I could have almost bitten my tongue for having uttered these words, for although my reason told me they were true, my heart went against them, and accused me of being unjust to the woman to whom I had avowed that she could never do an unworthy deed.
"There be many things known only to God," he replied solemnly, "and God's ways are not our ways, neither His thoughts our thoughts, yet will we trust Him though He slay us."
"Know you aught of this woman?" I asked.
"I know what all men know," he answered. "I know that she was on her way to Bedford to visit her father, who is a man of substance in Bedford, as well as in London, and that while coming hither she was taken by the minions of Monk, and dragged to gaol."
"From whence did she come?"
"From the south, somewhere."
"But had she no protector?"
"She had none. She was taken during the night."
"But surely she could not travel from the south on foot."
"Nay, she rode a good horse."