SuchwasthedreadfulconfessionofLeonardDoane。Andnowtortured
bytheideaofhissister’sguilt，yetsometimesyieldingtoa
convictionofherpurity；stungwithremorseforthedeathofWalter
Brome，andshudderingwithadeepersenseofsomeunutterablecrime，
perpetrated，asheimagined，inmadnessoradream；movedalsobydark
impulses，asifafiendwerewhisperinghimtomeditateviolence
againstthelifeofAlice；hehadsoughtthisinterviewwiththe
wizard，who，oncertainconditions，hadnopowertowithholdhisaid
inunravellingthemystery。Thetaledrewnearitsclose。
Themoonwasbrightonhigh；thebluefirmamentappearedtoglow
withaninherentbrightness；thegreaterstarswereburningintheir
spheres；thenorthernlightsthrewtheirmysteriousglarefaroverthe
horizon；thefewsmallcloudsaloftwereburdenedwithradiance；but
thesky，withallitsvarietyoflight，wasscarcelysobrilliantas
theearth。Therainoftheprecedingnighthadfrozenasitfell，and，
bythatsimplemagic，hadwroughtwonders。Thetreeswerehungwith
diamondsandmany-coloredgems；thehouseswereoverlaidwith
silver，andthestreetspavedwithslipperybrightness；afrigidglory
wasflungoverallfamiliarthings，fromthecottagechimneytothe
steepleofthemeetinghouse，thatgleamedupwardtothesky。This
livingworld，wherewesitbyourfiresides，orgoforthtomeet
beingslikeourselves，seemedratherthecreationofwizardpower，
withsomuchoftheresemblancetoknownobjectsthatamanmight
shudderattheghostlyshapeofhisoldbeloveddwelling，andthe
shadowofaghostlytreebeforehisdoor。Onelookedtobehold
inhabitantssuitedtosuchatown，glitteringinicygarments，with
themotionlessfeatures，cold，sparklingeyes，andjustsensation
enoughintheirfrozenheartstoshiverateachother’spresence。
Bythisfantasticpieceofdescription，andmoreinthesamestyle，
Iintendedtothrowaghostlyglimmerroundthereader，sothathis
imaginationmightviewthetownthroughamediumthatshouldtake
offitsevery-dayaspect，andmakeitapropertheatreforsowilda
sceneasthefinalone。Amidthisunearthlyshow，thewretchedbrother
andsisterwererepresentedassettingforth，atmidnight，throughthe
gleamingstreets，anddirectingtheirstepstoagraveyard，where
allthedeadhadbeenlaid，fromthefirstcorpseinthatancient
town，tothemurderedmanwhowasburiedthreedaysbefore。Asthey
went，theyseemedtoseethewizardglidingbytheirsides，orwalking
dimlyonthepathbeforethem。ButhereIpaused，andgazedintothe
facesofmytwofairauditors，tojudgewhether，evenonthehill
wheresomanyhadbeenbroughttodeathbywildertalesthanthis，I
mightventuretoproceed。Theirbrighteyeswerefixedonme；their
lipsapart。Itookcourage，andledthefatedpairtoanew-made
grave，whereforafewmoments，inthebrightandsilentmidnight，
theystoodalone。Butsuddenlytherewasamultitudeofpeopleamong
thegraves。
Eachfamilytombhadgivenupitsinhabitants，who，onebyone，
throughdistantyears，hadbeenbornetoitsdarkchamber，butnow
cameforthandstoodinapalegrouptogether。Therewasthegray
ancestor，theagedmother，andalltheirdescendants，somewithered
andfullofyears，likethemselves，andothersintheirprime；
there，too，werethechildrenwhowentprattlingtothetomb，and
therethemaidenwhoyieldedherearlybeautytodeath’sembrace，
beforepassionhadpollutedit。Husbandsandwivesarose，whohadlain
manyyearssidebyside，andyoungmotherswhohadforgottentokiss
theirfirstbabes，thoughpillowedsolongontheirbosoms。Manyhad
beenburiedinthehabilimentsoflife，andstillworetheirancient
garb；somewereolddefendersoftheinfantcolony，andgleamed
forthintheirsteel-capsandbrightbreast-plates，asifstarting
upatanIndianwar-cry；othervenerableshapeshadbeenpastorsof
