"Then there's an End," cried he sharplie. "Had you made but one fayre
Triall, whether successfulle or noe, I coulde have been satisfied--no,
not satisfied, but I woulde have esteemed you, coulde have taken your
Part. As it is, the less I say just now, perhaps, the better. Forgive
me for having spoken at alle."
----Afterwards, I hearde him say to _Rose_ of me, "I verilie believe
there is Nothing in her on which to make a permanent Impression. I
verilie think she loves everie one of those long Curls of hers more
than she loves Mr. _Milton_."
(Note:--I will cut them two Inches shorter tonight. And they will grow
all the faster.)
. . . Oh, my sad Heart, _Roger Agnew_ hath pierced you at last!
I was moved, more than he thought, by what he had sayd in the Morning;
and, in writing down the Heads of his Speech, to kill Time, a kind of
Resentment at myselfe came over me, unlike to what I had ever felt
before; in spite of my Folly about my Curls. Seeking for some Trifle
in a Bag that had not been shaken out since I brought it from _London_,
out tumbled a Key with curious Wards--I knew it at once for one that
belonged to a certayn Algum-wood Casket Mr. _Milton_ had Recourse to
dailie, because he kept small Change in it; and I knew not I had
brought it away! 'Twas worked in Grotesque, the Casket, by
_Benvenuto_, for _Clement_ the Seventh, who for some Reason woulde not
have it; and soe it came somehow to _Clementillo_, who gave it to Mr.
_Milton_. Thought I, how uncomfortable the Loss of this Key must have
made him! he must have needed it a hundred Times! even if he hath
bought a new Casket, I will for it he habituallie goes agayn and agayn
to the old one, and then he remembers that he lost the Key the same Day
that he lost his Wife. I heartilie wish he had it back. Ah, but he
feels not the one Loss as he feels the other. Nay, but it is as well
that one of them, tho' the Lesser, should be repaired. 'Twill shew
Signe of Grace, my thinking of him, and may open the Way, if _God_
wills, to some Interchange of Kindnesse, however fleeting.
Soe I soughte out Mr. _Agnew_, tapping at his Studdy Doore. He sayd,
"Come in," drylie enoughe; and there were he and _Rose_ reading a
Letter. I sayd, "I want you to write for me to Mr. _Milton_." He gave
a sour Look, as much as to say he disliked the Office; which threw me
back, as 'twere; he having soe lately proposed it himself. _Rose's_
Eyes, however, dilated with sweete Pleasure, as she lookt from one to
the other of us.
"Well,--I fear 'tis too late," sayd he at length reluctantlie, I mighte
almost say grufflie,--"what am I to write?"
"To tell him I have this Key," I made Answer faltering.
"That Key!" cried he.
"Yes, the Key of his Algum-wood Casket, which I knew not I had, and
which I think he must miss dailie."
He lookt at me with the utmost Impatience. "And is that alle?" he sayd.
"Yes, alle," I sayd trembling.
"And have you nothing more to tell him?" sayd he.
"No--" after a Pause, I replyed. _Rose's_ Countenance fell.
"Then you must ask some one else to write for you, Mrs. _Milton,"_
burste forthe _Roger Agnew_, "unless you choose to write for yourself.
I have neither Part nor Lot in it."