Dulcibel: A Tale of Old Salem

by Henry Peterson

  CHAPTER XLIV.

  How Master Joseph Circumvented Mistress Ann.

  About an hour afterwards, Master Joseph saw one of his farm-hands comingover the fields from the direction of his brother's house, which wasabout two miles almost directly to the west of his own house. Going outto meet him, he said--

  "Well, Simon Peter, I see that you got the rake."

  "Yes, Master Joseph; but they wish me to return it as soon as we can."

  "That is right. Finish your job in the garden this afternoon, and takeit back early tomorrow morning. You can go to work now."

  The man walked off toward the garden.

  "Wait a moment!" his master cried. The man stopped. "Anything new atbrother Thomas's? Are they all at home?"

  "No, indeed! Master Thomas has gone off to Ipswich--and little Ann is atSalem town."

  "I could not borrow a horse, then, of them, you think?"

  "No, indeed, sir. There is only one left in the stable; and MistressPutnam means to use that to go to the trial this afternoon."

  "Oh, well, I do not care much;" and his master walked off to the house,while Simon Peter went to his work.

  Then, after a somewhat earlier dinner than usual, Master Joseph orderedhis young horse, Sweetbriar, saddled; and after kissing his wife "in ascandalous manner"--that is, out of doors, where some one might haveseen him do it--he mounted, and cantered off down the lane.

  The young man loved a good horse and he claimed that Sweetbriar, with ayear or two more of age and hardening, would be the fastest horse in theProvince. As to temper, the horse was well named; for he could be assweet, when properly handled, as a rose; and as sharp and briary as anyrose-stalk under contrary conditions. A nervous, sensitive, high-mettledanimal; Mistress Putnam, though a good rider, said it was too much workto manage him. While her husband always responded that Sweetbriar couldbe ridden by any one, for he was as gentle as a lamb.

  Just as Mistress Ann Putnam had got through her dinner, she saw herbrother-in-law Joseph riding up the lane. The brothers, as has beenseen, differed very widely relative to the Witchcraft prosecutions; butstill they visited one another, as they were held together by variousfamily ties, and especially by the old lawsuit against certain of theIpswich men, to which I have alluded.

  Therefore Mistress Putnam opened the door and went out to the gardengate, where by this time the young man had dismounted, and fastened hishorse.

  "Is brother Thomas at home, Sister Ann?"

  "No--he had a call to Ipswich this morning."

  "Ah--the lawsuit business."

  "I suppose so. But the messenger was so overcome with liquor, that hecould not even remember who sent him."

  "Why, how could Thomas know where to go then?"

  "Oh, the man managed to say that his employee would be waiting forThomas at the "Crown and Anchor," where he usually stops you know."

  "Well, I am glad that Thomas went. I stopped to see if Jehosaphat coulddo a little errand for me--I might have sent one of my own men, but Iforget matters sometimes."

  "You will find him at the barn," replied Mistress

  Putnam, a little anxious to cut short the conversation, as she wished toget ready for her ride to Salem.

  Going to the barn, Master Joseph soon found Jehosaphat. "How do, Fatty!"this was the not very dignified diminutive into which Jehosaphat haddwindled in common use. "How are you getting along?"

  "Fair to middlin, sir. Not as well though as on the old place, MasterJoseph."

  "I do not want to interfere with my brother, remember; but if at anytime he should not want you any more, remember the old place is stillopen for you. It was your own fault, you know, that you went."

  "I did not know when I was well off, Master Joseph. I was a fool, thatwas all."

  "I thought so," replied Master Joseph pithily. "But no matter about thatnow--can you do an errand for me?"

  "Of course I can--the mistress willing."

  "Well, I said I wished to send you on an errand, and she told me whereto find you."

  "That is all right then."

  "Go to Goodman Buckley's, in Salem village, and ask him for a bundle Ileft--bring it to my house, you know, you can take the roan horsethere. And, by the way, Fatty, if you want to stop an hour or two to seethe widow Jones's pretty daughter, I guess no great harm will be done."

