thenware mugs and platters out on the white cloth, to look as
home-like as possible. The anemones in the centre still glimmered
faintly as if shining by their own light. The simple meal was a very
happy one. When it was finished and the remains had been cleared away
and carefully replaced in the basket for to-morrow's needs, the stars
were looking in through the prison bars.

'Now, one more story, Grandfather,' said Mary firmly, 'just one,
before we go to rest.'

'I love to see thy small white face shining up at me through the
gloom,' the old man answered. 'I will tell thee of my first meeting
with George Fox. Hast thou ever heard that story?'

The little prison maid was far too wary to reply directly.

'Tell it to me now, Grandfather,' she replied evasively, and then, to
turn the old man's thoughts in the right direction, 'thou hadst
already left the army by that time?' she hazarded.

'Ay, that I had,' answered Dewsbury. 'I had left it for several years,
and a measure of Truth I had found for myself. Greatly I longed to
proclaim it and to share my new-found happiness with others. But the
inward Voice spoke to me clearly and said: "Keep thee silent for six
full years, until the year 1652 shall have come. Then shalt thou find
more hungering and thirsting among the people than at the present
time." So "I kept silence even from good words, though it was pain and
grief to me." Thou knowest, Mary, even while I was yet in the army,
many and deep exercisings had I had in my spirit, and such were still
my portion at times. About this time, by the providence of God, I
chanced to hear of a young woman living in the city of York, who was
going through a like season of sorrow and anguish regarding her
immortal soul. After due deliberation, I found it in my heart to pay
her a visit. I did this and went on foot to York. When I came into her
presence, at once we were made aware of each other's conditions. No
sooner did we begin to converse than we found ourselves joined
together in deep unity of spirit. Her spiritual exercises answered
unto mine own, as in water face answereth to face. Dost thou
understand, child, of what I am speaking?'

'I follow not thy language always with entire comprehension, dear
Grandfather,' answered Mary with her usual precise honesty of speech,
'but it appears to me thy meaning is clear. I think that this young
woman must likely have been my grandmother?'

William Dewsbury smiled. 'Thou art right,'