Chapter Nineteen.“We will put them into the yard for the present; I mean that Holdfast shall take charge of them by and by. I will soon teach him.”“Yes, he take charge of coat, or anything I tell him, why not take charge of goats? Clever dog, Holdfast. Massa Humphrey, you think Massa Edward take away both his dogs, Smoker and Watch? I say better not take puppy. Take Smoker, and leave puppy.”“I agree with you, Pablo. We ought to have two dogs here. I will speak to my brother. Now run forward and open the gate of the yard, and throw them some hay, Pablo, while I go and call my sisters.”The flock of goats was much admired, and the next morning was driven out into the forest to feed, attended by Pablo and Holdfast. When it was dinner-time, Pablo drove the flock near to the cottage, telling the dog to mind the goats. The sensible animal remained at once with them until Pablo’s return from dinner; and it may be as well to observe here that in a few days the dog took charge of them altogether, driving them home to the yard every evening; and as soon as they were put into the yard the dog had his supper, and he took good care, therefore, not to be too late. To return to our narrative.On Saturday Humphrey and Pablo went to Lymington to bring home Edward’s clothes, and Humphrey made Pablo acquainted with all that he wanted him to know, in case it might be necessary to send him there alone.Edward remained with his sisters, as he was to leave them on the Monday.Sunday was passed as usual; they read the service at old Armitage’s grave, and afterwards they walked in the forest; for Sunday was the only day on which Alice could find time to leave her duties in the cottage. They were not more grave than usual at the idea of Edward’s leaving them, but they kept up their spirits, as they were aware that it was for the advantage of all.On Monday morning, Edward, to please his sisters, put on his new clothes, and put his forester’s dress in the bundle with his linen. Alice and Edith thought he looked very well in them, and said that it reminded them of the days of Arnwood. The fact was that Edward appeared as he was—a gentleman born; that could not well be concealed under a forester’s dress, and in his present attire it was undeniable. After breakfast Billy was harnessed and brought to the cottage-door. Edward’s linen was put in the cart, and, as he had agreed with Humphrey, he took only Smoker with him, leaving the puppy at the cottage. Pablo went with him to bring back the cart. Edward kissed his sisters, who wept at the idea of his leaving them, and shaking hands with Humphrey set off to cross the forest.“Who would ever have believed this?” thought Edward, as he drove across the forest; “that I should put myself under the roof and under the protection of a Roundhead—one in outward appearance, and in the opinion of the world at least, if he is not so altogether in opinion. There is surely some spell upon me, and I almost feel as if I were a traitor to my principles. Why I know not, I feel a regard for that man, and a confidence in him. And why should I not? He knows my principles, my feelings against his party, and he respects them. Surely he cannot wish to gain me over to his party; that were indeed ridiculous—a young forester—a youth unknown. No, he would gain nothing by that, for I am nobody. It must be from good-will, and no other feeling. I have obliged him in the service I rendered his daughter, and he is grateful.” Perhaps, had Edward put the question to himself, “Should I have been on such friendly terms with the Intendant—should I have accepted his offer, if there had been no Patience Heatherstone?” he might then have discovered what was the “spell upon him” which had rendered him so tractable; but of that he had no idea. He only felt that his situation would be rendered more comfortable by the society of an amiable and handsome girl, and he inquired no further.His reverie was broken by Pablo, who appeared tired of holding his tongue, and said, “Massa Edward, you not like leave home—you think very much. Why you go there?”“I certainly do not like to leave home, Pablo, for I am very fond of my brother and sisters; but we cannot always do as we wish in this world, and it is for their sakes, more than from my own inclinations, that I have done so.”“Can’t see what good you do Missy Alice and Missy Edith ’cause you go away. How it possible do good, and not with them? Suppose bad accident, and you away, how you do good. Suppose bad accident, and you at cottage, then you do good. I think, Massa Edward, you very foolish.”Edward laughed at this blunt observation of Pablo’s, and replied, “It is very true, Pablo, that I cannot watch over my sisters, and protect them in person when I am away; but there are reasons why I should go, nevertheless, and I may be more useful to them by going than by remaining with them. If I did not think so I would not leave them. They know nobody, and have no friends in the world. Suppose anything was to happen to me. Suppose both Humphrey and I were to die—for you know that we never know how soon that event may take place—who would there be to protect my poor sisters, and what would become of them? Is it not, therefore, wise that I should procure friends for them, in case of accident, who would look after them and protect them? And it is my hope, that by leaving them now, I shall make powerful and kind friends for them. Do you understand me?”“Yes, I see now; you think more than me, Massa Edward. I say just now, you foolish; I say now, Pablo great fool.”“Besides, Pablo, recollect that I never would have left them as long as there was only Humphrey and me to look after them, because an accident might have happened to one of us; but when you came to live with us, and I found what a good clever boy you were, and that you were fond of us all, I then said, ‘Now I can leave my sisters, for Pablo shall take my place, and assist Humphrey to do what is required, and to take care of them.’ Am I not right, Pablo?”“Yes, Massa Edward,” replied Pablo, taking hold of Edward’s wrist, “you quite right. Pablo does love Missy Alice, Missy Edith, Massa Humphrey, and you, Massa Edward; he love you all very much indeed; he love you so much that he die for you! Can do no more.”“That is what I really thought of you, Pablo, and yet I am glad to hear it from your own mouth. If you had not come to live with us, and had not proved so faithful, I could not have left to benefit my sisters; but you have induced me to leave, and they have to thank you if I am able to be of any service to them.”“Well, Massa Edward, you go; never mind us, we make plenty of work; do everything all the same as you.”“I think you will, Pablo, and that is the reason why I have agreed to go away. But, Pablo, Billy is growing old, and you will want some more ponies.”“Yes, Massa Edward, Massa Humphrey talk to me about ponies last night, and say, plenty in the forest. Ask me if I think us able catch them. I say yes, catch one, two, twenty, suppose want them.”“Ah! How will you do that, Pablo?”“Massa Edward, you tell Massa Humphrey no possible, so I no tell you how,” replied Pablo, laughing. “Some day you come see us, see five ponies in the stable. Massa Humphrey and I, we talk about, find out how; you see.”“Well, then, I shall ask no more questions, Pablo; and when I see the ponies in the stable then I’ll believe it, and not before.”“Suppose you want big horse for ride, catch big horse, Massa Edward, you see. Massa Humphrey very clever, he catch cow.”“Catch gipsy,” said Edward.“Yes,” said Pablo, laughing, “catch cow, catch gipsy, and by and by catch horse.”When Edward arrived at the Intendant’s house, he was very kindly received by the Intendant and the two girls. Having deposited his wardrobe in his bedroom, he went out to Oswald and put Smoker in the kennel, and on his return found Pablo sitting on the carpet in the sitting-room, talking to Patience and Clara, and they all three appeared much amused. When Pablo and Billy had both had something to eat, the cart was filled with pots of flowers, and several other little things as presents from Patience Heatherstone, and Pablo set off on his return.“Edward, you do look like a—,” said Clara, stopping.“Like a secretary, I hope,” added Edward.“Well, you don’t look like a forester; does he, Patience?” continued Clara.“You must not judge of people by their clothes, Clara.”“Nor do I,” replied Clara. “Those clothes would not look well upon Oswald, or the other men, for they would not suit them; but they do suit you: don’t they, Patience?”Patience Heatherstone, however, did not make any answer to this second appeal made by Clara.“Why don’t you answer me, Patience?” said Clara.“My dear Clara, it’s not the custom for young maidens to make remarks upon people’s attire. Little girls like you may do so.”“Why, did you not tell Pablo that he looked well in his new clothes?”“Yes, but Pablo is not Mr Armitage, Clara. That is very different.”“Well, it may be, but still you might answer a question, if put to you, Patience; and I ask again, does not Edward look much better in the dress he has on than in that he generally has worn?”“I think it a becoming dress, Clara, since you will have an answer.”“Fine feathers make fine birds, Clara,” said Edward, laughing: “and so that is all we can say about it.”Edward then changed the conversation. Soon afterwards dinner was announced, and Clara again observed to Edward—“Why do you always call Patience, Mistress Heatherstone? Ought he not to call her Patience, sir?” said Clara, appealing to the Intendant.“That must depend upon his own feelings, my dear Clara,” replied Mr Heatherstone. “It is my intention to waive ceremony as much as possible. Edward Armitage has come to live with us as one of the family, and he will find himself treated by me as one of us. I shall, therefore, in future address him as Edward, and he has my full permission, and I may say it is my wish, that he should be on the same familiar terms with us all. When Edward feels inclined to address my daughter as he does you, by her name of baptism, he will, I daresay, now that he has heard my opinion, do so; and reserve ‘Mistress Heatherstone’ for the time when they have a quarrel.”“Then I hope he will never again address me that way,” observed Patience; “for I am under too great obligations to him to bear even the idea of being on had terms with him.”“Do you hear that, Edward?” said Clara.“Yes, I do, Clara; and after such a remark, you may be sure that I shall never address her in that way again.”In a few days Edward became quite at home. In the forenoon Mr Heatherstone dictated one or two letters to him, which he wrote; and after that his time was at his own disposal, and was chiefly passed in the company of Patience and Clara. With the first he had now become on the most intimate and brotherly footing; and when they addressed each other, Patience and Edward were the only appellations made use of. Once Mr Heatherstone asked Edward whether he would not like to go out with Oswald to kill a deer, which he did; but the venison was hardly yet in season. There was a fine horse in the stable at Edward’s order, and he often rode out with Patience and Clara; indeed his time passed so agreeably that he could hardly think it possible that a fortnight had passed away, when he asked permission to go over to the cottage and see his sisters.With the Intendant’s permission, Patience and Clara accompanied him; and the joy of Alice and Edith was great, when they made their appearance. Oswald had, by Edward’s request, gone over a day or two before, to tell them that they were coming, that they might be prepared; and the consequence was that it was a holiday at the cottage. Alice had cooked her best dinner, and Humphrey and Pablo were at home to receive them.“How pleasant it will be, if we are to see you and Clara whenever we see Edward!” said Alice to Patience. “So far from being sorry that Edward is with you I shall be quite glad of it.”“I water the flowers every day,” said Edith, “and they make the garden look so gay.”“I will bring you plenty more in the autumn, Edith; but this is not the right time for transplanting flowers yet,” replied Patience. “And now, Alice, you must take me to see your farm, for when I was here last I had no time; let us come now, and show me everything.”“But my dinner, Patience; I cannot leave it, or it will be spoiled, and that will never do. You must either go with Edith now, or wait till after dinner, when I can get away.”“Well, then, we will stay till after dinner, Alice, and we will help you to serve it up.”“Thank you, Pablo generally does that, for Edith cannot reach down the things. I don’t know where he is.”“He went away with Edward and Humphrey, I think,” said Edith. “I’ll scold him when he comes back for being out of the way.”“Never mind, Edith, I can reach the dishes,” said Patience, “and you and Clara can then take them, and the platters, and put them on the table for Alice.”And Patience did as she proposed, and the dinner was soon afterwards on the table. There was a ham, and two boiled fowls, and a piece of salted beef, and some roasted kid, besides potatoes and green peas; and when it is considered that such a dinner was set on the table by such young people, left entirely to their own exertions and industry, it must be admitted that it did them and their farm great credit.In the meantime Edward and Humphrey, after the first greetings were over, had walked out to converse, while Pablo had taken the horses into the stable.“Well, Humphrey, how do you get on?”“Very well,” replied Humphrey. “I have just finished a very tough job. I have dug out the saw-pit, and have sawed the slabs for the sides of the pit, and made it quite secure. The large fir-tree that was blown down is now at the pit, ready for sawing up into planks, and Pablo and I are to commence to-morrow. At first we made but a bad hand of sawing off the slabs, but before we had cut them all we got on pretty well. Pablo don’t much like it, and indeed no more do I much, it is such mechanical work, and so tiring; but he does not complain. I do not intend that he shall saw more than two days in a week; that will be sufficient; we shall get on fast enough.”“You are right, Humphrey; it is an old saying, that you must not work a willing horse to death. Pablo is very willing, but hard work he is not accustomed to.”“Well, now you must come and look at my flock of goats, Edward, they are not far off. I have taught Holdfast to take care of them, and he never leaves them now, and brings them home at night. Watch always remains with me, and is an excellent dog, and very intelligent.”“You have indeed a fine flock, Humphrey!” said Edward.“Yes, and they are improved in appearance already since they have been here. Alice has got her geese and ducks, and I have made a place large enough for them to wash in, until I have time to dig them out a pond.”“I thought we had gathered more hay than you required; but with this addition, I think you will find none to spare before the spring.”“So far from it, that I have been mowing down a great deal more, Edward, and it is almost ready to carry away. Poor Billy has had hard work of it, I assure you, since he came back, with one thing and another.”“Poor fellow, but it won’t last long, Humphrey,” said Edward, smiling; “the other horses will soon take his place.”“I trust they will,” said Humphrey, “at all events by next spring; before that I do not expect that they will.”“By the bye, Humphrey, you recollect what I said to you that the robber I shot told me, just before he died?”“Yes, I do recollect it now,” replied Humphrey; “but I had quite forgot all about it till you mentioned it now, although I wrote it down, that we might not forget it.”“Well, I have been thinking all about it, Humphrey. The robber told me that the money was mine, taking me for another person; therefore I do not consider it was given to me, nor do I consider that it was his to give. I hardly know what to do about it, nor to whom the money can be said to belong.”“Well I think I can answer that question. The property of all malefactors belongs to the king; and therefore this money belongs to the king; and we may retain it for the king, or use it for his service.”“Yes, it would have belonged to the king had the man been condemned, and hung on the gallows as he deserved; but he was not, and therefore I think that it does not belong to the king.”“Then it belongs to whoever finds it, and who keeps it till it is claimed—which will never be.”“I think I must speak to the Intendant about it,” replied Edward; “I should feel more comfortable.”“Then do so,” replied Humphrey; “I think you are right to have no concealments from him.”“But, Humphrey,” replied Edward, laughing, “what silly fellows we are! We do not yet know whether we shall find anything; we must first see if there is anything buried there; and when we have done so, then we will decide how to act. I shall, if it please God, be over again in a fortnight, and in the meantime, do you find out the place, and ascertain if what the fellow said is true.”“I will,” replied Humphrey. “I will go to-morrow, with Billy and the cart, and take a spade and pick-axe with me. It may be a fool’s errand, but still they say, and one would credit, for the honour of human nature, that the words of a dying man are those of truth. We had better go back now, for I think dinner must be ready.”Now that they had become so intimate with Patience Heatherstone—and I may add, so fond of her—there was no longer any restraint, and they had a very merry dinner-party; and after dinner, Patience went out with Alice and Edith, and looked over the garden and farm. She wished very much to ascertain if there was anything that they required, but she could discover but few things, and those only trifles; but she recollected them all, and sent them to the cottage a few days afterwards. But the hour of parting arrived, for it was a long ride back, and they could not stay any longer, if they wished to get home before dark, as Mr Heatherstone had requested Edward that they should do; so the horses were brought out, and wishing good-bye, they set off again, little Edith crying after them, “Come again soon! Patience, must come again soon!”
