Tuesday morning.
Getting up pretty early, I have written thus far, while Mrs. Jewkes lies
snoring in bed, fetching up her last night's disturbance. I long for her
rising, to know how my poor master does. 'Tis well for her she can sleep
so purely. No love, but for herself, will ever break her rest, I am
sure. I am deadly sore all over, as if I had been soundly beaten. I did
not think I could have lived under such fatigue.
Mrs. Jewkes, as soon as she got up, went to know how my master did, and
he had had a good night; and, having drank plentifully of sack whey, had
sweated much; so that his fever had abated considerably. She said to
him, that he must not be surprised, and she would tell him news. He
asked, What? And she said, I was come. He raised himself up in his bed;
Can it be? said he--What, already!--She told him I came last night.
Monsieur Colbrand coming to inquire of his health, he ordered him to draw
near him, and was highly pleased with the account he gave him of the
journey, my readiness to come back, and my willingness to reach home that
night. And he said, Why, these tender fair ones, I think, bear fatigue
better than us men. But she is very good, to give me such an instance of
her readiness to oblige me.
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