And she longed to see both, and was ever wondering where they were and how they fared.
But the spring wore into summer, and the summer grew towards autumn, before a word of news came.
Then one Sunday, Will Peake, my old adversary, walked into the shop with a monstrous letter in his hand, tied round with blue silk and sealed black at either end.
I had seen Will often since I came back to London, but had always forgotten to tell him, that when I was put to it to advise Ludar where he might hear of me, I had told him to send to my brother 'prentice on London Bridge, who, if any, might be counted on to know where I was to be found.
So now, when a letter was come, Will was vastly wroth that he should be mixed up in the matter, and needed much satisfying that 'twas a sign of friendship and nothing else that made me give his name, he being--as I told him--the only trusty man of my acquaintance in London.
"I like it not, Humphrey Dexter," said he, tossing down the letter.
"The air is full of treason.

Only to-day there is talk in the city of some new conspiracy in the North, and 'tis not safe to get a missive from so much as your lady-love.

There, take it.

I am rid of it; and, hark you, let no man know I had it in my fingers.

Farewell." The letter was in a great and notable hand, which, I was sure, did not belong to Ludar.