"Such circumstances, lady," said the poet, "should in themselves alone suffice to enlist me in your service. But come," he continued, "we will no more of this. A letter I have just received from my sometime home, in Warwickshire, gives much of news. I have unfolded to you so much of my history, that I may now further inform you there is hope of once more revisiting the friends I left whilst in trouble and disgrace."
"This is, indeed, pleasing intelligence," said his companion. "My own destination is in that neighbourhood."
"To guard over you till I can safely convey you amongst those friends you have hinted at," said Shakespeare, "is my wish; nay, our exertions, and the generosity of a nobleman, my friend, has enabled me to complete a purchase I had in contemplation—a share in the neighbouring theatre here. I have also another play toward, and should it succeed in the represental, I will then attend on you with all true duty."
"But your letter?" said the lady; "pardon my seeming curiosity. In happier days I have owned friends in the neighbourhood of your home. Speaks it of any resident around Stratford-upon-Avon?"
"It does," said Shakespeare. "It is from my father, and gives much gossip of the locality. Amongst other matter it informs me of some difficulties a gentleman, my friend, has fallen into."
"And his name," said the lady, "is Walter Arderne?"
"The same," returned Shakespeare.
The lady's face immediately became crimson, and then deadly pale. "And how then hath Walter Arderne fallen into difficulties?" she inquired. "Methought I heard from you, during our journey, that he had succeeded to great wealth."
"It was even so," said Shakespeare, "but I fear I am again taxing your strength. You look somewhat pale."
"'Tis nothing," said his fair companion. "Proceed, I beseech you, I am most anxious to know of the welfare of this Arderne."