"For six months, the devil of disease has probed my belly and filled it with hot coals," said Constant Sterry, as he swam half in fever. "But for six years, the devil of deceit has turned public sympathy toward those witches--until even the ministers and governors, who had been the first to urge the proceedings on, have all but condemned we who they asked to sit in judgment."

"No," Ela said. "Wait. Stop!"  She’d not been idle in deception. She fumbled in the ragged pockets of her robe.  Thread.  Golden thread. To sew up a shirt. The pretty one he was never around to wear. How long have I hated you? she thought as he struck her. Is it because you aren’t here or because you are?