University of Virginia Library

June ye 30th, 1678.

Mr. Rawson and Sir Thomas Hale came yesterday
from Boston. I was rejoiced to see mine Uncle, more
especially as he brought for me a package of Letters
and presents and tokens of remembrance from my

friends on the other side of the Water. As soon as I
got them, I went up to my chamber, and, as I read of
the health of those who are verie dear to me, and who
did still regard me with unchanged Love, I wept in my
great joy, and my heart overflowed in thankfulness. I
read the xxii Psalm, and it did seem to express mine
own feelings in view of the great mercies and blessings
vouchsafed to me. My head is annointed with oil;
my cup runneth over. Surely Goodness and Mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life.

This morning, Sir Thomas and Uncle Rawson rode
over to Hampton where they will tarry all night. Last
evening, Rebecca had a long talk with her Father
concerning Sir Thomas, who hath asked her of him.
She came to Bedde very late, and lay restless and
sobbing; whereupon I pressed her to know the cause
of her grief, when she told me she had consented to
marry Sir Thomas, but that her Heart was sorely
troubled, and full of misgivings. On my querying
whether she did really love the young Gentleman, she
said she sometimes feared she did not; and that when
her fancie had made a faire picture of the life of a great
Lady in England, there did often come a dark cloud
over it like the shade of some heavy disappointment or
sorrow. “Sir Thomas,” she said, “was a handsome
and wittie young Man, and had demeaned himself to

the satisfaction and good repute of her Father and the
principal people of the Colony; and his manner towards
her had been exceeding delicate and modest, inasmuch
as he had presumed nothing upon his familie or estate,
but had sought her with much entreatie and humilitie,
although he did well know that some of the most
admired and wealthy young Women in Boston did
esteem him not a little, even to the annoying of herself,
as one whom he especially favored.”

“This will be heavy news to Robert Pike,” said
I; “and I am sorrie for him, for he is indeed a
worthie Man.”

“That he is,” quoth she, “but he hath never spoken
to me of aught beyond that friendliness which, as neighbors
and school-companions, we do innocently cherish
for each other.”

“Nay,” said I, “my sweet Cousin knows full well
that he entertaineth so strong an affection for her, that
there needeth no words to reveal it.”

“Alas!” she answered, “it is too true. When I am
with him, I sometimes wish I had never seen Sir
Thomas. But my Choice is made, and I pray God I
may not have reason to repent of it.”

We said no more, but I fear she slept little, for
on waking about the break of Day, I saw her sitting in
her night dress by the window. Whereupon I

entreated her to return to her Bedde, which she at
length did, and folding me in her arms, and sobbing as if
her Heart would break, she besought me to pity her, for
it was no light thing which she had done, and she
scarcelie knew her own Mind, nor whether to rejoice or
weep over it. I strove to comfort her, and, after a
time, she did, to my great joy, fall into a quiet Sleep.

This afternoon, Robert Pike came in, and had a
long talk with Cousin Broughton, who told him how
matters stood between her Sister and Sir Thomas, at
which he was vehemently troubled, and would fain
have gone to seek Rebecca at once, and expostulate
with her, but was hindered on being told that it could
only grieve and discomfort her, inasmuch as the thing
was well settled, and could not be broken off. He
said he had known and loved her from a Child; that
for her sake he had toiled hard by Day and studied
by Night, and that in all his travels and voyages, her
sweet image had always gone with him. He would
bring no accusation against her, for she had all along
treated him rather as a brother than as a suitor, to which
last condition he had indeed not felt himself at libertie
to venture, after her honored Father, some months ago,
had given him to understand that he did design an
alliance of his Daughter with a gentleman of estate and
familie. For himself, he would bear himself manfully,

and endure his sorrow with patience and fortitude.
His only fear was, that his beloved Friend had been too
hasty in deciding the matter; and that he who was her
Choice might not be worthy of the great gift of her
affection. Cousin Broughton, who has hitherto greatlie
favored the pretensions of Sir Thomas, told me that
she well-nigh changed her mind in view of the manly
and noble bearing of Robert Pike; and that if her Sister
were to live in this land, she would rather see her the
wife of him than of any other Man therein.