Chamber, alle below seeming still, I began to wonder shoulde we dine alone or not, and to have a hundred hot and cold Fitts of Hope and Feare. Thought I, if Mr. Milton comes, assuredlie I cannot goe down; but yet I must; but yet I will not; but yet the best will be to conduct myselfe as though nothing had happened; and, as he seems to have left the House long ago, maybe he hath returned to Sheepscote, or even to London. Oh that London! Shall I indeede ever see it? and the rare Shops, and the Play-houses, and St. Paul's, and the Towre? But what and if that ever comes to pass? Must I leave Home? dear Forest Hill? and Father and Mother, and the Boys? more especiallie Robin? Ah! but Father will give me a long Time to think of it. He will, and

must.

Then Dinner-time came; and, with Dinner-time, Uncle Hewlett and Ralph, Squire Paice and Mr. Milton. We had a huge Sirloin, soe no Feare of short Commons. I was not ill pleased to see soe

manie: it gave me an Excuse for holding my Peace, but I coulde have wished for another Woman. However, Father never thinks of that, and Mother will soone be Home. After Dinner the elder Men went to the Bowling-greene with Dick and Ralph; the Boys to the Fish-ponds ; and, or ever I was aware, Mr. Milton was walking with me on the Terrace. My Dreame came soe forcibly to Mind, that my Heart seemed to leap into my Mouth; but he kept away from the Fish-ponds, and from Leave - taking, and from his morning Discourse with my Father,—at least for awhile; but some Way he got round to it, and sayd soe much, and soe well, that, after alle my Father's bidding me keepe quiete and take my Time, and mine owne Resolution to think much and long, he never rested till he had changed the whole Appearance of Things, and made me promise to be his, wholly and trulie.— And oh! I feare I have been too quickly

wonne !

May

May 23rd.

T leaste, so sayeth the Calendar; but with me it hath beene trulie an April Daye, alle Smiles and Teares. And now my Spiritts are soe perturbed and dismaid, as

that I know not whether to weepe or no, for methinks crying would relieve me. At first waking this Morning my Mind was elated at the Falsitie of my Mother's Notion, that no Man of Sense woulde think me worth the having; and soe I got up too proude, I think, and came down too vain, for I had spent an unusuall Time at the Glasse. My Spiritts, alsoe, were soe unequall, that the Boys took Notice of it, and it seemed as though I coulde breathe nowhere but out of Doors; so the Children and I had a rare Game of Play in the Home-close; but ever and anon I kept looking towards the Road and listening for Horses' Feet, till Robin sayd, "One would think the King was "coming :