"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me what it is—" he suggested.
"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again, "that my husband has escaped?"
"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in affirmation to the question she asked.
"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment.
"My dear friend—dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!"
"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr.
Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out."
She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise.
"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted me—"
"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the night before."
"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak.