not need a man through whom to
do it. The Lord Jesus was just as able to say to her from His throne
above, as He had once said on earth to a poor, trembling, despised
woman--"Thy sins be forgiven thee; go in peace."

Something had made "Dick of Dover" unusually gentle that afternoon. He
only replied--"Well, go thy ways home, and go to church when thou wilt."

Alice made no answer. She was resolved to promise nothing. But a
priest who stood by, whether mistakenly thinking that she spoke, or kind
enough to wish to help her, answered for her--"She says she will, my
Lord."

"Enough. Go thy ways!" said the Bishop, who seemed to wish to set her
at liberty: perhaps he was a little afraid of the influential men who
had interceded for her. Alice, thus dismissed, walked out of the hall a
free woman. As she came out into Palace Street, a hand was laid upon
her shoulder.

"Well, Alice!" said Edward Benden's voice. "I wrought hard to fetch you
forth; I trust you be rightly thankful. Come home."

Not a word did he say of the pains he had taken originally to drive her
into the prison; neither did Alice allude to that item. She only said
in the meekest manner--"I thank you, Edward"--and followed her lord and
master down Mercery Lane towards Wincheap Gate. She did not even ask
whether he had made any preparations for her journey home, or whether he
expected her to follow him on foot through the five-and-twenty miles
which lay between Canterbury and Staplehurst. But when they reached the
western corner of the lane, Mr Benden stopped at the old Chequers Inn,
and in a stentorian voice demanded "that bay." The old bay horse which
Alice knew so well, and which her husband had not succeeded in selling
for more than its worth, as he desired, was brought forth, laden with a
saddle and pillion, on the latter of which Alice took her place behind
Mr Benden.

Not a word was spoken by either during the journey. They were about a
mile from Staplehurst, and had just turned a corner in the road, when
they were greeted by words in considerable number.

"Glad to see you!" said a brown hood--for the face inside it was not
visible. "I reckoned you'd think better of it; but I'd got a good few
bitters steeping for you, in case you mightn't. Well, Alice! how liked
you yonder?--did Dick o' Dover use you metely well?--and how came he to
let you go free? Have you promised him aught? He doesn't set folks at
liberty, most commonly, witho