"Ay, I am in deep trouble," he said, "for I fear evil hath happened to my wife and dear ones. When we parted this morning, I said I would try and get work among the farmers, so as to earn enough to buy them bread, while they said they would make known our condition to some friends who are still faithful. We also arranged to meet here at five o'clock. Is it not about that time, young master?" "It is past that hour," I replied. "Then I fear evil hath happened to them," he said, and I saw the tears well up into his eyes. "But surely this is strange," I said; "you do not look like a man who should be seeking work of the farmers. You look rather to be a man of learning and of quality." "I am an unworthy preacher of the Word; but I have been driven from my vicarage, and now nought but starvation stares me in the face." "What parish were you in?" I asked. "I was the incumbent of St. Martin's," he replied. "I would not conform, so I was e'en driven out." "Why would you not conform?" I asked. "E'en because I felt it would be a sin so to do. I had received my ordination from God, and I could not profess to belief in the Prayer-book, which was full of Popish errors. But God's will be done. I was of the Presbyterian persuasion, and I fear that, like the Episcopalians, I desired uniformity. But that is all over now. I see that the Independents and the Quakers are men of God even as we are, and our persecutions have linked us together." "And what hath become of you since you were driven from your parish?" "Ah, God knows! We have lived how we could, and it hath been terribly hard. Sometimes for days together we have scarcely had food. Our clothes are worn out too, and sometimes we have been terribly cold. Thank God, the winter cannot last much longer now! Even now I do not think it is quite as cold as it was a week ago;" but the man shivered as he spoke. "But have you no property at all?" I asked. "I have but ten pounds a year, and my wife hath nothing at all. All our little savings were soon eaten up, for the children are hearty, thank God! Directly after Bartholomew's Day we were cast forth from our dwelling, and since then we have had nought but trouble. I have no friends but those in my own parish, and Master Gilloch, the new vicar, and Master Graystone, the magistrate, have done their utmost to make it impossible for us to get help. Moreover, times are bad, and those who would help us cannot. I thought while I was in prison that I suffered enough, but I think it hath been worse since I came out." "Have you been in prison?" I asked.