  Jehosaphat giggled--but then his face clouded. "But Mistress Putnamwants to take the roan herself this afternoon. The trial comes off, youknow."

  "Oh, it is not a trial--it is only an examination. And it is allfiddlesticks, anyhow. My sister-in-law is ruining her health by all thiswitch business. But if she insists upon going, I will lend her one of myhorses. Therefore that need not keep you."

  So Jehosaphat, in high glee at having an afternoon's holiday, with theroan horse, threw on the saddle and mounted.

  As he rode at a rapid canter down the lane, Mistress Ann heard thenoise, but supposed it was Master Joseph riding off again,--and did noteven trouble herself to look out of the window, especially as she wasjust then changing her gown.

  Not long after, coming into the family room, who should she see there,sitting demurely, reading one of the Reverend Cotton Mather's mostpopular sermons, but the same Master Joseph Putnam whom she had thoughtshe was well rid of.

  "I thought you had gone. I surely heard you riding down the lane," shesaid in a surprised tone.

  "Oh, no, I wanted to speak with you about something."

  "Who was it then?--I surely heard some one."

  "Perhaps it was one of those spectral horses, with a spectral rider. AsMaster Mather says: These are very wonderful and appalling times!" Andthe young man laughed a little scornfully.

  "Brother Joseph, I do not care to talk with you upon this question. Igreatly regret, as do your brothers and your uncles, that you have goneover to the infidels and the scoffers."

  "And I regret that they are making such fools of themselves," repliedJoseph hotly.

  "I have no time to discuss this question, brother Joseph," said MistressAnn with dignity. "I am going to Salem town this afternoon, very much inthe cross, to give my testimony against a young friend of yours. Wouldthat I could have been spared this trial!" and his sister-in-law lookedup to the ceiling sanctimoniously. As Joseph told his young wife thatnight, her hypocrisy hardened his heart against her; so that he couldhave kept her at home by sheer force, if it were necessary, and at allexpedient--in fact he would have preferred that rough but sincere way.

  "If you testify to anything that throws doubt upon Master Raymond'sperfect innocency and goodness, you will testify to a lie," repliedMaster Joseph severely.

  "As I said, I have no time for argument. Will you be good enough to tellJehosaphat to saddle the roan for me."

  "You know that I had your permission to send Fatty off on an errand--andhe is not back yet."

  Mistress Putnam started and bit her lip. She had made a mistake. "Isuppose he will be back before long."

  "I doubt it. I sent him to the village."

  "Well, I suppose I can put on the saddle myself. Your conscienceprobably would not allow you to do it--even if common courtesy towards awoman, and that woman your sister, demanded it."

  "Without deciding the latter point, I should think it almost impossiblefor me to put a saddle on the roan just now."

  "Why? I do not understand you."

  "Because he is doubtless miles away by this time."

  "Jehosaphat did not take the horse!"

  "It is precisely what he did do."

  "He knew I wanted the roan to ride to Salem town this afternoon."

  "He told me you did; but I said that I thought you would have too muchsense to go. Still, if you would go, that I would lend you one of myhorses."

  "Well, where is your horse?"

  "There, at the door. You can take off my saddle, and put on yourside-saddle, and, if you are in a hurry, Sweetbriar can do the distancein half the time that the roan could."

  Mistress Putnam could have cried with
anger and vexation. Like manypeople of strong and resolute will, she was a good deal of a coward onhorseback; and she knew that Sweetbriar was what the farmers called "ayoung and very skittish animal." Still her determined spirit roseagainst thus being outdone; besides, she knew well that in a case likethis, where none of the "afflicted circle," not even her own daughter,would aid her, the whole thing might fall through if she were notpresent. So she said, "Well, I will saddle your horse myself."

  Here Master Joseph relented--because he now felt certain of his game. "Ihave conscientious scruples against lifting even my little finger toaid you in this unholy business," he said more placidly, "but under thecircumstances, I will saddle Sweetbriar for you."

  So saying, he took off his saddle from the horse, and substituted theside-saddle which he brought from the barn. Then he led Sweetbriar tothe horse-block, and his sister-in-law mounted.

