Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Seventeen.Humphrey came out as soon as he perceived the Intendant and his party approaching, and whispered to Edward that all was safe. The Intendant dismounted, and ordering everybody but his clerk to wait outside, was ushered into the cottage by Edward. Alice, Edith, and Pablo were in the room; the two girls were not a little flushed and frightened by the unusual appearance of so large a body of strangers.“These are my sisters, sir,” said Edward. “Where is Clara, Alice?”“She is alarmed, and has gone into our bedroom.”“I hope you are not alarmed at my presence,” said the Intendant, looking earnestly at the two girls. “It is my duty which obliges me to pay this visit; but you have nothing to fear. Now, Edward Armitage, you must produce all the boxes and packages which you took from the cottage.”“I will, sir,” replied Edward, “and here are the keys. Humphrey, do you and Pablo bring them out.”The boxes were brought out, opened, and examined by the Intendant and his clerk, but of course no papers were found in them.“I must now send in two of my people to search the house,” said the Intendant. “Had you not better go to the little girl, that she may not be frightened?”“I will go to her,” said Alice.Two of the people, assisted by the clerk, then searched the house; they found nothing worthy of notice, except the weapons and armour which Edward had removed, and which he stated to the Intendant that he took away as valuable property belonging to the little girl.“It is sufficient,” said the Intendant to his clerk—“undoubtedly there are no papers; but I must, before I go, interrogate this child, who has been removed thus; but she will be frightened, and I shall obtain no answer from her if we are so many, so let everybody leave the cottage while I speak to her.”The clerk and the others left the cottage, and the Intendant desired Edward to bring Clara from the bedroom. She came out, accompanied by and indeed clinging to Alice, for she was much alarmed.“Come here, Clara,” said the Intendant gently; “you do not know perhaps that I am your sincere friend; and now that your father is dead, I want you to come and live with my daughter, who will be delighted to have you as a companion. Will you go with me? And I will take care of you and be a father to you.”“I do not like to leave Alice and Edith; they treat me so kindly, and call me sister,” replied Clara, sobbing.“I am sure they do, and you must be fond of them already; but still it is your duty to come with me; and if your father could speak to you now he would tell you so. I will not force you away, but remember, you are born a lady, and must be brought up and educated as a lady, which cannot be the case in this cottage, although they are very kind to you, and very nice young people. You do not recollect me, Clara, but you have often sat on my knee when you were a little girl, and when your father lived in Dorsetshire. You recollect the great walnut-tree by the sitting-room window, which looked out in the garden, don’t you?”“Yes,” replied Clara, with surprise.“Yes, so do I too, and how you used to sit on my knee; and do you remember Jason, the big mastiff, and how you used to ride upon his back?”“Yes,” replied Clara, “I do; but he died a long while ago.”“He did, when you were not more than six years old. And now tell me, where did the old gardener bury him?”“Under the mulberry-tree,” replied Clara.“Yes, so he did, and I was there when poor Jason was buried. You don’t recollect me. But I will take off my hat, for I did not wear the same dress that I do now. Now look, Clara, and see if you remember me.”Clara, who was no longer alarmed, looked on the Intendant’s face, and then said, “You called my father Philip, and he used to call you Charles.”“You are right, my sweet one,” replied the Intendant pressing Clara to his bosom; “I did so, and we were great friends. Now, will you come with me? And I have a little girl, older than you by three or four years, who will be your companion and love you dearly.”“May I come and see Alice and Edith sometimes?”“Yes, you shall; and she will come with you and make their acquaintance, if their brother will permit it. I will not take you away now, dearest; you shall remain here for a few days, and then we will come over and fetch you. I will send Oswald Partridge over to let you know the day, Edward Armitage, when we will come for her. Good-bye, dear Clara, and good-bye, my little girls. Humphrey Armitage, good-bye. Who is this lad you have there?”“He is a gipsy whom Humphrey trapped in his pit-fall, sir, and we have soon tamed him,” replied Edward.“Well, then, Edward Armitage, good-bye,” said the Intendant, extending his hand to him; “we must meet soon again.”The Intendant then went out of the cottage, and joined his people outside. Edward went out after him; and as the Intendant mounted his horse, he said very coldly to Edward, “I shall keep a sharp look-out on your proceedings, sir, depend upon it; I tell you so decidedly, so fare you well.”With these words the Intendant put the spurs to his horse, and rode away.“What made him speak so sharply to you, Edward?” said Humphrey.“Because he means kindly, but does not want other people to know it,” replied Edward. “Come in, Humphrey; I have much to tell you and much to surprise you with.”“I have been surprised already,” replied Humphrey. “How did this Roundhead know Clara’s father so well?”“I will explain all before we go to bed,” replied Edward; “let us go in now.”The two brothers had a long conversation that evening, in which Edward made Humphrey acquainted with all that had passed between him and the Intendant.“It’s my opinion, Edward,” said Humphrey, “that he thinks matters have been carried too far, and that he is sorry that he belongs to the Parliamentary party. He finds out, now that it is too late, that he has allied himself with those who have very different feelings and motives than his own, and has assisted to put power into the hands of those who have not the scruples which he has.”“Yes; and in ridding themselves of one tyranny, as they considered it, they have every prospect of falling into the hands of a greater tyrant than before; for, depend upon it, Cromwell will assume the sovereign power, and rule this kingdom with a rod of iron.”“Well, many more are, I have no doubt, or soon will be, of his opinion; and the time will come, be it sooner or later, when the king will have his own again. They have proclaimed him in Scotland already. Why does he not come over and show himself? His presence would, I think, induce thousands to flock to him,—I’m sure that it would me.”“I am very glad of this good intelligence with the Intendant, Edward, as it will not now be necessary for us to be so careful; we may go and come when we please. I almost wish you could be persuaded to accept any eligible offer he may make you. Many no doubt are in office, and serving the present government, who have the same feelings as the Intendant, or even feelings as strong as your own.”“I cannot bear the idea of accepting anything from them or their instruments, Humphrey; nor, indeed, could I leave my sisters.”“On that score you may make your mind easy;—Pablo and I are quite sufficient for the farm, or anything else we may want to do. If you can be more useful elsewhere, have no scruple in leaving us. If the king was to come over and raise an army, you would leave us, of course; and I see no reason why, if an eligible offer is made you, you should not do it now. You and your talents are thrown away in this forest, and you might serve the king and the king’s cause better by going into the world and watching the times than you ever can by killing his venison.”“Certainly,” replied Edward, laughing, “I do not much help his cause by killing his deer, that must be admitted; all I shall say is this,—if anything is offered to me which I can accept without injury to my feelings and my honour, I shall not decline it, provided that I may, by accepting it, prove of service to the king’s cause.”“That is all I wish, Edward. And now I think we had better go to bed.”The next day they dug up the iron chest and the box into which Humphrey had put all the papers he had collected together. Edward opened the iron chest, and found in it a considerable quantity of gold in bags, and many trinkets and jewels which he did not know the value of. The papers he did not open, but resolved that they should be given to the Intendant, for Edward felt that he could trust in him. The other boxes and trunks were also opened and examined, and many other articles of apparent value discovered.“I should think all these jewels worth a great deal of money, Humphrey,” said Edward; “if so, all the better for poor little Clara. I am sorry to part with her, although we have known her so short a time; she appears to be such an amiable and affectionate child.”