With a shout, the others closed round Gil, but this roused his own followers, who ran up and dragged Mother Goodhugh away. They faced Sir Mark’s men, and, weapons being drawn, there was an imminent risk of a renewal of the fight, when Sir Thomas’s fat voice was heard, sounding weak and tremulous, for the baronet was terribly alarmed.
“Stop! my good men,” he cried; “you must not burn her until she has been tried. A woman suspected of witchcraft must—er—er—must—er—er—be taken before—er—er—the nearest justice of the peace—er—er—er—that is me, you see, and—”
“Escape without a word,” whispered Gil to the old woman. “I’ll cover your flight.”
“Bless thee for—”
“Keep thy blessings and thy curses,” said Gil, sternly. “Go.”
Mother Goodhugh shrank trembling away, the village people and the workers opening to let her pass, while, when Sir Mark’s men advanced to try and retake her, they were met by the swords of Gil’s crew.
“Don’t; pray don’t let them fight,” whispered Anne in agony.
“Is this a seemly time for a fresh encounter, Sir Mark?” said Gil.
“Not if you give yourself up,” was the reply. “I give up—to you?” said Gil. “Let who interferes with me and my men do so at his peril. This way, my lads,” he cried. “There is a cloak behind yon shed. It was meant for thee, sweet,” he whispered, as he bent down over the dead, “to keep thee from the cold;” and upon its being brought, the lifeless figure, in its wedding-dress, was reverently lifted and borne into Tom Croftly’s house.
Sir Mark concluded to engage in no further encounter that night, telling himself that he could easily take Gil another time. So, calling off his men, he allowed him to superintend the removing of the lifeless girl, Anne Beckley now following trembling into the cottage, awe-stricken as she was at being in the presence of death, while, when at last day broke and the bright sun rose, it was upon a heap of ashes smouldering and smoking still. Where the pleasant old garden had been alive with verdure, teeming fruit-trees, and autumn flowers, was a space of trampled blackened soil, while for fifty yards round the trees had been scorched and stripped not only of their leaves, but of every minor twig and spray.