At last she grew so very bad that he began to believe me. 'Patient,' he said to me one morn, 'I shall go on to Plymouth and inquire for a ship. Tend your Lady well, and so soon as she can abide the journeying, she must come after. If I find it needful, I may sail the first.' It was on a Monday that Sir Edward rode away, leaving my Lady and the little Master, with me and Roswith to tend them, at a poor cot, the abode of one Betty Walling." "Betty Walling of Ashcliffe? Why, Patient, I know her!" "Do you so, Madam? She knows you, I guess, and could have told you somewhat anent yourself. Not that she knew my Lady's name: I kept that from her. It was on the Friday following that you were born. Saving your presence, Madam, you were such a poor, weak, puny babe, that none thought you would live even a day. Betty said, I mind, 'Poor little soul! 'twill soon be out of its suffering--you may take that comfort!' I myself never reckoned that you could live. I marvel whether Madam Passmore would remember Betty Walling's coming unto her one wet even in June, to beg a stoup of wine for a sick woman with her? That sick woman was my dear Lady. It was the Saturday eve, and she died on the Sunday morning. I laid her out for the burying, which was to be on the Wednesday, and was preparing to go thence unto Plymouth afterward, with Roswith and the babes, when on the Tuesday night I was aroused from sleep by a rapping on the window. I crept to the casement and oped it, and was surprised to hear my Master's voice saying softly, 'Patient, come and open to me.' I ran then quickly and let him in; he looked very white and tired, and his dress soiled as if he had ridden hard and long. Quoth he, 'How fares Magdalene?' As softly as I could break it, I told him that she would never suffer any more, but she had left him a baby daughter which he must cherish for her sake. He was sore grieved as ever I saw man for aught. After a while, he told me much, quickly, for there was little time. He had not entered Plymouth, when, riding softly in the dark, another horseman met him, and aroused his wonder by riding back after him and away again; and this he did twice over. At length the strange horseman rode right up to him, and asked him plainly, 'Are you Sir Edward Ingram, holding King James's commission?' And when he said he was, then said the horseman, 'If you look to sail from Plymouth, I would have you know that you are expected there, and spies be abroad looking for you, and you will be taken immediately you show yourself. If you love your life, turn back!' Sir Edward desiring to know both who he was and how he knew this, the horseman saith, 'That I may not tell you: but ride hard, or they will be on your track; for they already misdoubt that you are at Ashcliffe, where if your following be, I counsel you to remove thence with all the speed that may be.' Sir Edward said that he had ridden