Whatever the Lord prompteth, said a low voice near him.
Hark—hark—who was that? said a judge. I thought I heard somebody speak.
It was I—I, Rachel Dyer! answered the courageous woman. It was I. Ye are all in array there against a fellow-creature’s life. Ye have beset him on every side by the snares of the law.... Ye are pressing him to death—
Silence!—
No judge, no! I marvel that ye dare to rebuke me in such a cause, when ye know that ere long I shall be heard by the Son of Man, coming in clouds with great glory to judge the quick and the dead—
Peace ... peace, woman of mischief—look to yourself.
Beware Peter! and thou too Elias! Ye know not how nigh we may all be to the great Bar—looking up to the sky, which was now so preternaturally dark with the heavy clouds of an approaching thunder-storm, that torches were ordered. Lo! the pavillion of the Judge of Judges! How know ye that these things are not the sign of his hot and sore displeasure?
Mark that, brother; mark that, said a judge. They must know that help is nigh, or they could never brave it thus.
Whatever they may know brother, and whatever their help may be, our duty is plain.
Very true brother ... ah ... how now!