repetition of it. It was the first time my father had ever struck me, though I had been bred up with him from my infancy, I was stunned with the blow; but my senses soon returned, and brought with them that train of horrible thoughts, which it is equally impossible for me ever to root from my memory, or to find words in any language capable of expressing. When my father saw me fall, I believe he was at first frightened: he took me up and set me upon the bed; but the moment Livia saw there was no real hurt done, fearing he should relent and make it up with me again, she hurried him out of the room, under the pretence of being frightened at his passion; sayng, she would not that he should have struck me on any account, especially in her quarrel, for she could bear it all. And then she put him in mind again of what she thought he would be most displeased at my saying. I had not spoke one word, nor was I able. The moment they were gone, I threw myself back on the bed, in greater agonies than the strongest imagination can paint, or than I can comprehend how human nature is able to survive. My father's leaving me in this condition, without giving himself any further trouble about what I suffered, or to find out whether I really deserved this treatment, hurt me more than even his striking me had done.
"In this miserable condition I lay till Valentine came in. It was his custom always to come up immediately to me after he had been abroad. The poor creature found me almost drowned in tears, and unable to tell him the cause of them. He guessed Livia was at the bottom of whatever it was that made me in this situation. He at first swore he would go and know from her what she had done to me. I caught hold of him, and showed him by my looks, that nothing would hurt me so much; and by that means prevailed with him to sit down by me