“We will put them into the yard for the present; I mean that Holdfast shall take charge of them by and by. I will soon teach him.”
“Yes, he take charge of coat, or anything I tell him, why not take charge of goats? Clever dog, Holdfast. Massa Humphrey, you think Massa Edward take away both his dogs, Smoker and Watch? I say better not take puppy. Take Smoker, and leave puppy.”
“I agree with you, Pablo. We ought to have two dogs here. I will speak to my brother. Now run forward and open the gate of the yard, and throw them some hay, Pablo, while I go and call my sisters.”
The flock of goats was much admired, and the next morning was driven out into the forest to feed, attended by Pablo and Holdfast. When it was dinner-time, Pablo drove the flock near to the cottage, telling the dog to mind the goats. The sensible animal remained at once with them until Pablo’s return from dinner; and it may be as well to observe here that in a few days the dog took charge of them altogether, driving them home to the yard every evening; and as soon as they were put into the yard the dog had his supper, and he took good care, therefore, not to be too late. To return to our narrative.
On Saturday Humphrey and Pablo went to Lymington to bring home Edward’s clothes, and Humphrey made Pablo acquainted with all that he wanted him to know, in case it might be necessary to send him there alone.
Edward remained with his sisters, as he was to leave them on the Monday.
Sunday was passed as usual; they read the service at old Armitage’s grave, and afterwards they walked in the forest; for Sunday was the only day on which Alice could find time to leave her duties in the cottage. They were not more grave than usual at the idea of Edward’s leaving them, but they kept up their spirits, as they were aware that it was for the advantage of all.
On Monday morning, Edward, to please his sisters, put on his new clothes, and put his forester’s dress in the bundle with his linen. Alice and Edith thought he looked very well in them, and said that it reminded them of the days of Arnwood. The fact was that Edward appeared as he was—a gentleman born; that could not well be concealed under a forester’s dress, and in his present attire it was undeniable. After breakfast Billy was harnessed and brought to the cottage-door. Edward’s linen was put in the cart, and, as he had agreed with Humphrey, he took only Smoker with him, leaving the puppy at the cottage. Pablo went with him to bring back the cart. Edward kissed his sisters, who wept at the idea of his leaving them, and shaking hands with Humphrey set off to cross the forest.
“Who would ever have believed this?” thought Edward, as he drove across the forest; “that I should put myself under the roof and under the protection of a Roundhead—one in outward appearance, and in the opinion of the world at least, if he is not so altogether in opinion. There is surely some spell upon me, and I almost feel as if I were a traitor to my principles. Why I know not, I feel a regard for that man, and a confidence in him. And why should I not? He knows my principles, my feelings against his party, and he respects them. Surely he cannot wish to gain me over to his party; that were indeed ridiculous—a young forester—a youth unknown. No, he would gain nothing by that, for I am nobody. It must be from good-will, and no other feeling. I have obliged him in the service I rendered his daughter, and he is grateful.” Perhaps, had Edward put the question to himself, “Should I have been on such friendly terms with the Intendant—should I have accepted his offer, if there had been no Patience Heatherstone?” he might then have discovered what was the “spell upon him” which had rendered him so tractable; but of that he had no idea. He only felt that his situation would be rendered more comfortable by the society of an amiable and handsome girl, and he inquired no further.
His reverie was broken by Pablo, who appeared tired of holding his tongue, and said, “Massa Edward, you not like leave home—you think very much. Why you go there?”
“I certainly do not like to leave home, Pablo, for I am very fond of my brother and sisters; but we cannot always do as we wish in this world, and it is for their sakes, more than from my own inclinations, that I have done so.”
“Can’t see what good you do Missy Alice and Missy Edith ’cause you go away. How it possible do good, and not with them? Suppose bad accident, and you away, how you do good. Suppose bad accident, and you at cottage, then you do good. I think, Massa Edward, you very foolish.”
Edward laughed at this blunt observation of Pablo’s, and replied, “It is very true, Pablo, that I cannot watch over my sisters, and protect them in person when I am away; but there are reasons why I should go, nevertheless, and I may be more useful to them by going than by remaining with them. If I did not think so I would not leave them. They know nobody, and have no friends in the world. Suppose anything was to happen to me. Suppose both Humphrey and I were to die—for you know that we never know how soon that event may take place—who would there be to protect my poor sisters, and what would become of them? Is it not, therefore, wise that I should procure friends for them, in case of accident, who would look after them and protect them? And it is my hope, that by leaving them now, I shall make powerful and kind friends for them. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I see now; you think more than me, Massa Edward. I say just now, you foolish; I say now, Pablo great fool.”
“Besides, Pablo, recollect that I never would have left them as long as there was only Humphrey and me to look after them, because an accident might have happened to one of us; but when you came to live with us, and I found what a good clever boy you were, and that you were fond of us all, I then said, ‘Now I can leave my sisters, for Pablo shall take my place, and assist Humphrey to do what is required, and to take care of them.’ Am I not right, Pablo?”
“Yes, Massa Edward,” replied Pablo, taking hold of Edward’s wrist, “you quite right. Pablo does love Missy Alice, Missy Edith, Massa Humphrey, and you, Massa Edward; he love you all very much indeed; he love you so much that he die for you! Can do no more.”
“That is what I really thought of you, Pablo, and yet I am glad to hear it from your own mouth. If you had not come to live with us, and had not proved so faithful, I could not have left to benefit my sisters; but you have induced me to leave, and they have to thank you if I am able to be of any service to them.”
“Well, Massa Edward, you go; never mind us, we make plenty of work; do everything all the same as you.”
“I think you will, Pablo, and that is the reason why I have agreed to go away. But, Pablo, Billy is growing old, and you will want some more ponies.”
“Yes, Massa Edward, Massa Humphrey talk to me about ponies last night, and say, plenty in the forest. Ask me if I think us able catch them. I say yes, catch one, two, twenty, suppose want them.”
“Ah! How will you do that, Pablo?”
“Massa Edward, you tell Massa Humphrey no possible, so I no tell you how,” replied Pablo, laughing. “Some day you come see us, see five ponies in the stable. Massa Humphrey and I, we talk about, find out how; you see.”
“Well, then, I shall ask no more questions, Pablo; and when I see the ponies in the stable then I’ll believe it, and not before.”
“Suppose you want big horse for ride, catch big horse, Massa Edward, you see. Massa Humphrey very clever, he catch cow.”
“Catch gipsy,” said Edward.
“Yes,” said Pablo, laughing, “catch cow, catch gipsy, and by and by catch horse.”
When Edward arrived at the Intendant’s house, he was very kindly received by the Intendant and the two girls. Having deposited his wardrobe in his bedroom, he went out to Oswald and put Smoker in the kennel, and on his return found Pablo sitting on the carpet in the sitting-room, talking to Patience and Clara, and they all three appeared much amused. When Pablo and Billy had both had something to eat, the cart was filled with pots of flowers, and several other little things as presents from Patience Heatherstone, and Pablo set off on his return.
“Edward, you do look like a—,” said Clara, stopping.
“Like a secretary, I hope,” added Edward.
“Well, you don’t look like a forester; does he, Patience?” continued Clara.
“You must not judge of people by their clothes, Clara.”
“Nor do I,” replied Clara. “Those clothes would not look well upon Oswald, or the other men, for they would not suit them; but they do suit you: don’t they, Patience?”
Patience Heatherstone, however, did not make any answer to this second appeal made by Clara.
“Why don’t you answer me, Patience?” said Clara.
“My dear Clara, it’s not the custom for young maidens to make remarks upon people’s attire. Little girls like you may do so.”
“Why, did you not tell Pablo that he looked well in his new clothes?”
“Yes, but Pablo is not Mr Armitage, Clara. That is very different.”
“Well, it may be, but still you might answer a question, if put to you, Patience; and I ask again, does not Edward look much better in the dress he has on than in that he generally has worn?”
“I think it a becoming dress, Clara, since you will have an answer.”
“Fine feathers make fine birds, Clara,” said Edward, laughing: “and so that is all we can say about it.”
Edward then changed the conversation. Soon afterwards dinner was announced, and Clara again observed to Edward—“Why do you always call Patience, Mistress Heatherstone? Ought he not to call her Patience, sir?” said Clara, appealing to the Intendant.
“That must depend upon his own feelings, my dear Clara,” replied Mr Heatherstone. “It is my intention to waive ceremony as much as possible. Edward Armitage has come to live with us as one of the family, and he will find himself treated by me as one of us. I shall, therefore, in future address him as Edward, and he has my full permission, and I may say it is my wish, that he should be on the same familiar terms with us all. When Edward feels inclined to address my daughter as he does you, by her name of baptism, he will, I daresay, now that he has heard my opinion, do so; and reserve ‘Mistress Heatherstone’ for the time when they have a quarrel.”
“Then I hope he will never again address me that way,” observed Patience; “for I am under too great obligations to him to bear even the idea of being on had terms with him.”
“Do you hear that, Edward?” said Clara.
“Yes, I do, Clara; and after such a remark, you may be sure that I shall never address her in that way again.”
In a few days Edward became quite at home. In the forenoon Mr Heatherstone dictated one or two letters to him, which he wrote; and after that his time was at his own disposal, and was chiefly passed in the company of Patience and Clara. With the first he had now become on the most intimate and brotherly footing; and when they addressed each other, Patience and Edward were the only appellations made use of. Once Mr Heatherstone asked Edward whether he would not like to go out with Oswald to kill a deer, which he did; but the venison was hardly yet in season. There was a fine horse in the stable at Edward’s order, and he often rode out with Patience and Clara; indeed his time passed so agreeably that he could hardly think it possible that a fortnight had passed away, when he asked permission to go over to the cottage and see his sisters.
With the Intendant’s permission, Patience and Clara accompanied him; and the joy of Alice and Edith was great, when they made their appearance. Oswald had, by Edward’s request, gone over a day or two before, to tell them that they were coming, that they might be prepared; and the consequence was that it was a holiday at the cottage. Alice had cooked her best dinner, and Humphrey and Pablo were at home to receive them.
“How pleasant it will be, if we are to see you and Clara whenever we see Edward!” said Alice to Patience. “So far from being sorry that Edward is with you I shall be quite glad of it.”
“I water the flowers every day,” said Edith, “and they make the garden look so gay.”
“I will bring you plenty more in the autumn, Edith; but this is not the right time for transplanting flowers yet,” replied Patience. “And now, Alice, you must take me to see your farm, for when I was here last I had no time; let us come now, and show me everything.”
“But my dinner, Patience; I cannot leave it, or it will be spoiled, and that will never do. You must either go with Edith now, or wait till after dinner, when I can get away.”
“Well, then, we will stay till after dinner, Alice, and we will help you to serve it up.”
“Thank you, Pablo generally does that, for Edith cannot reach down the things. I don’t know where he is.”
“He went away with Edward and Humphrey, I think,” said Edith. “I’ll scold him when he comes back for being out of the way.”
“Never mind, Edith, I can reach the dishes,” said Patience, “and you and Clara can then take them, and the platters, and put them on the table for Alice.”
And Patience did as she proposed, and the dinner was soon afterwards on the table. There was a ham, and two boiled fowls, and a piece of salted beef, and some roasted kid, besides potatoes and green peas; and when it is considered that such a dinner was set on the table by such young people, left entirely to their own exertions and industry, it must be admitted that it did them and their farm great credit.
In the meantime Edward and Humphrey, after the first greetings were over, had walked out to converse, while Pablo had taken the horses into the stable.
“Well, Humphrey, how do you get on?”
“Very well,” replied Humphrey. “I have just finished a very tough job. I have dug out the saw-pit, and have sawed the slabs for the sides of the pit, and made it quite secure. The large fir-tree that was blown down is now at the pit, ready for sawing up into planks, and Pablo and I are to commence to-morrow. At first we made but a bad hand of sawing off the slabs, but before we had cut them all we got on pretty well. Pablo don’t much like it, and indeed no more do I much, it is such mechanical work, and so tiring; but he does not complain. I do not intend that he shall saw more than two days in a week; that will be sufficient; we shall get on fast enough.”
“You are right, Humphrey; it is an old saying, that you must not work a willing horse to death. Pablo is very willing, but hard work he is not accustomed to.”
“Well, now you must come and look at my flock of goats, Edward, they are not far off. I have taught Holdfast to take care of them, and he never leaves them now, and brings them home at night. Watch always remains with me, and is an excellent dog, and very intelligent.”
“You have indeed a fine flock, Humphrey!” said Edward.
“Yes, and they are improved in appearance already since they have been here. Alice has got her geese and ducks, and I have made a place large enough for them to wash in, until I have time to dig them out a pond.”
“I thought we had gathered more hay than you required; but with this addition, I think you will find none to spare before the spring.”
“So far from it, that I have been mowing down a great deal more, Edward, and it is almost ready to carry away. Poor Billy has had hard work of it, I assure you, since he came back, with one thing and another.”
“Poor fellow, but it won’t last long, Humphrey,” said Edward, smiling; “the other horses will soon take his place.”
