In the mean time the vessel departed; the alarm for Hope spread; the whole village was in arms, and people went here and there in wild conjectures. Whatever might have been the feelings of Mistress Bonyton, it was observed that she did not leave her high-backed, flag-bottomed chair, but, with a handkerchief thrown over her head, leaned back, and ever and anon she was heard to croon, in a quavering voice and dismal tone:
“My heart is like a wilderness;
There the wild raven finds her nest,
And there the screeching owl.”
The door opened, and Dr. Mather and Mr. Partridge entered, and seated themselves beside her. Gradually the room filled with the people of the settlement, who regarded Mistress Bonyton as at the head of the movement against Hope Vines.
While all conversed in a suppressed tone, Dr. Mather inquired as to the habits of Hope and the probabilities of her whereabouts.
While thus engaged, John Bonyton stalked into the room, and stood in the midst, eying the group with a stern glance. Through his clenched teeth he addressed the two learned men, who so confidentially talked with his mother.
“And so ye come a hundred miles or more to persecute a simple child—a poor girl who has provoked the ire of these fiends in human shape!”
“Beware, young man, that you do not bring trouble upon yourself by this intemperate speech,” answered Mather, with compressed lips.
“Oh! I understand your tiger thirst for blood.”