“That she is; and certainly the handsomest little girl I ever saw. What beautiful eyes! Do you know that on one of her journeys to Lymington she was very nearly taken by a party of gipsies? And by what Pablo can make out, it would appear that it was by the party which he belonged to.”“I wonder at her father’s permitting her to go alone such a distance.”“Her father could not do otherwise. Necessity has no law. He could trust no other person, so he put her in boy’s clothes that there might be less risk. Still, she must have been very intelligent to have done the office.”“She is thirteen years old, although she is small,” replied Edward. “And intelligent she certainly is, as you may see by her countenance. Who would ever have imagined that our sisters would have been able to do what they are doing now? It’s an old saying, ‘We never know what we can do till we try.’ By the bye, Humphrey, I met a famous herd of forest ponies the other day, and I said to myself, ‘I wonder whether Humphrey will be clever enough to take one of them, as he has the wild cattle? For Billy is getting old, and we want a successor.’”“We want more than a successor to Billy, Edward, we want two more to help him—and I have the means of maintaining two more ponies if I could catch them.”“I fear that you will never manage that, Humphrey,” said Edward, laughing.“I know well what you mean,” replied Humphrey: “you wish to dare me to it—well, I won’t be dared to anything, and I most certainly will try to catch a pony or two; but I must think about it first, and when I have arranged my plan in my mind I will then make the attempt.”“When I see the ponies in the yard I will believe it, Humphrey. They are as wild as deer and as fleet as the wind, and you cannot catch them in a pit-fall.”“I know that, good brother; but all I can say is, that I will try what I can do, and I can do no more—but not at present, for I am too busy.”Three days after this conversation Oswald Partridge made his appearance, having been sent by the Intendant to tell Edward that he should come over on the following day to take away little Clara.“And how is she to go?” said Edward.“He will bring a little nag for her, if she can ride—if she cannot, she must ride in the cart which will come for the baggage.”“Clara, can you ride a horse?”“Yes,” replied Clara, “if it does not jump about too much. I always rode one when I lived in Dorsetshire.”“This won’t jump about, my little lady,” said Oswald, “for he is thirty years old, I believe, and as steady as an old gentleman ought to be.”“I have had some conversation with Master Heatherstone,” continued Oswald to Edward. “He is much pleased with you, I can tell you. He said, that in times like these he required young men like you about him; and that as you would not take the berth of verderer, he must find one better suited for you, for he said you were too good for such an office.”“Many thanks to him for his good opinion,” replied Edward; “but I do not think that he has any office in his gift which I can accept.”“So I thought, but I said nothing. He again asked many questions relative to old Jacob Armitage, and he pressed me very hard. He said that Humphrey was as much above his position in appearance as you were; but as he was brought up at Arnwood he presumed that he had had the same advantages. And then he said—‘But were his two sisters brought up at Arnwood also?’ I replied that I believed not, although they were often there, and were allowed to play with the children of the house. He looked at me steadfastly, as if he would read my thoughts, and then went on writing. I cannot help thinking that he has a suspicion that you are not the grandchildren of old Jacob; but at the same time I do not think that he has an idea who you really are.”“You must keep our secret, Oswald,” replied Edward. “I have a very good opinion of the Intendant, I acknowledge; but I will trust nobody.”“As I hope for future mercy, sir, I never will divulge it until you bid me,” replied Oswald.“I trust to you, Oswald, and so there’s an end of the matter. But, tell me, Oswald, what do they say about his taking charge of this little girl?”“Why, they did begin to talk about it; but when he gave out that it was the order of Parliament that the child should remain with him until further directions, of course they said nothing, for they dared not. It seems that the Ratcliffe property is sequestrated, but not yet granted to any one; and the Parliament will most likely, as soon as she is old enough, give her as a wife, with the property, to one of their party,—they have done it before now, as it secures the property under all changes.”“I perceive,” replied Edward. “When did you hear that the little girl was to live with him?”“Not till yesterday morning; and it was not till the evening that we knew it was the order of Parliament.”Edward did not think it right to tell Oswald what he knew, as it was a secret confided to him by the Intendant, and therefore merely observed, “I presumed that the child would not be left on our hands;” and then the conversation dropped.As Oswald had informed them, the Intendant made his appearance in the forenoon of the following day, and was accompanied by his daughter, who rode by his side. A groom, on another horse, led a pony for Clara to ride; and a cart for the luggage followed at some distance. Edward went out to assist Miss Heatherstone to dismount, and she frankly extended her hand to him as she reached the ground. Edward was a little surprised as well as pleased at this condescension on her part towards a forester.“You do me much honour, Mistress Patience,” said he, bowing.“I cannot forget that I owe my life to you, Master Armitage,” replied Patience, “and I cannot be too grateful. May I request another favour of you?”“Certainly, if it is in my power to do as you wish.”“It is this,” said she, in a low voice: “that you will not hastily reject any overtures which may be made to you by my father; that is all. And now let me go in and see your sisters, for my father has praised them very much, and I wish to know them.”Edward led the way into the cottage, and Patience followed him, while the intendant was in conversation with Humphrey. Edward, having introduced his sisters and Clara, then went out to pay his respects to the Intendant, who, now they were alone, was very candid towards both him and Humphrey.Edward then told the Intendant that there was an iron chest with a good deal of money in it, and jewels also, and many other articles of value in the other boxes.“I fear, sir, that the cart will hardly hold all the goods.”“I do not intend to take away the heavy or more bulky articles, such as the bedding, armour, etc. I will only take Clara’s own packages, and the valuables and papers. The remainder may stay here, as they can be of no use, till they are demanded from you. Where is Oswald Partridge?”“In the stable with the horses, sir,” replied Humphrey.“Then, when the cart is loaded—and it had better be done by you while the men are in the stable—Oswald shall take charge of it, and take the things to my house.”“Here are the keys, sir,” said Edward, presenting them.“Good. And now, Edward Armitage, that we are alone, I want to have a little conversation with you. You are aware how much I feel indebted to you for the service you have rendered me, and how anxious I am to show my gratitude. You are born for better things than to remain an obscure forester, and perhaps a deer-stalker. I have now an offer to make to you, which I trust, upon reflection, you will not refuse—and I say reflection, because I do not wish you to give an answer till you have well reflected. I know that you will not accept anything under the present government, but a private situation you can raise no objection to; the more so as, so far from leaving your family, you will be more in a position to protect them. I am in want of a secretary, and I wish you to accept that office, to live entirely in my house, and to receive a handsome salary for your services, which will not, I trust, be too heavy. You will be near to your family here in the cottage, and be able to protect them and assist them; and what is more, you will mix with the world and know what is going on, as I am in the confidence of the government. Of course I put implicit confidence in you, or I would not offer the situation. But you will not be always down here: I have my correspondents and friends, to whom I shall have to send you occasionally on most trusty commissions. You, I am sure, will suit me in every respect, and I hope you will undertake the post which I now offer you. Give me no answer just now; consult with your brother, and give the offer due consideration, and when you have made up your mind you can let me know.”Edward bowed; and the Intendant went into the cottage.Edward then assisted Humphrey and Pablo to get the iron chest on the cart, and covered it with the other packages and boxes, till the cart was well loaded. Leaving Pablo in charge till Oswald came from the stables, Edward and Humphrey then went into the cottage, where they found a very social party; Patience Heatherstone having succeeded in making great friends with the other three girls, and the Intendant, to Edward’s surprise, laughing and joking with them. Alice and Edith had brought out some milk, biscuits, and all the fruit that was ripe, with some bread, a piece of cold salt beef, and a ham: and they were eating as well as talking.