Excerpt from Mistress Spitfire: A Plain Account of Certain Episodes in the History of Richard Coope, Gent;, And of His Cousin, Mistress Alison French, at the Time of the Revolution, 1642-1644
At seven of the clock I turned away from the window, where, for a full hour, I had stood flattening my nose against the pane in a vain attempt to see something of interest in the dripping garden or the dank meadows outside. Sir Nicholas moved in his deep chair by the fire and then groaned, his old enemy catching him afresh and tweaking his great toe. Seeing that his pain had awakened him I went over and stood at his side. I saw the firelight glint on his frosted hair, and it woke in me some sleeping memory of a by gone winter.
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