’Both, both, my lad.  One morning just after Christmas, I rid over to Combe with my dame behind me, and found the house in commotion with a letter that young Sidney, Berry’s friend, had just sent down by special messenger.  It had been writ more than a year, but, bless you, these poor foreigners have such crooked ears and tongues that they don’t know what to make of a plain man’s name, and the only wonder was that it ever came at all.  It seems the Duke here had to get it sent over by some of the secret agents the French Protestants have in England, and what do they do but send it to one of the Vivians in Cornwall; and it was handed about among them for how long I cannot say, till there was a chance of sending it up to my Lord of Warwick; and he, being able to make nothing if it, shows it to his nephew, Philip Sidney, who, perceiving at once whom it concerned, sends it straight to my Lord, with a handsome letter hoping that it brought good tidings.  There then it was, and so we first knew that the poor lady had not been lost in the sack of the town, as Master Hobbs told us.  She told us how this Duchess had taken her under her protection, but that her enemies were seeking her, and had even attempted her child’s life.’

‘The ruffians!  Even so.’

’And she said her old pastor was failing in health, and prayed that some trusty person might be sent to bring home at least the child to safety with her kindred.  There was a letter to the same effect, praising her highly too, from the Duchess, saying that she would do her best to guard her, but the kinsmen had the law on their side, and she would be safer in England.  Well, this was fair good news, save that we marveled the more how you and Berry should have missed her; but the matter now was who was the trusty person who should go.  Claude Merrycourt was ready—–­’

‘How came he there?’ demanded Philip.  ’I thought he had gone, or been sent off with Lady Burnet’s sons.’

’Why, so he had; but there’s more to say on that score.  He was so much in favour at Combe, that my Lord would not be denied his spending the holiday times there; and, besides, last summer we had a mighty coil.  The Horners of Mells made me a rare good offer for Lucy for their eldest son, chiefly because they wanted a wife for him of my Lady Walwyn’s and Mistress Cecily’s breeding; and my wife was all for accepting it, having by that time given up all hope of poor Berry.  But I would have no commands laid on my girl, seeing that I had pledged my word not to cross her in the matter, and she hung about my neck and prayed me so meekly to leave her unwedded, that I must have been made of stone not to yield to her.  So I told Mr. Horner that his son Jack must wait for little Nancy if he wanted a daughter of mine—­and the stripling is young enough.  I believe he will.  But women’s tongues are not easy to stop, and Lucy was worn so thin, and had tears in her eyes—­that she thought I never marked—­whenever she was