celles, down into Lincolnshire to
Neot's End. But when the Pilgrimage of Grace came, and the great risings
all over Lincolnshire, very early the rioters came to Neot's End, and
they burned the farm and the byres, they killed all the beasts or drove
them off, they trampled down the corn and laid waste the flax fields.
And, between two willow trees along the great dyke, they set a pole, and
from it they hanged Edward Hall over the waters, so that he dried and
was cured like a ham in the smoke from his own stacks.

Then Mary Lascelles' case was a very miserable one; for she had to fend
for the aged father and bedridden mother of Edward Hall, and there were
no beasts left but only a few geese and ducks that the rebels could not
lay their hands on. And the only home that they had was the farmhouse
that was upon Edward Hall's other farm, and that they had let fall
nearly into ruin. And for a long time no men would work for her.

But at last, after the rebellion was pitifully ended, a few hinds came
to her, and she made a shift. And it was better still after Privy Seal
fell, for then came Throckmorton the spy into his lands, and he brought
with him carpenters and masons and joiners to make his house fair, and
some of these men he lent to Mary Hall. But it had been prophesied by a
wise woman in those parts that no land that had been taken from the
monks would prosper. And, because all the jurats, bailiffs, and
water-wardens had been hanged either on the one part or the other and no
more had been appointed, at about that time the sewers began to clog up,
the lands to swamp, murrain and fluke to strike the beasts and the
sheep, and night mists to blight the grain and the fruit blossoms. So
that even Throckmorton had little good of his wealth and lands.

Thus one morning to Mary Hall, who stood before her door feeding her
geese and ducks, there came a little boy running to say that men-at-arms
stood on the other side of the dyke that was very swollen and grey and
broad. And they shouted that they came from the Queen's Highness, and
would have a boat sent to ferry them over.

The colour came into Mary Hall's pale face, for even there she had heard
that her former bedfellow was come to be Queen. And at times even she
had thought to write to the Queen to help her in her misery. But always
she had been afraid, because she thought that the Queen might remember
her only as one that had wronged her childish innocence. For she
remember