“Your Excellency, this is a very private and personal business.” Having said this he bowed so low that his dark hair fell over his face. Thus he remained with his head deferentially bent during the moment of amazed silence which elapsed before his Excellency replied.
“I have no desire to hear,” he retorted, his small eyes snapping with wrath, “but I would say unto you, young sir, that ’tis exceeding low-bred for you to be setting a lesson in manners to your elders and betters; exceeding unfortunate and ill-bred, say I, though you be a Fellow of Harvard, where, I warrant, more young prigs flourish than in all England.” With which fling his Excellency rose and left the room, followed by his servant.
“I ’gin to be fair concerned as to what this mighty business will prove to be,” said the merry invalid; “my curiosity consumes me as a flame. But sit you down, little mistress, and you, young sir. You must not deem me lacking in gallantry that I rise not. Here have I lain two weeks with the gout. Was e’er such luck? But, why fret and fume, say I, why fret and fume and broil with anxiety like an eel in a frying-pan? Yet was e’er such luck as to have your thumb on your man and not be able to take him?”
“Sir,” spoke Master Ronald from the stool on which he had seated himself, “we come on a matter of life and death. My sister, Deliverance Wentworth, the child you met in the forest outside Salem Town, some three weeks ago, is to be hanged on the morrow for witchery, unless by the grace of God you have power to interfere.”
At these words the invalid’s florid face paled, and he sank back on his pillows with a gasp of mingled horror and astonishment.
“The Lord have mercy on this evil world!” he said, wagging his head portentously. “Alack, alack! the times grow worse. What manner of men are these lean, sour Puritans that they would e’en put their babes to death for witchery? As pretty and simple a maid was she as any I e’er set eyes on, not excepting my sweetest daughter over the seas.”
“Ay,” said the student, raising his white face from his hands, “as sweet a maid as God e’er breathed life into. But I say this,” he cried, raising his voice shrilly, in his excitement, “that if they harm her they shall suffer for it.”
“Not a hair shall they hurt, and God grant me grace to live to get there,” cried the invalid. “Is my word to be accounted of naught,” and he tapped his breast, “mine? Oh, ho! let any dare to deny or disregard it, and he shall rue it.”
“Sir,” said Abigail, approaching him timidly, “Deliverance Wentworth sends ye this.”
He took the package and untied the tow string which bound it. There were two papers, one the sealed parchment Abigail had found in the still-room and the other the letter Deliverance had written.