tight,
and he was a strong man--to break away from him was simply impossible--
and to persuade him to release her seemed about as unlikely. Still she
cried, "Master, let me go!" in tones that might have melted any softer
heart than that of Nicholas Clere.

"Step out!" was all he said, as he compelled Elizabeth to keep pace with
him till they reached Balcon Lane. Mrs Clere was busy in the kitchen.
She stopped short as they entered, with a gridiron in her hand which she
had cleaned and was about to hang up.

"Well, this is a proper time of night to come home, mistress! Marched
in, too, with thy master holding of thee, as if the constable had thee
in custody! This is our pious maid, that can talk nought but Bible, and
says her prayers once a day oftener nor other folks! I always do think
that sort no better than hypocrites. What hath she been about,
Nicholas? what saith she?"

"A pack o' lies!" said Nicholas, harshly. "Whined out a tale of some
message of dread import that somebody, that must not be named, hath sent
her on. I found her hasting with all speed across the High Street, the
contrary way from what it should have been. You'd best give her the
strap, wife. She deserves it, or will ere long."

Nicholas sat down in the chimney-corner, leaving Mistress Clere to deal
with the offender. Elizabeth well knew that the strap was no figure of
speech, and that Mistress Clere when angry had no light hand. Girls
were beaten cruelly in those days, and grown women too, when their
mothers or mistresses chose to punish them for real or supposed
offences. But Elizabeth Foulkes thought very little of the pain she
might suffer, and very much of the needed warning which had not been
given. And then, suddenly, the words flashed across her, "Thy will be
done on earth, as it is in Heaven." Then the warning was better let
alone, if it were God's will. She rose with a calmer face, and followed
Mistress Clere to the next room to receive her penalty.

"There!" said that lady, when her arm began to ache with beating
Elizabeth. "That'll do for a bit, I hope. Perhaps thou'lt not be so
headstrong next time. I vow, she looks as sweet as if I'd given her a
box of sugar plums! I'm feared thou'd have done with a bit more, but
I'm proper tired. Now, speak the truth: who sent thee on this
wild-goose chase?"

"Mistress, I was trusted with a secret. Pray you, ask me not."

"Secret me no secrets! I'll have it forth."

"No