“I trust they will,” said Humphrey, “at all events by next spring; before that I do not expect that they will.”
“By the bye, Humphrey, you recollect what I said to you that the robber I shot told me, just before he died?”
“Yes, I do recollect it now,” replied Humphrey; “but I had quite forgot all about it till you mentioned it now, although I wrote it down, that we might not forget it.”
“Well, I have been thinking all about it, Humphrey. The robber told me that the money was mine, taking me for another person; therefore I do not consider it was given to me, nor do I consider that it was his to give. I hardly know what to do about it, nor to whom the money can be said to belong.”
“Well I think I can answer that question. The property of all malefactors belongs to the king; and therefore this money belongs to the king; and we may retain it for the king, or use it for his service.”
“Yes, it would have belonged to the king had the man been condemned, and hung on the gallows as he deserved; but he was not, and therefore I think that it does not belong to the king.”
“Then it belongs to whoever finds it, and who keeps it till it is claimed—which will never be.”
“I think I must speak to the Intendant about it,” replied Edward; “I should feel more comfortable.”
“Then do so,” replied Humphrey; “I think you are right to have no concealments from him.”
“But, Humphrey,” replied Edward, laughing, “what silly fellows we are! We do not yet know whether we shall find anything; we must first see if there is anything buried there; and when we have done so, then we will decide how to act. I shall, if it please God, be over again in a fortnight, and in the meantime, do you find out the place, and ascertain if what the fellow said is true.”
“I will,” replied Humphrey. “I will go to-morrow, with Billy and the cart, and take a spade and pick-axe with me. It may be a fool’s errand, but still they say, and one would credit, for the honour of human nature, that the words of a dying man are those of truth. We had better go back now, for I think dinner must be ready.”
Now that they had become so intimate with Patience Heatherstone—and I may add, so fond of her—there was no longer any restraint, and they had a very merry dinner-party; and after dinner, Patience went out with Alice and Edith, and looked over the garden and farm. She wished very much to ascertain if there was anything that they required, but she could discover but few things, and those only trifles; but she recollected them all, and sent them to the cottage a few days afterwards. But the hour of parting arrived, for it was a long ride back, and they could not stay any longer, if they wished to get home before dark, as Mr Heatherstone had requested Edward that they should do; so the horses were brought out, and wishing good-bye, they set off again, little Edith crying after them, “Come again soon! Patience, must come again soon!”
Chapter Twenty.The summer had now advanced, when Oswald one day said to Edward—“Have you heard the news, sir?”“Nothing very particular,” replied Edward; “I know that General Cromwell is over in Ireland, and they say very successful; but I have cared little for particulars.”“They say a great deal more, sir,” replied Oswald; “they say that the king is in Scotland, and that the Scotch have raised an army for him.”“Indeed!” replied Edward, “that is news indeed! The Intendant has never mentioned it to me.”“I daresay not, sir; for he knows your feelings, and would be sorry to part with you.”“I will certainly speak to him on the subject,” said Edward, “at the risk of his displeasure; and join the army I will, if I find what you say is true. I should hold myself a craven to remain here while the king is fighting for his own, and not to be at his side.”“Well, sir, I think it is true, for I heard that the Parliament had sent over for General Cromwell to leave Ireland, and lead the troops against the Scotch army.”“You drive me mad, Oswald! I will go to the Intendant immediately!”Edward, much excited by the intelligence, went into the room where he usually sat with the Intendant. The latter, who was at his desk, looked up, and saw how flushed Edward was, and said very quietly—“Edward, you are excited, I presume, from hearing the news which has arrived?”“Yes, sir, I am very much so; and I regret very much that I should be the last to whom such important news is made known.”“It is, as you say, important news,” replied the Intendant; “but if you will sit down, we will talk a little upon the subject.”Edward took a chair, and the Intendant said—“I have no doubt that your present feeling is to go to Scotland, and join the army without delay?”“Such is my intention, I candidly confess, sir. It is my duty.”“Perhaps you may be persuaded to the contrary before we part,” replied the Intendant. “The first duty you owe is to your family in their present position; they depend upon you; and a false step on your part would be their ruin. How can you leave them, and leave my employ, without it being known for what purpose you are gone? It is impossible! I must myself make it known, and even then it would be very injurious to me, the very circumstance of my having one of your party in my service. I am suspected by many already, in consequence of the part I have taken against the murder of the late king, and also of the lords who have since suffered. But, Edward, I did not communicate this intelligence to you, for many reasons. I knew that it would soon come to your ears, and I thought it better that I should be more prepared to show you that you may do yourself and me harm, and can do no good to the king. I will now show you that I do put confidence in you; and if you will read these letters, they will prove to you that I am correct in what I assert.”The Intendant handed three letters to Edward, by which it was evident that all the king’s friends in England were of opinion that the time was not ripe for the attempt, and that it would be only a sacrifice to stir in the matter; that the Scotch army raised was composed of those who were the greatest enemies to the king, and that the best thing that could happen for the king’s interest would be that they were destroyed by Cromwell; that it was impossible for the English adherents of Charles to join them, and that the Scotch did not wish them so to do.“You are no politician, Edward,” said the Intendant smiling, as Edward laid the letters down on the table. “You must admit, that in showing you these letters I have put the utmost confidence in you?”“You have indeed, sir; and thanking you for having so done, I hardly need add that your confidence will never be betrayed.”“That I am sure of; and I trust you will now agree with me and my friends that the best thing is to remain quiet?”“Certainly, sir, and for the future I will be guided by you.”“That is all I require of you; and after that promise you shall hear all the news as soon as it arrives. There are thousands who are just as anxious to see the king on the throne again as you are, Edward—and you now know that I am one of them; but the time is not yet come, and we must bide our time. Depend upon it, that General Cromwell will scatter that army like chaff. He is on his march now. After what has passed between us this day, Edward, I shall talk unreservedly to you on what is going on.”“I thank you, sir, and I promise you faithfully, as I said before, not only to be guided by your advice but to be most secret in all that you may trust me with.”“I have confidence in you, Edward Armitage; and now we will drop the subject for the present: Patience and Clara want you to walk with them, so good-bye for a while.”Edward left the Intendant, much pleased with the interview. The Intendant kept his word, and concealed nothing from Edward. All turned out as the Intendant had foretold. The Scotch army was cut to pieces by Cromwell, and the king retreated to the Highlands; and Edward now felt satisfied that he could do no better than be guided by the Intendant in all his future undertakings.We must now pass over some time in a few words. Edward continued at the Intendant’s, and gave great satisfaction to Mr Heatherstone. He passed his time very agreeably, sometimes going out to shoot deer with Oswald, and often supplying venison to his brother and sisters. During the autumn, Patience very often went to the cottage, and occasionally Mr Heatherstone paid them a visit; but after the winter set in Edward came over by himself, shooting as he went; and when he and Smoker came, Billy always had a journey to go for the venison left in the forest. Patience sent Alice many little things for her own and Edith’s use, and some very good books for them to read; and Humphrey, during the evenings, read with his sisters, that they might learn what he could teach them. Pablo also learnt to read and write. Humphrey and Pablo had worked at the saw-pit, and had sawed out a large quantity of boards and timber for building, but the work was put off till the spring.The reader may recollect that Edward had proposed to Humphrey that he should ascertain whether what the robber had stated before his death, relative to his having concealed his ill-gotten wealth under the tree which was struck by lightning, was true. About ten days afterwards Humphrey set off on this expedition. He did not take Pablo with him, as, although he had a very good opinion of him, he agreed with Oswald that temptation should not be put in his way. Humphrey considered that it would be the best plan to go at once to Clara’s cottage, and from that proceed to find the oak-tree mentioned by the robber. When he arrived at the thicket which surrounded the cottage, it occurred to him that he would just go through it and see if it was in the state which they had left it in; for after the Intendant had been there he had given directions to his men to remain and bury the bodies, and then to lock up the doors and bring the keys to him, which had been done. Humphrey tied Billy and the cart to a tree, and walked through the thicket. As he approached he heard voices; so he took care to advance very cautiously, for he had not brought his gun with him. He crouched down as he came to the opening before the cottage. The doors and windows were open, and there were two men sitting outside, cleaning their guns; and in one of them Humphrey recognised the man Corbould, who had been discharged by the Intendant as soon as his wound had been cured, and who was supposed to have gone to London. Humphrey was too far off to hear what they said: he remained there some time, and three more men came out of the cottage. Satisfied with what he had seen, Humphrey cautiously retreated, and gaining the outside of the thicket, led away Billy and the cart over the turf, that the noise of the wheels might not be heard.“This bodes no good,” thought Humphrey, as he went along, every now and then looking back to ascertain if the men had come out and seen him. “That Corbould, we know, has vowed vengeance against Edward and all of us, and has no doubt joined those robbers—for robbers they must be—that he may fulfil his vow. It is fortunate that I have made the discovery, and I will send over immediately to the Intendant.” As soon as a clump of trees had shut out the thicket, and he had no longer any fear of being seen by these people, Humphrey went in the direction which the robber had mentioned, and soon afterwards he perceived the oak scathed with lightning, which stood by itself on a green spot of about twenty acres. It had been a noble tree before it had been destroyed; now it spread its long naked arms, covering a large space of ground, but without the least sign of vegetation or life remaining. The trunk was many feet in diameter, and was apparently quite sound, although the tree was dead. Humphrey left Billy to feed on the herbage close by, and then, from the position of the sun in the heavens, ascertained the point at which he was to dig. First looking around him to see that he was not overlooked, he took his spade and pick-axe out of the cart and began his task. There was a spot not quite so green as the rest, which Humphrey thought likely to be the very place that he should dig at, as probably it was not green from the soil having been removed. He commenced at this spot, and after a few moment’s labour his pick-axe struck upon something hard, which, on clearing away the earth, he discovered to be the lid of a wooden box. Satisfied that he was right, Humphrey now worked hard, and in a few minutes he had cleared sufficient space to be able to lift out the box and place it on the turf. He was about to examine it, when he perceived, at about five hundred yards’ distance, three men coming towards him. “They have discovered me,” thought Humphrey; “and I must be off as soon as I can.” He ran to Billy, who was close to him, and bringing the cart to where the box lay, he lifted it in. As he was getting in himself, with the reins in his hands, he perceived that the three men were running towards him as fast as they could, and that they all had guns in their hands. They were not more than a hundred and fifty yards from him when Humphrey set off, putting Billy to a full trot.The three men observing this, called out to Humphrey to stop, or they would fire; but Humphrey’s only reply was giving a lash to Billy, which set him off at a gallop. The men immediately fired, and the bullets whistled past Humphrey without doing any harm. Humphrey looked round, and finding that he had increased his distance, pulled up the pony, and went a more moderate pace. “You’ll not catch me,” thought Humphrey; “and your guns are not loaded, so I’ll tantalise you a little.” He made Billy walk, and turned round to see what the men were about; they had arrived at where he had dug out the box, and were standing round the hole, evidently aware that it was no use following him. “Now,” thought Humphrey, as he went along at a faster pace, “those fellows will wonder what I have been digging up. The villains little think that I know where to find them, and they have proved what they are by firing at me. Now, what must I do? They may follow me to the cottage, for I have no doubt that they know where we live, and that Edward is at the Intendant’s. They may come and attack us, and I dare not leave the cottage to-night, or send Pablo away, in case they should; but I will to-morrow morning.” Humphrey considered as he went along all the circumstances and probabilities, and decided that he would act as he at first proposed to himself. In an hour he was at the cottage; and as soon as Alice had given him his dinner—for he was later than the usual dinner-hour—he told her what had taken place.“Where is Pablo?”“He has been working in the garden with Edith all the day,” replied Alice.“Well, dear, I hope they will not come to-night: to-morrow I will have them all in custody; but if they do come, we must do our best to beat them off. It is fortunate that Edward left the guns and pistols which he found in Clara’s cottage, so we shall have no want of firearms; and we can barricade the doors and windows, so that they cannot get in in a hurry; but I must have Pablo to help me, for there is no time to be lost.”“But cannot I help you, Humphrey?” said Alice. “Surely I can do something?”“We will see, Alice; but I think I can do without you. We have still plenty of daylight. I will take the box into your room.”Humphrey, who had only taken the box out of the cart and carried it within the threshold of the door, now took it into his sisters’ bedroom, and then went out and called Pablo, who came running to him.“Pablo,” said Humphrey, “we must bring to the cottage some of the large pieces we sawed out for rafters; for I should not be surprised if the cottage were attacked this night.” He then told Pablo what had taken place. “You see, Pablo, I dare not send to the Intendant to-night in case the robbers should come here.”“No, not send to-night,” said Pablo; “stay here and fight them; first make door fast, then cut hole to fire through.”“Yes, that was my idea. You don’t mind fighting them, Pablo?”“No; fight hard for Missy Alice and Missy Edith,” said Pablo; “fight for you too, Massa Humphrey, and fight for myself,” added Pablo, laughing.They then went for the pieces of squared timber, brought them from the saw-pit to the cottage, and very soon fitted them to the doors and windows, so as to prevent several men, with using all their strength, from forcing them open.“That will do,” said Humphrey; “and now get me the small saw, Pablo, and I will cut a hole or two to fire through.”It was dark before they had finished, and then they made all fast, and went to Pablo’s room for the arms, which they got ready for service, and loaded.“Now, we are all ready, Alice, so let us have our supper,” said Humphrey. “We will make a fight for it, and they shall not get in so easily as they think.”After they had had their supper, Humphrey said the prayers, and told his sisters to go to bed.“Yes, Humphrey, we will go to bed, but we will not undress; for if they come, I must be up to help you. I can load a gun, you know, and Edith can take them to you as fast as I load them. Won’t you, Edith?”“Yes, I will bring you the guns, Humphrey, and you shall shoot them,” replied Edith.Humphrey kissed his sisters, and they went to their room. He then put a light in the chimney, that he might not have to get one in case the robbers came, and then desired Pablo to go and lie down on his bed, as he intended to do the same. Humphrey remained awake till past three o’clock in the morning; but no robbers came. Pablo was snoring loud, and at last Humphrey fell asleep himself and did not awake till broad daylight. He got up, and found Alice and Edith were already in the sitting-room, lighting the fire.