Элизабет Джордж Спир - The Witch of Blackbird Pond / Ведьма с пруда Черных Дроздов. 10-11 классы

“This William Ashby,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “Is the young man courting you, Kit?”

“Well… Yes, I guess.” Why hadn’t she ever told Hannah about William?

Hannah’s kind eyes studied the girl’s face. “Do you plan to marry him?” she asked gently. “Do you love him?”

“I don’t know. How can I tell, Hannah? He is good, and he likes me. Besides, if I don’t marry him, how shall I ever escape from my uncle’s house?”

“Bless you, child!” said Hannah softly. “But just remember that there will be no escape at all if there is no love.”

There was a knock at the door and in came Prudence. She had brought some news about the three sailors. “Nat won’t be able to come to see you,” she told Hannah. “They took them to the Dolphin. But Nat waved goodbye to me.”

Soon they began their reading lesson. Kit had chosen the Psalms to start with, and slowly Prudence was reading out the lines. Then Kit took out a copybook, a small bottle of ink, and a quill pen. “Now I will teach you to write, Prudence. Watch me.” She opened the copybook and wrote the child’s name on the first line. “Now let’s see if you can copy that.” The girl did and was astonished by her own work. Kit and Hannah exchanged a warm smile, but for the first time Kit felt real fear. “Hannah,” she said softly, “I am afraid to go on like this. What would happen if they found us out?”

Before Hannah answered, Prudence looked up. “Don’t say I can’t come, Kit!” she said. “I don’t care what they do to me. I can stand anything, if only you let me come!”

“Of course you can come,” said Kit, hugging the child. “We’ll find an answer, somehow.”

It was getting dark, and Kit and Prudence had to go home. If only they could live a simple life here, in this cottage, together with the older woman and her cats. Later Kit would remember this idyllic picture many times. Was there some premonition? Did she somehow know that this was the last afternoon the three of them would ever spend together in the small cottage?

At home Aunt Rachel greeted Kit gravely. “You’re very late, Kit. It was wrong of you to stay away from Lecture. Your uncle was very angry. By the way, John Holbrook is here to say goodbye to you and Mercy.”

“Goodbye? What has happened, Aunt Rachel? Where is John going?” asked Kit, shocked.

“John has enlisted in the militia. They are sent to help some towns in Massachusetts with the Indian attacks, and John volunteered to go with them. They need a doctor, and John has learned a lot of medicine this year.”

“But why now?”

“I think it was his way of breaking with Dr. Bulkeley who favors Governor Andros and the new government,” explained Rachel. “John just couldn’t stand it any longer.”

“That’s not fair!” cried Judith. “I think it’s just his stubbornness!”

Mercy spoke too now, “I think you should be proud of him.”

“Well, I’m not,” answered Judith. “Now John won’t get his own church, and he can never get married or build a house!” Tears were running down her cheeks.

“He will come back,” Rachel comforted her. “It will be only a few weeks.”

Mercy spoke thoughtfully again. “Try to understand, Judith,” she said slowly. “Sometimes it isn’t that a man doesn’t care. Sometimes he has to prove something to himself. I don’t think John wanted to go away. I think, somehow, that he had to.”

Five days after John Holbrook’s departure Judith fell ill. Her mother put her to bed, thinking it was just the broken heart fever. However, in two more days the alarm spread all over Wethersfield. Sixteen children and young people had a mysterious fever, and nothing seemed to help them. On the fourth day Kit also felt chilly and dizzy. Her fever was short, however. Barbados fruit and sunshine made her young body strong. Now poor Mercy was seriously ill and coughing violently, too, staying in something between sleeping and waking. Fear settled in Matthew Wood’s household. On the fourth morning of Mercy’s illness Matthew didn’t go to work, but just sat at the table, reading the Bible. The young doctor, called for the third time, stood helplessly at Mercy’s bed. Then Rachel spoke to her husband, “Matthew, do you think that Dr. Bulkeley might know something to help her? He is so skilled.”

“I said that man would never come into my house,” Mathew answered her angrily.

At noon there was a sudden knock at the door. “Let me in. I’ve something to say,” announced the voice and in came the Reverend Bulkeley. “Matthew,” he said, “you’re so stubborn. But this is no time for politics. Your Mercy has always been like my own daughter. Let me see her, Matthew. Let me do what I can, with God’s help, to save her.”

Matthew silently agreed. Dr. Bulkeley’s presence brought new hope to their house. “I have a theory,” he told them. “I’ve read something. Cook me some onions.”

When the onions were cooked, Dr. Bulkeley put them on a napkin and onto Mercy’s chest. As soon as the onions cooled, he replaced them with a new portion, which Kit had been helping Rachel to make for many hours. Late in the afternoon the exhausted doctor left to help other patients.

Then without warning a new fear came. In the evening there was another knock on the door. Matthew Wood opened it, and there stood a little crowd of local people. “There’s illness everywhere!” shouted the angry voices. “Three young people are already dead! We’ll all die! Let’s stop it! Come with us! It’s the witchcraft! We’re going for the witch!”

“Who’s the witch?” asked Matthew.

“The Quaker woman who lives by Blackbird Pond! She’s been a curse on this town for years with her witchcraft! She’s with the devil!”

“This is nonsense,” said Matthew Wood. “No old woman or witchcraft could bring a plague like this. I won’t help you with any witch-hunt.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” a woman’s voice cried suddenly. “You have a witch in your own household! Ask your niece where she spends her time!”

Suddenly Matthew Wood turned red with anger. “Be gone from my house!” he shouted. “My niece is a good God-fearing girl! How dare you all?” There was a silence. Then the crowd turned and walked away to knock on other people’s doors.

When the angry crowd was gone, Kit asked, “What will they do to her? She’s just a poor helpless old woman! Will they harm her?”

“This is Connecticut,” answered Matthew gravely. “They will go by the law. I suppose they will have a trial. If she can prove herself innocent, she will be safe.”

“But what will they do with her tonight?”

“How do I know? This is none of your business, girl,” answered Uncle Matthew angrily.

“Go and get some rest, Kit,” suggested Rachel.

Kit looked from one to the other. They were not going to do anything. Upstairs, in her own room, she stood thinking. She would have to get to Hannah. No matter what happened, she could not stay here and leave Hannah to face that crowd alone. If only she could get there in time to warn her! Kit took her coat and crept down the stairs, then through the back door into the garden, and then she started running along the road. In the Meeting House Square the crowd was gathering: there were about twenty men and a few women, carrying torches. Kit ran on, unnoticed.

The misty meadows were peaceful and still. In the dark Kit found the path easily. Ahead she saw the Blackbird Pond and a slight glow in Hannah’s window. The door was not locked. Inside, Hannah was sitting in her chair, asleep. Kit touched the woman’s shoulder gently. “Hannah,” she said. “This is Kit. Wake up! We need to go, quickly.”