“I have been praising your sisters’ housekeeping, Armitage,” said the Intendant. “Your farm appears to be very productive.”“Alice expected Miss Heatherstone, sir,” replied Edward, “and made an unusual provision. You must not think that we live on such fare every day.”“No,” replied the Intendant drily; “on other days I daresay you have other fare. I would almost make a bet that there is a pasty in the cupboard which you dare not show to the Intendant of the New Forest.”“You are mistaken, sir, for once,” replied Humphrey. “Alice knows well how to make one, but she has not one just now.”“Well, I must believe you, Master Humphrey,” replied the Intendant. “And now, my dear child, we must think of going, for it is a long ride, and the little girl is not used to a horse.”“Mistress Alice, many thanks for your hospitality; and now, farewell. Edith, good-bye, dear. Now, Clara, are you quite ready?”They all went out of the cottage. The Intendant put Clara on the pony, after she had kissed Alice and Edith. Edward assisted Patience; and when she was mounted she said—“I hope you will accept my father’s offer—you will oblige me so much if you do.”“I will give it every consideration it deserves,” replied Edward. “Indeed, it will depend more upon my brother than myself whether I accept it or not.”“Your brother is a very sensible young man, sir, therefore I have hopes,” replied Patience.“A quality which it appears you do not give me credit for, Miss Heatherstone.”“Not when pride or vindictive feelings obtain the mastery,” replied she.“Perhaps you will find that I am not quite so proud, or bear such ill-will, as I did when I first saw your father, Miss Heatherstone; and some allowance should be made, even if I did show such feelings, when you consider that I was brought up at Arnwood.”“True—most true, Master Armitage. I had no right to speak so boldly, especially to you, who risked your own life to save the daughter of one of those Roundheads who treated the family of your protector so cruelly. You must forgive me; and now, farewell!”Edward bowed, and then turned to the Intendant, who had apparently been waiting while the conversation was going on. The Intendant bade him a cordial farewell; Edward shook Clara by the hand, and the cavalcade set off. They all remained outside of the cottage till the party were at some distance, and then Edward walked apart with Humphrey, to communicate to him the offer made by the Intendant, and ask his opinion.“My opinion is made up, Edward; which is, that you should accept it immediately. You are under no obligation to the government, and you have already conferred such an obligation upon the Intendant that you have a right to expect a return. Why stay here, when you can safely mix with the world and know how things are going on? I do not require your assistance, now that I have Pablo, who is more useful every day. Do not lose such an opportunity of making a friend for yourself and all of us—a protector, I may say; and who is, by what he has confided to you, anything but approving of the conduct of the present government. He has paid you a deserved compliment by saying that he can and will trust you. You must not refuse the offer, Edward—it would really be folly if you did.”“I believe you are right, Humphrey; but I have been so accustomed to range the forest—I am so fond of the chase—I am so impatient of control or confinement, that I hardly know how to decide. A secretary’s life is anything but pleasing to me, sitting at a table writing and reading all day long. The pen is but a poor exchange for the long-barrelled gun.”“It does more execution, nevertheless,” replied Humphrey, “if what I have read is true. But you are not to suppose that your life will be such a sedentary one. Did he not say that he would have to trust you with missions of importance? Will you not, by going to London and other places, and mixing with people of importance, be preparing yourself for your proper station in life, which I trust that one day you will resume? And does it follow that because you are appointed a secretary you are not to go out in the forest and shoot a deer with Oswald, if you feel inclined—with this difference, that you may do it then without fear of being insulted or persecuted by such a wretch as that Corbould? Do not hesitate any longer, my dear brother; recollect that our sisters ought not to live this forest life as they advance in years—they were not born for it, although they have so well conformed to it. It depends upon you to release them eventually from their false position; and you can never have such an opening as is now offered you, by one whose gratitude alone will make him anxious to serve you.”“You are right, Humphrey, and I will accept the offer; I can but return to you if things do not go on well.”“I thank you sincerely for your decision, Edward,” replied Humphrey. “What a sweet girl that Patience Heatherstone is!—I think I never saw such an enchanting smile!”Edward thought of the smile she gave him when they parted but an hour ago, and agreed with Humphrey, but he replied—“Why, brother, you are really in love with the Intendant’s daughter.”“Not so, my dear fellow; but I am in love with her goodness and sweetness of disposition, and so are Alice and Edith, I can tell you. She has promised to come over and see them, and bring them flowers for their garden, and I hardly know what; and I am very glad of it, as my sisters have been buried here so long that they cannot but gain by her company now and then. No! I will leave Mistress Heatherstone for you; I am in love with little Clara.”“Not a bad choice, Humphrey: we both aspire high, for two young foresters, do we not? However, they say ‘Every dog has his day,’ and Cromwell and his parliament may have theirs. King Charles may be on his throne again now, long before—you catch a forest pony, Humphrey.”“I hope he will, Edward: but recollect how you laughed at the idea of my catching a cow—you may be surprised a second time. ‘Where there is a will there is a way,’ the saying is. But I must go and help Alice with the heifer; she is not very quiet yet, and I see her going out with her pail.”The brothers then parted, and Edward walked about, turning over in his mind the events of the day, and very often finding his thoughts broken in upon by sudden visions of Patience Heatherstone—and certainly the remembrance of her was to him the most satisfactory and pleasing portion of the prospect in his offered situation.“I shall live with her, and be continually in her company,” thought he. “Well, I would take a less pleasing office if only for that. She requested me to accept it to oblige her, and I will do so. How hasty we are in our conclusions! When I first saw her father, what an aversion I felt for him! Now, the more I know him, the more I like him, nay, more—respect him. He said that the king wished to be absolute, and wrest the liberties from his subjects, and that they were justified in opposing him; I never heard that when at Arnwood.”“If so, was it lawful so to do?”“I think it was, but not to murder him; that I can never admit, nor does the Intendant: on the contrary, he holds his murderers in as great detestation as I do. Why, then, we do not think far apart from one another. At the commencement, the two parties were—those who supported him, not admitting that he was right, but too loyal to refuse to fight for their king—and those who opposed, hoping to force him to do right; the king for his supposed prerogatives, the people for their liberties. The king was obstinate, the people resolute, until virulent warfare inflamed both parties, and neither would listen to reason; and the people gained the upper hand, they wreaked their vengeance, instead of looking to the dictates of humanity and justice. How easy it had been to have deposed him, and have sent him beyond the seas! Instead of which they detained him a prisoner and then murdered him. The punishment was greater than the offence, and dictated by malice and revenge; it was a diabolical act, and will soil the page of our nation’s history.” So thought Edward, as he paced before the cottage, until he was summoned in by Pablo to their evening meal.

