“Where?” I exclaimed. “How should I know? I have not seen her since the day I sailed against St. Johns. You may have heard how, on the night of my return from Pemaquid, I was taken for a witch. I met Sir George that day, and learned from him that my promised wife was his wedded one.”
“Which was a lie,” broke in Nanette.
“Aye, so it seems.”
“Then you have not seen her in Boston?” went on Nanette.
“In Boston? Here? Why, how should I, having only just arrived? But what would bring her here?”
“Listen,” began the woman, speaking rapidly. “She heard of your arrival in Salem, and thought you would have come to her at once.”
“So I would, but for what Sir George told me,” I answered.
“She sat long that night, expecting you,” said Nanette.
I choked back an exclamation. Lucille had been waiting for me when I looked in on her through the window, and whispered a good bye.
“The next morning,” Nanette continued, “word came of your arrest. My mistress, knowing full well, from a bitter experience, the temper of the witch-crazed people and that of the courts, wasted no time. She felt, she said, that reason would not prevail, and that you would be condemned, and so she resolved to go to Boston, and try to secure a pardon for you, from His Excellency, Governor Phips. This would be of more service than all the proofs of law, in freeing you from the sentence. She found a farmer who was going from Salem to Boston that day.