thechurch，famousamongtheNewEnglandclergy，andnowleanedwith
handsclaspedovertheirgravestones，readytocallthecongregation
toprayer。Therestoodtheearlysettlers，thoseoldillustriousones，
theheroesoftraditionandfiresidelegends，themenofhistorywhose
featureshadbeensolongbeneaththesodthatfewalivecouldhave
rememberedthem。There，too，werefacesofformertownspeople，dimly
recollectedfromchildhood，andothers，whomLeonardandAlicehad
weptinlateryears，butwhonowweremostterribleofall，bytheir
ghastlysmileofrecognition。All，inshort，werethere；thedeadof
othergenerations，whosemoss-grownnamescouldscarcebereadupon
theirtombstones，andtheirsuccessors，whosegraveswerenotyet
green；allwhomblackfuneralshadfollowedslowlythithernow
reappearedwherethemournersleftthem。Yetnonebutsoulsaccursed
werethere，andfiendscounterfeitingthelikenessofdepartedsaints。
Thecountenancesofthosevenerablemen，whoseveryfeatureshad
beenhallowedbylivesofpiety，werecontortednowbyintolerable
painorhellishpassion，andnowbyanunearthlyandderisive
merriment。Hadthepastorsprayed，allsaintlikeastheyseemed，it
hadbeenblasphemy。Thechastematrons，too，andthemaidenswith
untastedlips，whohadsleptintheirvirgingravesapartfromall
otherdust，nowworealookfromwhichthetwotremblingmortals
shrank，asiftheunimaginablesinoftwentyworldswerecollected
there。Thefacesoffondlovers，evenofsuchashadpinedintothe
tomb，becausetheretheirtreasurewas，werebentononeanother
withglancesofhatredandsmilesofbitterscorn，passionsthatare
todevilswhatloveistotheblest。Attimes，thefeaturesofthose
whohadpassedfromaholylifetoheavenwouldvarytoandfro，
betweentheirassumedaspectandthefiendishlineamentswhencethey
hadbeentransformed。Thewholemiserablemultitude，bothsinful
soulsandfalsespectresofgoodmen，groanedhorriblyandgnashed
theirteeth，astheylookedupwardtothecalmlovelinessofthe
midnightsky，andbeheldthosehomesofblisswheretheymustnever
dwell。Suchwastheapparition，thoughtooshadowyforlanguageto
portray；forherewouldbethemoonbeamsontheice，glittering
throughawarrior’sbreast-plate，andtherethelettersofa
tombstone，ontheformthatstoodbeforeit；andwheneverabreeze
wentby，itswepttheoldmen’shoaryheads，thewomen’sfearful
beauty，andalltheunrealthrong，intooneindistinguishablecloud
together。
Idarenotgivetheremainderofthescene，exceptinavery
briefepitome。Thiscompanyofdevilsandcondemnedsoulshadcome
onaholiday，torevelinthediscoveryofacomplicatedcrime；as
foulaoneaseverimaginedintheirdreadfulabode。Inthecourse
ofthetale，thereaderhadbeenpermittedtodiscoverthatallthe
incidentswereresultsofthemachinationsofthewizard，whohad
cunninglydevisedthatWalterBromeshouldtempthisunknownsister
toguiltandshame，andhimselfperishbythehandofhis
twin-brother。Idescribedthegleeofthefiendsatthishideous
conception，andtheireagernesstoknowifitwereconsummated。The
storyconcludedwiththeAppealofAlicetothespectreofWalter
Brome，hisreply，absolvingherfromeverystain；andthetrembling
awewithwhichghostanddevilfled，asfromthesinlesspresenceof
anangel。
Thesunhadgonedown。WhileIheldmypageofwondersinthe
fadinglight，andreadhowAliceandherbrotherwereleftalone
amongthegraves，myvoicemingledwiththesighofasummerwind，
whichpassedoverthehill-top，withthebroadandhollowsoundas
oftheflightofunseenspirits。NotawordwasspokentillIadded
thatthewizard’sgravewasclosebesideus，andthatthewoodwaxhad
sproutedoriginallyfromhisunhallowedbones。Theladiesstarted；
perhapstheircheeksmighthavegrownpalehadnotthecrimsonwest
beenblushingonthem；butafteramomenttheybegantolaugh，while
