Forgiveness
10/8/08
The Crucible Persona
Forgiveness
I could feel her eyes on me. I could picture her mouth setting into a hard line, and the coldness settling into her eyes. I refused to meet her stare. Cold dread and hot guilt started mixing in my stomach, and I felt it turn.
It had been my fault. That's the only thought that ran through my mind ever since the trials had ended. Abby and Mercy ran away with her Uncle's money, and John was dead. I should've stopped Abby from telling lies, from accusing Goody Proctor. I should have never made her a poppet. I never should have stuck a needle into it for safe-keeping. I had turned my back on her husband, and we all had paid the price.
Elizabeth stepped back from her doorway, a small child of about five clinging to her skirt. I glanced up from him to meet her eyes briefly. Her eyes weren't hard, they were merely confused. I blushed and looked down, feeling awkward and the stirring in my stomach hastening. There were lines on her face where there had been none before. Stress and another child coupled with the loss of John had aged her past her years.
She was very thin, and sickly looking. Her dress settled awkwardly on her frail shoulders. I looked once more at the boy. He was the spitting image of John, not the rich man she had married.
"What is his name?" I asked quietly. Her attention was drawn to my face again, as she had been studying me as well. I never gained the confidence I so craved as a girl. I was eighteen and terrified of the world. Now I am three-and-twenty and just as afraid. I am small and meek, and the world has rejected me. After the trials were over, we were revealed to be false. That the villagers were angry was an understatement, the were wrought with righteous fury. We had falsely condemned their loved ones, friends and neighbors, and were punished. If Abigail had remained in Salem, she would've been hanged.
"John. His name his John Proctor. He is not my husband's son." Elizabeth's answer brought me out of my reverie. I felt my heart tighten at his name. He was John's son.
"Elizabeth, I know that I can never fully atone for the things I have done five years past, but believe me when I tell you this; I don't know if I can ever forgive even myself. It was my fault he died; it was my fault that Abby got away with her crimes against you and the village. I knew the truth, and I still did nothing. I was nothing but a coward, I still am." I felt hot tears slide down my cheeks, as if the guilt in my stomach found its way out through my eyes. I felt her slap me hard. Her voice took on a hard edge.
"Mary Warren, Abigail was the only cause of that trouble. Thinking of John brings me pain in my heart, but I know you were not the only one fooled by Abby, or who fooled the courts. Goody Putnam had her way over Rebecca Nurse's head ever since she went half-mad with grief. No Mother should lose that many children." She turned away from her and stirred something in a pot over the fire.
"I never should have made you a Poppet. At least I shouldn't have let Abby see me make it. I know I shouldn't ask this, but do you still have it?" Her gaze flickered back to me, filled with some sly amusement.
"Mary, I gave that to my son when he was born. Of course, I made it worthier for a young lad, and now it looks less like a poppet and more a woolen soldier. Little John came running into the room, dragging behind him some bedraggled male version of my poppet. I almost laughed at how much abuse it must have suffered since its creation.
"Won't you join me for a cup of tea?" Elizabeth placed two cups on a table in the corner. A window lit up a bouquet of spring flowers in a small vase. "It'll do us all some good."
I sat down and sipped on my tea. I thought and thought about all of the things that had transpired. I recalled the chaos of the court and the stings of betrayal from abby and the other girls when they pretended to see my spirit. It was no sport, it was something only teenage girls full of mischief can achieve, they brought the devil into this village. I had helped. I talked with Elizabeth for sometime, and we mentioned the crops and how nice the weather had been. There was a new Reverend. He was young, fresh out of Harvard College, and I had met with him frequently to beg forgiveness from God.
I have not found forgiveness from Him yet, but for now, Elizabeth's forgiveness is all I need.