Now so far as matters had turned out I had nothing to regret, and last of all, the seeming deception which I had practised on Anthony Dacre. It may seem to you who read this narrative that I had played upon him in the vilest and most heartless fashion by promising to marry him. But there was no deception in it, save on his side, for all the time that he spoke with me of marriage he was in reality meditating my ruin. I knew what he did not know that I knew--namely, that he was already married. I had come to know it by the most curious chance. Soon after Sir Nicholas Coope fell ill and took to his bed, there came to see him old Master Drumbleforth, a neighbouring clergyman, who chanced to inform him that he had married Anthony Dacre to one of his parishioners some few years previously, and that the woman still lived, though sore neglected by her husband. And I think it was because of knowing this that I felt it neither heartless nor deceitful to treat Anthony as I did. My own happiness and the life of the man I loved were at stake--what true woman would have let squeamish notions about nice points of honour stand in her way at such a time? I now proceeded to carry out my further plans, all of which I had duly considered since my first notion of saving Dick entered my head. Towards the close of the afternoon I rode over to Master Drumbleforth’s vicarage and confessed to him all that I had done and all that I had it in my mind to do, and begged him to come to the Manor House that night in order to help me to carry out my last intentions. He promised to do so and gave me his blessing and sympathy, comforted by which I returned home. My next proceeding was to get rid of the man whom Anthony Dacre had left with us. I made up a parcel of my clothing, and giving it to him, bade him follow his fellow-servant to Foxclough and bide there until Anthony and I came in the night. He went without question, and when he was fairly departed, I mounted my horse again and rode off to Thorpe, where I saw John and Humphrey Stirk. I arranged that they should come to the Manor House early that night and remain there until Anthony Dacre returned. This done, my arrangements were all complete. I had carried out everything that my woman’s wit could devise, and there was naught left but to return home and wait with a fierce impatience for the outcome of my endeavours. This is a true history of what I, Alison French, did on that distressing day. God send that no other woman be ever placed in such trying circumstances as those which I have here faithfully described. As for the end of them all, it will be much better spoken of by Richard, who has a turn for the writing of books, than by me, who have none. THIS IS THE END OF MISTRESS ALISON’S ACCOUNT OF HER TRANSACTION WITH ANTHONY DACRE. III.