This, their first confinement, was not rigorous; the lady walked in her garden, and the lover was a prisoner at large in the Tower.  The writer in the “Biographia Britannica” observes that “Some intercourse they had by letters, which, after a time, was discovered.”  In this history of love these might be precious documents, and in the library at Long-leat these love-epistles, or perhaps this volume, may yet lie unread in a corner.[335] Arabella’s epistolary talent was not vulgar:  Dr. Montford, in a manuscript letter, describes one of those effusions which Arabella addressed to the king.  “This letter was penned by her in the best terms, as she can do right well.  It was often read without offence, nay it was even commended by his highness, with the applause of prince and council.”  One of these amatory letters I have recovered.  The circumstance is domestic, being nothing more at first than a very pretty letter on Mr. Seymour having taken cold, but, as every love-letter ought, it is not without a pathetic crescendo; the tearing away of hearts so firmly joined, her solitary imprisonment availed little; for that he lived and was her own, filled her spirit with that consciousness which triumphed even over that sickly frame so nearly subdued to death.  The familiar style of James the First’s age may bear comparison with our own.  I shall give it entire.

     “LADY ARABELLA TO MR. WILLIAM SEYMOUR.

     “SIR,

“I am exceeding sorry to hear you have not been well.  I pray you let me know truly how you do, and what was the cause of it.  I am not satisfied with the reason Smith gives for it; but if it be a cold, I will impute it to some sympathy betwixt us, having myself gotten a swollen cheek at the same time with a cold.  For God’s sake, let not your grief of mind work upon your body.  You may see by me what inconveniences it will bring one to; and no fortune, I assure you, daunts me so much as that weakness of body I find in myself; for si nous vivons l’age d’un veau, as Marot says, we may, by God’s grace, be happier than we look for, in being suffered to enjoy ourself with his majesty’s favour.  But if we be not able to live to it, I for my part shall think myself a pattern of misfortune, in enjoying so great a blessing as you, so little awhile.  No separation but that deprives me of the comfort of you.  For wheresoever you be, or in what state soever you are, it sufficeth me you are mine! Rachel wept, and would not be comforted, because her children were no more. And that, indeed, is the remediless sorrow, and none else!  And therefore God bless us from that, and I will hope well of the rest, though I see no apparent hope.  But I am sure God’s book mentioneth many of his children in as great distress, that have done well after, even in this world!  I do assure you nothing the state can do with me can trouble me so much as this news of your being ill doth; and you see when I am troubled, I trouble you too with tedious kindness; for so I think you will account so long a letter, yourself not having written to me this good while so much as how you do.  But, sweet sir, I speak not this to trouble you with writing but when you please.  Be well, and I shall account myself happy in being