t and Dulcibel heard the heavy bolt shoot into its
socket, and the voices dying away as the men went down the stairs.

She groped her way to the bed in the darkness, sat down upon it and
burst into tears. It was like a change from Paradise into the infernal
regions. A few hours before and she had been musing in an ecstasy of joy
over her betrothal, and dreaming bright dreams of the future, such
perhaps as only a maiden can dream in the rapture of her first love. Now
she was sitting in a prison cell, accused of a deadly crime, and her
life and good reputation in the most imminent danger. One thing alone
buoyed her up--the knowledge that her lover was fully aware of her
innocence; and that he and Joseph Putnam would do all that they could do
in her behalf. But then the sad thought came, that to aid her in any way
might be only to bring upon themselves a similar accusation. And then,
with a noble woman's spirit of self-sacrifice, she thought: "No, let
them not be brought into danger. Better, far better, that I should
suffer alone, than drag down my friends with me."

Here she heard the noise of the bolt being withdrawn, and saw the dim
light of the jailer's candle.

As the jailer entered he threw down some heavy irons in the corner of
the room. Then, he closed the door behind him, and came up to the
unhappy girl. He laid his hand upon her shoulder and said:

"You little witch!"

Something in the tone seemed to strike upon the maiden's ear as if it
were not unfamiliar to her; and she looked up hastily.

"Do you not remember me, little Dulcy? Why I rocked you on my foot in
the old Captain's house in Boston many a day."

"Is it not uncle Robie?" said the girl. She had not seen him since she
was four years old.

The jailer smiled. "Of course it is," he replied, "just uncle Robie. The
old captain never went to sea that Robie Foster did not go as first
mate. And a blessed day it was when I came to be first mate of this
jail-ship; though I never thought to see the old captain's bonnie bird
among my boarders."

"And do you think I really am a witch, uncle Robie?"

"Of course ye are. A witch of the worst kind," replied Robie, with a
chuckle. "Now, when I come in here tomorrow morning nae doobt I will
find all your chains off. It is just sae with pretty much all the
others. I cannot keep them chained, try my best and prettiest."

"And Antipas?"

"Oh, he will just be like all the rest of them, doobtless. He is a
powerf