron on her legs--a weight stated afterwards, by the
gaoler of Salem prison, to have been 'not more than eight pounds.' It
was well for Lois it was a tangible ill, bringing her back from the
wild illimitable desert in which her imagination was wandering. She
took hold of the iron, and saw her torn stocking,--her bruised ankle,
and began to cry pitifully, out of strange compassion with herself.
They feared, then, that even in that cell she would find a way to
escape. Why, the utter, ridiculous impossibility of the thing convinced
her of her own innocence, and ignorance of all supernatural power; and
the heavy iron brought her strangely round from the delusions that
seemed to be gathering about her.

No! she never could fly out of that deep dungeon; there was no escape,
natural or supernatural, for her, unless by man's mercy. And what was
man's mercy in such times of panic? Lois knew that it was nothing;
instinct more than reason taught her, that panic calls out cowardice,
and cowardice cruelty. Yet she cried, cried freely, and for the first
time, when she found herself ironed and chained. It seemed so cruel, so
much as if her fellow-creatures had really learnt to hate and dread
her--her, who had had a few angry thoughts, which God forgive! but
whose thoughts had never gone into words, far less into actions. Why,
even now she could love all the household at home, if they would but
let her; yes, even yet, though she felt that it was the open accusation
of Prudence and the withheld justifications of her aunt and Faith that
had brought her to her present strait. Would they ever come and see
her? Would kinder thoughts of her,--who had shared their daily bread
for months and months,--bring them to see her, and ask her whether it
were really she who had brought on the illness of Prudence, the
derangement of Manasseh's mind?

No one came. Bread and water were pushed in by some one, who hastily
locked and unlocked the door, and cared not to see if he put them
within his prisoner's reach, or perhaps thought that physical fact
mattered little to