Thoughts, which were not all pleasant, chased one another through the mind of Amphillis. If Ricarda were trying to win Norman Hylton, would she be so base as to leave him under the delusion that she was a Neville, possibly of the noble stock of the Lords of Raby? Mr Hylton's friends, if not himself, would regard with unutterable scorn the idea of marriage with a confectioner's daughter. He would be held to have demeaned himself to the verge of social extinction. And somehow, somewhere, and for some reason--Amphillis pushed the question no further than this--the thought of assisting, by her silence, in the ruin of Norman Hylton, seemed much harder to bear than the prospect of being hated by Ricarda Altham, even though it were for ever and ever. When these meditations had burned within her for a few seconds, Amphillis spoke. "Mistress Perrote, wit you how my cousin came hither?" "Why, by reason my Lady Foljambe sent to thine uncle, to ask at him if thou hadst any kin of the father's side, young maids of good birth and breeding, and of discreet conditions, that he should be willing to put forth hither with thee." Amphillis felt as if her mind were in a whirl. Surely it was not possible that Mr Altham had known, far less shared, the dishonesty of his daughter? She could not have believed her uncle capable of such meanness. "Sent to mine uncle?" seemed all that she could utter. "Ay, but thine uncle, as I heard say, was away when the messenger came, and he saw certain women of his house only." "Oh, then my uncle was not in the plot!" said Amphillis to herself with great satisfaction. "Maybe I speak wrongly," added Perrote, reflectively; "I guess he saw but one woman, a wedded cousin of thine, one Mistress Winkfield, who said she wist of a kinswoman of thine on the father's side that she was secure her father would gladly prefer, and she would have her up from Hertfordshire to see him, if he would call again that day week." How the conspiracy had been managed flashed on Amphillis at once. Mr Altham was always from home on a Wednesday, when he attended a meeting of his professional guild in the city. That wicked Alexandra had done the whole business, and presented her own sister to the messenger as the cousin of Amphillis, on that side of her parentage which came of gentle blood. "Mistress, I pray you tell me, if man know of wrong done or lying, and utter it not, hath he then part in the wrong?" "Very like, dear heart. Is there here some wrong-doing? I nigh guessed so much from thy ways. Speak out, Phyllis." "Soothly, Mistress, I would not by my good will do my kinswoman an ill turn; yet either must I do so, or else hold my peace at wrong done to my Lady Foljambe, and peradventure to Master Hylton. My cousin Ricarda is not of my father's kin. She is daughter unto mine uncle, the patty-maker in the Strand. I know of no kin on my father's side."