Loveday's History by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

FOR a few days I was kept in quite a fever of suspense, thinking every time I heard a strange voice or an unusual noise in the house, that some one had come for me; but as the days passed into weeks, and the weeks into months, and I heard nothing from Mother Benedict, I began to make myself at home in my uncle's house. My old life in Somersetshire came to seem like a dream-almost as much so as that still further away time when I lived at Watcombe farm with my father and mother. I practiced my lute, and worked at my white seam and tapestry, and kept up my Latin, learning a lesson every day which I said to my uncle at night, when he never failed to reward me, when I had been diligent, with a story out of his great book. For recreation we played with our dolls and the cat, worked in our own little gardens, and took walks with my uncle and aunt to see poor people. Sometimes we had playmates of our own to visit us, but not often, and I think we preferred each other's society at all times to that of outsiders.

Once, my uncle took us out of town to spend the day with a farmer who rented certain lands from him. We went away early in the morning, my aunt riding a sober palfrey, and we children occupying a horse litter under the charge of two or three stout serving men; for, despite the severities exercised toward robbers and broken men, the ways about London were dangerous for small parties. We met with no adventures, however, and when we reached the open heath, my aunt allowed us to get down and walk, on condition that we did not go far-away.