with never so much as a kerchief tied o'er her
head; and now is she laid of her bed, as was the only thing like, and
may scarce breathe with the inflammation of her lungs. She _may_ win
through, but verily I look not for it."

"Poor heart! I will go and see her," saith _Mother_.

"Ay, do so," saith he. "Poor foolish soul!--as foolish in regard of her
health as of her happiness."

This even, I being the first in our chamber, was but making ready my
gown with a clean partlet [ruff] for to-morrow, when _Mother_ come in.

"_Milly_," she saith, "I shall go (if the Lord will) to see _Blanche_
to-morrow, and I would have thee go withal."

I guess _Mother_ saw that I did somewhat shrink from the thought. In
truth, though I have seen _Blanche_ in church, and know how she looketh,
yet I have never yet spoke with her sithence she came home, and I feel
fearful, as though I were going into a chamber where was somewhat might
hurt me.

"My _Milisent_," saith _Mother_--and that is what she calls me at her
tenderest--"I would not hurt thee but for thine own good. And I know,
dear heart, that few matters do more good than for a sinner to be shown
that whereto he might have come, if the Lord had not hedged up his way
with thorns. 'Tis not alway--I might say 'tis not often--that we be
permitted to see whither the way should have led that the Father would
not have us to take. And, my dear heart, thou art of thy nature so like
thy foolish mother, that I can judge well what should be good for thee."

"Nay, _Mother_, dear heart! I pray you, call not yourself names," said
I, kissing her hand.

"I shall be of my nature foolish, _Milly_, whether I do so call myself
or no," saith _Mother_, laughing.

"And truly, the older I grow, the more foolish I think myself in my
young days."

"Shall I so do, _Mother_, when I am come to your years?" said I, also
laughing.

"I hope so, _Milly_," saith she. "I am afeared, if no, thy wisdom shall
then be small."

SELWICK HALL, FEBRUARY YE XVII.
I have seen _Blanche Lewthwaite_, and I do feel to-night as though I
should never laugh again. Verily, O my God, the way of the
transgressors is hard!

She lies of her bed, scarce able to speak, and that but of an hoarse
whisper. Dr _Bell_ hath given order that she shall not be suffered to
talk but to make known her wants or to relieve her mind, though folk may
talk to her so long as they weary her not.