Another moment, and the door through which the Governor had passed was opened by the old Moor. He beckoned them to enter.
They found themselves in a spacious apartment, the state bed-chamber of the house.
Standing well out in the centre of the room was a great four-poster bed, with a crimson canopy. The curtains were drawn back, revealing a man lying dressed on the bed, propped up by pillows.
The Governor sat beside him. He nodded to the two young people.
“Is not this the gentleman you seek?” he asked, with a wave of his hand toward the occupant of the bed.
They had recognized him, however, at once. There was the flowing wig of chestnut hue, the comely countenance, the rich dress, the curled moustache Deliverance had so admired. One of his legs, bound in wool and linen, rested on a pillow. On a table at the further side of the bed were placed some quills, an ink-horn, and paper; also a jug of wine and silver mugs.
“By my troth,” cried this fine person, jovially, “I expected none such pretty visitor. Come here and kiss me, little maiden, and I swear you shall have your wish, whatsoe’er it be. And it be not the round moon or the throne of England,” he added chuckling.
Abigail courtesied at a safe distance from the bed.
Meanwhile, Master Ronald had his eye on Governor Phipps. He feared to mention their errand in the presence of his Excellency, knowing that they might expect neither reason nor tolerance from him. So he drew himself up to his full height and said with confidence, not unbecoming in so learned a Fellow of Harvard:—