"Yes, once in my young days," she answered, stooping to pick up a needle. "I suppose that was long before my time," said I. "Oh, yes, of course. Am I not old enough to be your mother, child?" I thought my grandmother would have been nearer the mark, but, after all, I was not so sure. Mrs. Joan's face was pale and wrinkled, and her hair was snowy white, but her movements were quick and decided, and her step firm. Only her voice was tremulous and her head had an odd shake—not trembling all the time, but now and then moving slowly from side to side, as though in stern protest against some evil she could not help. At all events she was pleasant company. I taught her to knit, and she showed me some wonderful devices in embroidery and netting. We sometimes walked together in the wood round the house. I often read to her, for her eyes were beginning to fail, and told her tales of my life at Dartford, to which she seemed to listen with interest, though she seldom made any remark. I think my uncle chafed far more than I did at our enforced retreat. As I have said before, he had a choleric temper, though age and stern self-discipline had done much to tame it. But he longed to be once more among men and at his business. I do not mean to say that he gave way to impatience or fretfulness, but the suspense and delay were very hard on him, and I could not help telling him one day how much better off he would be if he could only knit. "That is true," said he seriously. "If only I had something to do. I suppose there are no books in the house." "I will ask Mistress Joan," said I; which accordingly I did, and was conducted to a little room on the second floor, which I had never entered. Mistress Joan unlocked the door, and showed me a small apartment in which were several cases of books—dusty, indeed, but in fair preservation. "I have been meaning to show you this room ever since you came here, and now is as good a time as any. There is a secret here which may concern you." So saying she gave a push to one of the presses which seemed fast to the wall. It slipped aside the width of a foot and showed a dark space behind it. "There is a staircase in there which leads down to the very foundations of the house," said she. "By it, you may at any time reach a place of concealment which will defy all your enemies to find you." She showed me how to open and close the spring door, and then making all secure, she bade me keep the key till I went away, and take what books I could. I found a Latin Livy in very fair print, and some other volumes, which I carried to my uncle after I had deposited the key in a secure place. I found him reading a letter which a messenger had just brought. The man was waiting in the hall, and I recognized in him one of his Grace of Suffolk's most trusted servants.