vour with her lady, and even spoken of by Mistress Crawley as 'clever
enough, and civil spoken,' the real truth being that she had become
indispensable to Mistress Crawley, and was trusted by her to take in hand
the instruction of the young maidens who came from the homes of the gentry
and nobility, in a long succession, to enter the household of Lady
Pembroke, which was an honour greatly coveted by many.

Soon after Mary Gifford's great sorrow in the loss of her child, Mistress
Forrester astonished her step-daughter by announcing her marriage to one of
her Puritan neighbours, who was, in truth, but a herdsman on one of the
farms, but who had acquired a notoriety by a certain rough eloquence in
preaching and praying at the secret meetings held in Mistress Forrester's
barn. He was well pleased to give up his earthly calling at Mistress
Forrester's bidding, for he would scarcely have presumed to address her as
a suitor without very marked encouragement. He fell into very comfortable
quarters, and, if he was henpecked, he took it as a part of his discipline,
and found good food and good lodging a full compensation.

Then Mary Gifford and her sister were offered a small sum of money to
represent their right in their father's house, and left it with very little
regret on their side, and supreme satisfaction on their stepmother's. Lucy
returned to Lady Pembroke's household, and Mary Gifford, through the
ever-ready help of Humphrey Ratcliffe, broken down as she was prematurely
in mind and body, found an asylum in the home of her husband's uncle,
Master George Gifford, at Arnheim, from which place she made many vain
inquiries to lead to the discovery of her boy, which hitherto had proved
fruitless.

True and loyal to her interests, Humphrey Ratcliffe never again approached
her with passionate declarations of love. He was one of those men who can
be faithful unto death, and give unfaltering allegiance to the woman they
feel it is hopeless to win. Loving her well, but loving honour, hers and
his own, more, Humphrey went bravely on the straight road of duty, with no
regretful, backward glances, no murmurs at the roughness of the way, taking
each step as it came with unfaltering resolutions, with a heavy heart at
times; but what did that matter? And in all this determination to act as a
brave, true man should act, Humphrey Ratcliffe had ever before him the
example of his master, Sir Philip Sidney. Second only to his love for Mary