“I would not wake you, Humphrey, as you had been sitting up so long. The robbers have not made their appearance, that is clear; shall you unbar the door and window-shutters now?”“Yes, I think we may. Here, Pablo!”“Yes,” replied Pablo, coming out half asleep; “what the matter? Thief come?”“No,” replied Edith, “thief not come, but sun shine; and lazy Pablo not get up.”“Up now, Missy Edith.”“Yes, but not awake yet.”“Yes, Missy Edith, quite awake.”“Well then, help me to undo the door, Pablo.”They took down the barricades, and Humphrey opened the door cautiously, and looked out.“They won’t come now, at all events, I should think,” observed Humphrey; “but there is no saying—they may be prowling about, and may think it easier to get in during daytime than at night. Go out, Pablo, and look about everywhere; take a pistol with you, and fire it off if there is any danger, and then come back as fast as you can.”Pablo took the pistol, and then Humphrey went out of the door and looked well round in front of the cottage, but he would not leave the door till he was assured that no one was there. Pablo returned soon after, saying that he had looked round everywhere, and into the cow-house and yard, and there was nobody to be seen. This satisfied Humphrey, and they returned to the cottage.“Now, Pablo, get your breakfast, while I write the letter to the Intendant,” said Humphrey; “and then you must saddle Billy and go over as fast as you can with the letter. You can tell him all I have not said in it. I shall expect you back at night, and some people with you.”“I see,” said Pablo, who immediately busied himself with some cold meat which Alice put before him. Pablo had finished his breakfast and brought Billy to the door before Humphrey had finished his letter. As soon as it was written and folded Pablo set off as fast as Billy could go to the other side of the forest.Humphrey continued on the look-out during the whole day, with his gun on his arm, and his two dogs by his side; for he knew the dogs would give notice of the approach of any one, long before he might see them; but nothing occurred during the whole day; and when the evening closed in he barricaded the doors and windows, and remained on the watch with the dogs, waiting for the coming of the robbers, or for the coming of the party which he expected would be sent by the Intendant to take them. Just as it was dark Pablo returned with a note from Edward saying that he would be over by ten o’clock, with a large party.Humphrey had said in his letter that it would be better that any force sent by the Intendant should not arrive till after dark, as the robbers might be near and perceive them, and then they might escape; he did not therefore expect them to come till some time after dark. Humphrey was reading a book—Pablo was dozing in the chimney-corner—the two girls had retired into their room and had lain down on the bed in their clothes—when the dogs both gave a low growl.“Somebody come,” said Pablo, starting up.Again the dogs growled, and Humphrey made a sign to Pablo to hold his tongue. A short time of anxious silence succeeded, for it was impossible to ascertain whether the parties were friends or enemies. The dogs now sprang up and barked furiously at the door, and as soon as Humphrey had silenced them, a voice was heard outside, begging for admission to a poor benighted traveller. This was sufficient: it could not be the party from the Intendant’s, but the robbers who wished to induce them to open the door. Pablo put a gun into Humphrey’s hand, and took another for himself; he then removed the light into the chimney, and on the application from outside being repeated, Humphrey answered—“That he never opened the door at that hour of the night, and that it was useless their remaining.”No answer or repetition of the request was made, but, as Humphrey retreated with Pablo into the fireplace, a gun was fired into the lock of the door, which was blown off into the room, and had it not been for the barricades the door must have flown open. The robbers appeared surprised at such not being the case, and one of them inserted his arm into the hole made in the door to ascertain what might be the further obstacle to open it, when Pablo slipped past Humphrey, and gaining the door, discharged his gun under the arm which had been thrust into the hole in the door. The person, whoever it might have been, gave a loud cry, and fell at the threshold outside.“I think that will do,” said Humphrey; “we must not take more life than is necessary. I had rather that you had fired through his arm—it would have disabled him, and that would have sufficed.”“Kill much better,” said Pablo. “Corbould shot through leg, come again to rob; suppose shot dead, never rob more.”The dogs now flew to the back of the cottage, evidently pointing out that the robbers were attempting that side. Humphrey put his gun through the hole in the door, and discharged it.“Why you do that, Massa Humphrey, nobody there!”“I know that, Pablo; but if the people are coming from the Intendant’s they will see the flash and perhaps hear the report, and it will let them know what is going on.”“There is another gun loaded, Humphrey,” said Alice, who with Edith had joined them without Humphrey observing it.“Thanks, love; but you and Edith must not remain here: sit down on the hearth, and then you will be sheltered from any bullet which they may fire into the house. I have no fear of their getting in, and we shall have help directly, I have no doubt. Pablo, I shall fire through the back door; they must be there, for the dogs have their noses under it, and are so violent. Do you fire another gun, as a signal, through the hole in the front door.”Humphrey stood within four feet of the back door, and fired just above where the dogs held their noses and barked. Pablo discharged his gun as directed, and then returned to reload the guns. The dogs were now more quiet, and it appeared as if the robbers had retreated from the back door. Pablo blew out the light, which had been put more in the centre of the room, when Alice and Edith took possession of the fireplace.“No fear, Missy Edith, I know where find everything,” said Pablo, who now went and peered through the hole in the front door, to see if the robbers were coming to it again; but he could see and hear nothing for some time.At last the attack was renewed; the dogs flew backwards and forwards, sometimes to one door and then to another, as if both were to be assailed: and at the same time a crash in Alice’s bed-chamber told them that the robbers had burst in the small window in that room, which Humphrey had not paid any attention to, as it was so small that a man could hardly introduce his body through it. Humphrey immediately called Holdfast and opened the door of the room; for he thought that a man forcing his way in would be driven back or held by the dog, and he and Pablo dared not leave the two doors. Watch, the other dog, followed Holdfast into the bedroom; and oaths and curses, mingled with the savage yells of the dogs, told them that a conflict was going on. Both doors were now battered with heavy pieces of timber at the same time, and Pablo said—“Great many robbers here.”A moment or more had passed, during which Pablo and Humphrey had both again fired their guns through the door, when, of a sudden, other sounds were heard—shots were fired outside, loud cries, and angry oaths and exclamations.“The Intendant’s people are come,” said Humphrey, “I am sure of it.”Shortly afterwards Humphrey heard his name called by Edward, and he replied, and went to the door and undid the barricades.“Get a light, Alice, dear,” said Humphrey, “we are all safe now. I will open the door directly, Edward, but in the dark I cannot see the fastenings.”“Are you all safe, Humphrey?”“Yes, all safe, Edward. Wait till Alice brings a light.”Alice soon brought one, and then the door was unfastened. Edward stepped over the body of a man which lay at the threshold, saying—“You have settled somebody there, at all events,” and then caught Edith and Alice in his arms.He was followed by Oswald and some other men, leading in the prisoners.“Bind that fellow fast, Oswald,” said Edward. “Get another light, Pablo; let us see who it is that lies outside the door.”“First see who is in my bedroom, Edward,” said Alice, “for the dogs are still there.”“In your bedroom, dearest? Well, then, let us go there first.”Edward went in with Humphrey, and found a man half in the window and half out, held by the throat and apparently suffocated by the two dogs. He took the dogs off; and desiring the men to secure the robber, and ascertain whether he was alive or not, he returned to the sitting-room, and then went to examine the body outside the door.“Corbould, as I live!” cried Oswald.“Yes,” replied Edward; “he has gone to his account. God forgive him!”On inquiry they found that of all the robbers, to the number of ten, not one had escaped—eight they had made prisoners, Corbould, and the man whom the dogs had seized, and who was found to be quite dead, made up the number. The robbers were all bound and guarded; and then, leaving them under the charge of Oswald and five of his men, Edward and Humphrey set off with seven more to Clara’s cottage, to ascertain if there were any more to be found there. They arrived by two o’clock in the morning, and on knocking several times the door was opened and they seized another man, the only one who was found in it. They then went back to the cottage with their prisoner, and by the time that they had arrived it was daylight. As soon as the party sent by the Intendant had been supplied with breakfast, Edward bade farewell to Humphrey and his sisters, that he might return and deliver up his prisoners. Pablo went with him to bring back the cart which carried the two dead bodies. This capture cleared the forest of the robbers who had so long infested it, for they never had any more attempts made from that time.Before Edward left, Humphrey and he examined the box which had been dug up from under the oak, and which had occasioned such danger to the inmates of the cottage; for one of the men stated to Edward that they suspected that the box which they had seen Humphrey dig out contained treasure, and that without they had seen him in possession of it, they never should have attacked the cottage, although Corbould had often persuaded them so to do; but as they knew that he was only seeking revenge—and they required money to stimulate them—they had refused, as they considered that there was nothing to be obtained in the cottage worth the risk, as they knew that the inmates had firearms and would defend themselves. On examination of its contents, they found in it a sum of forty pounds in gold, a bag of silver, and some other valuables in silver spoons, candlesticks, and ornaments for women. Edward took a list of the contents, and when he returned he stated to the Intendant all that had occurred, and requested to know what should be done with the money and other articles which Humphrey had found.“I wish you had said nothing to me about it,” said the Intendant, “although I am pleased with your open and fair dealing. I cannot say anything, except that you had better let Humphrey keep it till it is claimed—which, of course, it never will be. But, Edward, Humphrey must come over here and make his deposition, as I must report the capture of these robbers and send them to trial. You had better go with the clerk and take the depositions of Pablo and your sisters, while Humphrey comes here. You can stay till his return. Their depositions are not of so much consequence as Humphrey’s, as they can only speak as to the attack, but Humphrey’s I must take down myself.”When Patience and Clara heard that Edward was going over, they obtained leave to go with him to see Alice and Edith, and were to be escorted back by Humphrey. This the Intendant consented to, and they had a very merry party. Humphrey remained two days at the Intendant’s house, and then returned to the cottage, where Edward had taken his place during his absence.
The summer had now advanced, when Oswald one day said to Edward—
“Have you heard the news, sir?”
“Nothing very particular,” replied Edward; “I know that General Cromwell is over in Ireland, and they say very successful; but I have cared little for particulars.”
“They say a great deal more, sir,” replied Oswald; “they say that the king is in Scotland, and that the Scotch have raised an army for him.”
“Indeed!” replied Edward, “that is news indeed! The Intendant has never mentioned it to me.”
“I daresay not, sir; for he knows your feelings, and would be sorry to part with you.”
“I will certainly speak to him on the subject,” said Edward, “at the risk of his displeasure; and join the army I will, if I find what you say is true. I should hold myself a craven to remain here while the king is fighting for his own, and not to be at his side.”
“Well, sir, I think it is true, for I heard that the Parliament had sent over for General Cromwell to leave Ireland, and lead the troops against the Scotch army.”
“You drive me mad, Oswald! I will go to the Intendant immediately!”
Edward, much excited by the intelligence, went into the room where he usually sat with the Intendant. The latter, who was at his desk, looked up, and saw how flushed Edward was, and said very quietly—
“Edward, you are excited, I presume, from hearing the news which has arrived?”
“Yes, sir, I am very much so; and I regret very much that I should be the last to whom such important news is made known.”
“It is, as you say, important news,” replied the Intendant; “but if you will sit down, we will talk a little upon the subject.”
Edward took a chair, and the Intendant said—
“I have no doubt that your present feeling is to go to Scotland, and join the army without delay?”
“Such is my intention, I candidly confess, sir. It is my duty.”
“Perhaps you may be persuaded to the contrary before we part,” replied the Intendant. “The first duty you owe is to your family in their present position; they depend upon you; and a false step on your part would be their ruin. How can you leave them, and leave my employ, without it being known for what purpose you are gone? It is impossible! I must myself make it known, and even then it would be very injurious to me, the very circumstance of my having one of your party in my service. I am suspected by many already, in consequence of the part I have taken against the murder of the late king, and also of the lords who have since suffered. But, Edward, I did not communicate this intelligence to you, for many reasons. I knew that it would soon come to your ears, and I thought it better that I should be more prepared to show you that you may do yourself and me harm, and can do no good to the king. I will now show you that I do put confidence in you; and if you will read these letters, they will prove to you that I am correct in what I assert.”
The Intendant handed three letters to Edward, by which it was evident that all the king’s friends in England were of opinion that the time was not ripe for the attempt, and that it would be only a sacrifice to stir in the matter; that the Scotch army raised was composed of those who were the greatest enemies to the king, and that the best thing that could happen for the king’s interest would be that they were destroyed by Cromwell; that it was impossible for the English adherents of Charles to join them, and that the Scotch did not wish them so to do.
“You are no politician, Edward,” said the Intendant smiling, as Edward laid the letters down on the table. “You must admit, that in showing you these letters I have put the utmost confidence in you?”
“You have indeed, sir; and thanking you for having so done, I hardly need add that your confidence will never be betrayed.”
“That I am sure of; and I trust you will now agree with me and my friends that the best thing is to remain quiet?”
“Certainly, sir, and for the future I will be guided by you.”
“That is all I require of you; and after that promise you shall hear all the news as soon as it arrives. There are thousands who are just as anxious to see the king on the throne again as you are, Edward—and you now know that I am one of them; but the time is not yet come, and we must bide our time. Depend upon it, that General Cromwell will scatter that army like chaff. He is on his march now. After what has passed between us this day, Edward, I shall talk unreservedly to you on what is going on.”
“I thank you, sir, and I promise you faithfully, as I said before, not only to be guided by your advice but to be most secret in all that you may trust me with.”
“I have confidence in you, Edward Armitage; and now we will drop the subject for the present: Patience and Clara want you to walk with them, so good-bye for a while.”
Edward left the Intendant, much pleased with the interview. The Intendant kept his word, and concealed nothing from Edward. All turned out as the Intendant had foretold. The Scotch army was cut to pieces by Cromwell, and the king retreated to the Highlands; and Edward now felt satisfied that he could do no better than be guided by the Intendant in all his future undertakings.
