“Oh, call me Moll,” cries she, wildly.  “Let me be myself for this one night.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

Of the subtile means whereby Simon leads Mr. Godwin to doubt his wife.

Again must I draw upon matter of after-knowledge to show you how all things came to pass on this fatal night.

When Mr. Godwin reached London, he went to Sir Peter Lely’s house in Lincoln’s Inn, to know if he was still at Hatfield, and there learning he was gone hence to Hampton, and no one answering for certainty when he would return, Mr. Godwin, seeing that he might linger in London for days to no purpose, and bethinking him how pale and sorrowful his dear wife was when they parted, concludes to leave his picture at Sir Peter Lely’s and post back to Chislehurst, counting to give his wife a happy surprise.

About eight o’clock he reaches the Court, to find all shut and barred by the prudent housekeeper, who, on letting him in (with many exclamations of joy and wonder), falls presently to sighing and shaking her head, as she tells how her mistress has lain abed since dinner, and is sick of the biliaries.

In great concern, Mr. Godwin takes the candle from Mrs. Butterby’s hand, and hastes up to his wife’s room.  Opening the door softly, he enters, to find the bed tumbled, indeed, but empty.  He calls her in a soft voice, going into the next room, and, getting no reply, nor finding her there, he calls again, more loudly, and there is no response.  Then, as he stands irresolute and amazed, he hears a knock at the door below, and concluding that ’tis his wife, who has had occasion to go out, seeking fresh air for her comfort maybe, he runs swiftly down and opens, ere a servant can answer the call.  And there he is faced, not by sweet Moll, but the jaundiced, wicked old Simon, gasping and panting for breath.

“Dost thee know,” says he, fetching his breath at every other word, “dost thee know where the woman thy wife is?”

“Where is she?” cries Mr. Godwin, in quick alarm, thinking by this fellow’s sweating haste that some accident had befallen his dear wife.

“I will show thee where she is; aye, and what she is,” gasps the old man, and then, clasping his hands, he adds, “Verily, the Lord hath heard my prayers and delivered mine enemies into my hand.”

Mr. Godwin, who had stepped aside to catch up his hat from the table, where he had flung it on entering, stopped short, hearing this fervent note of praise, and turning about, with misgivings of Simon’s purpose, cries: 

“What are your enemies to me?”

“Everything,” cries Simon.  “Mine enemies are thine, for as they have cheated me so have they cheated thee.”

“Enough of this,” cries Mr. Godwin.  “Tell me where my wife is, and be done with it.”

“I say I will show thee where she is and what she is.”

“Tell me where she is,” cries Mr. Godwin, with passion.