She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. " "Except me, dear," insinuated Edgeworth Bess. ‘I will fight to the death, if it needs. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. She could not see clearly. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs. " "Ah, I see.
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