“So am I, when I fight for love,” was my reply.
Then there was silence for a time, and she seemed to be thinking of something.
“Why did he call you Sir Francis, Edward?” she asked, presently.
“Because, dear, it is my name,” I said.
“Why, I thought----” she began, but I was not ready to tell her all yet.
“To-morrow will do for my story,” I interposed. “The night is short, let me hear about yourself.”
“There may be no to-morrow,” whispered Lucille.
“It is as God wills,” I said, simply, and I kissed her.
Then she told me of the voyage with Sir George.
“When I found that you were in Salem gaol, charged with witchcraft,” she began, “I recalled how few had come out of there alive, after such an accusation. I knew, as you did not, since you had been absent, how fierce was the hue and cry after witches, or those poor wretches so called. I knew how perilous was the time in Salem town. So I made up my mind that I must get you out, as you could not help yourself. I thought of the Governor, Sir William Phips, believing that he was my only hope. To see him, get a full and free pardon for you, was my only desire.”