'My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.' And again, these that follow:-- 'Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. If a man would give all the substance of his house for love it would utterly be contemned.' In these gracious, nay, these enraptured words, doth the Bible speak of love; and though I am not so ignorant as not to know that it is the love of the Church for Christ, yet I am persuaded by my own spiritual experience--whatever Doctors of Divinity may argue--that the earthly love of husband and wife may be spoken of in these very words as being the type of that other and higher love. And in this matter I know that my mother would also confirm my judgment. It might have been between nine and ten that Humphrey came. Surely he was changed more than Robin: for the great white periwig which he wore (being now a physician) falling upon his shoulders did partly hide the deformity of his wry shape, and the black velvet coat did also become him mightily. As for his face, that was not changed at all. It had been grave and serious in youth; it was now more grave and more serious in manhood. He stood in the doorway, not seeing me--I was making a pudding for dinner, with my sleeves rolled up and my arms white with flour. 'Mistress Eykin,' he said, 'are old friends passed out of mind?' 'Why,' my mother left her wheel and gave him her hand, ''tis Humphrey! I knew that we should see thee this morning, Humphrey. Is thy health good, my son, and is all well with thee?' 'All is well, madam, and my health is good. How is my master--thy husband?' 'He is always well, and--but thou knowest what manner of life he leads. Of late he hath been much disquieted; he is restless--his mind runs much upon the prophecies of war and pestilence. It is the news from London and the return of the Mass which keeps him uneasy. Go in and see him, Humphrey. He will willingly suffer thee to disturb him, though we must not go near him in his hours of study.' 'Presently; but where is my old playfellow--where is Alice?' 'She is behind you, Humphrey.' He turned, and his pale face flushed when he saw me. 'Alice?' he cried. 'Is this truly Alice? Nay, she is changed indeed! I knew not--I could not expect--nay, how could one expect'---- 'There is no change,' said my mother, sharply. 'Alice was a child, and is now a woman; that is all.'