"No, he is not there," says he, "but I thought maybe that Sir Peter Lely--"
"Aye," says I; "he will most likely know where Mr. Godwin may be found."
"Can you tell me where Sir Peter lives?"
"No; but I can learn easily when I am in the city."
"If you can, write the address and send him this," says she, drawing a letter from her breast. She had writ her husband's name on it, and now she pressed her lips to it twice, and putting the warm letter in my hand, she turned away, her poor mouth twitching with smothered grief. I knew then that there was no thought in her mind of seeing her husband again.
I carried the letter with me to the city, wondering what was in it. I know not now, yet I think it contained but a few words of explanation and farewell, with some prayer, maybe, that she might be forgiven and forgotten.
Learning where Sir Peter Lely lived, I myself went to his house, and he not being at home, I asked his servant if Mr. Godwin did sometimes come there.
"Why, yes, sir, he was here but yesterday," answers he. "Indeed, never a day passes but he calls to ask if any one hath sought him."
"In that case," says I, slipping a piece in his ready hand, and fetching out Moll's letter, "you will give him this when he comes next."
"That I will, sir, and without fail. But if you would see him, sir, he bids me say he is ever at his lodging in Holborn, from five in the evening to eight in the morning."