The Betrayal by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online

picturing them in the peace and tranquillity that would never return. Even his baby was lost to him—a neighbor had George for the time being.
    All is lost.
    When a knock came at the door, William didn’t move.
    Sinking deeper and deeper into his despair, he didn’t hear it.
    The knock repeated. And then again even more loudly, a third time.
    William stirred, raised his head, listened.
    Yes. A knock on the door.
    Who could it be at this hour? Who would have the nerve to come to his door, knowing how he must be suffering at this moment?
    Knowing how he would suffer the rest of his life. How this night would be played out again and again in his mind until the day he died.
    The loud knocking was repeated.
    Someone was being very insistent.
    With a groan William pulled himself unsteadily to his feet.

    The purple embers came into focus.
    The fire is dying,
he thought.
    Everything in my life is dying.
    More loud knocking.
    â€œGo away,” William muttered.
    But he made his way to the door and pulled it open.
    The bright light of a torch caused William to shield his eyes. Slowly the face of the torch bearer came into view.
    â€œMatthew Fier! What do you want of me?” William demanded weakly. “Have you come to take me away too?”

Chapter 8

    The torchlight fell over Matthew Fier’s face, casting it into deep shadow. His dark eyes stared out at William, black circles ringed by black as black as the grave.
    â€œI have come to help you, not accuse you, William,” Matthew said softly. He raised the torch high, and once again his face disappeared under the shadow of his hat.
    â€œHelp me?” William asked weakly, his body sagging in the narrow doorway.
    â€œMay I come in?”
    William nodded and took a step back. Matthew Fier set the torch down in the dirt and edged into the house, pulling his cloak around him. He removed his hat, revealing tousled brown hair. He hung the hat on a hook on the wall.

    The two men stood awkwardly in front of the door, staring at each other.
    William was the first to break the silence. “My wife and daughter have been unjustly accused. Your brother has made a dreadful mistake. Martha and Susannah know nothing of the dark arts.”
    Matthew started to move past William, his eyes on the dying fire. But William grabbed the front of his cloak. “Your brother is wrong!” he cried. “He is wrong! Wrong!”
    â€œMy brother is human,” Matthew said softly. He pulled away from William’s grasp and, straightening the front of his cloak, stepped to the fire.
    William stared after him, bewildered by his remark.
    Matthew picked up a log from beside the fireplace and dropped it onto the dying embers. “You let your fire die, William,” he said, staring into the hearth.
    â€œI do not care about fires now,” William replied, his trembling voice revealing his emotion. “I care only about my wife and daughter. 1 implore you, Matthew—”
    Matthew turned to face William, clasping his hands in front of his gray doublet. He had rough hands, William saw. Farmer’s hands.
    â€œI believe I can help you, William,” Matthew said slowly, softly.
    â€œYou mean—?”
    â€œI believe I can save your wife and daughter.”
    William uttered a loud sigh. He gestured to the straight-backed chair near the fire.
    Matthew shook his head. He began to pace back and forth in front of the hearth, his boots clickingagainst the floorboards. “My brother is human, as I said.”
    William scratched his white hair. “I do not understand. Do you mean to say …” His voice trailed off.
    â€œI have influence with Benjamin,” Matthew said, raising his dark eyes to William’s.
    â€œYou can talk to him?” William asked eagerly. “You can reason with him? You can explain to him that he has made a tragic error?”
    A strange smile formed on Matthew’s face. He stopped pacing and nodded.