A Break With Charity: A Story About the Salem Witch Trials Read Online Free PDF Page B

heart.
    "I have good news," I said.
    "And what would that be?" Father asked.
    "Three ships are riding at anchor in Boston Harbor. Just in this day. One from Barbados."
    Mother gave a small cry. Father's expression never changed. "From whence this news?"
    "From John Dorich."
    "Oh, Phillip, you must find out," Mama said. "Seek what word you can, even if it means going to Boston."
    Father remained calm. "We have been down this path too often, Mary," he said. "You know false hope is more cruel than despair."
    "Can we ignore any hope? No matter how fragile?" Mama asked.
    Father sighed. "You know I will pursue the matter, Mary, though my contacts in Boston would have let me know of any word concerning William."
    "They are busy men, with their minds on matters of commerce," Mama said. "And after being at sea for months, the captains and crews won't stay around the docks long enough to be questioned."
    "I'll go to Boston tomorrow, Mary." Father's voice was filled with patience.
    "Thank you, Phillip. And I will say extra prayers. And fast. I 'll not wear silk for a year. If only..."
    "Mary." Father spoke firmly. "William's life is worth more than silk dresses. You know it, I know it, and God knows it. You must stop tormenting yourself. I doubt if wearing rough wool will get William back. God doesn't resort to such bartering. Would that He did!"
    Mama's eyes filled with tears. "Reverend Mather advises fasting."
    "Cotton Mather is a blockhead," Father said. "Any man who wastes time writing reports on witchcraft hasn't the sense of a gander."
    "Phillip!" Mama's face went white. "You financed his father's voyage to England."
    "His father is a good man. Cotton is a dunderhead. I 've known such since Cotton encouraged that frenzy in the North End of Boston over the antics of that Irish washerwoman they said was a witch. That was almost four years ago now, and still the man hasn't gained a whit of sense. Witches in Boston. I didn't believe it then, and I won't believe it now." He took another gulp of ale. The matter was finished.
    "Mister English, sir, there's a woman at the back door who begs a word with you." Deborah, our kitchen maid, came into the room.
    "Is she hungry?" Father asked. "Give her some food."
    "Not hungry, sir. Says she'll speak with you this night or not leave. She has a child with her, and I fear they're half frozen to death."
    "Oh, all right, I'll come." Father got up and left the room.
    Alarm spread through me. Mistress Good! At our back door! It could only be she, here to beg for more handouts. I sat frozen, scarcely able to eat, while Mama and Mary chatted about possible news from Boston concerning William.
    It seemed an hour before Father returned to his place at the table, but it was truly only about ten minutes. For a moment he just stood there.
    "What is it, Phillip?" Mama asked.
    "Just Mistress Good, the beggar woman." He was looking at me with a great measure of sadness. "Susanna, I would see you in my library after supper."

    "I would tell your mother of your deceit, but it would break her heart. She has enough to break her heart these days."
    My father was middling tall and given to plumpness in his mature years. He had kind brown eyes and a pleasant face. His voice made me feel more secure than the town watch making his rounds at night and crying out the hour and telling us "all is well" while I was snug in bed.
    My father's presence was benign, not threatening like that of Reverend Parris and some other men. Even when he wore his tall-crowned hat and black cloak, garments that signified authority. But he was angry at that moment. And when he was angry, we always paid heed.
    I waited, saying nothing.
    "You have not been truthful, Susanna. You did not give your mother's provisions to the poor for whom she intended them. You gave them to Mistress Good."
    "But Sarah Good is poor, honored Father. More so than anyone in the village. I considered it an act of charity to give her the provisions."
    "Then why did you