Humphrey came out as soon as he perceived the Intendant and his party approaching, and whispered to Edward that all was safe. The Intendant dismounted, and ordering everybody but his clerk to wait outside, was ushered into the cottage by Edward. Alice, Edith, and Pablo were in the room; the two girls were not a little flushed and frightened by the unusual appearance of so large a body of strangers.

“These are my sisters, sir,” said Edward. “Where is Clara, Alice?”

“She is alarmed, and has gone into our bedroom.”

“I hope you are not alarmed at my presence,” said the Intendant, looking earnestly at the two girls. “It is my duty which obliges me to pay this visit; but you have nothing to fear. Now, Edward Armitage, you must produce all the boxes and packages which you took from the cottage.”

“I will, sir,” replied Edward, “and here are the keys. Humphrey, do you and Pablo bring them out.”

The boxes were brought out, opened, and examined by the Intendant and his clerk, but of course no papers were found in them.

“I must now send in two of my people to search the house,” said the Intendant. “Had you not better go to the little girl, that she may not be frightened?”

“I will go to her,” said Alice.

Two of the people, assisted by the clerk, then searched the house; they found nothing worthy of notice, except the weapons and armour which Edward had removed, and which he stated to the Intendant that he took away as valuable property belonging to the little girl.

“It is sufficient,” said the Intendant to his clerk—“undoubtedly there are no papers; but I must, before I go, interrogate this child, who has been removed thus; but she will be frightened, and I shall obtain no answer from her if we are so many, so let everybody leave the cottage while I speak to her.”

The clerk and the others left the cottage, and the Intendant desired Edward to bring Clara from the bedroom. She came out, accompanied by and indeed clinging to Alice, for she was much alarmed.

“Come here, Clara,” said the Intendant gently; “you do not know perhaps that I am your sincere friend; and now that your father is dead, I want you to come and live with my daughter, who will be delighted to have you as a companion. Will you go with me? And I will take care of you and be a father to you.”

“I do not like to leave Alice and Edith; they treat me so kindly, and call me sister,” replied Clara, sobbing.

“I am sure they do, and you must be fond of them already; but still it is your duty to come with me; and if your father could speak to you now he would tell you so. I will not force you away, but remember, you are born a lady, and must be brought up and educated as a lady, which cannot be the case in this cottage, although they are very kind to you, and very nice young people. You do not recollect me, Clara, but you have often sat on my knee when you were a little girl, and when your father lived in Dorsetshire. You recollect the great walnut-tree by the sitting-room window, which looked out in the garden, don’t you?”

“Yes,” replied Clara, with surprise.

“Yes, so do I too, and how you used to sit on my knee; and do you remember Jason, the big mastiff, and how you used to ride upon his back?”

“Yes,” replied Clara, “I do; but he died a long while ago.”

“He did, when you were not more than six years old. And now tell me, where did the old gardener bury him?”

“Under the mulberry-tree,” replied Clara.

“Yes, so he did, and I was there when poor Jason was buried. You don’t recollect me. But I will take off my hat, for I did not wear the same dress that I do now. Now look, Clara, and see if you remember me.”

Clara, who was no longer alarmed, looked on the Intendant’s face, and then said, “You called my father Philip, and he used to call you Charles.”

“You are right, my sweet one,” replied the Intendant pressing Clara to his bosom; “I did so, and we were great friends. Now, will you come with me? And I have a little girl, older than you by three or four years, who will be your companion and love you dearly.”

“May I come and see Alice and Edith sometimes?”

“Yes, you shall; and she will come with you and make their acquaintance, if their brother will permit it. I will not take you away now, dearest; you shall remain here for a few days, and then we will come over and fetch you. I will send Oswald Partridge over to let you know the day, Edward Armitage, when we will come for her. Good-bye, dear Clara, and good-bye, my little girls. Humphrey Armitage, good-bye. Who is this lad you have there?”

“He is a gipsy whom Humphrey trapped in his pit-fall, sir, and we have soon tamed him,” replied Edward.

“Well, then, Edward Armitage, good-bye,” said the Intendant, extending his hand to him; “we must meet soon again.”