We must now pass over some time in a few words. Edward continued at the Intendant’s, and gave great satisfaction to Mr Heatherstone. He passed his time very agreeably, sometimes going out to shoot deer with Oswald, and often supplying venison to his brother and sisters. During the autumn, Patience very often went to the cottage, and occasionally Mr Heatherstone paid them a visit; but after the winter set in Edward came over by himself, shooting as he went; and when he and Smoker came, Billy always had a journey to go for the venison left in the forest. Patience sent Alice many little things for her own and Edith’s use, and some very good books for them to read; and Humphrey, during the evenings, read with his sisters, that they might learn what he could teach them. Pablo also learnt to read and write. Humphrey and Pablo had worked at the saw-pit, and had sawed out a large quantity of boards and timber for building, but the work was put off till the spring.
The reader may recollect that Edward had proposed to Humphrey that he should ascertain whether what the robber had stated before his death, relative to his having concealed his ill-gotten wealth under the tree which was struck by lightning, was true. About ten days afterwards Humphrey set off on this expedition. He did not take Pablo with him, as, although he had a very good opinion of him, he agreed with Oswald that temptation should not be put in his way. Humphrey considered that it would be the best plan to go at once to Clara’s cottage, and from that proceed to find the oak-tree mentioned by the robber. When he arrived at the thicket which surrounded the cottage, it occurred to him that he would just go through it and see if it was in the state which they had left it in; for after the Intendant had been there he had given directions to his men to remain and bury the bodies, and then to lock up the doors and bring the keys to him, which had been done. Humphrey tied Billy and the cart to a tree, and walked through the thicket. As he approached he heard voices; so he took care to advance very cautiously, for he had not brought his gun with him. He crouched down as he came to the opening before the cottage. The doors and windows were open, and there were two men sitting outside, cleaning their guns; and in one of them Humphrey recognised the man Corbould, who had been discharged by the Intendant as soon as his wound had been cured, and who was supposed to have gone to London. Humphrey was too far off to hear what they said: he remained there some time, and three more men came out of the cottage. Satisfied with what he had seen, Humphrey cautiously retreated, and gaining the outside of the thicket, led away Billy and the cart over the turf, that the noise of the wheels might not be heard.
“This bodes no good,” thought Humphrey, as he went along, every now and then looking back to ascertain if the men had come out and seen him. “That Corbould, we know, has vowed vengeance against Edward and all of us, and has no doubt joined those robbers—for robbers they must be—that he may fulfil his vow. It is fortunate that I have made the discovery, and I will send over immediately to the Intendant.” As soon as a clump of trees had shut out the thicket, and he had no longer any fear of being seen by these people, Humphrey went in the direction which the robber had mentioned, and soon afterwards he perceived the oak scathed with lightning, which stood by itself on a green spot of about twenty acres. It had been a noble tree before it had been destroyed; now it spread its long naked arms, covering a large space of ground, but without the least sign of vegetation or life remaining. The trunk was many feet in diameter, and was apparently quite sound, although the tree was dead. Humphrey left Billy to feed on the herbage close by, and then, from the position of the sun in the heavens, ascertained the point at which he was to dig. First looking around him to see that he was not overlooked, he took his spade and pick-axe out of the cart and began his task. There was a spot not quite so green as the rest, which Humphrey thought likely to be the very place that he should dig at, as probably it was not green from the soil having been removed. He commenced at this spot, and after a few moment’s labour his pick-axe struck upon something hard, which, on clearing away the earth, he discovered to be the lid of a wooden box. Satisfied that he was right, Humphrey now worked hard, and in a few minutes he had cleared sufficient space to be able to lift out the box and place it on the turf. He was about to examine it, when he perceived, at about five hundred yards’ distance, three men coming towards him. “They have discovered me,” thought Humphrey; “and I must be off as soon as I can.” He ran to Billy, who was close to him, and bringing the cart to where the box lay, he lifted it in. As he was getting in himself, with the reins in his hands, he perceived that the three men were running towards him as fast as they could, and that they all had guns in their hands. They were not more than a hundred and fifty yards from him when Humphrey set off, putting Billy to a full trot.
The three men observing this, called out to Humphrey to stop, or they would fire; but Humphrey’s only reply was giving a lash to Billy, which set him off at a gallop. The men immediately fired, and the bullets whistled past Humphrey without doing any harm. Humphrey looked round, and finding that he had increased his distance, pulled up the pony, and went a more moderate pace. “You’ll not catch me,” thought Humphrey; “and your guns are not loaded, so I’ll tantalise you a little.” He made Billy walk, and turned round to see what the men were about; they had arrived at where he had dug out the box, and were standing round the hole, evidently aware that it was no use following him. “Now,” thought Humphrey, as he went along at a faster pace, “those fellows will wonder what I have been digging up. The villains little think that I know where to find them, and they have proved what they are by firing at me. Now, what must I do? They may follow me to the cottage, for I have no doubt that they know where we live, and that Edward is at the Intendant’s. They may come and attack us, and I dare not leave the cottage to-night, or send Pablo away, in case they should; but I will to-morrow morning.” Humphrey considered as he went along all the circumstances and probabilities, and decided that he would act as he at first proposed to himself. In an hour he was at the cottage; and as soon as Alice had given him his dinner—for he was later than the usual dinner-hour—he told her what had taken place.
“Where is Pablo?”
“He has been working in the garden with Edith all the day,” replied Alice.
“Well, dear, I hope they will not come to-night: to-morrow I will have them all in custody; but if they do come, we must do our best to beat them off. It is fortunate that Edward left the guns and pistols which he found in Clara’s cottage, so we shall have no want of firearms; and we can barricade the doors and windows, so that they cannot get in in a hurry; but I must have Pablo to help me, for there is no time to be lost.”
“But cannot I help you, Humphrey?” said Alice. “Surely I can do something?”
“We will see, Alice; but I think I can do without you. We have still plenty of daylight. I will take the box into your room.”
Humphrey, who had only taken the box out of the cart and carried it within the threshold of the door, now took it into his sisters’ bedroom, and then went out and called Pablo, who came running to him.
“Pablo,” said Humphrey, “we must bring to the cottage some of the large pieces we sawed out for rafters; for I should not be surprised if the cottage were attacked this night.” He then told Pablo what had taken place. “You see, Pablo, I dare not send to the Intendant to-night in case the robbers should come here.”
“No, not send to-night,” said Pablo; “stay here and fight them; first make door fast, then cut hole to fire through.”
“Yes, that was my idea. You don’t mind fighting them, Pablo?”
“No; fight hard for Missy Alice and Missy Edith,” said Pablo; “fight for you too, Massa Humphrey, and fight for myself,” added Pablo, laughing.
They then went for the pieces of squared timber, brought them from the saw-pit to the cottage, and very soon fitted them to the doors and windows, so as to prevent several men, with using all their strength, from forcing them open.
“That will do,” said Humphrey; “and now get me the small saw, Pablo, and I will cut a hole or two to fire through.”
It was dark before they had finished, and then they made all fast, and went to Pablo’s room for the arms, which they got ready for service, and loaded.
“Now, we are all ready, Alice, so let us have our supper,” said Humphrey. “We will make a fight for it, and they shall not get in so easily as they think.”
After they had had their supper, Humphrey said the prayers, and told his sisters to go to bed.
“Yes, Humphrey, we will go to bed, but we will not undress; for if they come, I must be up to help you. I can load a gun, you know, and Edith can take them to you as fast as I load them. Won’t you, Edith?”
“Yes, I will bring you the guns, Humphrey, and you shall shoot them,” replied Edith.
Humphrey kissed his sisters, and they went to their room. He then put a light in the chimney, that he might not have to get one in case the robbers came, and then desired Pablo to go and lie down on his bed, as he intended to do the same. Humphrey remained awake till past three o’clock in the morning; but no robbers came. Pablo was snoring loud, and at last Humphrey fell asleep himself and did not awake till broad daylight. He got up, and found Alice and Edith were already in the sitting-room, lighting the fire.
“I would not wake you, Humphrey, as you had been sitting up so long. The robbers have not made their appearance, that is clear; shall you unbar the door and window-shutters now?”
“Yes, I think we may. Here, Pablo!”
“Yes,” replied Pablo, coming out half asleep; “what the matter? Thief come?”
“No,” replied Edith, “thief not come, but sun shine; and lazy Pablo not get up.”
“Up now, Missy Edith.”
“Yes, but not awake yet.”
“Yes, Missy Edith, quite awake.”
“Well then, help me to undo the door, Pablo.”
They took down the barricades, and Humphrey opened the door cautiously, and looked out.
“They won’t come now, at all events, I should think,” observed Humphrey; “but there is no saying—they may be prowling about, and may think it easier to get in during daytime than at night. Go out, Pablo, and look about everywhere; take a pistol with you, and fire it off if there is any danger, and then come back as fast as you can.”
Pablo took the pistol, and then Humphrey went out of the door and looked well round in front of the cottage, but he would not leave the door till he was assured that no one was there. Pablo returned soon after, saying that he had looked round everywhere, and into the cow-house and yard, and there was nobody to be seen. This satisfied Humphrey, and they returned to the cottage.
“Now, Pablo, get your breakfast, while I write the letter to the Intendant,” said Humphrey; “and then you must saddle Billy and go over as fast as you can with the letter. You can tell him all I have not said in it. I shall expect you back at night, and some people with you.”
“I see,” said Pablo, who immediately busied himself with some cold meat which Alice put before him. Pablo had finished his breakfast and brought Billy to the door before Humphrey had finished his letter. As soon as it was written and folded Pablo set off as fast as Billy could go to the other side of the forest.
Humphrey continued on the look-out during the whole day, with his gun on his arm, and his two dogs by his side; for he knew the dogs would give notice of the approach of any one, long before he might see them; but nothing occurred during the whole day; and when the evening closed in he barricaded the doors and windows, and remained on the watch with the dogs, waiting for the coming of the robbers, or for the coming of the party which he expected would be sent by the Intendant to take them. Just as it was dark Pablo returned with a note from Edward saying that he would be over by ten o’clock, with a large party.
Humphrey had said in his letter that it would be better that any force sent by the Intendant should not arrive till after dark, as the robbers might be near and perceive them, and then they might escape; he did not therefore expect them to come till some time after dark. Humphrey was reading a book—Pablo was dozing in the chimney-corner—the two girls had retired into their room and had lain down on the bed in their clothes—when the dogs both gave a low growl.
“Somebody come,” said Pablo, starting up.
Again the dogs growled, and Humphrey made a sign to Pablo to hold his tongue. A short time of anxious silence succeeded, for it was impossible to ascertain whether the parties were friends or enemies. The dogs now sprang up and barked furiously at the door, and as soon as Humphrey had silenced them, a voice was heard outside, begging for admission to a poor benighted traveller. This was sufficient: it could not be the party from the Intendant’s, but the robbers who wished to induce them to open the door. Pablo put a gun into Humphrey’s hand, and took another for himself; he then removed the light into the chimney, and on the application from outside being repeated, Humphrey answered—
“That he never opened the door at that hour of the night, and that it was useless their remaining.”
No answer or repetition of the request was made, but, as Humphrey retreated with Pablo into the fireplace, a gun was fired into the lock of the door, which was blown off into the room, and had it not been for the barricades the door must have flown open. The robbers appeared surprised at such not being the case, and one of them inserted his arm into the hole made in the door to ascertain what might be the further obstacle to open it, when Pablo slipped past Humphrey, and gaining the door, discharged his gun under the arm which had been thrust into the hole in the door. The person, whoever it might have been, gave a loud cry, and fell at the threshold outside.
“I think that will do,” said Humphrey; “we must not take more life than is necessary. I had rather that you had fired through his arm—it would have disabled him, and that would have sufficed.”
“Kill much better,” said Pablo. “Corbould shot through leg, come again to rob; suppose shot dead, never rob more.”
The dogs now flew to the back of the cottage, evidently pointing out that the robbers were attempting that side. Humphrey put his gun through the hole in the door, and discharged it.
“Why you do that, Massa Humphrey, nobody there!”
“I know that, Pablo; but if the people are coming from the Intendant’s they will see the flash and perhaps hear the report, and it will let them know what is going on.”
“There is another gun loaded, Humphrey,” said Alice, who with Edith had joined them without Humphrey observing it.
“Thanks, love; but you and Edith must not remain here: sit down on the hearth, and then you will be sheltered from any bullet which they may fire into the house. I have no fear of their getting in, and we shall have help directly, I have no doubt. Pablo, I shall fire through the back door; they must be there, for the dogs have their noses under it, and are so violent. Do you fire another gun, as a signal, through the hole in the front door.”
Humphrey stood within four feet of the back door, and fired just above where the dogs held their noses and barked. Pablo discharged his gun as directed, and then returned to reload the guns. The dogs were now more quiet, and it appeared as if the robbers had retreated from the back door. Pablo blew out the light, which had been put more in the centre of the room, when Alice and Edith took possession of the fireplace.
“No fear, Missy Edith, I know where find everything,” said Pablo, who now went and peered through the hole in the front door, to see if the robbers were coming to it again; but he could see and hear nothing for some time.
At last the attack was renewed; the dogs flew backwards and forwards, sometimes to one door and then to another, as if both were to be assailed: and at the same time a crash in Alice’s bed-chamber told them that the robbers had burst in the small window in that room, which Humphrey had not paid any attention to, as it was so small that a man could hardly introduce his body through it. Humphrey immediately called Holdfast and opened the door of the room; for he thought that a man forcing his way in would be driven back or held by the dog, and he and Pablo dared not leave the two doors. Watch, the other dog, followed Holdfast into the bedroom; and oaths and curses, mingled with the savage yells of the dogs, told them that a conflict was going on. Both doors were now battered with heavy pieces of timber at the same time, and Pablo said—
“Great many robbers here.”
A moment or more had passed, during which Pablo and Humphrey had both again fired their guns through the door, when, of a sudden, other sounds were heard—shots were fired outside, loud cries, and angry oaths and exclamations.
“The Intendant’s people are come,” said Humphrey, “I am sure of it.”
Shortly afterwards Humphrey heard his name called by Edward, and he replied, and went to the door and undid the barricades.
