ns some day in
disgust. Uncle Robie often declared to Dulcibel that he would, when she
was once fairly out of the clutches of her enemies.

Every now and then instructions would come to jailer Foster from one of
the magistrates--generally Squire Hathorne--to put heavier irons on some
one of the prisoners, whose spectre was still tormenting the "afflicted
girls." It being generally held that the more heavily you chained a
witch, the less able she was to afflict her victims. And at these times
Master Foster would get out his heaviest irons, parade them before the
eyes of the constables, declare in a fierce tone what he was about to
do, get the constable off on one pretext or another--and do nothing.

It was thought best and wisest for neither Master Joseph Putnam nor
Master Raymond to seek many interviews with Dulcibel; the means of
intercourse between the two lovers being restricted to little notes,
which goodwife Buckley, who frequently visited the maiden, transmitted
from one to the other through the agency of either her husband or of
Joseph Putnam. This kept them both in heart; and Dulcibel being
sustained by the frequent assurances of her lover's devotion, and by the
hope of escape, kept the roses of her cheeks in marvelous bloom during
her close confinement.

One of the constables, who managed to get sight of her one day through
the half-opened door of her cell, expressed surprise to the jailer that
she should still look so blooming, considering the weight of the heavy
chains to which she was continually subjected.

"And why should not the young witch look so?" replied the jailer. "Is
not her spectre riding around on that devil's mare half the night, and
having a good time of it?"

The constable assented to this view of the case; and his suspicions, if
he had any, were quieted. In fact even Squire Hathorne himself probably
would have been perfectly satisfied with an explanation of so undeniable
a character.

Of course it was not considered prudent by Uncle Robie, that the
furniture or general appearance of Dulcibel's cell should be changed in
the least for the better. Not even a bunch of flowers that Goodwife
Buckley once brought to Dulcibel, could be allowed to remain there.
While in a corner of the cell, lay the heavy chains which, if the
marshal or one of the magistrates, should insist upon seeing the
prisoner, could be slipped on her wrists and ankles in a few minutes.
Fortunately, however, for Dulcibel,