“They are well, I thank you.”
Mr Ewring noticed suddenly that Amy’s eyes were full of tears.
“Mistress Amy,” said he, “I would not by my good-will be meddlesome in matters that concern me not, but it seemeth me all is scarce well with you. If so be that I can serve you any way, I trust you will say so much.”
“Master Ewring, I am the unhappiest maid in all Colchester.”
“Truly, I am right sorry to hear it.”
“I lack one to help me, and I know not to whom to turn. You could, if—”
“Then in very deed I will. Pray give me to wit how?”
Amy looked up at him. “Master Ewring, I set out for Heaven, and I have lost the way.”
“Why, Mistress Amy! surely you know well enough—”
“No, I don’t,” she said, cutting him short. “Lack-a-day! I never took no heed when I might have learned it: and now have I no chance to learn, and everything to hinder. I don’t know a soul I could ask about it.”