"And then I went myself below, and Caterin, she would have none of
me, and made up such a face of ice when I approached, that methought
I had maybe wasted my emruld ring. So after a little up the stare I
stole, and the ring was not where I had put it. Then thinkin that
the ring had been stole, and I had neither that nor the made, I
raised a great hue and cry, and demanded that a search be maid, and
the ring was found on Master Wingfield, and he was therefor
transported, and I had my ring again, and myself knew not the true
fact of the case until a year agone. Then feeling that I had not
much longer to live, I writ this, thinking that Master Wingfield was
in a rich country, and not in sufferin, and a few months more would
make not much odds to him. The facs of the case, cousin, I knew from
Madam Cavendish's old servant woman Charlotte who came to my sister
when the Cavendishs left for Virginia, having a fear of the sea, and
later when my sister died, to my wife, and died but a year agone,
and in her deathbed told me what she knew. She told me truly, that
she did see Madam Cavendish on the night of the ball go into
Caterin's chamber, and espying my emruld ring on her dressing-table,
take it up and look at it with exceeding astonishment, and then lay
it down not on the spot whereon I had left it, but on the
prayer-book on the little stand beside her bed, and then go down
stairs, frowning. Then this same Charlotte, having litle interest in
life as to her own affairs, and forced to suck others, if she would
keep her wits nourished, being watchful, saw me enter, and miss the
ring, and heard the hue and cry which I raised. And then she, still
watching, saw Master Harry Wingfield, who with others was searching
the house for the lost treasure, stop as he was passing the open
door of Caterin's chamber, because the green light of the emruld
fixed his eyes, and rush in and secrete the ring upon his person.
This Charlotte saw, and told Madam Cavendish, who bound her over to
secresy to save the honour of the family, believing that her own
granddaughter Caterin was the thief. This epistle, cousin, is to
prove to you that Caterin was no thief, but simply a cold maid, who
hath no love for either hearts or gems, but of that I complain not,
havin as I believe, wedded wisely, if not to please my famly, and
three daughters and a son, hath my Betty given me, and most exceedin
fine tarts hath she made, and puddens, and I die content, with this
last writ to thee, cousin to clear Caterin Cavendish, and may be of
an innosent gentleman likewise.