This account was very uneasy to me. I was much grieved that I had
occasioned so much grief to my father; and I would have returned
that evening after the meeting, but the Friends would not permit it,
for the meeting would in all likelihood end late, the days being
short, and the way was long and dirty. And besides, John Rance told
me that he had something on his mind to speak to my father, and that
if I would stay till the next day he would go down with me, hoping,
perhaps, that while my father was under this sorrow for me he might
work some good upon him. Hereupon concluding to stay till the
morrow, I dismissed the man with the things he brought, bidding him
tell my sister I intended, God willing, to return home to-morrow,
and charging him not to let anybody else know that he had seen me,
or where he had been.

Next morning John Rance and I set out, and when we were come to the
end of the town we agreed that he should go before and knock at the
great gate, and I would come a little after, and go in by the back
way. He did so; and when a servant came to open the gate he asked
if the Justice was at home. She told him, Yes; and desiring him to
come in and sit down in the hall, went and acquainted her master
that there was one who desired to speak with him. He, supposing it
was one that came for justice, went readily into the hall to him;
but he was not a little surprised when he found it was a Quaker.
Yet not knowing on what account he came, he stayed to hear his
business; but when he found it was about me he fell somewhat sharply
on him.

In this time I was come by the back way into the kitchen, and
hearing my father's voice so loud, I began to doubt things wrought