“Get a light, Alice, dear,” said Humphrey, “we are all safe now. I will open the door directly, Edward, but in the dark I cannot see the fastenings.”
“Are you all safe, Humphrey?”
“Yes, all safe, Edward. Wait till Alice brings a light.”
Alice soon brought one, and then the door was unfastened. Edward stepped over the body of a man which lay at the threshold, saying—
“You have settled somebody there, at all events,” and then caught Edith and Alice in his arms.
He was followed by Oswald and some other men, leading in the prisoners.
“Bind that fellow fast, Oswald,” said Edward. “Get another light, Pablo; let us see who it is that lies outside the door.”
“First see who is in my bedroom, Edward,” said Alice, “for the dogs are still there.”
“In your bedroom, dearest? Well, then, let us go there first.”
Edward went in with Humphrey, and found a man half in the window and half out, held by the throat and apparently suffocated by the two dogs. He took the dogs off; and desiring the men to secure the robber, and ascertain whether he was alive or not, he returned to the sitting-room, and then went to examine the body outside the door.
“Corbould, as I live!” cried Oswald.
“Yes,” replied Edward; “he has gone to his account. God forgive him!”
On inquiry they found that of all the robbers, to the number of ten, not one had escaped—eight they had made prisoners, Corbould, and the man whom the dogs had seized, and who was found to be quite dead, made up the number. The robbers were all bound and guarded; and then, leaving them under the charge of Oswald and five of his men, Edward and Humphrey set off with seven more to Clara’s cottage, to ascertain if there were any more to be found there. They arrived by two o’clock in the morning, and on knocking several times the door was opened and they seized another man, the only one who was found in it. They then went back to the cottage with their prisoner, and by the time that they had arrived it was daylight. As soon as the party sent by the Intendant had been supplied with breakfast, Edward bade farewell to Humphrey and his sisters, that he might return and deliver up his prisoners. Pablo went with him to bring back the cart which carried the two dead bodies. This capture cleared the forest of the robbers who had so long infested it, for they never had any more attempts made from that time.
Before Edward left, Humphrey and he examined the box which had been dug up from under the oak, and which had occasioned such danger to the inmates of the cottage; for one of the men stated to Edward that they suspected that the box which they had seen Humphrey dig out contained treasure, and that without they had seen him in possession of it, they never should have attacked the cottage, although Corbould had often persuaded them so to do; but as they knew that he was only seeking revenge—and they required money to stimulate them—they had refused, as they considered that there was nothing to be obtained in the cottage worth the risk, as they knew that the inmates had firearms and would defend themselves. On examination of its contents, they found in it a sum of forty pounds in gold, a bag of silver, and some other valuables in silver spoons, candlesticks, and ornaments for women. Edward took a list of the contents, and when he returned he stated to the Intendant all that had occurred, and requested to know what should be done with the money and other articles which Humphrey had found.
“I wish you had said nothing to me about it,” said the Intendant, “although I am pleased with your open and fair dealing. I cannot say anything, except that you had better let Humphrey keep it till it is claimed—which, of course, it never will be. But, Edward, Humphrey must come over here and make his deposition, as I must report the capture of these robbers and send them to trial. You had better go with the clerk and take the depositions of Pablo and your sisters, while Humphrey comes here. You can stay till his return. Their depositions are not of so much consequence as Humphrey’s, as they can only speak as to the attack, but Humphrey’s I must take down myself.”
When Patience and Clara heard that Edward was going over, they obtained leave to go with him to see Alice and Edith, and were to be escorted back by Humphrey. This the Intendant consented to, and they had a very merry party. Humphrey remained two days at the Intendant’s house, and then returned to the cottage, where Edward had taken his place during his absence.
Chapter Twenty One.The winter set in very severe, and the falls of snow were very heavy and frequent. It was fortunate Humphrey had been so provident in making so large a quantity of hay, or the stock would have been starved. The flock of goats, in great part, subsisted themselves on the bark of trees and moss; at night they had some hay given to them, and they did very well. It was hardly possible for Edward to come over to see his brother and sisters, for the snow was so deep as to render such a long journey too fatiguing for a horse. Twice or thrice after the snow fell he contrived to get over, but after that they knew that it was impossible, and they did not expect him. Humphrey and Pablo had little to do except attending to the stock, and cutting firewood to keep up their supply, for they now burnt it very fast. The snow lay several feet high round the cottage, being driven against it by the wind. They had kept a passage clear to the yard, and had kept the yard as clear as possible: they could do no more. A sharp frost and clear weather succeeded to the snow-storms, and there appeared no chance of the snow melting away. The nights were dark and long, and their oil for their lamp was getting low. Humphrey was anxious to go to Lymington, as they required many things; but it was impossible to go anywhere except on foot, and walking was, from the depth of the snow, a most fatiguing exercise. There was one thing, however, that Humphrey had not forgotten, which was, that he had told Edward that he would try and capture some of the forest ponies; and during the whole of the time since the heavy fall of snow had taken place he had been making his arrangements. The depth of the snow prevented the animals from obtaining any grass, and they were almost starved, as they could find nothing to subsist upon except the twigs and branches of trees which they could reach. Humphrey went out with Pablo and found the herd, which was about five miles from the cottage, and near to Clara’s old home. He and Pablo brought with them as much hay as they could carry, and strewed it about, so as to draw the ponies nearer to them, and then Humphrey looked for a place which would answer his purpose. About three miles from the cottage he found what he thought would suit him; there was a sort of avenue between two thickets, about a hundred yards wide; and the wind blowing through this avenue, during the snow-storm, had drifted the snow at one end of it, and raised right across it a large mound several feet high. By strewing small bundles of hay he drew the herd of ponies into this avenue, and in it he left them a good quantity to feed upon every night for several nights, till at last the herd went there every morning.“Now, Pablo, we must make a trial,” said Humphrey. “You must get your lassos ready, in case they should be required. We must go to the avenue before daylight with the two dogs, tie one upon one side of the avenue and the other on the other, that they may bark and prevent the ponies from attempting to escape through the thicket. Then we must get the ponies between us and the drift of snow which lies across the avenue, and try if we cannot draw them into the drift. If so, they will plunge in so deep that some of them will not be able to get out before we have thrown the ropes round their necks.”“I see,” said Pablo; “very good—soon catch them.”Before daylight they went with the dogs and a large bundle of hay, which they strewed nearer to the mound of drifted snow. They then tied the dogs up on each side, ordering them to lie down and be quiet. Then they walked through the thicket so as not to be perceived, until they considered that they were far enough from the snow-drift. About daylight the herd came to pick up the hay as usual, and after they had passed them Humphrey and Pablo followed in the thicket, not wishing to show themselves till the last moment. While the ponies were busy with the hay, they suddenly ran out into the avenue and separated, so as to prevent the ponies from attempting to gallop past them. Shouting as loud as they could, as they ran up to the ponies, and calling to the dogs, who immediately set up a barking on each side; the ponies, alarmed at the noise and the appearance of humphrey and Pablo, naturally set off in the only direction which appeared to them to be clear, and galloped away towards the mound of drifted snow, with their tails streaming, and snorting and plunging in the snow as they hurried along; but as soon as they arrived at the mound they plunged first up to their bellies, and afterwards, as they attempted to force their way where the snow was deeper, many of them stuck fast altogether, and struggled to clear themselves in vain. Humphrey and Pablo, who had followed them as fast as they could run, now came up with them and threw the lasso over the neck of one, and ropes with slip nooses over two more, which were floundering in the snow there together. The remainder of the herd, after great exertions, got clear off by turning round and galloping back—through the avenue. The three captured ponies made a furious struggle; but by drawing the ropes tight round their necks they were well-nigh choked, and soon unable to move. The lads then tied their fore-legs, and loosened the ropes round their necks that they might recover their breath.“Got them now, Massa Humphrey,” said Pablo.“Yes, but our work is not yet over, Pablo; we must get them home; how shall we manage that?”“Suppose they no eat to-day and to-morrow, get very tame.”“I believe that will be the best way; they cannot get loose again, do all they can.”“No, sir; but get one home to-day. This very fine pony; suppose we try him.”Pablo then put the halter on, and tied the end short to the fore-leg of the pony, so that it could not walk without keeping its head close to the ground—if it raised its head it was obliged to lift up its leg. Then he put the lasso round its neck to choke it if it was too unruly, and, having done that, he cast loose the ropes which had tied its fore-legs together.“Now, Massa Humphrey, we get him home somehow. First I go loose the dogs; he ’fraid of the dogs, and run t’other way.”The pony, which was an iron-grey and very handsome, plunged furiously and kicked behind; but it could not do so without falling down, which it did several times before Pablo returned with the dogs. Humphrey held one part of the lasso on one side, and Pablo on the other, keeping the pony between them; and with the dogs barking at it behind, they contrived, with a great deal of exertion and trouble, to get the pony to the cottage. The poor animal, driven in this way on three legs, and every now and then choked with the lasso, was covered with foam before they arrived. Billy was turned out of his stable to make room for the newcomer, who was fastened securely to the manger and then left without food, that he might become tame. It was too late then, and they were too tired themselves to go for the other two ponies, so they were left lying on the snow all night, and the next morning they found them much tamer than they were at first, and during the day, following the same plan, they were both brought to the stable and secured alongside of the other. One was a bay pony with black legs, and the other a brown one. The bay pony was a mare, and the other two horses. Alice and Edith were delighted with the new ponies, and Humphrey was not a little pleased that he had succeeded in capturing them, after what had passed between Edward and himself. After two days’ fasting, the poor animals were so tame that they ate out of Pablo’s hand and submitted to be stroked and caressed; and before they were a fortnight in the stable. Alice and Edith could go up to them without danger. They were soon broken in; for the yard being full of muck, Pablo took them into it and mounted them. They plunged and kicked at first, and tried all they could to get rid of him, but they sank so deep into the muck that they were soon tired out; and after a month they were all three tolerably quiet to ride.The snow was so deep all over the country that there was little communication with the metropolis. The Intendant’s letter spoke of King Charles raising another army in Holland, and that his adherents in England were preparing to join him as soon as he marched southward.“I think, Edward,” said the Intendant, “that the king’s affairs do now wear a more promising aspect, but there is plenty of time yet. I know your anxiety to serve your king, and I cannot blame it. I shall not prevent your going, although of course I must not be cognisant of your having so done. When the winter breaks up I shall send you to London. You will then be able better to judge of what is going on, and your absence will not create any suspicion; but you must be guided by me.”“I certainly will, sir,” replied Edward. “I should indeed like to strike one blow for the king, come what will.”“All depends upon whether they manage affairs well in Scotland; but there is so much jealousy and pride, and I fear treachery also, that it is hard to say how matters may end.”It was soon after this conversation that a messenger arrived from London with letters, announcing that King Charles had been crowned in Scotland with great solemnity and magnificence.“The plot thickens,” said the Intendant; “and by this letter from my correspondent Ashley Cooper, I find that the king’s army is well appointed, and that David Lesley is Lieutenant-General: Middleton commands the horse, and Wemyss the artillery. That Wemyss is certainly a good officer, but was not true to the late king:— may he behave better to the present! Now, Edward, I shall send you to London, and I will give you letters to those who will advise you how to proceed. You may take the black horse; he will bear you well. You will of course write to me, for Sampson will go with you, and you can send him back when you consider that you do not require or wish for his presence: there is no time to be lost, for, depend upon it, Cromwell, who is still at Edinburgh, will take the field as soon as he can. Are you ready to start to-morrow morning?”“Yes, sir, quite ready.”“I fear that you cannot go over to the cottage to bid farewell to your sisters, but perhaps it is better that you should not.”“I think so too, sir,” replied Edward; “now that the snow has nearly disappeared I did think of going over, having been so long absent, but I must send Oswald over instead.”“Well, then, leave me to write my letters, and do you prepare your saddle-bags. Patience and Clara will assist you. Tell Sampson to come to me.”Edward went to Patience and Clara, and told them that he was to set off for London on the following morning, and was about to make his preparations.“How long do you remain, Edward?” inquired Patience.“I cannot tell; Sampson goes with me, and I must of course be guided by your father. Do you know where the saddle-bags are, Patience?”“Yes, Phoebe shall bring them to your room.”“And you and Clara must come and give me your assistance.”“Certainly we will, if you require it; but I did not know that your wardrobe was so extensive.”“You know that it is anything but extensive, Patience; but that is the reason why your assistance is more required. A small wardrobe ought at least to be in good order; and what I would require is, that you would look over the linen, and where it requires a little repair you will bestow upon it your charity.”“That we will do, Clara,” replied Patience; “so get your needles and thread, and let us send him to London with whole linen. We will come when we are ready, sir.”“I don’t like his going to London at all,” said Clara; “we shall be so lonely when he has gone.”Edward had left the room, and having obtained the saddle-bags from Phoebe, had gone up to his chamber. The first thing that he laid hold of was his father’s sword; he took it down, and having wiped it carefully, he kissed it, saying, “God grant that I may do credit to it, and prove as worthy to wield it as was my brave father!” He had uttered these words aloud; and again taking the sword, and laying it down on the bed, turned round, and perceived that Patience had, unknown to him, entered the room, and was standing close to him. Edward was not conscious that he had spoken aloud, and therefore merely said, “I was not aware of your presence, Patience. Your foot is so light.”“Whose sword is that, Edward?”“It is mine; I bought it at Lymington.”“But what makes you have such an affection for that sword?”“Affection for it?”“Yes; as I came into the room you kissed it as fervently as—”“As a lover would his mistress, I presume you would say,” replied Edward.“Nay, I meant not to use such vain words. I was about to say as a Catholic would a relic. I ask you again, why so? A sword is but a sword. You are about to leave this on a mission of my father’s. You are not a soldier, about to engage in strife and war; if you were, why kiss your sword?”