“Bravo!” cried Master Philander, “there is the woman of it. You prefer to do your duty first and have your weep afterwards.” “I will take you to see the Governor in a moment, Mistress Abigail,” said Master Ronald; “we will be there prompt on the moment. There is that whereof I would speak to my friends who are bound to any cause of mine, as I to theirs, in all loyalty, when that cause be just.” At this the students interrupted him by shouts, but he raised his hand to silence them. “Hear me to the end without interruption, as the time waxes short. In Salem, my fair young sister, scarce more than a child in years, languishes in jail, for having, it is asserted, practised the evil art of witchery. On the morrow she will be hanged, unless, by the grace of God, the Governor may be prevailed upon to interfere. If he refuses justice and mercy, then have we the right to take the law into our own hands, not as trespassers of the law, but rather as defenders of law and justice. As men sworn to stand by each other, how many of you will go with me to Salem Town this night and save the life of one as innocent and brave, as free from evil, as this maid who stands before you now?” There was no shouting this time, but silently each young man moved over and shook hands with the speaker in pledge of his loyalty and consent. “And now,” added Master Ronald, “I will go to the Governor’s house, that you may have your say with him, Mistress Abigail.” “We will escort you there,” said the stalwart young fellow Abigail had first noticed. Before she could protest, to her indignation he had seized her and swung her up on his broad shoulder, passed her arm around his neck, and rested her feet on his broad palm. “Now I have placed you above learning, little mistress,” he cried gayly; “duck your head as we go through the door.” Abigail clasped his neck tightly, and lifted up her heart in prayer. Intense was her mortification to observe how the people turned and looked after them. She grew faint at the thought of her father’s awful, pious eye beholding her. “They may be much for learning,” she murmured, glancing over the heads of the students, “but, beshrew me, they be like a pack o’ noisy boys. Oh, Deliverance, Deliverance, how little ye kenned this torment!” Chapter XV Lord Christopher Mallett Down many a crooked street and round many a corner, the crowd of students bore her, until at last they reached the Governor’s place, “a faire brick house” on the corner of Salem and Charter streets. Above the doorway were the King’s arms richly carved and gilded. Some stone steps led down the sloping lawn to the street, which was shut out by a quaint wooden fence. Here, at the lanterned gateway, the student who carried Abigail set her down upon the ground. “Come, Mistress Abigail,” said Master Ronald, holding the gate open for her to pass in.