"I would send him a message when my Mother goes again, but that he scarcely even asked for me; only defended himself against joining in Olive's pleadings for himself. So proud! I will send him no message, not a word. Nothing but a few sweet autumn violets from the college garden; because the air of the prison is so bad. "_February_ 10.--Job Forster all but sank. He must have died if my Mother had not pleaded hard and got permission at last for him to be taken home to Netherby in one of our Hall wagons. She thought it would scarce be more than to die. But to-day we have had a letter from Rachel, saying, the very sight of the forge and smell of the fields seemed to work on him like a heavenly cordial, and she doubts not he will rally. Dr. Antony hath been to see him, and Olive, and Mistress Gretel, and Mistress Dorothy, and brought him meats and strong waters, and read him sermons, saith she, and they say he could not be doing better. But, she adds, she hopes Lady Lucy will not think it thankless that he should use his liberty to fight for the Parliament, as no condition was made on his return; and he thinks the Covenant under which he fights must stand good, and dares not break it. So my sweet Mother hath on her conscience the guilt of tenderly nourishing a viper to sting what she loveth best! "But Roger Drayton is to be exchanged for one of our Cavaliers, and is to leave Oxford to-morrow. All these weeks he hath been here, and never a word between us, except some cold thanks for those violets. So proud is he! And it was not for me to begin. "_February_ 11.--Roger Drayton had the grace to pay us his devoirs before he left, at Lincoln College. But he would scarce sit down. I trow he was afraid of being vanquished if he ventured into debate concerning his bad cause. He did not say anything to me. If he had, I felt tempted to say something angry. But he did not begin; and why should I? Until at last, as he was leaving, he said,-- "'Mistress Lettice, I am going to join Colonel Cromwell at Cambridge. But I may see Olive by the way. May I say a word to her from you? Sometimes a message is better than a letter.' "I could not think of anything to say. It took me so by surprise after his silence. For it was just like his old tone by the Mere, or in the woods, or on the terraces at Netherby, and at the Hall. And it so brought poor old Netherby back to me, and all the old happy days, that I was afraid my voice would tremble if I spoke. I could only think of Mistress Dorothy's sermons; things come into one's head so strangely. So, after a little while, I said very abruptly, 'I sent Olive dear love--and to tell Mistress Dorothy I had read her sermons.'