t, rescued me that night
from a great tribulation; and it were strange if, in gratitude, I did
not dream of her.

Master Udal roused me betimes, and after reading again my master's
letter, asked me, was I a horseman? I said I could sit a horse with any
'prentice in Finsbury Fields, even at the water leap. Then he asked,
had I a cloak? I said, proudly, yes, my dear mistress had given me one,
with which I would not part for two others as good. He said that was
right, unless Master Penry wished it.

"Who is Master Penry, then?" I demanded.

"Him you go to see at Oxford--and you are to do everything he tells you,
even if it be to part with your cloak. Here is a letter to him, at
Saint Alban Hall. You are to go to him privately, and submit to him in
all things."

It all seemed strange enough to me, but I said I would do as I was
bidden. For all that, I resolved that if it came to parting with my
brave cloak to a stranger, I would be hard put to it before I suffered
so much wrong to my mistress' goodness.

Then Master Udal instructed me carefully as to the way, showing me by
what roads I should ride, and where I should halt for the night. He
also cautioned me about speaking to strangers by the way, and bade me
beware lest I fell among thieves.

Then he went to the stable and fetched his horse--a sorry nag, and ill
accustomed to my heavy weight. Then he fetched me some food to carry in
the saddle-bag; and, after a prayer that God would protect me and
further the business on hand, he let me go.

I was glad to be alone in the sweet summer morning air, with the lark
carolling high above my head, and the new-mown hay scenting the meadows,
and the early sun slanting through the lime trees, and the half-awakened
cattle standing to watch me as I passed. It was enough to make any
heart glad, and if I myself sang in tune with the birds as I ambled in,
it was because I could not help it.

The road was hard to find betwixt Kingston and Hounslow, for it was
across country, and the narrow lanes twisted and twined so that, had it
not been for the sun, I should soon not have known if I was going north,
south, east, or west. Except a few yokels trudging to their work, and
now and then a blithe milkmaid calling to her cows, I met no one. These
looked hard at me, and wondered what such a one as I, in cloak and sword
and hat, wanted there at that hour. But I let them guess, and pushed
on, along the river's bank, to Twicke