  She glanced at his spurs. "You ride him with spurs, I see. Hand me myriding-whip," she said, pointing to where she had laid it, when shefirst came out.

  "I would not strike him, if I were you. He is not used to the whip--itmight make him troublesome."

  Mistress Putnam made no reply; but gathered up the reins, and the horsestarted down the lane.

  A singular smile came across the young man's features. He went back andclosed the door of the house, and then started in a rapid walk acrossthe field towards his own home. Neither of them thought it mattered thatthe house was left for a time unprotected. Mistress Putnam knew that acouple of farm-hands were at work in a distant field, who would be backat sundown; and there were so few strollers at that time, that nofarmer thought of bolting up his doors and windows when he went tomeeting, or to see a neighbor.

  The way home across the fields was a good deal nearer than to go by theroad, as the latter made quite an angle. And, as the young man strodeswiftly, on he could see in many places his sister-in-law, ridingdeliberately along, and approaching the forks of the road, where anyonegoing to his own house, would turn and ride away from, instead of towardSalem.

  "When she gets to the forks of the road, look out for squalls," saidMaster Joseph to himself. For many had been his own fights withSweetbriar, when the horse wanted to go towards his stable, after a longride, and his young master wanted him to go in the opposite direction.Sweetbriar had already gone about twenty miles that day--and, besides,had been given only the merest mouthful for dinner, with the object ofpreparing him for this special occasion.

  The next swell in the ground afforded the young man an excellent view.Sweetbriar had arrived at the turn which led to his stable; where restand oats awaited him; and it evidently seemed to Him the height ofinjustice and unreason to be asked to go all the way back to Salemagain. Mistress Ann, however, knew nothing of these previousexperiences of the animal, but imputed his insubordinate behaviorentirely to self-will and obstinacy. And thus, as the great globe movesaround the sun in a perpetual circle, as the result of the twoconflicting forces of gravitation and fly-off-it-iveness, so Sweetbriarcircled around and around, like a cat chasing his tail, as the result ofthe conflicting wills of himself and his rider.

  Master Joseph watched the progress of the whole affair with decidedpleasure. "No woman but a witch could get Sweetbriar past that turn," hesaid to himself, laughing outright, "And no man, who had not a pair ofspurs on."

  At last, getting out of all patience, Mistress Putnam raised her whipand brought it down sharply on her horse's shoulder. This decided thestruggle; for, unused to such punishment, the fiery animal reared, andthen turning, sprang up the road that led to his stable at a wildgallop.

  His rider as I have said, was not a very good horse-woman, and she nowtook hold of the horn of the saddle with her right hand, to enable herto keep her seat; and tried to moderate the gait of the horse with thereins and the voice, abandoning all further resistance to his will asuseless.

  Setting off at a run, Master Joseph was able to reach home just aboutthe same time as his sister-in-law did.

  "Ah! I am glad you changed your mind, Sister Ann, about going to Salem.It is a great deal more sensible to come and spend the afternoon withElizabeth."

  "Very glad to see you, Sister Ann," said Mistress Joseph, coming out tothe horse-block, at which Sweetbriar, from force of habit, had stopped.

  Mistress Ann looked offended, and replied coldly, "I had no intention ofcoming here this afternoon, Sister Elizabeth; but this vile brute, whichJoseph lent me, after sending away my own horse, would neither obey thereins nor the whip."

  "You rascal!" said Master Joseph severely, addressing the horse. "You donot deserve to have a lady ride you."

  "Can you not lend me another horse--say the one Elizabeth always rides?"

  "All the other horses are out at work," replied Master Joseph; "andbefore I could get one of them in, and at all groomed up, ready for thesaddle, I am afraid it would be too late for your purpose."

  "So I must be compelled to do as you wish, and stay away from theexamination?" said Mistress Ann bitterly.

  "Oh, if you choose, I will put a pillion on Sweetbriar, and see how thatworks?" replied Master Joseph with a meek and patient expression ofcountenance, as of one upbraided without cause. "To be sure, Sweetbriarhas never been asked to carry double; but he might as well learn now asever."

