d the
Letter, which was unfit for him in his chafed Mood; then, holding it at
Arm's Length, and smiting it with his Fist,--Ha! and is it thus he
dares address a Daughter of mine? (with Words added, I dare not
write)--but be quiet, _Moll_, be at Peace, my Child, for he shall not
have you back for awhile, even though he come to fetch you himself.
The maddest Thing I ever did was to give you to this Roundhead. He and
_Roger Agnew_ talked me over with soe many fine Words.--What possessed
me, I know not. Your Mother always said evil woulde come of it. But
as long as thy Father has a Roof over his Head, Child, thou hast a Home.

As soone as he woulde hear me, I begged him not to take on soe, for
that I was not an unhappy Wife; but my Tears, he sayd, belied me; and
indeed, with Fear and Agitation, they flowed fast enough. But I sayd,
I _must_ goe home, and wished I had gone sooner, and woulde he let
_Diggory_ take me! No, he sayd, not a Man Jack on his Land shoulde
saddle a Horse for me, nor would he lend me one, to carry me back to
Mr. _Milton_; at the leaste not for a While, till he had come to
Reason, and protested he was sorry for having writ to me soe harshly.

"Soe be content, _Moll_, and make not two Enemies instead of one. Goe,
help thy Mother with her clear-starching. Be happy whilst thou art
here."

But ah! more easily said than done. "Alle Joy is darkened; the Mirthe
of the Land is gone!"

_Michaelmasse Day_.

At Squire _Paice's_ grand Dinner we have been counting on soe many
Days; but it gave me not the Pleasure expected.

_Oct. 13, 1643_.

The Weather is soe foul that I am sure Mr. _Milton_ woulde not like me
to be on the Road, even would my Father let me goe.

--While writing the above, heard very angrie Voices in the Courtyard,
my Father's especiallie, louder than common; and distinguished the
Words "Knave," and "Varlet," and "begone." Lookt from my Window and
beheld a Man, booted and cloaked, with two Horses, at the Gate,
parleying with my Father, who stood in an offensive Attitude, and
woulde not let him in. I could catch such Fragments as, "But, Sir?"
"What! in such Weather as this?" "Nay, it had not overcast when I
started." "'Tis foul enough now, then." "Let me but have speech of my
Mistress." "You crosse not my Threshold." "Nay, Sir, if but to give
her this Letter:"--and turning his Head, I was avised of its being
_Hubert_, old Mr. _Milton's_ Man; doubtless sent by my Husba