"Good fool," said I, "tell me what they have done with my husband."
"Nay, how can I tell; I am but a fool," he answered, tossing up his bauble and catching it with many extravagant gestures; "but fool as I am, I know you should not sit here."
"Harry speaks truth, madam, this is no place for you," said one of the serving men who had come up with us from Devon. He helped me to my feet, and whispered in my ear: "Go you to your lodging, and so soon as I can, I will bring you news of your husband. This woman, who is mine own sister, will conduct you thither."
There was no other counsel, so I went. Once alone, I sat down and strove to collect my scattered thoughts. Walter had been carried to prison—that I was sure of—but where and how long was he like to stay there? I remembered all I had heard of Father Simon's relentless character, and I felt that Walter's chance was a slender one.
"Oh, had I but staid at home," was my thought. "Had we but kept quiet in Devon."
It seemed to me as though he had been purposely entrapped, but in that I believe I did Sir John injustice. It was no pre-conceived plan. Sir John had been for Queen Jane, when that unhappy lady seemed like to succeed, and now that she was overthrown, he was willing to save himself and cover up his transgression by any means in his favor.
Oh, what a distracted creature I was. I walked up and down till I was tired and then threw myself on the floor to walk again as my goading thoughts and fears would not let me be still. At last tears came to my relief and I could pray.
It was dark when Ned Harris rapped at my door, accompanied by his sister, the old woman who had first taken pity on me.
"Well, madam, I bring you but cold comfort," said he bluntly. "Your husband is in Newgate prison, and in evil case—so I hear from Harry, who learned the same from Sir John. Have you any friends in this place?"
"None that I can go to unless it be mine old mistress, the Dowager Duchess of Suffolk," I answered, "and I know not even where she lives or whether she is in town."