The Intendant then went out of the cottage, and joined his people outside. Edward went out after him; and as the Intendant mounted his horse, he said very coldly to Edward, “I shall keep a sharp look-out on your proceedings, sir, depend upon it; I tell you so decidedly, so fare you well.”

With these words the Intendant put the spurs to his horse, and rode away.

“What made him speak so sharply to you, Edward?” said Humphrey.

“Because he means kindly, but does not want other people to know it,” replied Edward. “Come in, Humphrey; I have much to tell you and much to surprise you with.”

“I have been surprised already,” replied Humphrey. “How did this Roundhead know Clara’s father so well?”

“I will explain all before we go to bed,” replied Edward; “let us go in now.”

The two brothers had a long conversation that evening, in which Edward made Humphrey acquainted with all that had passed between him and the Intendant.

“It’s my opinion, Edward,” said Humphrey, “that he thinks matters have been carried too far, and that he is sorry that he belongs to the Parliamentary party. He finds out, now that it is too late, that he has allied himself with those who have very different feelings and motives than his own, and has assisted to put power into the hands of those who have not the scruples which he has.”

“Yes; and in ridding themselves of one tyranny, as they considered it, they have every prospect of falling into the hands of a greater tyrant than before; for, depend upon it, Cromwell will assume the sovereign power, and rule this kingdom with a rod of iron.”

“Well, many more are, I have no doubt, or soon will be, of his opinion; and the time will come, be it sooner or later, when the king will have his own again. They have proclaimed him in Scotland already. Why does he not come over and show himself? His presence would, I think, induce thousands to flock to him,—I’m sure that it would me.”

“I am very glad of this good intelligence with the Intendant, Edward, as it will not now be necessary for us to be so careful; we may go and come when we please. I almost wish you could be persuaded to accept any eligible offer he may make you. Many no doubt are in office, and serving the present government, who have the same feelings as the Intendant, or even feelings as strong as your own.”

“I cannot bear the idea of accepting anything from them or their instruments, Humphrey; nor, indeed, could I leave my sisters.”

“On that score you may make your mind easy;—Pablo and I are quite sufficient for the farm, or anything else we may want to do. If you can be more useful elsewhere, have no scruple in leaving us. If the king was to come over and raise an army, you would leave us, of course; and I see no reason why, if an eligible offer is made you, you should not do it now. You and your talents are thrown away in this forest, and you might serve the king and the king’s cause better by going into the world and watching the times than you ever can by killing his venison.”

“Certainly,” replied Edward, laughing, “I do not much help his cause by killing his deer, that must be admitted; all I shall say is this,—if anything is offered to me which I can accept without injury to my feelings and my honour, I shall not decline it, provided that I may, by accepting it, prove of service to the king’s cause.”

“That is all I wish, Edward. And now I think we had better go to bed.”

The next day they dug up the iron chest and the box into which Humphrey had put all the papers he had collected together. Edward opened the iron chest, and found in it a considerable quantity of gold in bags, and many trinkets and jewels which he did not know the value of. The papers he did not open, but resolved that they should be given to the Intendant, for Edward felt that he could trust in him. The other boxes and trunks were also opened and examined, and many other articles of apparent value discovered.

“I should think all these jewels worth a great deal of money, Humphrey,” said Edward; “if so, all the better for poor little Clara. I am sorry to part with her, although we have known her so short a time; she appears to be such an amiable and affectionate child.”

“That she is; and certainly the handsomest little girl I ever saw. What beautiful eyes! Do you know that on one of her journeys to Lymington she was very nearly taken by a party of gipsies? And by what Pablo can make out, it would appear that it was by the party which he belonged to.”

“I wonder at her father’s permitting her to go alone such a distance.”

“Her father could not do otherwise. Necessity has no law. He could trust no other person, so he put her in boy’s clothes that there might be less risk. Still, she must have been very intelligent to have done the office.”

“She is thirteen years old, although she is small,” replied Edward. “And intelligent she certainly is, as you may see by her countenance. Who would ever have imagined that our sisters would have been able to do what they are doing now? It’s an old saying, ‘We never know what we can do till we try.’ By the bye, Humphrey, I met a famous herd of forest ponies the other day, and I said to myself, ‘I wonder whether Humphrey will be clever enough to take one of them, as he has the wild cattle? For Billy is getting old, and we want a successor.’”

“We want more than a successor to Billy, Edward, we want two more to help him—and I have the means of maintaining two more ponies if I could catch them.”

“I fear that you will never manage that, Humphrey,” said Edward, laughing.

“I know well what you mean,” replied Humphrey: “you wish to dare me to it—well, I won’t be dared to anything, and I most certainly will try to catch a pony or two; but I must think about it first, and when I have arranged my plan in my mind I will then make the attempt.”

“When I see the ponies in the yard I will believe it, Humphrey. They are as wild as deer and as fleet as the wind, and you cannot catch them in a pit-fall.”

“I know that, good brother; but all I can say is, that I will try what I can do, and I can do no more—but not at present, for I am too busy.”

Three days after this conversation Oswald Partridge made his appearance, having been sent by the Intendant to tell Edward that he should come over on the following day to take away little Clara.

“And how is she to go?” said Edward.

“He will bring a little nag for her, if she can ride—if she cannot, she must ride in the cart which will come for the baggage.”

“Clara, can you ride a horse?”

“Yes,” replied Clara, “if it does not jump about too much. I always rode one when I lived in Dorsetshire.”

“This won’t jump about, my little lady,” said Oswald, “for he is thirty years old, I believe, and as steady as an old gentleman ought to be.”

“I have had some conversation with Master Heatherstone,” continued Oswald to Edward. “He is much pleased with you, I can tell you. He said, that in times like these he required young men like you about him; and that as you would not take the berth of verderer, he must find one better suited for you, for he said you were too good for such an office.”

“Many thanks to him for his good opinion,” replied Edward; “but I do not think that he has any office in his gift which I can accept.”

“So I thought, but I said nothing. He again asked many questions relative to old Jacob Armitage, and he pressed me very hard. He said that Humphrey was as much above his position in appearance as you were; but as he was brought up at Arnwood he presumed that he had had the same advantages. And then he said—‘But were his two sisters brought up at Arnwood also?’ I replied that I believed not, although they were often there, and were allowed to play with the children of the house. He looked at me steadfastly, as if he would read my thoughts, and then went on writing. I cannot help thinking that he has a suspicion that you are not the grandchildren of old Jacob; but at the same time I do not think that he has an idea who you really are.”

