“I will not go—stand off!” he at length cried, pushing the people aside right and left, and making his way with long strides to the Vines mansion.
Mistress Vines, in a burst of maternal tenderness, threw her arms about his neck.
“Oh, my son! my beautiful boy! where is Hope? Where is Hope?” she cried.
The young man lifted her arms from his neck, and looked fiercely round.
“Have you hidden her away from me? Tell me truly. Let no one dare deceive me.”
At this moment his sister Nancy appeared, and going up to him, said:
“I’m ashamed of you, John Bonyton, I am.”
The youth glanced at her. It was evident he was nearly beside himself. He seized her by the arm, and shook her long, thin hands.
“I have heard your talk. I have heard you tell of the ‘witch test,’ on the shoulder of Hope. Go to; if a hair of her head is injured, woe to you and such as you!”
And he pushed her from the door.