“Thy friend is safe now,” he told her, “and not much the worse for her experience.” “I saw from that window,” she exclaimed, “the way they got her out of the crowd. It was wonderful--just pushing a way for her and handing her on from one to another and protecting her with their bodies!” “Yes,” assented the Quaker, calmly, “it was good work, and quickly done--else, they would not have succeeded. I could take no part in it, for, as thee doubtless knows, it is against my principles to offer violent resistance to the law. But,” he hesitated a moment and Rhoda saw a twinkle flicker across his kindly eyes, “I do not feel that it is necessary to hinder those who think differently. There is a pretty strong anti-slavery sentiment here, although there is plenty for the other side too, and we determined some time ago that not another seeker after freedom should ever be sent back to his chains from this place. Those who had no scruples against violent resistance were to be free to do whatever they might think best and, for the rest of us,”--and his eyes twinkled again,--“there would not be lacking work for us, either.” “But Mary Ellen? How did the trader get hold of her? Do you know how it happened? I had been so watchful, and had let her raise her veil only now and then, when it seemed safe. I had not left her side since we started, until just before the awful thing happened. Then I heard her call and they were dragging her off the boat. I was hardly three feet away and had had my hand off her arm, oh, it seemed hardly a minute! Have you talked with her? Has she told you?” He nodded gravely and the suggestion of a smile appeared about his lips. Rhoda guessed that Mary Ellen was hidden in his house. “Yes, I have talked with the fugitive. She was leaning on the rail, so interested in looking at the town and at the landing as the boat came up that she forgot about her veil. Then, among the people on shore she recognized the trader and was so frightened that she seemed to lose the power of motion. He saw her the same instant, rushed upon the boat and seized her.” “Oh, the fault is all mine!” moaned Rhoda. “I should not have left her, I should not have taken my eyes off her, for one single minute! I was too proud, Mr. Benedict, and this is my punishment. For I thought nobody but me could get her safely to Cleveland and I had been so successful with others--and with her too--that I thought I couldn’t fail!” “Well, she is safe again. But thee is likely to suffer sadly for thy one moment of forgetfulness.” She told him Mary Ellen’s story, dwelling especially upon her sufferings during her long hours in the box. When she ended he brought his fist down on his knee and exclaimed solemnly: “She has earned her freedom twenty times over and she shall have it--fugitive slave law, constitution, marshals, or presidents notwithstanding, even if--if--Daniel Benedict has to forget his principles for once!”