He was interrupted by the entrance of a haggard old man of a majestic stature, who made his way up to the witness-box, and stood there, as if waiting for the judge to speak.
Ah, Matthew Paris ... thou art come, hey? said Rachel. Where is Bridget Pope?
At the point of death.
And thy daughter, Abigail Paris?
Dead.
George ... George ... we have indeed little to hope now.... Where is Robert Eveleth?
Here ... here I be, cried the boy, starting up at the sound of her voice, and hurrying forward with a feeble step.
Go up there to that box, Robert Eveleth, and say to the judges, my poor sick boy, what thee said to me of Judith Hubbard and of Mary Walcott, and of their wicked conspiracy to prevail with Bridget Pope and Abby Paris, to make oath....
How now ... how now ... stop there! cried the chief-judge. What is the meaning of this?
Tell what thee heard them say, Robert—