Meantime, poor _Bess_ and _Cecilie_, spent with Grief and long waiting, were forct to be carried Home by _Heron_, or ever _Father_ returned to his Prison. Was't less Feeling, or more Strength of Body, enabled me to bide at the Tower Wharf with _Dancey_? GOD knoweth. They brought him back by Water; my poor Sisters must have passed him.... The first Thing I saw was the Axe, _turned with its Edge towards him_--my first Note of his Sentence. I forct my Way through the Crowd ... some one laid a cold Hand on mine Arm; 'twas poor _Patteson_, soe changed I scarce knew him, with a Rosary of Gooseberries he kept running through his Fingers. He sayth, "Bide your Time, Mistress _Meg_; when he comes past, I'll make a Passage for ye; ... Oh, Brother, Brother! what ailed thee to refuse the Oath? _I've_ taken it!" In another Moment, "Now, Mistress, now!" and flinging his Arms right and left, made a Breach through which I darted, fearlesse of Bills and Halberds, and did cast mine Arms about _Father's_ Neck. He cries, "My _Meg_!" and hugs me to him as though our very Souls shoulde grow together. He sayth, "Bless thee, bless thee! Enough, enough, my Child; what mean ye, to weep and break mine Heart? Remember, though I die innocent, 'tis not without the Will of GOD, who coulde have turned mine Enemies' Hearts, if 'twere best; therefore possess your Soul in Patience. Kiss them alle for me, thus and thus ..." soe gave me back into _Dancey's_ Arms, the Guards about him alle weeping; but I coulde not thus lose Sight of him for ever; soe, after a Minute's Pause, did make a second Rush, brake away from _Dancey_, clave to _Father_ agayn, and agayn they had Pitie on me, and made Pause while I hung upon his Neck. This Time there were large Drops standing on his dear Brow; and the big Tears were swelling into his Eyes. He whispered, "_Meg_, for _Christ's_ Sake don't unman me; thou'lt not deny my last Request?" I sayd, "Oh! no;" and at once loosened mine Arms. "God's Blessing be with you," he sayth with a last Kiss. I coulde not help crying, "My _Father_, my _Father_!" "The Chariot of _Israel_, and the Horsemen thereof!" he vehementlie whispers, pointing upwards with soe passionate a Regard, that I look up, almost expecting a beatific Vision; and when I turn about agayn, he's gone, and I have noe more Sense nor Life till I find myself agayn in mine owne Chamber, my Sisters chafing my Hands. [Illustration: More returning from his Trial.] _July 5th._ Alle's over now ... they've done theire worst, and yet I live. There were Women coulde stande aneath the Cross. The _Maccabees'_ Mother-- ... yes, my Soul, yes; I know--Nought but unpardoned Sin.... The Chariot of _Israel_. _6th._ Dr. _Clement_ hath beene with us. Sayth he went up as blythe as a Bridegroom to be clothed upon with Immortality. _Rupert_ stoode it alle out. Perfect Love casteth out Feare. Soe did his. _17th._