  "That seems to be the only thing that can be done now," and theexpression of Mistress Ann's face resembled that of a martyr who wasabout to be tied to the stake; for riding on a pillion brought the ladyalways into the closest proximity with the gentleman, and she was nowcherishing towards Master Joseph a temper that could hardly be calledsisterly.

  There was necessarily a great waste of time in getting the pillion onSweetbriar. He never had carried double, and he evidently felt insultedby being asked to do it. Master Joseph glanced at the sun, and knew itmust be now full two o'clock. Only by fast riding, would it be possibleto get to Salem court-house by three; and the roads, as they then were,did not admit of fast riding except in a few places.

  It was no easy thing for Mistress Ann to get on Sweetbriar, for thehorse backed and sidled off from the horse-block whenever she attemptedit--all his sweetness seemed gone by this time, and the briars aloneremained. At least fifteen minutes more were lost in this way. But atlast the difficult feat was accomplished.

  "Hold on to me tightly," said the young man, "or you will be thrownoff--" for the irritated animal began to curvet around in alldirections, manifesting a strong determination to go back to his stable,instead of forward towards Salem.

  "I think we had better try the other road, and not pass the forks whereyou had so much trouble with him," said Master Joseph, as the horse wentmore quietly, going up the first hill.

  "As you think best," said his sister-in-law, in a sharp tone, "If I hada horse like this I would shoot him!"

  "Oh, Sweetbriar is good enough usually. I never saw him so violent andtroublesome as he is to-day. And I think I know the reason of it."

  "What is the reason?"

  "I fear he has an 'evil hand' upon him," said Master Joseph with greatsolemnity.

  "Nonsense," replied Mistress Ann sharply.

  "He has got the wicked One in him; that is the matter with him."

  "That is about the same thing," said Master Joseph.

  Now they were at the top of the hill, and the horse broke into tantrumsagain; requiring all of Master Joseph's skill to prevent his topplinghimself and his two riders over one of the many boulders that obstructedthe road.

  "If you do not hold on to me more tightly, Sister Ann, you will bethrown off," said Master Joseph, putting back his right hand to steadyher. And Mistress Ann was compelled to lock her arms around him, or takethe chance of serious injury from being dashed to the rough highway. Theyoung man would have liked to relieve his feelings by a hearty burst oflaughter, as he felt her arms embracing him so warmly, but of course hedared not.

  They soon came near the main road, running due north and south, andwhich it was necessary to take, as it led directly do
wn to Salem.Sweetbriar knew that road well--and that he never stopped when onceturned to the south on it, short of a six mile ride. He remembered hisrecent victorious struggle at the Forks, and now resolved upon anotherbattle. All of Master Putnam's efforts--or what seemed so--could not gethim headed southward on that road. In truth, burdened as he was, theyoung man really could not do it, without incurring too much risk to thelady behind him. Those who have ever had such a battle with a wilful,mettlesome horse, know that it often requires the utmost patience anddetermination on the part of his rider, to come out victorious. The bestplan--the writer speaks from some experience--is to pull the animalround in a circle until his brain becomes confused, and then start himoff in the right direction.

  But Sweetbriar evidently had a better brain than usual, for when thewhirl came to an end, it always found his pointing like the magneticneedle to the north. It had been Master Joseph's plan to pretend a gooddeal of earnestness in the struggle which he was certain would come inthis place; but he was pleased to find that there was no need of anypretence in the matter. The horse, under the circumstances, the youngman having a lady's safety to consult, was the master. Repeated trialsonly proved it. Whenever the fierce, final tug of war came, MistressAnn's safety had to be consulted, and the horse had his own way. So, asthe result Sweetbriar started off in a sharp canter up, instead of down,the road.

  "Take me home then," said his sister-in-law--"if you will not take me toSalem."

  "If I _will_ not," repeated Master Joseph. "I give you my honest word,Sister Ann, that I could not make this horse go down the road, with ustwo on his back, if I stayed here all the afternoon trying. I shouldthink you must have seen that."

