How could I?
Mary Elizabeth Dyer!
Nay nay—we should be safer with him—
Our safety is not in George Burroughs, maiden.
But we should find our way in the dark better.
Rachel made no reply, but she stood looking at her sister, with her lips apart and her head up, as if she were going to speak, till her eyes ran over, and then she fell upon her neck and wept aloud for a single moment, and then arose and, with a violent effort, broke away from Elizabeth, and hurried into their little bedroom, where she staid so long that Elizabeth followed her—and the preacher soon heard their voices and their sobs die away, and saw the linked shadows of both in prayer, projected along the white roof.
A moment more and they came out together, Rachel with a steady look and a firm step, and her sister with a show of courage that awed him.
Thee will go with us now, I hope, said Rachel.
He shook his head.
I pray thee George—do not thou abide here—by going with us thee may have it in thy power to help a——in short, we have need of thee George, and thee had better go, even if thee should resolve to come back and outface whatever may be said of thee—