The Real America in Romance, Volume 6 | Page 5

hooted and
jeered.
"Come on, Dame Linkon, and take your bath," cried some idle urchins,
waiting at the water in anticipation of rare sport.
The victim continued to scream in her shrill voice:
"It's for that hussy! She bore false witness against me at the court and
had me condemned. I will be avenged for this!"
"Marry! we will be more damp than you," said Joshua, wiping the
perspiration from his forehead with the cuff of his coat.
"Joshua, is this payment for what I have done for you? When you were
sick with fever I sat by your bedside and cared for you; when no one
else would cook your food, it was I who did it, and is it thus you requite
me?"
"Peace, good dame, I have my duty to perform."
"Duty; but such a duty!"

She still braced her heels against the ground, and it required all the
strength of her guards to push and pull her along.
"Verily, I say such a duty," answered Joshua, on whose grave features
there came a smile. "Dame Linkon, if you would limber your joints we
could make more speed."
"I am in no hurry," she answered.
"I believe you; yet if you had not detained us, this affair would have
been over."
The urchins and older persons began to cry:
"Hold back, Dame Linkon; make them earn their fees."
"I will scratch your eyes out!" she hissed, as she was forced down to
the bank and made to sit in the chair. Joshua wound a strap about her
waist and stooped to buckle it, when, with her freed hand, she seized
his hair, causing him to yell with pain.
"Prythee, hold her hands, lest she make good her threat!" he cried to his
companion.
The appearance of the victim and her guards brought everybody to
their--feet, and a silence fell over the group. The matrons ceased to
gossip; the royalists left off talking politics, and all gathered about to
witness the scene. Joshua's companion held the woman's arms, and he
stooped to bind her feet to the chair, when one flew out like a bolt from
a catapult, planting the toe in the pit of poor Joshua's stomach, causing
him to roll over on the ground and howl with pain. The sheriff by this
time came on the scene and summoned sufficient help to bind her to the
chair.
"See to it that every strap and cord is secure, for if she should fall she
would drown," said the sheriff, and the men drew the leather straps
tight, while Ann Linkon continued to rail and abuse all about her.

"'Tis for the hussy that I am to suffer this," she cried. "Dorothe Stevens
bore me false witness. I never slandered her. There--there is Hugh Price.
Verily I spoke truly, as he knows."
Hugh Price, the young royalist, who had been talking politics with his
friend Roger, blushed.
At this moment, there appeared on the scene a young man twenty-eight
years of age, whose light blue eyes and frank, open face spoke honesty
and humanity. His knit brows and distressed features showed that he
was not in accord with the proceedings. He led the sheriff aside and
spoke hurriedly with him in an undertone, which no one could hear. It
was quite evident that he was making some request which the sheriff
would not grant, for he shook his head in a very emphatic manner, and
those nearest heard the official answer:
"No, no, the judgment of the court, the judgment of the court."
Dame Woodley, turning to a matron near, whispered: "Sarah
Drummond, there is John Stevens, the husband of the woman who had
Ann Linkon adjudged. How dare he come here?"
"For shame!" whispered Sarah Drummond.
"Yea, verily."
"I wonder he could witness the wrong she hath done."
At this a young wife with a babe in her arms interposed:
"They do say that John Stevens had naught to do with the matter and
did protest against having one so old as Ann Linkon ducked."
"John Stevens is a godly man," remarked still another. "He would not
wrong any one."
"If he were my dearest foe," whispered goodwife Woodley, "he would
have my sympathy for living with Dorothe Stevens."

"Whist, Dame Woodley; speak not your mind so freely," whispered
Sarah Drummond, "for there be those in hearing on whose ears your
words had best not fall."
All the while, Ann Linkon had been struggling with her executioners;
but now, helpless and exhausted, she was bound in the chair. The
sheriff, who was a humane man as well as a stern official, remonstrated
with her.
"Ann Linkon, do not so exert and heat yourself, or else when you be
plunged into the water you will take your death."
"Death! Take my