"Eh! Go with Master Peasegood? Yes," said the founder smiling. "Gil, brave lad, you'll see that my darling does not come to harm." Gil bowed his head, and as the founder rose from his knees smiling and ready to accompany the parson, down whose cheeks the great tears coursed, Mother Goodhugh climbed on a heap of stones, waving her hands wildly as she saw her enemy pass. "Woe to him; woe to his house!" she shrieked excitedly. "Silence that vile witch's mouth," cried Sir Thomas. "A witch, a witch!" cried a voice; and Wat Kilby, who had dragged himself up once more upon his hands and knees, waved one hand again towards the burning ruins, which had just burst forth into fiercer flames. "A witch--a witch!" he yelled, "away with her, and let her burn." A shout rose from Sir Mark's followers, and, with a rush, they surrounded the old woman, who struck at them with her stick as she was seized. Then, in spite of her shrieks and appeals, she was borne towards the burning ruins. The burning of a witch was so congenial an occupation, that, failing a great triumph over Gil Carr's crew, the followers of Sir Mark took to their task with such gusto that in another minute Mother Goodhugh would have been hurled into the flames. It was in Anne Beckley's power to save her by a quick appeal to Sir Mark; but she hesitated, for the thought flashed across her mind that, Mother Goodhugh dead, she would carry with her many secrets, and, above all, the greatest one, of how this terrible affair had been brought about. It might have been accident; but she had her doubts. Sir Thomas looked on in puzzled guise. He knew he ought to do or say something, but without his clerk he was generally at sea, while Master Peasegood, who might have given him good advice, had gone off, leading the stricken father to his home. It was Gil who interfered, and none too soon. Springing up from where he had knelt on one knee, he threw himself before the would-be executioners. "Shame on you!" he cried; and the men stopped, short, while Mother Goodhugh struggled from them to throw herself on the earth and cling to Gil's knees. "Save, oh, save me!" she shrieked; "I cannot die." "What are you, that you interfere?" cried one of the men. "A witch--a witch--to the flames," cried Wat Kilby, in his harsh voice. "Silence, old dog!" roared Gil. "In with her, lads!" cried the first of the men, seizing Mother Goodhugh by the shoulder; but, as she shrieked with horror, the man went down from a blow given by Gil's clenched hand, which the next moment sought his sword, to find it gone. With a shout, the others closed round Gil, but this roused his own followers, who ran up and dragged Mother Goodhugh away. They faced Sir Mark's men, and, weapons being drawn, there was an imminent risk of a renewal of the fight, when Sir Thomas's fat voice was heard, sounding weak and tremulous, for the baronet was terribly alarmed.