The student rose and made her a low bow. “Since you be pleased to put on such dignity, mistress,” said he, with a fine and jesting air, “I must needs fall in with your ways.” He took the paper she extended to him and unfolded it with many airs, the while crooking his little fingers daintily. This was what he read, written in a fair and flowing hand as did befit a teacher of the Dame School:— “A descripshun of ye fine gentellman whom I met in ye forest on ye afternoon of June 3 wich is herein sett downe. He be aboute three score more or less & be of make suffishunt large to be stared att & for ye naughty boys of ye streete to call att, he having an immoderate goodly girth arounde ye middle. shure did yu know him yu would be of my minde that he had grate rank across ye seas fore he wears full breeches with knots of ryban of a Purple-Blue colour att his knees. alsoe he do walke inn grate bootes. his Sleeves be of fine Velvet withe watchet-Blue Tiffany peeping through ye Slashes. alsoe he carried a blacke case bestock with smal sharp knives exceeding bright. he showed me a picture of his lyttle maide of faire countenance. As regardes ye countenance of ye fine gentellman itt was wrighte goode to looke att having Witte Beauty & Goodness, as theay say. alsoe he weares a light Brown Wigg, parted to ye Crown & falling in Naturall Silke curles to his Shoulders. his Moustache curls finely towards his Nose. by ye wich descripshun Abigail finde him & deliver ye pckge soe saye I & ye Lord be willing. Deliverance Wentworth. note. alsoe he weares a sword.” “Well-a-day!” laughed the student as he finished, “this is a pretty joke.” “It be no joke at all, sir,” said Abigail, “and ye will pardon my frowardness in contradicting ye, for my dear friend Deliverance will be hanged o’ Saturday for witchery.” And putting the kerchief to her eyes she wept afresh. As she did so, she heard a strange sound like a groan, and looked up quickly. The student was leaning against the elm, his eyes closed and his face whiter than the paper which had fluttered from his fingers to the ground. “Haps it that ye ken her, sir?” she asked in an awed whisper. He looked at her and tried to regain his composure. His lips moved dumbly. He turned away and put his hand over his eyes, leaning once more against the tree. When he looked again at Abigail, she saw that tears bedimmed his eyes. This exhibition of feeling on the part of this gay student seemed an even more serious thing than the fact that Deliverance was in jail, or that she herself had passed a night in the forest, exposed to savages and wolves. The student, looking at the little maid’s troubled, tear-stained countenance, smiled in a faint, pitiful fashion, bidding her have hope and cheer. But his voice faltered and broke.