Part 21 (2/2)
His predictions seemed on the verge of realization. Berkeley, grown petulant and merciless in his old age, would not hesitate to hang Robert on suspicion.
One evening as Robert was going from his mother's house he noticed three or four persons coming down the street. Their manner might have excited the suspicion of a guilty man; but as Robert had committed no crime, he relied wholly on his innocence. No sooner had he stepped on the street, however, than he was arrested.
”Of what offence am I accused?” he asked.
”Treason.”
”Treason! it is false; I am guilty of no treason.”
The mother and sister, hearing the angry words without, hurried to the street to find him in custody. Wringing their hands in an agony of distress, they demanded to know the cause of the arrest, and were informed that Robert had been accused of treason to the governor and must be committed to jail.
Robert slept behind iron bars that night. He had many friends in the town, who no sooner learned of his arrest, than they began to appeal to the governor for his release. Among them was Drummond, Cheeseman and Lawerence; but all supplications and entreaties were of no avail. Hugh Price made a pretence of defending his wife's son; but the hollow show of his pretended interest was apparent.
One night, as he was lying on his hard prison bunk, Robert heard the sound of footsteps without. Some persons were working at the front door with a key. They seemed to be exercising due caution, and soon the door was open.
They came to the door of his cell. For a long time it seemed to baffle them, but at last it yielded, and the door opened.
”Who are you?” asked the prisoner, as three dark forms appeared before him.
”Friends,” a voice which he recognized as Mr. Edward Cheeseman's whispered. ”We have come to liberate you.”
He was led from the jail, and then, by the dim light of the stars, he recognized William Drummond, Edward Cheeseman and Mr. Lawerence.
”There is a s.h.i.+p in the harbor ready to sail for Boston,” said Mr.
Lawerence. ”You will go aboard of her and escape.”
”Can I see my mother and sister before I go?”
”They are waiting on the beach,” Drummond answered.
Thanking his liberators, he followed them from the jail to the beach. It was midnight, and the stars looked coldly down on the youth as he hurried from the prison. His proud spirit rebelled at flying from home.
He had done no wrong and consequently had nothing to fly from; but when his mother threw her arms about his neck and implored him to go, he a.s.sented.
”I shall appeal to the king, show him my wrong and obtain my right.”
”Have you money?” asked Mr. Drummond.
”None.”
”Here is some,” and Drummond placed in the hand of Robert a well-filled purse.
”My friend, how can one so poor as I repay you?”
”Talk not of repayment,” Drummond answered, ”but go on, and when you are away, remember us in kindness.”
The boat was waiting on the beach, and the sailors sat at their oars ready to take him away to the vessel which lay at anchor. Drummond, Cheeseman and Lawerence withdrew, leaving Robert alone with his mother and sister. A few silent tears, a few silent embraces, and then he bade them adieu, entered the boat, and was rowed away into the darkness.
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