Mary Gifford lay sleepless and restless all through the long hours of the night, watching for the dawn. She longed, and yet half dreaded her meeting with Humphrey. She felt so utterly weak and broken-hearted, so forlorn and deserted--what if he again urged his suit!--what if she had now to tell him what had been at their last interview only a probability, and was now a certainty! Her husband was no vague, shadowy personality; he was alive and strong, to work for her the greatest evil that could befall her in stealing her boy from her. When Mistress Forrester came in, on her way to the dairy, to see how it fared with Mary, she found her, to her surprise, dressed, while Goody Pearse was snoring peacefully on the pallet bed, where Ambrose had slept near his mother. 'Dear heart! Mary Gifford, what do you mean by getting up like this? I thought, forsooth, you were so sick you had need of a nurse, to take a few more shillings out of my pocket, and here you are at five o'clock, up and spry. Well-a-day, I never did come to the bottom of you. Deep waters, they say, make no noise.' Mary had braced herself to bear anything and everything, and was strangely unmoved by her stepmother's innuendoes, of which she took no notice, and only said, in a gentle voice,-- 'Is Ned astir yet?' 'I don't know. He came hobbling in after his goose-chase to London on your account, losing a couple of days' work; and I warrant he will have to be shaken before he gets about his business.' 'I can get downstairs,' Mary said, 'if Ned will help to carry me. I fear I cannot put my leg to the ground yet.' 'No; and you may give up the notion. If you come down, you may as lief do without a nurse, and take to your lawful business. It is a pretty thing!--one of you gadding off to town and thinking herself a fine lady, and t'other laming herself and wanting to be tended by a paid woman.' At this juncture Goody Pearse awoke, bewildered and much alarmed by the presence of Mistress Forrester. She expected a sharp reprimand, but Mistress Forrester left the room without another word either to nurse or patient. 'Dear heart! what made you get up afore I was ready? You'll have raging pain in your foot again, sure as fate.' 'I must get downstairs to-day to see Master Humphrey Ratcliffe. Ned will help me.' Mary's resolution did not falter. Her humble and faithful admirer, Ned, appeared at the attic door, when summoned by Goody Pearse, to help her downstairs. Ned made short work of it; he lifted Mary in his arms, and trudged down the creaking steps with her without a single halt, and placed her by her desire on the settle, where her leg could rest. Mary's smile was a sufficient reward for Ned. But when Mary held out her hand, and said she owed him more than tongue could tell for going to London, Ned was speechless with emotion. At last he blurted out,--