Oh me! how merry I was at Home!—The Source of Cheerfulnesse seemed in me then, and why is it not now? Partly because alle that I was there taught to think right is here thought wrong; because much that I there thought harmlesse is here thought sinfulle; because I cannot get at anie of the Things that employed and interested me there, and because the Things within my Reach here do not interest me. Then, 'tis no small Thing to be continuallie deemed ignorant and misinformed, and to have one's Errors continuallie covered, however handsomelie, even before Children. To say nothing of the Weight upon the Spiritts at firste, from Change of Ayre, and Diet, and Scene, and Loss of habituall Exercise and Companie and householde Cares. These petty Griefs try me sorelie; and when Cousin Ralph came in unexpectedlie this Morn, tho' I never much cared for him at Home, yet the Sighte of Rose's Brother, fresh from_ Sheepscote_ and Oxford and Forest Hill, soe upset me that I sank into Tears. No wonder that Mr. Milton, then coming in, shoulde hastilie enquire if Ralph had brought ill Tidings from Home; and, finding alle was well there, shoulde look strangelie. He askt Ralph, however, to stay to Dinner; and we had much Talk of Home; but now, I regret having omitted to ask a thousand Questions.
Sunday Even., Aug. 15, 1643.
Mr. Milton in his Closet and I in my Chamber.—For the first Time he seems this Evening to have founde out how dissimilar are our Minds. Meaning to please him, I sayd, "I kept awake bravelie, tonighte, through that long, long Sermon, for your Sake." "And why not for God's Sake?" cried he, "why not for your owne Sake?—Oh, sweet Wife, I fear you have yet much to learn of the Depth of Happinesse that is comprised in the Communion between a forgiven Soul and its Creator. It hallows the most secular as well as the most spirituall Employments; it gives Pleasure that has no after Bitternesse; it gives Pleasure to God—and oh! thinke of the Depth of Meaning in those Words! think what it is for us to be capable of giving God Pleasure!"
—Much more, in the same Vein! to which I could not, with equal Power, respond; soe, he away to his Studdy, to pray perhaps for my Change of Heart, and I to my Bed.
Saturday, Aug. 21, 1643.
Oh Heaven! can it be possible? am I agayn at Forest Hill? How strange, how joyfulle an Event, tho' brought about with Teares!—Can it be, that it is onlie a Month since I stoode at this Toilette as a Bride? and lay awake on that Bed, thinking of London? How long a Month! and oh! this present one will be alle too short.
It seemeth that Ralph Hewlett, shocked at my Teares and the Alteration in my Looks, broughte back a dismall Report of me to deare Father and Mother, pronouncing me either ill or unhappie. Thereupon, Richard, with his usuall Impetuositie, prevayled on Father to let him and Ralph fetch me Home for a While, at leaste till after Michaelmasse.
How surprised was I to see Dick enter! My Arms were soe fast about his Neck, and my Face prest soe close to his Shoulder, that I did not for a While perceive the grave Looke he had put on. At the last, I was avised to ask what broughte him soe unexpectedlie to London; and then he hemmed and looked at Ralph, and Ralph looked at Dick, and then Dick sayd bluntly, he hoped Mr. Milton woulde spare me to go Home till after Michaelmasse, and Father had sent him on Purpose to say soe. Mr. Milton lookt surprised and hurte, and sayd, how could he be expected to part soe soone with me, a Month's Bride? it must be some other Time: he had intended to take me himselfe to Forest Hill the following Spring, but coulde not spare Time now, nor liked me to goe without him, nor thought I should like it myself. But my Eyes said I shoulde, and then he gazed earnestlie at me and lookt hurt; and there was a dead Silence. Then Dick, hesitating a little, sayd he was sorrie to tell us my Father was ill; on which I clasped my Hands and beganne to weepe; and Mr. Milton, changing Countenance, askt sundrie Questions, which Dick answered well enough; and then said he woulde not be soe cruel as to keepe me from a Father I soe dearlie loved, if he were sick, though he liked not my travelling in such unsettled Times with so young a Convoy. Ralph sayd they had brought Diggory with them, who was olde and steddy enough, and had ridden my Mother's Mare for my Use; and Dick was for our getting forward a Stage on our Journey the same Evening, but Mr. Milton insisted on our abiding till the following Morn, and woulde not be overruled. And gave me leave to stay a Month, and gave me Money, and many kind Words, which I coulde mark little, being soe overtaken with Concern about dear Father, whose Illness I feared to be worse than Dick sayd, seeing he seemed soe close and dealt in dark Speeches and Parables. After Dinner, they went forth, they sayd, to look after the Horses, but I think to see London, and returned not till Supper.
We got them Beds in a House hard by, and started at earlie Dawn.
Mr. Milton kissed me most tenderlie agayn and agayn at parting, as though he feared to lose me; but it had seemed to me soe hard to brook the Delay of even a few Hours when Father, in his Sicknesse, was wanting me, that I took leave of my Husband with less Affection than I mighte have shewn, and onlie began to find my Spiritts lighten when we were fairly quit of London, with its vile Sewers and Drains, and to breathe the sweete, pure Morning Ayre, as we rode swiftlie along. Dick called London a vile Place, and spake to Ralph concerning what they had seen of it overnighte, whence it appeared to me, that he had beene pleasure-seeking more than, in Father's state, he ought to have beene. But Dick was always a reckless Lad;—and oh, what Joy, on reaching this deare Place, to find Father had onlie beene suffering under one of his usual Stomach Attacks, which have no Danger in them, and which Dick had exaggerated, fearing Mr. Milton woulde not otherwise part with me;—I was a little shocked, and coulde not help scolding him, though I was the gainer; but he boldlie defended what he called his "Stratagem of War," saying it was quite allowable in dealing with a Puritan.