“I know,” was my reply; “Nanette told me something of him, and I know more, of my own experience.”
“He stood before me,” went on Lucille, “and, when I would have passed by him, never giving heed to him, he bowed, and said if I would deign to hear him he would deliver a message from you. I did not know that he was your enemy, as well as mine, or I would not have listened to him. But I was so anxious to do all I could for you that I never stopped to think that Sir George Keith would scarce do his rival a courtesy. So I bade him say on quickly, and told him I never would listen to him on my account.
“Then he told me you had broken gaol early that morning, and were hiding in the woods to avoid capture. He said you had besought him, as a comrade in arms, to get him aid, and particularly to send word to me, so I might come to you.
“‘There is no cause for Captain Amherst to hide,’ I said, ‘for I have a pardon for him. He need fear no gaol.’ Sir George said it was not the witchcraft that was hanging over you now, but a charge of treason. That made me greatly frightened, and I suppose he saw it and knew he could tell me any lie and have it believed. He said, if I would consent to let him guide me to you, he could provide a way of escape for us both.
“I was afraid of him, but he spoke so gently, and was so courteous, never even referring to the hateful past, that I consented. Oh, how little I knew what was before me,” and Lucille shivered, not alone from the night wind. I knew now why Sir George had left the court room so suddenly the day of my trial. It was to get trace of Lucille.
“He said,” she continued, after a pause, “that it would not be safe for us to go directly to your hiding place, as we might be followed. There was a small boat, down at the wharf, he added, sailed by an honest man, and, if I would but trust myself in it, we could move along the shore until we had picked you up. Such, Sir George said, was the plan you had devised.
“Though I wavered a bit, being friendless and alone in Boston town, in the end I yielded, and suffered him to lead the way to the boat. It was the Eagle, and Simon was the whole crew. When Sir George came to the end of the wharf with me, he said to Simon:
“‘This is the lady you are to take to her lover.’
“‘Aye, aye, sir,’ answered Simon, and he touched his hat, and held the steps steady for me to descend. Ah me, it was many a day ere I went up those same steps again.
“At a signal from Sir George Simon cast off, and we were sailing smoothly down the bay, while I was all impatience until I should see you, as my heart misgave me. And I longed to show you the pardon I had, that you might know why I had not remained near you in Salem. See, here it is now.”