laughed and cheered me
when she took me to his rooms, and I sate trembling."

"What said she to you?" my lady asks, her breast heaving with her breath.

"That he was not yet in, but that he would sure come to such a young and
pretty thing as I, and I must wait for him, for he would not forgive her
if she let me go. And the while I waited there came a man in bands and
cassock, but he had not a holy look, and late in the afternoon I heard
him making jokes with the woman outside, and they both laughed in such an
evil way that I was affrighted, and waiting till they had gone to another
part of the house, stole away."

"But he came not back that night--thank God!" my lady said--"he came not
back."

The girl rose from her knees, trembling, her hands clasped on her breast.

"Why should your ladyship thank God?" she says, pure drops falling from
her eyes. "I am so humble, and had naught else but that great happiness,
and it was taken away--and you thank God."

Then drops fell from my lady's eyes also, and she came forward and caught
the child's hand, and held it close and warm and strong, and yet with her
full lip quivering.

"'Twas not that your joy was taken away that I thanked God," said she. "I
am not cruel--God Himself knows that, and when He smites me 'twill not be
for cruelty. I knew not what I said, and yet--tell me what did you then?
Tell me?"

"I went to a poor house to lodge, having some little money he had given
me," the simple young thing answered. "'Twas an honest house, though
mean and comfortless. And the next day I went back to his lodgings to
question, but he had not come, and I would not go in, though the woman
tried to make me enter, saying, Sir John would surely return soon, as he
had the day before rid with my Lady Dunstanwolde and been to her house;
and 'twas plain he had meant to come to his lodgings, for her ladyship
had sent her lacquey thrice with a message."

The hand with which Mistress Anne sate covering her eyes began to shake.
My lady's own hand would have shaken had she not been so strong a
creature.

"And he has not yet returned, then?" she asked. "You have not seen him?"

The girl shook her fair locks, weeping with piteous little sobs.

"He has not," she cried, "and I know not what to do--and the great town
seems full of evil men and wicked women. I know not which way to turn,
for all plot wrong against me, and would drag me down to shamefulness--and
back to my poor mothe