Where—where—what is it, my poor child?
Why—Burroughs—Burroughs—there, there! there now, there he goes again!—that’s he—there, there—don’t you see him now, father?
See whom, dear?—see what?
Why, Burroughs, to be sure—Burroughs, the bad man—there—there—there—
God help us!
I never saw him afore in that shape, father, never in all my days, but I know him though, I know him well enough by the scar on his forehead—there, there—there he goes!—can’t you see him now, father?
See him—to be sure I do.
Gracious God—Almighty Father—what can be the matter with the poor child? I begin to perceive the truth now, said Burroughs, I do not wonder now at your faith, nor at your dreadful terror.
There—there—didn’t you hear that, father?—it spoke then—I heard it speak as plain as day—didn’t you hear it, father?
Why—Abigail Paris—don’t you know me dear? don’t you know your uncle George?