It is difficult for me to describe my feelings at this time. For while on the one hand I was pleased that the king should speak so kindly to me, I was in a most unaccountable way disturbed at the news of Mistress Constance Denman's imprisonment. So much so that, as I have said, I determined that, happen what would, I would rescue her from prison. Why I should decide to do this may seem to the reader somewhat of a puzzle. I knew but little of her, and even that which I knew was not in her favour. She was the wife of a man who, although calling himself a Puritan, was a hard, unscrupulous man, evidently one who would intrigue against the king, and be a party to murder. But not only this, she was herself guilty of attempted murder, and therefore a dangerous woman. I knew that General Monk had been much hated when he had yielded to the desires of those who sought to bring about the king's return, especially as he was thought to have been a traitor to all the promises he had made. Nevertheless, none but a desperate lawless woman would be guilty of attempted murder, and thus the justice of which the king had spoken was surely merited. In spite of this, however, I determined to save her. It is true she had treated me with scant courtesy, and although she had told me to wait outside Pycroft Hall until her return, she had never again appeared. Evidently she had left Pycroft Hall only to be taken prisoner, and then conveyed to Bedford. I knew by the look on Monk's face that no mercy would be shown, while it was easy to be seen that the new king would be anything but clement towards the daughter of John Leslie, who had been one of the principal actors in bringing about the death of his father. Still, I was not changed in my resolution, neither for that matter could I bring myself to believe that she was guilty of the crime of which she was accused. I knew that she was a brave, resolute woman. No one could be with her as I had been and not be sure of that, but her face was not the face of one who could coldly meditate upon and arrange for murder. Passionate she might be, and therefore in the heat of the moment might be led to do a terrible deed. But she could not plan to do it. Such a scheme as had been described to me must have been brooded over in cold blood, and I could not believe that she could have done this. I called to mind my first sight of her features, and I felt confirmed in my impression. She was only twenty, and her face was free from the possibility of such a crime. A noble face I thought it was, and even at the time I felt that its possessor was a noble woman. All this passed through my mind as I stood beneath the canopy prepared for the king, while the multitudes were shouting all around. So much was I occupied with them, moreover, that unlike the others I did not follow his Majesty to the great coach in which he was to ride to Canterbury; but remained there alone, brooding over what I had heard. "Roland." "Yes, father."