"That I will, that I will, dear maiden. I will hunt up my knitting-pins to-day, and will show you the motion, and how to put up the stitches. Just wheel my chair near to yonder cabinet, if you will, and I will see what I can find." And so I left her happy in rummaging her drawers. The next morning, she had found her pins, and gave me a lesson in knitting, over which we became quite good friends again. By degrees she opened her mind to me, and I found out what was the trouble which embittered her life. It seems that Queen Katherine, in her will, had provided that some one should make a pilgrimage to our Lady of Walsingham, for the benefit of her soul. This had never been done, and the poor, faithful old servant was eating her heart with grief lest her mistress was still suffering in Purgatory on account of this omission. "I would gladly have gone myself," said she, "but I had a broken leg; and now there is no more any holy shrine at Walsingham. Oh, me! Oh, me! That my poor mistress, who would have gone on foot to Rome to save the soul of a poor beggar, should suffer for want of such a charity as that." She wept, and I could not forbear weeping with her, and trying to comfort her. "Dear Mistress Patience," said I; "Queen Katherine was a Christian woman and trusted in her Saviour, who is all pity and compassion. Think you he loves her less than you do?" "No," said she, wonderingly, "I suppose not." "Would he not love her just as much more than you, as he is greater than you—that is, infinitely?" "Yes, belike He does. What then?" "Then—do not be angry, dear lady—but would He leave her in such a dreadful place, because some one did not do what was impossible. The Scripture saith that his blood cleanseth us from all sin. What need then of any further cleansing?" She looked doubtfully on me, and I had to leave her at that time; but the next morning, as I took my knitting, she said, abruptly: "Mistress Loveday, is what you said yesterday—about cleansing from sin—is that in the Bible? I mean the true Latin Bible, not that which the heretics have put forth." "It is, indeed," I answered. She sighed. "I wish I could read it," said she; "but I was never good at Latin, and now my eyes are failed, so I can scarce read English." "I will read it for you, dear madam," said I. "I have a Latin Bible, and I will read it into English for you, if you will." "Do so," she answered. I fetched my book, and read to her such places as bore on the subject, as long as I had time. When I was obliged to go away, she laid her hand on my arm, and fixing her eyes on mine, she said, with touching earnestness: "You are a good maid and a fine scholar. You would not deceive me?" "Not for the whole world," I told her. "Then tell me—are all these things in the English Bible?" "They are indeed, dear madam, and much more." "I would I had one, that I could see for myself," said she.