ing not which way to turn or
how to act.

Clearly, his wife had gone out by this door, and so far this gave
support to Simon's statement that he knew where she was; and with this a
flame was kindled within him that seemed to sear his very soul. If Simon
spoke truth in one particular, why should he lie in others? Why had his
wife refused to go with him to Hatfield? Why had she bid no one come
near her room? Why had she gone forth by this secret stair, alone? Then,
cursing himself for the unnamed suspicion that could thus, though but
for a moment, disfigure the fair image that he worshipped, he asked
himself why his wife should not be free to follow a caprice. But where
was she? Ever that question surged upwards in the tumult of his
thoughts. Where should he seek her? Suddenly it struck him that I might
help him to find her, and acting instantly upon this hope he made his
way in breathless haste to the road, and so towards my lodge.

Ere he has gone a hundred yards, Simon steps out of the shadow, and
stands before him like a shade in the dimness.

"I crave thy pardon, Master," says he, humbly. "I spoke like a fool in
my passion."

"If you will have my pardon, tell me where to find my wife; if not,
stand aside," answers Mr. Godwin.

"Wilt thee hear me speak for two minutes if I promise to tell thee where
she is and suffer thee to find her how thee willst. 'Twill save thee
time."

"Speak," says Mr. Godwin.

"Thy wife is there," says Simon, under his breath, pointing towards my
house. "She is revelling with Hopkins and Captain Evans,--men that she
did tramp the country with as vagabond players, ere the Spaniard taught
them more profitable wickedness. Knock at the door,--which thee mayst be
sure is fast,--and while one holds thee in parley the rest will set the
room in order, and find a plausible tale to hoodwink thee afresh. Be
guided by me, and thee shalt enter the house unknown to them, as I did
an hour since, and there thee shalt know, of thine own senses, how thy
wife doth profit by thy blindness. If this truth be not proved, if thee
canst then say that I have lied from malice, envy, and evil purpose,
this knife," says he, showing a blade in his hand, "this knife will I
thrust into my own heart, though I stand the next instant before the
Eternal Judge, my hands wet with my own blood, to answer for my crime."

"Have you finished?" asks Mr. Godwin.

"No, not yet; I hold thee to thy promise," returns Simon, with