The bewilderment of my senses was all gone—I could think calmly as ever in my life, and I was conscious of a kind of calmness and serenity—of a trust in my Heavenly Father, and a confidence in His mercy such as I had never felt before, and which came not from myself, I am sure. I was able, while giving due attention to what I was about, to look beyond all earthly things, and by faith to behold that shore where are no more griefs, neither sorrow nor crying, because the former things are passed away. I knew that I had seen my husband probably for the last time on earth, unless I were allowed one last embrace when he was led forth to the stake or the gallows, but I felt that I could even give him up if called to do so, knowing that our parting would be but for a time. It is, I believe, only in circumstances of great trial that this state of mind comes to pass. It is the Lamb's mystical gift to His own—the white stone wherein is a name written which no one knows but he who receives it. That night, after dark, John Symonds came to conduct me to his mistress's presence. I learned, during the walk, that he had followed his lady's fortunes in her second marriage, and that Mistress Curtis was still my lady's manager and housekeeper, though growing old. My mistress received me with more than her old kindness. She was lovely as ever, and even more so, for her face had gained in expression and in thought. She presented me to her husband, a fine-looking, sober gentleman he was no doubt, and as good as the day was long. But how she could ever take him into the Duke's place—however, that was no business of mine. I am sure he was ever most kind to me, and I should be an ingrate not to own what I owe to him. "Mistress Corbet is come in good time, my love, since you needed a waiting gentlewoman," said he. "You will be better pleased with her than with a stranger, specially in these troublous times when one knows not whom to trust." "But the poor thing is in great trouble about her husband, Mr. Batie," said my mistress. "Can we do nothing for her?" "We will consider of that." So saying, Mr. Batie would have me sit down and tell him the whole story. He shook his head when I had finished. "'Tis a sad case, and I know not what to do," said he. "I know Sir John well." "Ay, he would betray his best friend for a groat, and sell his own soul for a rose noble!" said my mistress. "I dare say it was all a made up plot to get out of the payment of your husband's legacy. It would be like him." Mr. Batie looked a little shocked at this sally. It was plain my mistress was not greatly changed, after all. "We are in evil case, and may have to fly any day," said Mr. Batie. "Gardiner is great at court once more, and he hath—I know not why—a venomous hatred to my wife." I could well guess why, knowing how she used to laugh at him.