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." I burste forthe into Teares. --"No, _Rose_, no," repeated Mr. _Agnew_, putting aside his Wife, who woulde have interceded for me,--"her Teares have noe Effect on me now--they proceed, not from a contrite Heart, they are the Tears of a Child that cannot brook to be chidden for the Waywardnesse in which it persists." "You doe me Wrong everie Way," I sayd; "I came to you willing and desirous to doe what you yourselfe woulde, this Morning, have had me doe."