The servitor who had stood close by all this while, lest the people prove too importunate or troublesome, now came up to the woman, and, less benevolently inclined than His Grace, he caught hold of her, somewhat rudely, by the shoulder.
"Come, wench, wake up!" he said roughly, "think thou His Grace hath more time to waste on thee? She seems somewhat daft, so please Your Grace," added the man with a shrug of the shoulders, "and hath not spoken since her arrest."
"Who is she?"
"Some vagrant or worse, so please Your Grace. She was arrested a fortnight ago, and hath never been heard to utter one word."
"Wilt look up, wench?" said Wessex gently.
"I dare not," murmured the woman under her breath.
"Dare not? Why? I'll not harm thee."
"'Tis I have wronged thee so."
Wessex laughed lightly. Clearly the poor wretch was demented, but he would have liked to have put some money into her own hand, lest some unscrupulous person should rob her of his gift. Therefore he said as kindly as he could—
"I forgive thee gladly any wrong thou mayst have done me, and now wilt look at me in token that thou'rt no more afraid?"