"Avice is a widow, or so we fear!" said he. "She married a good man, a merchant, and rich in this world's goods. His business took him to Madrid a year ago, and we have never heard of him since. Avice hopes still, and will hope to the end of her days, I think, but I fear she will never see her husband again till meets him where the wicked cease from troubling." "And yourself, dear uncle? We heard that you had lost much through the treachery of an agent." "Ay, and came near losing mine own life also, but I escaped and got safe to Rotterdam, where the family joined me after awhile. I cannot guess how it is that Master Davis hath received none of my letters, save that letters are so very uncertain. I am not so rich as when I was in London, yet have I enough to make myself and my family comfortable. But now tell me of yourself and how you have fared all these long years, and why we never heard from you. Ah, my child, I have had many a bitter draught prepared for me by mine own hasty temper, but never a worse than I brewed for myself when I put my brother's orphan child into such hands." "They were kind hands enough, dear uncle, and, save that they kept your letters from me, I have naught whereof to blame them," said I, and with that I gave him a short history of my life up to the present time. "And you think your master and mistress would be willing to have you return with me, if it could be contrived?" said he. "I am sure of it!" I answered. "His Grace said he wished he could send me to you." "I must have speech of his Grace, and I think I see my way there," said my uncle. "I have brought him a token from a Flemish lord, a friend of his, and a small offering on mine own account. I will see him, and lay the matter before him. His nobleness is well-known as a protector of the oppressed children of God. I will go back to London to-morrow, and do you remain here till you have certain news from us." I told him what his Grace had said about sending the ring. "That is well thought of. I will take the best counsel on the matter, and, meantime, keep you quiet and trust that all will yet be well." We talked and talked till the stroke of three from the church-tower warned us it was time to part. Master Yates was awakened and we separated. The farmer and myself made our way home while the first streaks of dawn were reddening the Eastern sky, and reached the farmhouse door without meeting any body. "Now, go you to rest, my young lady, and trust my dame to make your excuses," said the good man. "It is not very healthful for young maids to breathe the night air."