Yet, not that that Thankfullenesse hath beene unfelt, nor, though unwritten, unexprest. Nay, O Lord, deeplie, deeplie have I thanked thee for thy tender Mercies. And he healed soe slowlie, that Suspense, as 'twere, wore itself out, and gave Place to a dull, mournful Persuasion that an Hydropsia would waste him away, though more slowlie, yet noe less surelie than the Fever.
Soe Weeks lengthened into Months, I mighte well say Years, they seemed soe long! and stille he seemed to neede more Care and Tendernesse; till, just as he and I had learnt to say, "Thy Will, O Lord, be done," he began to gain Flesh, his craving Appetite moderated, yet his Food nourished him, and by God's Blessing he recovered!
During that heavie Season of Probation, our Hearts were unlocked, and we spake oft to one another of Things in Heaven and Things in Earth. Afterwards, our mutuall Reserves returned, and Robin, methinks, became shyer than before, but there can never cease to be a dearer Bond between us. Now we are apart, I aim to keep him mindfulle of the high and holie Resolutions he formed in his Sicknesse; and though he never answers these Portions of my Letters, I am avised to think he finds them not displeasing.
Now that Oxford is like to be besieged, my Life is more confined than ever; yet I cannot, and will not leave Father and Mother, even for the Agnews, while they are soe much harassed. This Morning, my Father hath received a Letter from Sir Thomas Glemham, requiring a larger Quantitie of winnowed Wheat, than, with alle his Loyaltie, he likes to send.
April 23, 1646.
Ralph Hewlett hath just looked in to say, his Father and Mother have in Safetie reached London, where he will shortlie joyn them, and to ask, is there anie Service he can doe me? Ay, truly; one that I dare not name—he can bring me Word of Mr. Milton, of his Health, of his Looks, of his Speech, and whether . . .
Ralph shall be noe Messenger of mine.
April 24, 1646.
Talking of Money Matters this Morning, Mother sayd Something that brought Tears into mine Eyes. She observed, that though my Husband had never beene a Favourite of hers, there was one Thing wherein she must say he had behaved generously: he had never, to this Day, askt Father for the 500 pounds which had brought him, in the first Instance, to Forest Hill, (he having promised old Mr. Milton to try to get the Debt paid,) and the which, on his asking for my Hand, Father tolde him shoulde be made over sooner or later, in lieu of Dower.
Did Rose know the Bitter-sweet she was imparting to me, when she gave me, by Stealth as 'twere, the latelie publisht Volume of my Husband's English Versing? It hath beene my Companion ever since; for I had perused the Comus but by Snatches, under the Disadvantage of crabbed Manuscript. This Morning, to use his owne deare Words:—