“I will tell you. I do love this sword. I purchased it, as I told you, at Lymington, and they told me that it belonged to Colonel Beverley. It is for his sake that I love it. You know what obligations our family were under to him.”“This sword was then wielded by Colonel Beverley, the celebrated Cavalier, was it?” said Patience, taking it from off the bed and examining it.“Yes, it was; and here, you see, are his initials upon the hilt.”“And why do you take it to London with you? Surely it is not the weapon which should be worn by a secretary, Edward: it is too large, and cumbrous, and out of character.”“Recollect, that till these last few months I have been a forester, Patience, and not a secretary. Indeed I feel that I am more fit for active life than the situation which your father’s kindness has bestowed upon me. I was brought up, as you have heard, to follow to the wars, had my patron lived.”Patience made no reply. Clara now joined them, and they commenced the task of examining the linen; and Edward left the room, as he wished to speak with Oswald. They did not meet again till dinner-time. Edward’s sudden departure had spread a gloom over them all,—even the Intendant was silent and thoughtful. In the evening he gave Edward the letters which he had written, and a considerable sum of money, telling him where he was to apply if he required more for his expenses. The Intendant cautioned him on his behaviour in many points, and also relative to his dress and carriage during his stay in the metropolis.“If you should leave London there will be no occasion, nay, it would be dangerous to write to me. I shall take it for granted that you will retain Sampson till your departure, and when he returns here I shall presume that you have gone north. I will not detain you longer, Edward: may Heaven bless and protect you!”So saying, the Intendant went away to his own room.“Kind and generous man!” thought Edward; “how much did I mistake you when we first met!”Taking up the letters and bag of money, which still remained on the table, Edward went to his room, and having placed the letters and money in the saddle-bag, he commended himself to the Divine Protector, and retired to rest.Before daylight the sound of Sampson’s heavy travelling boots below roused up Edward, and he was soon dressed. Taking his saddle-bags on his arm, he walked softly downstairs, that he might not disturb any of the family; but when he was passing the sitting-room he perceived that there was a light in it, and on looking in, that Patience was up and dressed. Edward looked surprised, and was about to speak, when Patience said—“I rose early, Edward, because, when I took leave of you last night, I forgot a little parcel that I wanted to give you before you went. It will not take much room, and may beguile a weary hour. It is a little book of meditations. Will you accept it, and promise me to read it when you have time?”“I certainly will, my dear Patience—if I may venture on the expression—read it, and think of you.”“Nay you must read it and think of what it contains,” replied Patience.“I will, then. I shall not need the book to remind me of Patience Heatherstone, I assure you.”“And now, Edward, I do not pretend to surmise the reason of your departure, nor would it be becoming in me to attempt to discover what my father thinks proper to be silent upon, but I must beg you to promise one thing.”“Name it, dear Patience,” replied Edward; “my heart is so full at the thought of leaving you that I feel I can refuse you nothing.”“It is this,—I have a presentiment, I know not why, that you are about to encounter danger. If so, be prudent,—be prudent for the sake of your dear sisters—be prudent for the sake of all your friends, who would regret you—promise me that.”“I do promise you, most faithfully, Patience, that I will ever have my sisters and you in my thoughts, and will not be rash under any circumstances.”“Thank you, Edward; may God bless you and preserve you!”Edward first kissed Patience’s hand, that was held in his own; but perceiving the tears starting in her eyes, he kissed them off, without any remonstrance on her part, and then left the room. In a few moments more he was mounted on a fine powerful black horse, and followed by Sampson, on his road to London.We will pass over the journey, which was accomplished without any event worthy of remark. Edward had, from the commencement, called Sampson to his side, that he might answer the questions he had to make upon all that he saw, and which the reader must be aware was quite new to one whose peregrinations had been confined to the New Forest and the town adjacent. Sampson was a very powerful man, of a cool and silent character, by no means deficient in intelligence, and trustworthy withal. He had long been a follower of the Intendant, and had served in the army. He was very devout; and generally, when not addressed, was singing hymns in a low voice.On the evening of the second day they were close to the metropolis, and Sampson pointed out to Edward Saint Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, and other objects worthy of note.“And where are we to lodge, Sampson?” inquired Edward.“The best hotel that I know of for man and beast is the ‘Swan with Three Necks,’ in Holborn. It is not over frequented by roysterers, and you will there be quiet, and if your affairs demand it, unobserved.”“That will suit me, Sampson: I wish to observe, and not be observed, during my stay in London.”Before dark they had arrived at the hotel, and the horses were in the stable. Edward had procured an apartment to his satisfaction, and, feeling fatigued with his two days’ travelling, had gone to bed.The following morning he examined the letters which had been given to him by the Intendant, and inquired of Sampson if he could direct him on his way. Sampson knew London well: and Edward set out to Spring Gardens to deliver a letter, which the intendant informed him was confidential, to a person of the name of Langton. Edward knocked and was ushered in, Sampson taking a seat in the hall while Edward was shown into a handsomely-furnished library, where he found himself in the presence of a tall spare man, dressed after the fashion of the Roundheads of the time. He presented the letter. Mr Langton bowed and requested Edward to sit down; and after Edward had taken a chair, he then seated himself and opened the letter.“You are right welcome, Master Armitage,” said Mr Langton; “I find that, young as you appear to be, you are in the whole confidence of our mutual friend Mr Heatherstone. He hints at your being probably obliged to take a journey to the north, and that you will be glad to take charge of any letters which I may have to send in that direction. I will have them ready for you; and in case of need they will be such as will give a colouring to your proceeding, provided you may not choose to reveal your true object. How wears our good friend Heatherstone, and his daughter?”“Quite well, sir.”“And he told me in one of his former letters that he had the daughter of our poor friend Ratcliffe with him. Is it not so?”“It is, Mr Langton; and as gentle and pretty a child as you could wish to see.”“When did you arrive in London?”“Yesterday evening, sir.”“And do you propose any stay?”“That I cannot answer, sir; I must be guided by your advice. I have nought to do here, unless it be to deliver some three or four letters, given me by Mr Heatherstone.”“It is my opinion, Master Armitage, that the less you are seen in this city the better; there are hundreds employed to find out newcomers, and to discover from their people, or by other means, for what purpose they may have come; for you must be aware, Master Armitage, that the times are dangerous and people’s minds are various. In attempting to free ourselves from what we considered despotism, we have created for ourselves a worse despotism, and one that is less endurable. It is to be hoped that what has passed will make not only kings, but subjects, wiser than they have been. Now what do you propose—to leave this instantly?”“Certainly, if you think it advisable.”“My advice, then, is to leave London immediately. I will give you letters to some friends of mine in Lancashire and Yorkshire; in either county you can remain unnoticed, and make what preparations you think necessary. But do nothing in haste—consult well, and be guided by them, who will, if it is considered advisable and prudent, join with you in your project. I need say no more. Call upon me to-morrow morning an hour before noon, and I will have letters ready for you.”Edward rose to depart, and thanked Mr Langton for his kindness.“Farewell, Master Armitage,” said Langton; “to-morrow at the hour of eleven!”Edward then quitted the house, and delivered the other letters of credence, the only one of importance at the moment was the one of credit; the others were to various members of the Parliament, desiring them to know Master Armitage as a confidential friend of the Intendant, and in case of need to exert their good offices in his behalf. The letter of credit was upon a Hamburgh merchant, who asked Edward if he required money. Edward replied that he did not at present, but that he had business to do for his employer in the north, and might require some when there, if it was possible to obtain it so far from London.“When do you set out? And to what town do you go?”“That I cannot well tell till to-morrow.”“Call before you leave this, and I will find some means of providing for you as you wish.”Edward then returned to the hotel. Before he went to bed he told Sampson that he found that he had to leave London on Mr Heatherstone’s affairs, and might be absent some time; he concluded by observing that he did not consider it necessary to take him with him, as he could dispense with his services, and Mr Heatherstone would be glad to have him back.“As you wish, sir,” replied Sampson. “When am I to go back?”“You may leave to-morrow as soon as you please. I have no letter to send. You may tell them that I am well, and will write as soon as I have anything positive to communicate.”Edward then made Sampson a present, and wished him a pleasant journey.At the hour appointed on the following day Edward repaired to Mr Langton, who received him very cordially.“I am all ready for you, Master Armitage: there is a letter to two Catholic ladies in Lancashire, who will take great care of you; and here is one to a friend of mine in Yorkshire. The ladies live about four miles from the town of Bolton, and my Yorkshire friend in the city of York. You may trust to either of them. And now, farewell; and, if possible, leave London before nightfall—the sooner the better. Where is your servant?”“He has returned to Mr Heatherstone this morning.”“You have done right. Lose no time in leaving London; and don’t be in a hurry in your future plans. You understand me. If any one accosts you on the road put no trust in any professions. You of course are going down to your relations in the north. Have you pistols?”“Yes, sir; I have a pair which belonged to the unfortunate Mr Ratcliffe.”“Then they are good ones, I’ll answer for it: no man was more particular about his weapons, or knew how to use them better. Farewell, Master Armitage, and may success attend you.”Mr Langton held out his hand to Edward, who respectfully took his leave.
The winter set in very severe, and the falls of snow were very heavy and frequent. It was fortunate Humphrey had been so provident in making so large a quantity of hay, or the stock would have been starved. The flock of goats, in great part, subsisted themselves on the bark of trees and moss; at night they had some hay given to them, and they did very well. It was hardly possible for Edward to come over to see his brother and sisters, for the snow was so deep as to render such a long journey too fatiguing for a horse. Twice or thrice after the snow fell he contrived to get over, but after that they knew that it was impossible, and they did not expect him. Humphrey and Pablo had little to do except attending to the stock, and cutting firewood to keep up their supply, for they now burnt it very fast. The snow lay several feet high round the cottage, being driven against it by the wind. They had kept a passage clear to the yard, and had kept the yard as clear as possible: they could do no more. A sharp frost and clear weather succeeded to the snow-storms, and there appeared no chance of the snow melting away. The nights were dark and long, and their oil for their lamp was getting low. Humphrey was anxious to go to Lymington, as they required many things; but it was impossible to go anywhere except on foot, and walking was, from the depth of the snow, a most fatiguing exercise. There was one thing, however, that Humphrey had not forgotten, which was, that he had told Edward that he would try and capture some of the forest ponies; and during the whole of the time since the heavy fall of snow had taken place he had been making his arrangements. The depth of the snow prevented the animals from obtaining any grass, and they were almost starved, as they could find nothing to subsist upon except the twigs and branches of trees which they could reach. Humphrey went out with Pablo and found the herd, which was about five miles from the cottage, and near to Clara’s old home. He and Pablo brought with them as much hay as they could carry, and strewed it about, so as to draw the ponies nearer to them, and then Humphrey looked for a place which would answer his purpose. About three miles from the cottage he found what he thought would suit him; there was a sort of avenue between two thickets, about a hundred yards wide; and the wind blowing through this avenue, during the snow-storm, had drifted the snow at one end of it, and raised right across it a large mound several feet high. By strewing small bundles of hay he drew the herd of ponies into this avenue, and in it he left them a good quantity to feed upon every night for several nights, till at last the herd went there every morning.
“Now, Pablo, we must make a trial,” said Humphrey. “You must get your lassos ready, in case they should be required. We must go to the avenue before daylight with the two dogs, tie one upon one side of the avenue and the other on the other, that they may bark and prevent the ponies from attempting to escape through the thicket. Then we must get the ponies between us and the drift of snow which lies across the avenue, and try if we cannot draw them into the drift. If so, they will plunge in so deep that some of them will not be able to get out before we have thrown the ropes round their necks.”
“I see,” said Pablo; “very good—soon catch them.”
Before daylight they went with the dogs and a large bundle of hay, which they strewed nearer to the mound of drifted snow. They then tied the dogs up on each side, ordering them to lie down and be quiet. Then they walked through the thicket so as not to be perceived, until they considered that they were far enough from the snow-drift. About daylight the herd came to pick up the hay as usual, and after they had passed them Humphrey and Pablo followed in the thicket, not wishing to show themselves till the last moment. While the ponies were busy with the hay, they suddenly ran out into the avenue and separated, so as to prevent the ponies from attempting to gallop past them. Shouting as loud as they could, as they ran up to the ponies, and calling to the dogs, who immediately set up a barking on each side; the ponies, alarmed at the noise and the appearance of humphrey and Pablo, naturally set off in the only direction which appeared to them to be clear, and galloped away towards the mound of drifted snow, with their tails streaming, and snorting and plunging in the snow as they hurried along; but as soon as they arrived at the mound they plunged first up to their bellies, and afterwards, as they attempted to force their way where the snow was deeper, many of them stuck fast altogether, and struggled to clear themselves in vain. Humphrey and Pablo, who had followed them as fast as they could run, now came up with them and threw the lasso over the neck of one, and ropes with slip nooses over two more, which were floundering in the snow there together. The remainder of the herd, after great exertions, got clear off by turning round and galloping back—through the avenue. The three captured ponies made a furious struggle; but by drawing the ropes tight round their necks they were well-nigh choked, and soon unable to move. The lads then tied their fore-legs, and loosened the ropes round their necks that they might recover their breath.
“Got them now, Massa Humphrey,” said Pablo.
“Yes, but our work is not yet over, Pablo; we must get them home; how shall we manage that?”
“Suppose they no eat to-day and to-morrow, get very tame.”
“I believe that will be the best way; they cannot get loose again, do all they can.”
“No, sir; but get one home to-day. This very fine pony; suppose we try him.”
Pablo then put the halter on, and tied the end short to the fore-leg of the pony, so that it could not walk without keeping its head close to the ground—if it raised its head it was obliged to lift up its leg. Then he put the lasso round its neck to choke it if it was too unruly, and, having done that, he cast loose the ropes which had tied its fore-legs together.
“Now, Massa Humphrey, we get him home somehow. First I go loose the dogs; he ’fraid of the dogs, and run t’other way.”
