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He probably signified, informally, to the Judges, that they must not meet on the day to which they had adjourned. Brattle, writing on the eighth, had not heard any thing of the kind. But the Rev. Samuel Torrey of Weymouth, who was in full sympathy with the prosecutors, had heard of it on the seventh, as appears by this entry in Sewall's Diary: "OCT. 7^th, 1692. Mr.
Brattle," he said, "your husband and I have been talking about his poor sister Carry." "The least said the soonest mended about that one, I'm afeared," said the dame. "Indeed, I agree with you. Were she once placed in safe and kind hands, the less then said the better. She has left the life she was leading " "They never leaves it," said the dame.
However, the hour wore itself away, and he was allowed to take his departure. During the next two days he did not see Mary Lowthcr. On the Friday he met her with Mrs. Fenwick as the two were returning from the mill. They had gone to visit Mrs. Brattle and Fanny, and to administer such comfort as was possible in the present circumstances.
"And you were living on the thirty-first of last August with Mrs. Burrows at Pycroft Common?" "Do you remember Sunday the thirty-first of August?" These, and two or three other questions like them were asked by a young barrister in the mildest tone he could assume. "Speak out, Miss Brattle," he said, "and then there will be nothing to trouble you."
These things he had seen, but the stream, and the hedges, and the twittering of the birds, were as nothing to him. As he went he met old Mrs. Brattle making her weary way to church. He had not known Mrs. Brattle, and did not speak to her, but he had felt quite sure that she was the miller's wife.
There were men there pulling the thatch off the building, and there were carts and horses bringing laths, lime, bricks, and timber, and taking the old rubbish away. As he crossed quickly by the slippery stones he saw old Jacob Brattle standing before the mill looking on, with his hands in his breeches pockets.
In the passage, pointing out the error in the name of Brattle, he calls him, "at the time" he wrote the account of Salem witchcraft, "the Treasurer of Harvard College." Brattle held not then, and never had held, that honorable trust and title, though subsequently appointed to the office.
As for the miller himself, no one had mentioned Carry's name to him since the day on which the Vicar had made his attempt. And from that day to the present there had been, if not ill blood, at least cold blood between Mr. Fenwick and old Brattle.
Burrows' shoulder-blade; but it was believed that beyond this he could say nothing as to the murder. But Carry Brattle was presumed to have a closer knowledge of at least one of the men. She had now confessed to her sister that, after leaving Bullhampton, she had consented to become Acorn's wife.
Fenwick took a large, red apple from the dresser, and began to munch, it, declaring that they had none such in their orchard. And then, when the apple was finished, he had to begin his story. "Mrs. Brattle, I'm sorry that I have something to say that will vex you." "Eh, Mr. Fenwick! Bad news? 'Deed and I think there's but little good news left to us now, little that comes from the tongues of men.
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