"No, child! God forbid!" exclaimed the mother, hastily. "You acted like a Christian, but it is a sad shame, and I cannot tell what to do. I must waken your grandfather and tell him the story, for the barley will be carted to-morrow, and then all may be discovered." "You do not think any of the men or maids would betray the stranger, do you, mother?" asked Winifred. "I cannot tell, child. I trust not, but the times are evil, and terror makes people mean and treacherous. God forgive the rulers who put such temptations in the way of simple folk like us." "I should like to go to the American colonies, where my father was last year," said Winifred. "There is no king there, they say, and the people are all of one mind." "They have their own troubles—what with the savages and the wild beasts, the sickness, and the hard, cold winter," said her mother. "Aye, and they have their own dissensions and quarrels too, and will doubtless have more as their numbers increase. You would not like to leave my lady at the Hall, and the parish church, and all the places you have known since you were born, for those wild hills and waters. There are trials and temptations in all lands and in all stations; and since it is God who sends them or permits them, He will doubtless give us grace to bear them. But I must awaken your grandfather, and then we will take counsel together upon this poor gentleman's case." "He is not asleep," said Winifred; "I hear him stirring." "What is all this talking?" asked Master Evans, putting his head out of the room next the kitchen, in which he slept. "Cannot Winifred find time to tell her fairy tales by daylight? It is time for simple folks like us to be abed and asleep, and you know to-morrow will be a busy day." "It is no fairy tale that the poor maid has to tell this time," replied Dame Magdalen. "Will you come to the fire, grandfather, that we may take counsel together?" Master Evans closed his door, and presently came out, wrapped in the Indian gown which his son had brought him from the East. He sat down and listened with earnest attention, while Winifred again related her story. "The child is uneasy, lest she should have done wrong in bringing this danger upon us," said Magdalen, when the tale was finished, "but, in truth, I see not what else she could have done." "Nor I," said Master Evans. "She did no more than her duty; I must say I wish it had chanced otherwise, but it is God's will, and doubtless for the best. Where has this gallant been ever since the battle?" "As far as I made out, he has been hiding among the poor people—fishers and gypsies and such like—till he should find himself fit to travel, but he was too weak to talk a great deal, and I thought best not to question him." "Right! You are sure no one saw you, Winifred?"