And when she slowly turned and looked upon him, the haughty judge was ready to sink to the floor.
"As for you, John Hathorne, for your part in these wicked doings," here she paused as if waiting to hear a supernatural voice, while the crowded meeting-house was quiet as a tomb--"No! you are only grossly deluded; you shall not die.

But a curse shall be upon you and your descendants for a hundred years.

They shall not prosper.

Then a Hathorne shall arise who shall repudiate you and all your wicked works, and the curse shall pass away!" Squire Hathorne regained his courage the instant she said he should not die, little he cared for misfortunes that might come upon his descendants.
"Off with the witch to prison--we have heard enough!" he cried hoarsely.
"Tell the jailer to load her well with irons, hands and feet; and give her nothing to eat but bread and water of repentance.

She is committed for trial before the special court, in her turn, and at the worshipful judges' convenience.".