tting by the window, with her face
in her hands, bowed over a piece of cloth we had bought in the morning,
which she was about to fashion into a plain gown, as being more suitable
to her condition than the rich dress in which she had left the Court.

"Poor soul!" thinks I; "here is a sad awaking from thy dream of riches
and joy."

Upon a seasonable occasion I told Dawson we must soon begin to think of
doing something for a livelihood--a matter which was as remote from his
consideration as the day of wrath.

"Why, Kit," says he, "I've as good as fifty pounds yet in a hole at the
chimney back."

"Aye, but when that's gone--" says I.

"That's a good way hence, Kit, but there never was such a man as you for
going forth to meet troubles half way. However, I warrant I shall find
some jobs of carpentry to keep us from begging our bread when the pinch
comes."

Not content to wait for this pinch, I resolved I would go into the city
and enquire there if the booksellers could give me any employment
--thinking I might very well write some good sermons on honesty,
now I had learnt the folly of roguery. Hearing of my purpose
the morning I was about to go, Moll takes me aside and asks me in a
quavering voice if I knew where Mr. Godwin might be found. This question
staggered me a moment, for her husband's name had not been spoken by any
of us since the catastrophe, and it came into my mind now that she
designed to return to him, and I stammered out some foolish hint at
Hurst Court.

"No, he is not there," says he, "but I thought maybe that Sir Peter
Lely--"

"Aye," says I; "he will most likely know where Mr. Godwin may be found."

"Can you tell me where Sir Peter lives?"

"No; but I can learn easily when I am in the city."

"If you can, write the address and send him this," says she, drawing a
letter from her breast. She had writ her husband's name on it, and now
she pressed her lips to it twice, and putting the warm letter in my
hand, she turned away, her poor mouth twitching with smothered grief. I
knew then that there was no thought in her mind of seeing her husband
again.

I carried the letter with me to the city, wondering what was in it. I
know not now, yet I think it contained but a few words of explanation
and farewell, with some prayer, maybe, that she might be forgiven and
forgotten.

Learning where Sir Peter Lely lived, I myself went to his house, and he
not being at home, I asked his servant if Mr. Godwin