  "No matter. Take me home."

  "Besides, we could not get to Salem before four o'clock now, ifSweetbriar went his best and prettiest."

  "I give it up. Let us turn and go home."

  "If we turn and go back the way we came, I do not think I shall be ableto get this self-willed animal past my own gate."

  "Well, what do you mean to do?" said the lady bitterly. "Ride on up toTopsfield?"

  Master Joseph laughed. "No--there is a road strikes off towards yourhouse a short distance above here, and I think I can get you home by it,without any further trouble."

  "Very well--get me home as soon as you can. I do not feel like anyfurther riding, or much more talking."

  "Of course it is very aggravating," replied Master Putnam soothingly,"but then you know as Master Parris says, that all these earthlydisappointments are our most valuable experiences--teaching us not toset our hopes upon worldly things, but upon those of a more enduring andsatisfying character."

  His sister-in-law's face, that he could not see, she being behind him,wore a look as she listened to this, which could be hardly calledevangelical.

  "You wished very much I know to go this afternoon to Salem," continuedMaster Joseph, in the same sermonizing tone; "but doubtless your wishhas been overruled for good. I think, as a member of church, you shouldbe willing to acquiesce patiently in the singular turn that affairs havetaken, and console yourself with the thought that you have beeninnocently riding these peaceful roads instead of being in Salem, doingperchance an infinite deal of mischief."

  "No doubt what you are saying seems to you very wise and edifying,Joseph Putnam, but I have a bad headache, and do not care to converseany further."

  "But you must admit that your projected visit has been frustrated in avery singular, if not remarkable manner?" Master Joseph knew that hehad her now at an advantage; she was compelled to listen to everythinghe chose to say. His saddle was even better in that respect than theminister's pulpit--you might leave a church, but she could not leave thehorse.

  "I do not see anything very miraculous, brother Joseph, in a young manlike you having a self-willed and unprincipled horse. In truth, thewonder would be if you had a decent and well-governed animal," repliedhis sister-in-law wrathfully.

  The young man smiled at the retort, but she could not see the gleam ofsunshine as it passed rapidly over his face; lingering a moment in thesoft depths of his sweet blue eyes. There was no smile however in hisvoice, but the previous solemnity, as he continued:--

  "And yet if Balaam's ass could see the angel of the Lord, with hisdrawn-sword, standing in the way, and barring his further progress inwrongdoing, why might not this horse--who is much more intelligent thanan ass--have seen a similar vision?"

  The young man had begun this speech somewhat in sport; but as he endedit, the assumed tone of solemnity had passed into one of realearnestness. For, as he asked himself, "Why should it not be? This womanwith him was bound on a wicked errand. Why should not the angel or theLord stand in her way also--and the horse see him, even if his ridersdid not?"

  Mistress Putnam made no answer. Perhaps now that the young man wasreally in earnest, what he said made some impression upon her, but, moreprobably it did not.

  He, too, relapsed into silence. It seemed to him a good place to stophis preaching, and let his sister-in-law think over what he had said.

  "Thank Heaven we are here at last!" said the baffled woman, as they rodeup to the horse-block at her own door. Sweetbriar stood very quiet, andshe stepped on the block, Master Joseph keeping his seat.

  "Will you dismount and stay to supper, brother Joseph?" said MistressAnn, in a soft purring tone. Master Joseph fairly started with hissurprise, and looked steadily into her dark, inscrutable eyes--eyes likeJael's as she gazed upon sleeping Sisera.

  "No, I thank you--I expect a friend to supper. I hope brother Thomasheard some good news at Ipswich. Come and see us when you feel likeit." And he rode off.

  As he told his wife afterwards, he would not have taken supper with hissister Ann that evening as he valued his life.

  And yet perhaps it was all imagination--and he did not see that thinglurking in the depths of his sister-in-law's cold, unfathomable eyesthat he thought he did. And yet her testimony against Rebecca Nurse,reads to us, even at this late day, with all the charity that we aredisposed to exercise towards things so long past, as cold-blooded,deliberate murder.