"I suppose this is my lady's closet, where she comes to read and pray," she thought. "It must be very nice to have such a pleasant room all to oneself, with no sewing, or milking, or feeding chickens to interrupt just as one gets to the interesting place. I should not like to be one of the court ladies, who, Mrs. Alwright says, spend all their time in dressing and dancing and painting their faces, but it must be wondrous pleasant to have such a closet as this, and such a withdrawing-room as my lady's, with Indian cabinets and great china jugs full of rose-leaves and spices; and to have nothing to do but to work tapestry and distill medicines and cordials. I would not put any earthworms or woodlice in them, though. I would only use sweet herbs and gums, and powder of corals and pearls, and such things as are in the receipt for Lady Hewett's Cordial Balm, which I copied out for Mrs. Alwright." Winifred was in some danger of growing discontented, when the door of the closet was again opened, and Lady Peckham entered. Winifred could now see that the closet opened into a dressing-room or small parlor, where Mrs. Alwright was now sitting, and where Winifred had often been to show her needlework to her lady, and to read to her. Lady Peckham closed the door and seemed about to seat herself in her great chair, but as if suddenly changing her mind, she opened another little door concealed by a hanging strip of tapestry, and beckoned Winifred out upon a small stone balcony. "No one can listen here!" said she. "Tell me now what you have to say." Winifred related her story in as few words as possible. When she had finished, Lady Peckham stood for some time in silence, looking abroad to the horizon where was to be seen a strip of the blue waters of the Bristol channel. "Winifred," said she, at last, "do you know what you have done?" "I hope I have done no wrong, my lady," replied Winifred. "I know there is danger, and that King Monmouth's men are rebels, but, my lady, if he had been twice a rebel, I could not have left the poor gentleman there to die. You would not have done so yourself!" she concluded, rather amazed at her own boldness. "I am sure you would not." Lady Peckham smiled through her tears, and sitting down on a stone bench, she drew Winifred to her and kissed her again and again. "Oh, if God had but seen fit to give me such a daughter as you, my child, what a treasure would you be to me! Do you know, sweetheart, what you have done? You have saved the life of my own dearest brother!" "That then was the reason why Dame Sprat knew him!" said Winifred. "She called him Master Arthur at once, and when I told my grandfather, he said he thought as much. And was that really Mr. Carew?"