not daring to show myself this side; till two weeks ago, I was
sent to Smithfield with hay, and after that came daily. But till
yesterday I never saw you; nor expected it then. But you have news for
me, Humphrey," said he, "tell it, for I can hear it."

Then I told him all that had happened since I saw him last, and much the
story moved him. And when I came to speak of the maiden, this great,
strong man's hand trembled like a leaf as he stretched it across the
table, and put out the light which burned there.

"We can talk as well in the dark," said he, hoarsely.

So, in the dark, never seeing his face, yet guessing every look upon it,
I told him how the maiden had gone often by boat and gazed up at the
great Tower; and how, when she left, she had said to me, "Stay near
him"; and how hardly she had torn herself away to return to her father.

He heard me, and said not a word, nor moved a muscle; and, when there
was no more to be told, he sat on in the dark, breathing hard, until I
supposed he had fallen asleep.

But when, after a while, the early dawn struggled through the casement,
it found him still awake, with a look on his face half hope, half
bewilderment, and a light in his eyes such as I had seen there only once
before--on that day we crossed from Cantire to the Bann with the maiden.

But the sight of day roused him.

"Humphrey, I dare not be seen here," said he, "there is a hue and cry
after me. Where shall I hide?"

That was a question had been troubling me all night. For stay where he
was he could not. And, if he fled, was I to lose him thus, the moment I
found him?

Almost as he spoke there came a step without, and a loud tap on the
outer door, at sound of which Ludar started to his feet, and his hand
went by instinct to his belt.

"Hush," whispered I, "'tis only my master, the printer. Here, follow
me," said I, leading him up the narrow stairs, "here is a room where you
should be safe," and I put him into the chamber that was once the
maiden's. "Presently I will return. Meanwhile give yourself to
guessing who once called this little room hers."

Then I went down drowsily, and admitted my master.

"Humphrey," said he, "the stuff is safely removed to Moulsey; but
without type we can do nothing. As it is, I must take what we have here
till I can get more. I have no one I can send but you. Once again, are
you willing to go? or must I lose a 'prentice and Jeannette a husband?"

While he s