The stings which domestic quarrels always inflict, and which sometimes can never, by any gentle arts, be removed, were still poignant when the Duke quitted England for the Hague. Repentance in violent but generous tempers quickly succeeds the indulgence of the angry taunt, or bitter sarcasm; and when absence had cooled down those ebullitions of irritability, which wanted, perhaps, the accustomed object to vent themselves upon, the Duchess appears to have suffered her better feelings to prevail, and to have experienced sincere regret that she had parted unkindly, and perhaps for ever, from him whose life was now exposed to every possible risk, whilst she sat at home in safety. Her restless, but not callous mind began to be possessed with nobler resolutions than, as it seems from his reply, the Duke ever anticipated from his wife. Soon after his departure, she wrote to offer to join him, to share in the anxieties, and even in the dangers, to which he was exposed. To accede to the request was impracticable; but it gratified the warm and generous heart of Marlborough to know that the Duchess, of whose affection he seems never to have been fully assured, should wish to resign for him the attractions of ease and safety, and the luxuries of home. His letter to her, in reply to this offer, is too beautiful to be abridged.[40] “_Hague, April 24–May 5._ “Your letter of the 15th came to me but this minute. My Lord Treasurer’s letter, in which it was enclosed, by some mistake was sent to Amsterdam. I would not for anything in my power it had been lost; for it is so very kind, that I would in return lose a thousand lives, if I had them, to make you happy. Before I sat down to write this letter, I took yours that you wrote at Harwich out of my strong box, and have burnt it; but, if you will give me leave, it will be a great pleasure to me to have it in my power to read this dear, dear letter often, and that it may be found in my strong box when I am dead. I do this minute love you better than I ever did in my life before. This letter of yours has made me so happy, that I do from my soul wish we could retire, and not be blamed. What you propose as to coming over, I should be extremely pleased with; for your letter has so transported me, that I think you would be happier in being here than where you are; although I should not be able to see you often. But you will see, by my last letter as well as this, that what you desire is impossible, for I am going up into Germany, where it would be impossible for you to follow me; but love me as you do now, and no hurt can follow me. You have by this kindness preserved my quiet, and I believe my life; for, till I had this letter, I have been very indifferent of what should become of myself. I have pressed this business of carrying an army into Germany, in order to leave a good name behind me, wishing for nothing else but good success. I shall now add