thebreezetookaliveliermotion，asifresponsivetotheirmirth。
Ikeptanawfulsolemnityofvisage，being，indeed，alittlepiqued
thatanarrativewhichhadgoodauthorityinourancient
superstitions，andwouldhavebroughtevenachurchdeaconto
GallowsHill，inoldwitchtimes，shouldnowbeconsideredtoo
grotesqueandextravagantfortimidmaidstotrembleat。Thoughit
waspastsuppertime，Idetainedthemawhilelongeronthehill，and
madeatrialwhethertruthweremorepowerfulthanfiction。
Welookedagaintowardsthetown，nolongerarrayedinthaticy
splendorofearth，tree，andedifice，beneaththeglowofawintry
midnight，whichshiningafarthroughthegloomofacenturyhadmade
itappeartheveryhomeofvisionsinvisionarystreets。An
indistinctnesshadbeguntocreepoverthemassofbuildingsand
blendthemwiththeintermingledtree-tops，exceptwheretheroofof
astateliermansion，andthesteeplesandbricktowersofchurches，
caughtthebrightnessofsomecloudthatyetfloatedinthe
sunshine。Twilightoverthelandscapewascongenialtotheobscurity
oftime。Withsucheloquenceasmyshareoffeelingandfancycould
supply，Icalledbackhoarantiquity，andbademycompanionsimagine
anancientmultitudeofpeople，congregatedonthehill-side，
spreadingfarbelow，clusteringonthesteepoldroofs，andclimbing
theadjacentheights，whereveraglimpseofthisspotmightbe
obtained。Istrovetorealizeandfaintlycommunicatethedeep，
unutterableloathingandhorror，theindignation，theaffrighted
wonder，thatwrinkledoneverybrow，andfilledtheuniversalheart。
See！thewholecrowdturnspaleandshrinkswithinitself，asthe
virtuousemergefromyonderstreet。Keepingpacewiththatdevoted
company，Idescribedthemonebyone；heretotteredawomaninher
dotage，knowingneitherthecrimeimputedher，noritspunishment；
thereanother，distractedbytheuniversalmadness，tillfeverish
dreamswererememberedasrealities，andshealmostbelievedher
guilt。One，aproudmanonce，wassobrokendownbytheintolerable
hatredheapeduponhim，thatheseemedtohastenhissteps，eagerto
hidehimselfinthegravehastilydugatthefootofthegallows。As
theywentslowlyon，amotherlookedbehind，andbeheldherpeaceful
dwelling；shecasthereyeselsewhere，andgroanedinwardlyyetwith
bitterestanguish，fortherewasherlittlesonamongtheaccusers。
Iwatchedthefaceofanordainedpastor，whowalkedonwardtothe
samedeath；hislipsmovedinprayer；nonarrowpetitionforhimself
alone，butembracingallhisfellow-sufferersandthefrenzied
multitude；helookedtoHeavenandtrodlightlyupthehill。
Behindtheirvictimscametheafflicted，aguiltyandmiserable
band；villainswhohadthusavengedthemselvesontheirenemies，and
vilerwretches，whosecowardicehaddestroyedtheirfriends；
lunatics，whoseravingshadchimedinwiththemadnessoftheland；
andchildren，whohadplayedagamethattheimpsofdarknessmight
haveenviedthem，sinceitdisgracedanage，anddippedapeople’s
handsinblood。Intherearoftheprocessionrodeafigureon
horseback，sodarklyconspicuous，sosternlytriumphant，thatmy
hearersmistookhimforthevisiblepresenceofthefiendhimself；
butitwasonlyhisgoodfriend，CottonMather，proudofhiswell-won
dignity，astherepresentativeofallthehatefulfeaturesofhis
time；theoneblood-thirstyman，inwhomwereconcentratedthose
vicesofspiritanderrorsofopinionthatsufficedtomaddenthe
wholesurroundingmultitude。AndthusImarshalledthemonward，the
innocentwhoweretodie，andtheguiltywhoweretogrowoldinlong
remorse-tracingtheireverystep，byrock，andshrub，andbroken
track，tilltheirshadowyvisageshadcircledroundthehill-top，
wherewestood。Iplungedintomyimaginationforablackerhorror，
andadeeperwoe，andpicturedthescaffold-