A gardener was busy among some hedges, but beyond the sound of my voice.

I was a prisoner in no common jail, then, but in the garret of a private residence.

Having satisfied myself that there was no possible escape, I returned to my pallet and lay down.

Why I was here a prisoner I knew not.

I thought over all I had written the past twelvemonth, but nothing recurred to me which would make me liable to arrest.