An upper chamber above a mercer's shop in Watling Street was decked with all the pride of city housewifery; the pewter dishes on the sideboard shone like silver, and the marigolds and lavender in a great beaupot on the window-sill filled all the pleasant chamber with autumn fragrance.  The room was that of wealthy people, and the rich silk gown and cobweb lawn of a lady who lay huddled up in the corner of a great settle were such as city matrons loved to wear.  She was a plump and comely woman enough, but her soft brown hair was disordered, and her dainty cap awry; her eyes were closed, and her face white with the exhaustion of one who has wept till she can weep no more.