In the withdrawing Chamber sate Mistress _Anne_ at her Needle, beside Master _Hewet_ in his great Chair. "Now then," thought I, "every good Angel be my speed! I believe I can tell as well as most whether a Man be only setting himself to sleep, or verily and indeed sleeping; and I see that at this present, Master _Hewet_ is truly and soundly asleep, but yet his being at his Daughter's Side gives me Freedom of Access unto her I should not in other Wise enjoy, and will now neither abuse nor neglect."
So, without a second Thought, and armed with my Possession of the Father's private Grace, I sate down over-against her. She said, "So soon returned?" and began to question me of my Travel. Then my Tongue unloosed, and I told her how many fair Things I had seen, how many notable People and Places, yet how none of these had been able to damp for one Moment my Desire to be at Home, within Sight and Sound of her. As I went on, waxing more and more fluent, more and more passionate, so did her Colour wax deeper and deeper, until, with a Look of extreme Displeasure and Aversion, she said, "_Edward_, thou art beside thyself ... pray let me never more hear such foolish Talk as this—I had better Thoughts of thee." And arose to go. I arose too, and stayed her, and prayed her to forgive me if I had spoken Aught amiss,—if she did not, I could have no Peace. She said, "I cannot just now, I am wounded so much;" and went away, with flushed Cheeks and Eyes full of Tears. Master _Hewet_ was roused by her Departure, and, rubbing his Eyes, smiled and said, "I thought _Anne_ had been here." "She is but just gone," I made Answer; and the rest of the Evening was sad enough.
Next Day, I had long Speech of Master _Hewet_, touching foreign Affairs. He told me of this and that Estate in _Yorkshire_ he had been buying, in the Parishes of _Wales_ and _Hartshill_, and of his minding to send me down to see them, if I were ready to start off again so soon. I said, "I am quite ready, Sir." "Shortly thou shalt go, then," quod he. "And now take up these Letters to _Anne_, for they concern her more than me, being Thanks from some of her poor Pensioners." Adding, just as I was leaving, "Thou didst not make much way last Night, _Ned_ ..." and smiled; which bewrayed to me that he had heard at least Part of what was said; which I was mad with him for, and thought not fair.