Who would have thought that a crofter’s son could find such words? And yet, he is all the more a fool for finding them. What does he think he can do, when they come to take my heart? What can it possibly matter, what they do to me now?
What can I say to him, to make him go?
“I dare say they’ve hanged their share of innocents in times past, Ned...but this was no mistake. I tell thee now, Ned, and tell thee true...I’m a witch, and always was.”
I can see, even as I say it, that it will do no good. The truth will not move him; I should have found a lie to wake his disgust.
“They have made thee believe it,” says the stubborn lad. “They have made thee mad with their questions and curses, their whips and their burning irons. I tell thee now, thou’rt not bound for any of the seven hells, nor s
