ich her forlorn condition seemed to demand. Amongst those
who at intervals attended his ministry was Sir Philip Sidney, and, on this
very day when Mary Gifford had been on her vain expedition to the little
out-of-the-way village on the river bank, the young soldier had come to lay
before him the scheme for attacking Axel, and had brought with him the
letter which, on Mary's entrance, Master Gifford held towards her.

'Here is a welcome missive,' he said; 'but forsooth, my poor child, you
look worn and tired. Sit you down and rest. Gretchen has spread the board
for you; I supped an hour agone. No news, I take it, Mary?' Master Gifford
said.

'No, no, dear uncle, and I can go on no more vain quests. Master Humphrey
has the best intention, and who but a mother could recognise her own child?
I fear me you have needed my help with distributing the alms to the poor
this afternoon, and I should have baked the pasty for the morrow's dinner.'

'Gretchen has done all that was needful. Is it not so, good Gretchen?' said
Master Gifford, as a squarely-built, sandy-haired Dutch woman, in her short
blue gown and large brown linen apron, and huge flapping cap came into the
room.

Gretchen came forward to Mary with resolute steps, and said in her somewhat
eccentric English,--

'And what must you tire yourself out like this for, Mistress Gifford? Tut,
tut, you look like a ghost. Come and eat your supper like a Christian, I
tell you.'

Gretchen was a rough diamond, but she had a good heart. She was absolutely
devoted to her master, and with her husband, an Englishman, who had escaped
with his master as a boy many years before, served him with zeal and
loyalty.

Mary was led, whether she wished it or not, to the kitchen--that bright
kitchen with its well-kept pots and pans, and its heavy delf-ware ranged on
shelves, its great Dutch clock ticking loudly in the corner, and the clear
fire burning merrily in the stove, which was flanked with blue and white
tiles with a variety of quaint devices.

'Sit you down and eat this posset. I made it for you, knowing you would be
more dead than alive. Come now, and sip this cup of mead, and don't open
that letter till you have done. Take off your hood and cloak. There! now
you are better already. Give up yawning like that, Jan, or you'll set me
off,' Gretchen said to her husband, whose name she had changed, to suit the
country of his adoption, from John to Jan, and who had been taking a
comfort