“You must keep our secret, Oswald,” replied Edward. “I have a very good opinion of the Intendant, I acknowledge; but I will trust nobody.”

“As I hope for future mercy, sir, I never will divulge it until you bid me,” replied Oswald.

“I trust to you, Oswald, and so there’s an end of the matter. But, tell me, Oswald, what do they say about his taking charge of this little girl?”

“Why, they did begin to talk about it; but when he gave out that it was the order of Parliament that the child should remain with him until further directions, of course they said nothing, for they dared not. It seems that the Ratcliffe property is sequestrated, but not yet granted to any one; and the Parliament will most likely, as soon as she is old enough, give her as a wife, with the property, to one of their party,—they have done it before now, as it secures the property under all changes.”

“I perceive,” replied Edward. “When did you hear that the little girl was to live with him?”

“Not till yesterday morning; and it was not till the evening that we knew it was the order of Parliament.”

Edward did not think it right to tell Oswald what he knew, as it was a secret confided to him by the Intendant, and therefore merely observed, “I presumed that the child would not be left on our hands;” and then the conversation dropped.

As Oswald had informed them, the Intendant made his appearance in the forenoon of the following day, and was accompanied by his daughter, who rode by his side. A groom, on another horse, led a pony for Clara to ride; and a cart for the luggage followed at some distance. Edward went out to assist Miss Heatherstone to dismount, and she frankly extended her hand to him as she reached the ground. Edward was a little surprised as well as pleased at this condescension on her part towards a forester.

“You do me much honour, Mistress Patience,” said he, bowing.

“I cannot forget that I owe my life to you, Master Armitage,” replied Patience, “and I cannot be too grateful. May I request another favour of you?”

“Certainly, if it is in my power to do as you wish.”

“It is this,” said she, in a low voice: “that you will not hastily reject any overtures which may be made to you by my father; that is all. And now let me go in and see your sisters, for my father has praised them very much, and I wish to know them.”

Edward led the way into the cottage, and Patience followed him, while the intendant was in conversation with Humphrey. Edward, having introduced his sisters and Clara, then went out to pay his respects to the Intendant, who, now they were alone, was very candid towards both him and Humphrey.

Edward then told the Intendant that there was an iron chest with a good deal of money in it, and jewels also, and many other articles of value in the other boxes.

“I fear, sir, that the cart will hardly hold all the goods.”

“I do not intend to take away the heavy or more bulky articles, such as the bedding, armour, etc. I will only take Clara’s own packages, and the valuables and papers. The remainder may stay here, as they can be of no use, till they are demanded from you. Where is Oswald Partridge?”

“In the stable with the horses, sir,” replied Humphrey.

“Then, when the cart is loaded—and it had better be done by you while the men are in the stable—Oswald shall take charge of it, and take the things to my house.”

“Here are the keys, sir,” said Edward, presenting them.

“Good. And now, Edward Armitage, that we are alone, I want to have a little conversation with you. You are aware how much I feel indebted to you for the service you have rendered me, and how anxious I am to show my gratitude. You are born for better things than to remain an obscure forester, and perhaps a deer-stalker. I have now an offer to make to you, which I trust, upon reflection, you will not refuse—and I say reflection, because I do not wish you to give an answer till you have well reflected. I know that you will not accept anything under the present government, but a private situation you can raise no objection to; the more so as, so far from leaving your family, you will be more in a position to protect them. I am in want of a secretary, and I wish you to accept that office, to live entirely in my house, and to receive a handsome salary for your services, which will not, I trust, be too heavy. You will be near to your family here in the cottage, and be able to protect them and assist them; and what is more, you will mix with the world and know what is going on, as I am in the confidence of the government. Of course I put implicit confidence in you, or I would not offer the situation. But you will not be always down here: I have my correspondents and friends, to whom I shall have to send you occasionally on most trusty commissions. You, I am sure, will suit me in every respect, and I hope you will undertake the post which I now offer you. Give me no answer just now; consult with your brother, and give the offer due consideration, and when you have made up your mind you can let me know.”

Edward bowed; and the Intendant went into the cottage.

Edward then assisted Humphrey and Pablo to get the iron chest on the cart, and covered it with the other packages and boxes, till the cart was well loaded. Leaving Pablo in charge till Oswald came from the stables, Edward and Humphrey then went into the cottage, where they found a very social party; Patience Heatherstone having succeeded in making great friends with the other three girls, and the Intendant, to Edward’s surprise, laughing and joking with them. Alice and Edith had brought out some milk, biscuits, and all the fruit that was ripe, with some bread, a piece of cold salt beef, and a ham: and they were eating as well as talking.

“I have been praising your sisters’ housekeeping, Armitage,” said the Intendant. “Your farm appears to be very productive.”

“Alice expected Miss Heatherstone, sir,” replied Edward, “and made an unusual provision. You must not think that we live on such fare every day.”

“No,” replied the Intendant drily; “on other days I daresay you have other fare. I would almost make a bet that there is a pasty in the cupboard which you dare not show to the Intendant of the New Forest.”

“You are mistaken, sir, for once,” replied Humphrey. “Alice knows well how to make one, but she has not one just now.”

“Well, I must believe you, Master Humphrey,” replied the Intendant. “And now, my dear child, we must think of going, for it is a long ride, and the little girl is not used to a horse.”

“Mistress Alice, many thanks for your hospitality; and now, farewell. Edith, good-bye, dear. Now, Clara, are you quite ready?”

They all went out of the cottage. The Intendant put Clara on the pony, after she had kissed Alice and Edith. Edward assisted Patience; and when she was mounted she said—

“I hope you will accept my father’s offer—you will oblige me so much if you do.”

“I will give it every consideration it deserves,” replied Edward. “Indeed, it will depend more upon my brother than myself whether I accept it or not.”

“Your brother is a very sensible young man, sir, therefore I have hopes,” replied Patience.

“A quality which it appears you do not give me credit for, Miss Heatherstone.”

“Not when pride or vindictive feelings obtain the mastery,” replied she.

“Perhaps you will find that I am not quite so proud, or bear such ill-will, as I did when I first saw your father, Miss Heatherstone; and some allowance should be made, even if I did show such feelings, when you consider that I was brought up at Arnwood.”

“True—most true, Master Armitage. I had no right to speak so boldly, especially to you, who risked your own life to save the daughter of one of those Roundheads who treated the family of your protector so cruelly. You must forgive me; and now, farewell!”

