s meekly in a feigned
voice, which for the life of me I should not have known for hers, if I
am minded to buy a couple of partridges a friend has sent and she has no
use for.

"Partridges!" cries Dawson, from within. "Have 'em, Kit, for your bread
and cheese is mighty every-day fare."

"Let me see 'em, good woman," says I.

"Yes, sir," answers she, meekly, putting her pillow-slip in my hand,
which perplexed me vastly by its weight and bulk.

"They seem to be pretty big birds by the feel of 'em," says I. "You can
come in and shut the door after you."

Moll shuts the door and shoots the bolt, then tripping behind me into
the light she casts back her hood and flings her arms round her father's
neck with a peal of joyful laughter.

"What!" cries I. "Why, what can have brought you here?"

"Why, I knew you'd have nothing to give my poor old dad but mouldy
cheese, so I've brought you a brace of partridges, if you please, sir,"
says she, concluding in her feigned voice, as she emptied the ham,
pasty, and partridges all higgledy-piggledy out of the slip on to the
table.

"But, Mrs. Godwin--" says I, in alarm.

"Oh, call me Moll," cries she, wildly. "Let me be myself for this one
night."

CHAPTER XXIX.

_Of the subtile means whereby Simon leads Mr. Godwin to doubt his wife._

Again must I draw upon matter of after-knowledge to show you how all
things came to pass on this fatal night.

When Mr. Godwin reached London, he went to Sir Peter Lely's house in
Lincoln's Inn, to know if he was still at Hatfield, and there learning
he was gone hence to Hampton, and no one answering for certainty when he
would return, Mr. Godwin, seeing that he might linger in London for days
to no purpose, and bethinking him how pale and sorrowful his dear wife
was when they parted, concludes to leave his picture at Sir Peter Lely's
and post back to Chislehurst, counting to give his wife a happy
surprise.

About eight o'clock he reaches the Court, to find all shut and barred by
the prudent housekeeper, who, on letting him in (with many exclamations
of joy and wonder), falls presently to sighing and shaking her head, as
she tells how her mistress has lain abed since dinner, and is sick of
the biliaries.

In great concern, Mr. Godwin takes the candle from Mrs. Butterby's hand,
and hastes up to his wife's room. Opening the door softly, he enters, to
find the bed tumbled, indeed, but empty. He calls her in a soft voice,
going int