One morning a message came to Lord Craven from Newgate to say that Mistress Newbolt had departed that night, that her last hours had been most edifying, that she had sung and prayed, and glorified God even in the agony of death. He it was who broke the news to Ann. In vain she asked for a sign by which she might know it was her mother who had died. The prison authorities answered it was impossible. All she had possessed was destroyed, and she was carried forth and buried in the common pit, amongst the malefactors, the thieves, the murderers, the cut-throats, whom she had tended.
Thus Ann found herself alone. Then she went to Patience and the two dwelt together.
"Why do you not both go north?" said Lord Craven. "I see no end to our afflictions."
"I cannot go," said Patience. "If Agnes were to come back and find me gone, what would she do?"
A message had been sent to the queen to tell her what had happened, and her anger was very great against Patience.
"If you had let me have the child, she would have been safe," she said; "now she is dead, or worse than dead."
Lord Orford, when he heard the news, appeared astounded. He would have gone up to London himself, but the king would not permit him.
"My Lord Craven will do all that there is to be done," he said.
* * * * *
"Well, sirrah, what have you done with her?"