true, worse. Master Stocker was an
honest man, and ye should have respected his memory longer. Where is thy
husband?'

'He comes often. I thought it was he now. Our marriage has to be kept
secret for a while--it was done privily for certain reasons; but we was
married at church like honest folk--afore God we were, Roger, six months
after poor Stocker's death.'

''Twas too soon,' said Roger.

'I was living in a house alone; I had nowhere to go to. You were far
over sea in the New Found Land, and John took me and brought me here.'

'How often doth he come?' says Roger again.

'Once or twice weekly,' says she.

'I wish th' 'dst waited till I returned, dear Edy,' he said. 'It mid be
you are a wife--I hope so. But, if so, why this mystery? Why this mean
and cramped lodging in this lonely copse-circled town? Of what standing
is your husband, and of where?'

'He is of gentle breeding--his name is John. I am not free to tell his
family-name. He is said to be of London, for safety' sake; but he really
lives in the county next adjoining this.'

'Where in the next county?'

'I do not know. He has preferred not to tell me, that I may not have the
secret forced from me, to his and my hurt, by bringing the marriage to
the ears of his kinsfolk and friends.'

Her brother's face flushed. 'Our people have been honest townsmen, well-
reputed for long; why should you readily take such humbling from a
sojourner of whom th' 'st know nothing?'

They remained in constrained converse till her quick ear caught a sound,
for which she might have been waiting--a horse's footfall. 'It is John!'
said she. 'This is his night--Saturday.'

'Don't be frightened lest he should find me here!' said Roger. 'I am on
the point of leaving. I wish not to be a third party. Say nothing at
all about my visit, if it will incommode you so to do. I will see thee
before I go afloat again.'

Speaking thus he left the room, and descending the staircase let himself
out by the front door, thinking he might obtain a glimpse of the
approaching horseman. But that traveller had in the meantime gone
stealthily round to the back of the homestead, and peering along the
pinion-end of the house Roger discerned him unbridling and haltering his
horse with his own hands in the shed there.

Roger retired to the neighbouring inn called the Black Lamb, and
meditated. This mysterious method of approach determined him, after all,
not to leave the pla