''Tis pity. But he was old and pious: he hath gone to glory. Whither will those poor lads in the Clink go when they are hanged? Get thee gone, get thee gone! The air is already foul with dead men's bodies: they tell strange stories of what hath been done by women for the safety of their brothers. Get thee gone, pretty maid, lest something worse than prison happen to thee. And Judge Jeffreys is coming hither like the Devil, having much wrath.' I could not tell her that nothing would happen to me, because I was protected by a Heavenly Guard. 'I was in the town forty years agone,' the old woman went on, 'when Blake defended it, and we were well-nigh starved. But never have I seen such things as have been done here since the Duke was routed. Get thee gone!--haste away, as from the mouth of Hell!--get thee gone, poor child!' [Illustration: '_As I passed through the crowd, one caught me by the arm._'] So I left her, and went on my way, hanging my head, in hopes that no one else would recognise me. Fortunately, no one did, though I saw many faces which I had seen in the town before. They were then tossing their caps and shouting for Monmouth, but were now gloomily whispering, as if every man feared that his own turn would come next. Over the great gateway of the Castle was stuck up a high row of heads, arms, and legs of rebels blackened with pitch--a horrid sight. Unto this end had come those brave fellows who went forth to dethrone the King. No one noticed or accosted me, and I arrived safely at Susan's house. The door seemed shut, but when I pushed I found that it was open--the lock having been broken from its fastening. Barnaby did that, I remembered. I went in shutting it, after me. No doubt Susan was with her children in the schoolroom. Strange that she should not repair her lock, and that at a time when the town was full of soldiers, who always carry with them their riotous and lawless followers. 'Twas unlike her orderly housekeeping.