I sat down with a sad heart, and ate the food with but a poor appetite. During my meal I heard only one sound. It was that of a clock striking the hour of midnight. After supper I went into the bedroom I have mentioned, and fell into a deep sleep, from which I did not wake till late next day. When I got up I hoped to see Mistress Nancy at once, and so was mightily disappointed when the old serving-man brought me a message from her telling me that she would not be able to visit me till night. CHAPTER XXII. MISTRESS NANCY TELLS ME MANY THINGS. "I can think of nothing to say to you till I have thanked you again and again for a service which I thought no woman could render." "It is of that which I do not wish to speak." "But I must. I did not believe a woman could possess such rare courage and foresight. I did not believe a woman could plan so well, execute so bravely. Especially do I wonder when I realize my own unworthiness. I thank you from the depths of my soul." Mistress Nancy had visited my compartment as she had promised, and at my request she sat on a low seat by the fire, while I stood leaning on the back of the huge chair which I have mentioned. She wore the same garments as when we had travelled together for the first time. Her face was pale, but very beautiful; her dark eyes shone with a look of resolution; her dark curling locks glistened in the lamp-light. "I did not mean you to know who your deliverer was. But it does not matter." She spoke indifferently, I thought. "It does matter!" I cried vehemently. "I should be base indeed if I do not remember such service with gratitude until my dying day." "I did what no woman could help doing." This she said slowly. "I do not understand." "Yet there should be no difficulty in doing so. You rescued me, you thought of me, acted for me." "Mention not that again," I replied bitterly, "I am sorely ashamed." "I do not mean the--the first part of the journey, but afterwards. I have heard of your trial before Lord Falmouth, heard of what Otho Killigrew said. You refused to tell all the truth because you feared to hurt me. You did not wish that man to know anything concerning me." I wondered who her informant might be, but I did not speak. "When I knew you were taken to Launceston, and feeling sure that Otho would show no mercy if you were brought to trial, I did my best. I could do no other--I--I--would have done the same for any one." She spoke coldly; her tones were hard and unfeeling. My heart grew chill; the hope that arose in me, in spite of myself, was dispelled. "Thank you," I said, as steadily as I could. "But why--why did you wish me to remain in ignorance--as to who you were?" "Because I thought it was better so. No one who saw me in Launceston would recognize me now." "What disguise did you wear? What means did you use to--to effect my escape; that is, beyond those I know of?" "I would rather not tell you."