Edward bowed, and then turned to the Intendant, who had apparently been waiting while the conversation was going on. The Intendant bade him a cordial farewell; Edward shook Clara by the hand, and the cavalcade set off. They all remained outside of the cottage till the party were at some distance, and then Edward walked apart with Humphrey, to communicate to him the offer made by the Intendant, and ask his opinion.

“My opinion is made up, Edward; which is, that you should accept it immediately. You are under no obligation to the government, and you have already conferred such an obligation upon the Intendant that you have a right to expect a return. Why stay here, when you can safely mix with the world and know how things are going on? I do not require your assistance, now that I have Pablo, who is more useful every day. Do not lose such an opportunity of making a friend for yourself and all of us—a protector, I may say; and who is, by what he has confided to you, anything but approving of the conduct of the present government. He has paid you a deserved compliment by saying that he can and will trust you. You must not refuse the offer, Edward—it would really be folly if you did.”

“I believe you are right, Humphrey; but I have been so accustomed to range the forest—I am so fond of the chase—I am so impatient of control or confinement, that I hardly know how to decide. A secretary’s life is anything but pleasing to me, sitting at a table writing and reading all day long. The pen is but a poor exchange for the long-barrelled gun.”

“It does more execution, nevertheless,” replied Humphrey, “if what I have read is true. But you are not to suppose that your life will be such a sedentary one. Did he not say that he would have to trust you with missions of importance? Will you not, by going to London and other places, and mixing with people of importance, be preparing yourself for your proper station in life, which I trust that one day you will resume? And does it follow that because you are appointed a secretary you are not to go out in the forest and shoot a deer with Oswald, if you feel inclined—with this difference, that you may do it then without fear of being insulted or persecuted by such a wretch as that Corbould? Do not hesitate any longer, my dear brother; recollect that our sisters ought not to live this forest life as they advance in years—they were not born for it, although they have so well conformed to it. It depends upon you to release them eventually from their false position; and you can never have such an opening as is now offered you, by one whose gratitude alone will make him anxious to serve you.”

“You are right, Humphrey, and I will accept the offer; I can but return to you if things do not go on well.”

“I thank you sincerely for your decision, Edward,” replied Humphrey. “What a sweet girl that Patience Heatherstone is!—I think I never saw such an enchanting smile!”

Edward thought of the smile she gave him when they parted but an hour ago, and agreed with Humphrey, but he replied—

“Why, brother, you are really in love with the Intendant’s daughter.”

“Not so, my dear fellow; but I am in love with her goodness and sweetness of disposition, and so are Alice and Edith, I can tell you. She has promised to come over and see them, and bring them flowers for their garden, and I hardly know what; and I am very glad of it, as my sisters have been buried here so long that they cannot but gain by her company now and then. No! I will leave Mistress Heatherstone for you; I am in love with little Clara.”

“Not a bad choice, Humphrey: we both aspire high, for two young foresters, do we not? However, they say ‘Every dog has his day,’ and Cromwell and his parliament may have theirs. King Charles may be on his throne again now, long before—you catch a forest pony, Humphrey.”

“I hope he will, Edward: but recollect how you laughed at the idea of my catching a cow—you may be surprised a second time. ‘Where there is a will there is a way,’ the saying is. But I must go and help Alice with the heifer; she is not very quiet yet, and I see her going out with her pail.”

The brothers then parted, and Edward walked about, turning over in his mind the events of the day, and very often finding his thoughts broken in upon by sudden visions of Patience Heatherstone—and certainly the remembrance of her was to him the most satisfactory and pleasing portion of the prospect in his offered situation.

“I shall live with her, and be continually in her company,” thought he. “Well, I would take a less pleasing office if only for that. She requested me to accept it to oblige her, and I will do so. How hasty we are in our conclusions! When I first saw her father, what an aversion I felt for him! Now, the more I know him, the more I like him, nay, more—respect him. He said that the king wished to be absolute, and wrest the liberties from his subjects, and that they were justified in opposing him; I never heard that when at Arnwood.”

“If so, was it lawful so to do?”

“I think it was, but not to murder him; that I can never admit, nor does the Intendant: on the contrary, he holds his murderers in as great detestation as I do. Why, then, we do not think far apart from one another. At the commencement, the two parties were—those who supported him, not admitting that he was right, but too loyal to refuse to fight for their king—and those who opposed, hoping to force him to do right; the king for his supposed prerogatives, the people for their liberties. The king was obstinate, the people resolute, until virulent warfare inflamed both parties, and neither would listen to reason; and the people gained the upper hand, they wreaked their vengeance, instead of looking to the dictates of humanity and justice. How easy it had been to have deposed him, and have sent him beyond the seas! Instead of which they detained him a prisoner and then murdered him. The punishment was greater than the offence, and dictated by malice and revenge; it was a diabolical act, and will soil the page of our nation’s history.” So thought Edward, as he paced before the cottage, until he was summoned in by Pablo to their evening meal.

