So the youngsters called her the 'Black Witch,' and sometimes
hooted after her in the streets, or hobbled on before her with bowed
heads and ridiculous affectation of infirmity. Thanks to her evil name,
none of them ever ventured to actually assault the poor old creature,
and their taunts she bore with patient meekness, going ever quietly upon
her accustomed, peaceful way.
The older villagers regarded her with a pity that was half pity and half
disgust. Those fearful hands they never could forget, nor the bowed
figure, nor the strange working of the lips. Therefore, they held her in
a sort of dreading, but still her lonely life, and her patient,
uncomplaining spirit, moved their hearts. Then a vague
tradition--nothing more, for neither kith nor kin had ancient Hannah--a
vague tradition said that she had once been very beautiful; that when
she was in her fresh and lovely youth, some strange misfortune had
fallen upon her, and that she had worn since then--most innocently--the
mark of a direful tragedy. One lady, old, nearly, as Aunt Hannah, but
upon whom there had never fallen any blight of poverty or wrong, loved
the poor creature well, and she only, of all the inhabitants of the
village, frequently entered the cottage where the 'Black Witch' dwelt.
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