The pony, which was an iron-grey and very handsome, plunged furiously and kicked behind; but it could not do so without falling down, which it did several times before Pablo returned with the dogs. Humphrey held one part of the lasso on one side, and Pablo on the other, keeping the pony between them; and with the dogs barking at it behind, they contrived, with a great deal of exertion and trouble, to get the pony to the cottage. The poor animal, driven in this way on three legs, and every now and then choked with the lasso, was covered with foam before they arrived. Billy was turned out of his stable to make room for the newcomer, who was fastened securely to the manger and then left without food, that he might become tame. It was too late then, and they were too tired themselves to go for the other two ponies, so they were left lying on the snow all night, and the next morning they found them much tamer than they were at first, and during the day, following the same plan, they were both brought to the stable and secured alongside of the other. One was a bay pony with black legs, and the other a brown one. The bay pony was a mare, and the other two horses. Alice and Edith were delighted with the new ponies, and Humphrey was not a little pleased that he had succeeded in capturing them, after what had passed between Edward and himself. After two days’ fasting, the poor animals were so tame that they ate out of Pablo’s hand and submitted to be stroked and caressed; and before they were a fortnight in the stable. Alice and Edith could go up to them without danger. They were soon broken in; for the yard being full of muck, Pablo took them into it and mounted them. They plunged and kicked at first, and tried all they could to get rid of him, but they sank so deep into the muck that they were soon tired out; and after a month they were all three tolerably quiet to ride.
The snow was so deep all over the country that there was little communication with the metropolis. The Intendant’s letter spoke of King Charles raising another army in Holland, and that his adherents in England were preparing to join him as soon as he marched southward.
“I think, Edward,” said the Intendant, “that the king’s affairs do now wear a more promising aspect, but there is plenty of time yet. I know your anxiety to serve your king, and I cannot blame it. I shall not prevent your going, although of course I must not be cognisant of your having so done. When the winter breaks up I shall send you to London. You will then be able better to judge of what is going on, and your absence will not create any suspicion; but you must be guided by me.”
“I certainly will, sir,” replied Edward. “I should indeed like to strike one blow for the king, come what will.”
“All depends upon whether they manage affairs well in Scotland; but there is so much jealousy and pride, and I fear treachery also, that it is hard to say how matters may end.”
It was soon after this conversation that a messenger arrived from London with letters, announcing that King Charles had been crowned in Scotland with great solemnity and magnificence.
“The plot thickens,” said the Intendant; “and by this letter from my correspondent Ashley Cooper, I find that the king’s army is well appointed, and that David Lesley is Lieutenant-General: Middleton commands the horse, and Wemyss the artillery. That Wemyss is certainly a good officer, but was not true to the late king:— may he behave better to the present! Now, Edward, I shall send you to London, and I will give you letters to those who will advise you how to proceed. You may take the black horse; he will bear you well. You will of course write to me, for Sampson will go with you, and you can send him back when you consider that you do not require or wish for his presence: there is no time to be lost, for, depend upon it, Cromwell, who is still at Edinburgh, will take the field as soon as he can. Are you ready to start to-morrow morning?”
“Yes, sir, quite ready.”
“I fear that you cannot go over to the cottage to bid farewell to your sisters, but perhaps it is better that you should not.”
“I think so too, sir,” replied Edward; “now that the snow has nearly disappeared I did think of going over, having been so long absent, but I must send Oswald over instead.”
“Well, then, leave me to write my letters, and do you prepare your saddle-bags. Patience and Clara will assist you. Tell Sampson to come to me.”
Edward went to Patience and Clara, and told them that he was to set off for London on the following morning, and was about to make his preparations.
“How long do you remain, Edward?” inquired Patience.
“I cannot tell; Sampson goes with me, and I must of course be guided by your father. Do you know where the saddle-bags are, Patience?”
“Yes, Phoebe shall bring them to your room.”
“And you and Clara must come and give me your assistance.”
“Certainly we will, if you require it; but I did not know that your wardrobe was so extensive.”
“You know that it is anything but extensive, Patience; but that is the reason why your assistance is more required. A small wardrobe ought at least to be in good order; and what I would require is, that you would look over the linen, and where it requires a little repair you will bestow upon it your charity.”
“That we will do, Clara,” replied Patience; “so get your needles and thread, and let us send him to London with whole linen. We will come when we are ready, sir.”
“I don’t like his going to London at all,” said Clara; “we shall be so lonely when he has gone.”
Edward had left the room, and having obtained the saddle-bags from Phoebe, had gone up to his chamber. The first thing that he laid hold of was his father’s sword; he took it down, and having wiped it carefully, he kissed it, saying, “God grant that I may do credit to it, and prove as worthy to wield it as was my brave father!” He had uttered these words aloud; and again taking the sword, and laying it down on the bed, turned round, and perceived that Patience had, unknown to him, entered the room, and was standing close to him. Edward was not conscious that he had spoken aloud, and therefore merely said, “I was not aware of your presence, Patience. Your foot is so light.”
“Whose sword is that, Edward?”
“It is mine; I bought it at Lymington.”
“But what makes you have such an affection for that sword?”
“Affection for it?”
“Yes; as I came into the room you kissed it as fervently as—”
“As a lover would his mistress, I presume you would say,” replied Edward.
“Nay, I meant not to use such vain words. I was about to say as a Catholic would a relic. I ask you again, why so? A sword is but a sword. You are about to leave this on a mission of my father’s. You are not a soldier, about to engage in strife and war; if you were, why kiss your sword?”
“I will tell you. I do love this sword. I purchased it, as I told you, at Lymington, and they told me that it belonged to Colonel Beverley. It is for his sake that I love it. You know what obligations our family were under to him.”
“This sword was then wielded by Colonel Beverley, the celebrated Cavalier, was it?” said Patience, taking it from off the bed and examining it.
“Yes, it was; and here, you see, are his initials upon the hilt.”
“And why do you take it to London with you? Surely it is not the weapon which should be worn by a secretary, Edward: it is too large, and cumbrous, and out of character.”
“Recollect, that till these last few months I have been a forester, Patience, and not a secretary. Indeed I feel that I am more fit for active life than the situation which your father’s kindness has bestowed upon me. I was brought up, as you have heard, to follow to the wars, had my patron lived.”
Patience made no reply. Clara now joined them, and they commenced the task of examining the linen; and Edward left the room, as he wished to speak with Oswald. They did not meet again till dinner-time. Edward’s sudden departure had spread a gloom over them all,—even the Intendant was silent and thoughtful. In the evening he gave Edward the letters which he had written, and a considerable sum of money, telling him where he was to apply if he required more for his expenses. The Intendant cautioned him on his behaviour in many points, and also relative to his dress and carriage during his stay in the metropolis.
“If you should leave London there will be no occasion, nay, it would be dangerous to write to me. I shall take it for granted that you will retain Sampson till your departure, and when he returns here I shall presume that you have gone north. I will not detain you longer, Edward: may Heaven bless and protect you!”
So saying, the Intendant went away to his own room.
“Kind and generous man!” thought Edward; “how much did I mistake you when we first met!”
Taking up the letters and bag of money, which still remained on the table, Edward went to his room, and having placed the letters and money in the saddle-bag, he commended himself to the Divine Protector, and retired to rest.
Before daylight the sound of Sampson’s heavy travelling boots below roused up Edward, and he was soon dressed. Taking his saddle-bags on his arm, he walked softly downstairs, that he might not disturb any of the family; but when he was passing the sitting-room he perceived that there was a light in it, and on looking in, that Patience was up and dressed. Edward looked surprised, and was about to speak, when Patience said—
“I rose early, Edward, because, when I took leave of you last night, I forgot a little parcel that I wanted to give you before you went. It will not take much room, and may beguile a weary hour. It is a little book of meditations. Will you accept it, and promise me to read it when you have time?”
“I certainly will, my dear Patience—if I may venture on the expression—read it, and think of you.”
“Nay you must read it and think of what it contains,” replied Patience.
“I will, then. I shall not need the book to remind me of Patience Heatherstone, I assure you.”
“And now, Edward, I do not pretend to surmise the reason of your departure, nor would it be becoming in me to attempt to discover what my father thinks proper to be silent upon, but I must beg you to promise one thing.”
“Name it, dear Patience,” replied Edward; “my heart is so full at the thought of leaving you that I feel I can refuse you nothing.”
“It is this,—I have a presentiment, I know not why, that you are about to encounter danger. If so, be prudent,—be prudent for the sake of your dear sisters—be prudent for the sake of all your friends, who would regret you—promise me that.”
“I do promise you, most faithfully, Patience, that I will ever have my sisters and you in my thoughts, and will not be rash under any circumstances.”
“Thank you, Edward; may God bless you and preserve you!”
Edward first kissed Patience’s hand, that was held in his own; but perceiving the tears starting in her eyes, he kissed them off, without any remonstrance on her part, and then left the room. In a few moments more he was mounted on a fine powerful black horse, and followed by Sampson, on his road to London.
We will pass over the journey, which was accomplished without any event worthy of remark. Edward had, from the commencement, called Sampson to his side, that he might answer the questions he had to make upon all that he saw, and which the reader must be aware was quite new to one whose peregrinations had been confined to the New Forest and the town adjacent. Sampson was a very powerful man, of a cool and silent character, by no means deficient in intelligence, and trustworthy withal. He had long been a follower of the Intendant, and had served in the army. He was very devout; and generally, when not addressed, was singing hymns in a low voice.
On the evening of the second day they were close to the metropolis, and Sampson pointed out to Edward Saint Paul’s Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, and other objects worthy of note.
“And where are we to lodge, Sampson?” inquired Edward.
“The best hotel that I know of for man and beast is the ‘Swan with Three Necks,’ in Holborn. It is not over frequented by roysterers, and you will there be quiet, and if your affairs demand it, unobserved.”
“That will suit me, Sampson: I wish to observe, and not be observed, during my stay in London.”
Before dark they had arrived at the hotel, and the horses were in the stable. Edward had procured an apartment to his satisfaction, and, feeling fatigued with his two days’ travelling, had gone to bed.
The following morning he examined the letters which had been given to him by the Intendant, and inquired of Sampson if he could direct him on his way. Sampson knew London well: and Edward set out to Spring Gardens to deliver a letter, which the intendant informed him was confidential, to a person of the name of Langton. Edward knocked and was ushered in, Sampson taking a seat in the hall while Edward was shown into a handsomely-furnished library, where he found himself in the presence of a tall spare man, dressed after the fashion of the Roundheads of the time. He presented the letter. Mr Langton bowed and requested Edward to sit down; and after Edward had taken a chair, he then seated himself and opened the letter.
“You are right welcome, Master Armitage,” said Mr Langton; “I find that, young as you appear to be, you are in the whole confidence of our mutual friend Mr Heatherstone. He hints at your being probably obliged to take a journey to the north, and that you will be glad to take charge of any letters which I may have to send in that direction. I will have them ready for you; and in case of need they will be such as will give a colouring to your proceeding, provided you may not choose to reveal your true object. How wears our good friend Heatherstone, and his daughter?”
“Quite well, sir.”
“And he told me in one of his former letters that he had the daughter of our poor friend Ratcliffe with him. Is it not so?”
“It is, Mr Langton; and as gentle and pretty a child as you could wish to see.”
“When did you arrive in London?”
“Yesterday evening, sir.”
“And do you propose any stay?”
“That I cannot answer, sir; I must be guided by your advice. I have nought to do here, unless it be to deliver some three or four letters, given me by Mr Heatherstone.”
“It is my opinion, Master Armitage, that the less you are seen in this city the better; there are hundreds employed to find out newcomers, and to discover from their people, or by other means, for what purpose they may have come; for you must be aware, Master Armitage, that the times are dangerous and people’s minds are various. In attempting to free ourselves from what we considered despotism, we have created for ourselves a worse despotism, and one that is less endurable. It is to be hoped that what has passed will make not only kings, but subjects, wiser than they have been. Now what do you propose—to leave this instantly?”
“Certainly, if you think it advisable.”
“My advice, then, is to leave London immediately. I will give you letters to some friends of mine in Lancashire and Yorkshire; in either county you can remain unnoticed, and make what preparations you think necessary. But do nothing in haste—consult well, and be guided by them, who will, if it is considered advisable and prudent, join with you in your project. I need say no more. Call upon me to-morrow morning an hour before noon, and I will have letters ready for you.”
Edward rose to depart, and thanked Mr Langton for his kindness.
“Farewell, Master Armitage,” said Langton; “to-morrow at the hour of eleven!”
Edward then quitted the house, and delivered the other letters of credence, the only one of importance at the moment was the one of credit; the others were to various members of the Parliament, desiring them to know Master Armitage as a confidential friend of the Intendant, and in case of need to exert their good offices in his behalf. The letter of credit was upon a Hamburgh merchant, who asked Edward if he required money. Edward replied that he did not at present, but that he had business to do for his employer in the north, and might require some when there, if it was possible to obtain it so far from London.
“When do you set out? And to what town do you go?”
“That I cannot well tell till to-morrow.”
“Call before you leave this, and I will find some means of providing for you as you wish.”
Edward then returned to the hotel. Before he went to bed he told Sampson that he found that he had to leave London on Mr Heatherstone’s affairs, and might be absent some time; he concluded by observing that he did not consider it necessary to take him with him, as he could dispense with his services, and Mr Heatherstone would be glad to have him back.
“As you wish, sir,” replied Sampson. “When am I to go back?”
“You may leave to-morrow as soon as you please. I have no letter to send. You may tell them that I am well, and will write as soon as I have anything positive to communicate.”
Edward then made Sampson a present, and wished him a pleasant journey.
At the hour appointed on the following day Edward repaired to Mr Langton, who received him very cordially.
“I am all ready for you, Master Armitage: there is a letter to two Catholic ladies in Lancashire, who will take great care of you; and here is one to a friend of mine in Yorkshire. The ladies live about four miles from the town of Bolton, and my Yorkshire friend in the city of York. You may trust to either of them. And now, farewell; and, if possible, leave London before nightfall—the sooner the better. Where is your servant?”
“He has returned to Mr Heatherstone this morning.”
“You have done right. Lose no time in leaving London; and don’t be in a hurry in your future plans. You understand me. If any one accosts you on the road put no trust in any professions. You of course are going down to your relations in the north. Have you pistols?”
“Yes, sir; I have a pair which belonged to the unfortunate Mr Ratcliffe.”
“Then they are good ones, I’ll answer for it: no man was more particular about his weapons, or knew how to use them better. Farewell, Master Armitage, and may success attend you.”
Mr Langton held out his hand to Edward, who respectfully took his leave.