Weaver turned pale. He knew that what she said might in all probability be true.
“But I cannot give them a bit of paper instead of a prisoner,” he repeated. “If you will bring me some one else, who will vouch for the mob’s respect of your pardon, as you vouch for the Governor——”
“We’ve got to have her,” interrupted Adam. “You can say she escaped, by her power of witchcraft. Release her, or look your last on these cheerful walls.”
“Oh, but, Adam,” said Garde, “why should we make such misery and trouble for one person—for two persons, indeed with Mrs. Weaver—in trying to save another? I like these good people. They are very kind to their prisoners. They have spent much of their own money to give them little comforts. Can we not think of some other way, as good as this, to get poor Goody out and do no harm to innocent people?”
Weaver was ready to break into tears. He started to repeat, “Bring me some one to——”
“Oh! Oh, I know! I know what to do!” cried Garde, interrupting. “All you need is some one else to blame, when they find she is gone! It would never be your fault if some one took her place. It would be a trick on you, when they found it out. I’ll take her place. I’ll take her place, because when they find out they are starting to try only me, they will have to laugh it off as a joke. And Grandther is one of the magistrates—appointed to-day—so they will have to let me go—and Goody will be far away, by then—and no one will get into trouble!”
“So one could blame me—nor they wouldn’t,” said Weaver, slowly, “but as for you, Miss——”
“Then we can do it!” Garde broke in, a little wildly. “Oh, hurry! we might he too late. You can put me wherever Goody is, and I can change clothes with her, and then, Adam——”
“Yes, but——” started Adam.
“Oh, let me, dear. I shan’t mind it a bit. And in the morning it will all be over, and Goody will be safe, and no one harmed—and there is no other way. And I want to! Oh, Goody has been like a mother to me! I must do it. Please don’t say anything more. Mr. Weaver, take me to Goody now!”