Beneath the rock I had selected as our shelter for the night I kindled a fire, and the wind, taking the smoke away, made the place comfortable. The heat served to dry our garments and warmed our chilled blood. Lucille clung to me, trembling with the recollection of all she had passed through, and I held her in my arms and bade her be of better cheer, for the worst was now past.
“You had a long voyage,” I said, for I did not know how to begin so that she might tell me of the cruise of the Eagle.
“And a terrible one,” she answered, with a shudder. “Oh, Edward, my love, I thought never to see you again, and I wished myself dead a hundred times. There was naught but fear and misery in my heart, but now--now--I am so very happy. Yet not altogether happy, Edward.”
“And why?” I asked.
“Because I think of the morrow.”
“So you fear for me, my sweet?”
“Much, Edward, for he is a terrible man.”
228“So am I, when I fight for love,” was my reply.
Then there was silence for a time, and she seemed to be thinking of something.
“Why did he call you Sir Francis, Edward?” she asked, presently.
“Because, dear, it is my name,” I said.
“Why, I thought----” she began, but I was not ready to tell her all yet.
“To-morrow will do for my story,” I interposed. “The night is short, let me hear about yourself.”
“There may be no to-morrow,” whispered Lucille.
“It is as God wills,” I said, simply, and I kissed her.
Then she told me of the voyage with Sir George.
“When I found that you were in Salem gaol, charged with witchcraft,” she began, “I recalled how few had come out of there alive, after such an accusation. I knew, as you did not, since you had been absent, how fierce was the hue and cry after witches, or those poor wretches so called. I knew how perilous was the time in Salem town. So I made up my mind that I must get you out, as you could not help yourself. I thought of the Governor, Sir William Phips, believing that he was my only hope. To see him, get a full and free pardon for you, was my only desire.”
I could feel her hand, that I held beneath my coat, press mine. I answered the pressure, and drew Lucille near to me. She went on:
229“So, knowing there was little time to lose, I made a bargain with Master Richard Johnson, who lived on the road back of me, to take me to Boston in his big cart, as he was going there that day with some barrels of cider. Not even stopping to tell you good bye, so full was I of my project, I put on my best gown--’tis a sad sight now, though”--and Lucille sighed and looked down at her dress, all wet and torn--“pinned a ribbon in my hair, and was off to see His Excellency. We were two days on the road, because the cart broke.
“Well, I found him at home, and, after some parley with his servant, who said his master was busy with noble lords from London, I was admitted to the presence of Sir William.
“I curtsied as best I knew, and looked about, half tempted to run out again, for the room was filled with men. Oh, but they stared so at me; verily, I thought none of them had scarce before seen a maid in her best gown.”
Well I knew why they looked, I thought, for fairer face than Lucille’s there was not in Boston, or Salem--aye, in all of London.
“But,” she continued, “I did manage to stammer out what I had come for, and when His Excellency had gathered the import of my words, he became kindly at once and came near to me, while he left the noble lords, if such they were, to talk among themselves. I heard one of them say ‘Zounds! But would she not make some of our 230London beauties stare.’ So I looked him full in the face, and replied:
“‘There be many others in Salem town, if it please you, sir,’ whereat they all laughed, save His Excellency, and he smiled at me. Then, Edward, I pleaded for your life.”
“What did you say, sweet?” I asked.
“I begged that I might not be sent away without a pardon,” went on Lucille. “And, to show it was deserved, I told Sir William of the deeds you had done. How strong you were to cast the great stone, and how they said you were a witch because you had done that. Then I reminded him of St. Johns and Pemaquid, for I had heard somewhat of what took place there. I urged upon him that you were a good soldier, and a true one, serving His Gracious Majesty most faithful.
“Then, when I could think of no more to say, I told His Excellency that--that I loved you better than any one else in the whole world, and that he must pardon you for me,” and Lucille leaned over and hid her face on my shoulder.
“All that for me,” I whispered. “I was not worth it.”
“Oh, but you are,” said Lucille, looking up quickly, “or I should never have been brave enough to do all I did.”
“What said His Excellency, when you pleaded so well for me?” I asked.
“Why,” continued Lucille, “he smiled, and wanted to 231know who it was I had come to save. ‘Captain Edward Amherst,’ I replied, and then all the men in the room, who had been talking about the custom-house, burst into shouts of laughter.
“One of them said: ‘Not the traitor Sir George is after, is it, Your Excellency?’ ‘The same,’ was the Governor’s answer.
“That angered me, to hear them call you a traitor, though I did not realize who Sir George was then,” went on Lucille. “I stamped my foot, forgetting that I was in the presence of the Governor, and cried out: ‘Captain Amherst is no traitor, but a true and honorable gentleman, and a brave soldier, which is more than can be said of many.’ The men turned aside at that, and Sir William led me to another room.
“There he told me he would grant a pardon from the charge of witchcraft, which he did not believe in, but he added that there were graver matters hanging over your head. I was so overjoyed at hearing him say he would give the pardon that I only heard him murmur something about fearing it would be of little service. He called his secretary to bring his quill, ink-horn and sand box. When he had them he indited a full and free pardon for Captain Amherst, from the charge of witchcraft, sealing it with his own hand.
“He bowed me out of the chamber, while all the men stared so again that my cheeks were burning. But I was 232out of the house at last, and so anxious to get back to you and have you released from Salem gaol, that I could scarce walk fast enough. As I was going down the steps I was startled by seeing a man in front of me. I looked up in fright, and there was one I least desired to meet--Sir George Keith.”
Lucille glanced at me.
“I should have told you about him before,” she continued, “only I wanted to wait----”
“I know,” was my reply; “Nanette told me something of him, and I know more, of my own experience.”
“He stood before me,” went on Lucille, “and, when I would have passed by him, never giving heed to him, he bowed, and said if I would deign to hear him he would deliver a message from you. I did not know that he was your enemy, as well as mine, or I would not have listened to him. But I was so anxious to do all I could for you that I never stopped to think that Sir George Keith would scarce do his rival a courtesy. So I bade him say on quickly, and told him I never would listen to him on my account.
“Then he told me you had broken gaol early that morning, and were hiding in the woods to avoid capture. He said you had besought him, as a comrade in arms, to get him aid, and particularly to send word to me, so I might come to you.
“‘There is no cause for Captain Amherst to hide,’ I said, ‘for I have a pardon for him. He need fear no 233gaol.’ Sir George said it was not the witchcraft that was hanging over you now, but a charge of treason. That made me greatly frightened, and I suppose he saw it and knew he could tell me any lie and have it believed. He said, if I would consent to let him guide me to you, he could provide a way of escape for us both.
“I was afraid of him, but he spoke so gently, and was so courteous, never even referring to the hateful past, that I consented. Oh, how little I knew what was before me,” and Lucille shivered, not alone from the night wind. I knew now why Sir George had left the court room so suddenly the day of my trial. It was to get trace of Lucille.
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