So there was a heart at any rate under that bulldog face. I was only too glad to obey, for I trembled so I could hardly stand. The man set me a stool, and the wife, finding her child was not hurt, bestirred herself to get me some refreshment. Meantime I implored the turnkey to let me see my husband, were it but for one moment. "Who is your husband?" he asked. I told him. "I dare not," said he gruffly. "'Twere as much as my life is worth." I fell a-weeping with that, for almost the first time since I parted from Walter. The turnkey's wife pitied and poor-deared me, and then whispered eagerly in her husband's ear. He shook his head at first, but seemed at last to relent. "I would I were not a fool," said he, gruffly. "After all, you risked your life in the midst of your own trouble to save the little wench who was naught to you—well, come along—I will give you five minutes, but I must be within hearing—come along." I did not say a word for fear he might change his mind, but followed him through grim passages till he came to a door which he unlocked with a clash of keys which seemed to hurt my ears. "Here, Master Parson, here is some one to speak to you; but be short. Come, you here." I gathered together my scattered senses, and held them, as it were, tightly with both hands. I saw, as a dream, figures lying stretched out or walking listlessly to and fro. I saw one disengage himself from the crowd and come toward me, and in a moment I was in my husband's arms. "But what is this?" said he, touching my forehead, which had been cut and bruised by the fall. "Nothing," said I, hastily. "Waste no time on me. Tell me what I can do for you." "Naught in the world, dear heart, but pray for me and take care of yourself. Come not here again—they will set a trap for you. Go to her Grace of Suffolk. She will shelter you for old sake's sake, and her husband is a wise gentleman, and will tell you if there is aught possible for me. If you ever loved your husband, dear heart, obey now what may be his last command. You have ever been a dutiful wife." "I will. I will," I answered, though the words seemed to choke me. Other things we said, too sacred to write here, and then the parting time came. I gave my husband what money I had about me, and the little Latin Psalter I had been accustomed to carry in my pocket ever since I left Dartford. Then we bade farewell. I must not dwell on the anguish of that hour. The turnkey and his wife detained me when I would have gone forth. The good woman—for good she was, I am sure, though rude and rough in manner—arranged my dress and made me decent again. "Now, an' you will, you shall go out with me to the market, and then you can easily find your way home," said she.