and the open air; also because I feared he might ask me what I had done
with that gold piece and make a mock of me about the dog. Yet my mother
had bidden me go, and it was her last command to me, her dying words
which it would be unlucky to disobey. Moreover, our boats and house
were burnt and I must work hard and long before these could be replaced.
Lastly, in London I should see no more of the lady Blanche Aleys, and
there could learn to forget the lights in her blue eyes. So I determined
that I would go, and at last fell asleep.

Next morning I made my confession to the old priest that, amongst other
matters, he might shrive me of the blood which I had shed, though this
he said needed no forgiveness from God or man, being, as I think, a
stout Englishman at heart. Also I took counsel with him as to what I
should do, and he told me it was my duty to obey my mother's wishes,
since such last words were often inspired from on high and declared the
will of Heaven. Further he pointed out that I should do well to avoid
the lady Blanche Aleys who was one far above me in degree, the following
of whom might bring me to trouble, or even to death; moreover, that I
might mend my broken fortunes through the help of my uncle, a very rich
man as he had heard, to whom he would write a letter about me.

Thus this matter was settled.

Still some days went by before I left Hastings, since first I must wait
until the ashes of our house were cool enough to search in them for my
mother's body. Those who found her at length said that she was not so
much burned as might have been expected, but as to this I am uncertain,
since I could not bring myself to look upon her who desired to remember
her as she had been in life. She was buried by the side of my father,
who was drowned, in the churchyard of St. Clement's, and when all had