long-stemmed pipe in his parlor following his noonday meal. Ronald noted that he’d become significantly portly over the last few years and was certainly a far cry from the rakish fellow who used to skate with Ronald on the Charles River during their college years.
Samuel was happy to see Ronald, but his greeting was restrained. He anticipated the nature of Ronald’s visit before Ronald even broached the subject of Elizabeth’s ordeal. In response to Ronald’s questions, he confirmed Jonathan Corwin’s story. He said that Elizabeth’s guilt was unquestioned due to the real evidence that Sheriff Corwin had seized from Ronald’s house.
Ronald’s shoulders slumped. He sighed and fought off tears. He was at a loss. He asked his host for a mug of beer. When Samuel returned with the brew, Ronald had recovered his composure. After a long draft he asked Samuel the nature of the evidence used against his wife.
“I am loath to say,” Samuel said.
“But why?” Ronald asked. He studied his friend and could see his discomfiture. Ronald’s curiosity mounted. He hadn’t thought to ask Jonathan about the evidence. “Surely I have a right to know.”
“Indeed,” Samuel said, but still he hesitated.
“Please,” Ronald said. “I trust it will help me understand this wretched affair.”
“Perhaps it is best if we visit my good friend Reverend Cotton Mather,” Samuel said. He stood up. “He has more experience in the affairs of the invisible world. He will know how to advise you.”
“I bow to your discretion,” Ronald said as he got to his feet.
They took Samuel’s carriage and went directly to the Old North Church. An inquiry with a charwoman told them that Reverend Mather was at his home on the corner of Middle Street and Prince Street. Since the destination was close, they walked. It was also convenient to leave the horse and carriage in Charles Square in front of the church.
Samuel’s knock was answered by a youthful maidservant who showed them into the parlor. Reverend Mather appeared posthaste and greeted them effusively. Samuel explained the nature of their visit.
“I see,” Reverend Mather said. He motioned to chairs and they all sat down.
Ronald eyed the cleric. He’d met him before. He was younger than Ronald and Samuel, having graduated from Harvard in 1678, seven years after they had. Age notwithstanding, he was already evidencing some of the physical changes Ronald saw in Samuel and for the same reasons. He’d put on weight. His nose was red and slightly enlarged, and his face had a doughy consistency. Yet his eyes sparkled with intelligence and fiery resolve.
“You have my loving solicitude for your tribulations,” Reverend Mather said to Ronald. “God’s ways are often inscrutable for us mortals. Beyond your personal torment I am deeply troubled about the events in Salem Town and Salem Village. The populace has been overcome by an unruly and turbulent spirit, and I fear that events are spinning out of control.”
“At the moment my concern is for my wife,” Ronald said. He’d not come for a sermon.
“As it should be,” Reverend Mather said. “But I think it is important for you to understand that we-the clergy and the civil authorities-must think of the congregation as a whole. I have expected the devil to appear in our midst, and the only consolation about this demonic affair is now, thanks to your wife, we know where.”
“I want to know the evidence used against my wife,” Ronald said.
“And I shall show it to you,” Reverend Mather said. “Provided that you will keep its nature a secret, since we fear its general revelation would surely inflame the distress and disquietude in Salem even more than it currently is.”
“But what if I choose to appeal the conviction?” Ronald demanded.
“Once you see the evidence you will not choose to do so,” Reverend Mather said. “Trust me in this. Do I have your word?”
“You have my word,” Ronald said. “Provided my