He rose hurriedly and took up his crutch.
"How far is Dame Videlet's cottage from here?" he inquired.
"But a few rods, sir—a little further on toward the beach," said the fisherman, regarding him in some surprise.
"I will go down there and see that unfortunate woman, if you will guide me," said Howard. "I believe that she is a friend of mine. You may return their pence to those poor fishermen, who can ill spare it, perhaps. I will charge myself with her expenses even if she should not prove to be the person I think she is."
The fisherman looked at him admiringly and hastened to do his bidding.
Then they walked along to the widow's cottage very slowly, for Howard found himself exceedingly awkward in the use of his crutch.
But after all it seemed but a very few minutes before they stood in the one poor little room of Dame Videlet's dilapidated cot bowing to the kind old soul who had taken the poor wayfarer in beneath the shelter of her lowly roof, shared her simple crust with her, and tended her with kindly, Christian hands.
"How is your patient to-day, my kind woman?" inquired the young man.
"Ah, sir, ah, sir, you may even see for yourself," she answered sadly, as she turned toward the bed.
Howard went forward with a quickened heart-beat, and stood by her side looking down at the sufferer.