Chapter Eighteen.“Edward,” said Edith, “scold Pablo; he has been ill-treating my poor cat; he is a cruel boy.” Pablo laughed. “See, Edward, he’s laughing: put him in the pit-fall again, and let him stay there till he says he is sorry.”“I very sorry now Missy Edith, but cat bite me,” said Pablo.“Well, if pussy did, it didn’t hurt you much; and what did I tell you this morning out of the Bible?—that you must forgive them who behave ill to you.”“Yes, Missy Edith, you tell me all that, and so I do; I forgive pussy ’cause she bite me, but I kick her for it.”“That’s not forgiveness, is it, Edward? You should have forgiven it at once, and not kicked it at all.”“Miss Edith, when pussy bite me, pussy hurt me, make me angry, and I give her a kick; then I think what you tell me, and I do as you tell me. I forgive pussy with all my heart.”“I think you must forgive Pablo, Edith,” said Edward, “if it is only to set him a good example.”“Well, I will this time; but if he kicks pussy again, he must be put in the pit-fall—mind that, Pablo.”“Yes, Missy Edith, I go into pit-fall, and then you cry, and ask Master Edward to take me out. When you have me put in pit-fall then you not good Christian, ’cause you not forgive; when you cry and take me out, then you good Christian once more.”By this conversation it will appear to the reader that they had been trying to impress Pablo with the principles of the Christian religion—and such was the case; Edith having been one of the most active in the endeavour, although very young for a missionary. However, Alice and Humphrey had been more successful, and Pablo was now beginning to comprehend what they had attempted to instil, and was really progressing every day.Edward remained at the cottage, expecting to hear some message from the Intendant. He was right in his conjecture, for, on the third day, Oswald Partridge came ever to say that the Intendant would be happy to see him, if he could make it convenient to go over; which Edward assented to do on the following day. Oswald had ridden over on a pony: Edward arranged to take Billy and return with him. They started early the next morning, and Edward asked Oswald if he knew why the Intendant had sent for him.“Not exactly,” replied Oswald; “but I think, from what I heard Miss Patience say, it is to offer you some situation, if you could be prevailed upon to accept it.”“Very true,” replied Edward; “he offers me the post of secretary. What do you think?”“Why, sir, I think I would accept it; at all events, I would take it on trial—there can be no harm done: if you do not like it you can only go back to the cottage again. One thing I am sure of, which is, that Master Heatherstone will make it as pleasant to you as he can, for he is most anxious to serve you.”“That I really believe,” replied Edward; “and I have, pretty well, made up my mind to accept the office. It is a post of confidence, and I shall know all that is going on, which I cannot do while I am secluded in the forest; and depend upon it, we shall have stirring news.”“I suppose you think that the king will come over?” replied Oswald.“I feel certain of it, Oswald; and that is the reason why I want to be where I can know all that is going on.”“Well, sir, it is my opinion that the king will come over, as well as yours; yet I think at present he stands but a poor chance; Master Heatherstone knows more on that score than any one, I should think; but he is very close.”The conversation then changed, and after a ride of eight hours they arrived at the Intendant’s house. Edward gave Billy into Oswald’s charge, and knocked at the door. Phoebe let him in, and asked him into the sitting-room, where he found the Intendant alone.“Edward Armitage, I am glad to see you; and shall be still more so if I find that you have made up your mind to accept my proposition. What is your reply?”“I am very thankful to you for the offer, sir,” replied Edward; “and will accept it if you think that I am fitted for it, and if I find that I am equal to it: I can but give it a trial, and leave if I find it too arduous or too irksome.”“Too arduous it shall not be—that shall be my concern; and too irksome I hope you will not find it. My letters are not so many but that I could answer them myself, were it not that my eyes are getting weak, and I wish to save them as much as possible. You will therefore have to write chiefly what I shall dictate; but it is not only for that I require a person that I can confide in. I very often shall send you to London instead of going myself, and to that I presume you will have no objection?”“Certainly none, sir.”“Well, then, it is no use saying any more just now; you will have a chamber in this house, and you will live with me, and at my table altogether. Neither shall I say anything just now about remuneration, as I am convinced that you will be satisfied. All that I require now, is to know the day that you will come, that everything may be ready.”“I suppose, sir, I must change my attire?” replied Edward, looking at his forester’s dress; “that will hardly accord with the office of secretary.”“I agree with you that it will be better to keep that dress for your forest excursions, as I presume you will not altogether abandon them,” replied the Intendant. “You can provide yourself with a suit at Lymington. I will furnish you the means.”“I thank you, sir, I have means, much more than sufficient,” replied Edward, “although not quite so wealthy as little Clara appeared to be.”“Wealthy, indeed!” replied the Intendant. “I had no idea that poor Ratcliffe possessed so much ready money and jewels. Well, then, this is Wednesday; can you come over next Monday?”“Yes, sir,” replied Edward, “I see no reason to the contrary.”“Well, then, that is settled, and I suppose you would like to see your accommodation. Patience and Clara are in the next room. You can join them, and you will make my daughter very happy by telling her that you are to become a resident with us. You will of course dine with us to-day, and sleep here to-night.”Mr Heatherstone then opened the door, and saying to his daughter, “Patience, my dear, I leave you to entertain Edward Armitage till dinner-time,” he ushered Edward in, and closed the door again. Clara ran up to Edward as soon as he went in; and having kissed him, Edward then took Patience’s offered hand.“Then you have consented?” said Patience inquiringly.“Yes, I could not refuse such kindness,” replied Edward.“And when do you come?”“On Monday night, if I can be ready by that time.”“Why, what have you to get ready?” said Clara.“I must not appear in a forester’s dress, my little Clara. I can wear that with a gun in my hand, but not with a pen: so I must go to Lymington and see what a tailor can do for me.”“You will feel as strange in a secretary’s dress as I did in boys’ clothes,” said Clara.“Perhaps I may,” said Edward; although he felt that such would not be the case, having been accustomed to much better clothes when at Arnwood than what were usually worn by secretaries; and this remembrance brought back Arnwood in its train, and Edward became silent and pensive.Patience observed it, and after a time said—“You will be able to watch over your sisters, Mr Armitage, as well here, almost, as if you were at the cottage. You do not return till to-morrow? How did you come over?”“I rode the pony Billy, Mistress Patience.”“Why do you call her Mistress Patience, Edward?” said Clara. “You call me Clara: why not call her Patience?”“You forget that I am only a forester, Clara,” replied Edward, with a grave smile.“No, you are a secretarynow,” replied Clara.“Mistress Patience is older than you by several years. I call you Clara, because you are but a little girl; but I must not take that liberty with Mistress Heatherstone.”“Do you think so, Patience?” said Clara.“I certainly do not think that it would be a liberty in a person, after being well acquainted with me, to call me Patience,” replied she; “especially when that person lives in the house with us, eats and associates with us as one of the family, and is received on an equality; but I daresay, Clara, that Master Armitage will be guided by his own feelings, and act as he considers to be proper.”“But you give him leave, and then it is proper,” replied Clara.“Yes, if he gave himself leave, Clara,” said Patience. “But we will now show him his own room, Clara,” continued Patience, wishing to change the subject of conversation.“Will you follow us, sir?” said Patience, with a little mock ceremony.Edward did so without replying, and was ushered into a large airy room, very neatly furnished.“This is your future lodging,” said Patience; “I hope you will like it.”“Why, he never saw anything like it before,” said Clara.“Yes I have, Clara,” replied Edward.“Where did you?”“At Arnwood; the apartments were on a much larger scale.”“Arnwood! Oh yes, I have heard my father speak of it,” said Clara, with the tears starting in her eyes at his memory. “Yes, it was burnt down, and all the children burnt to death!”“So they say, Clara; but I was not there when it was burnt.”“Where were you then?”“I was at the cottage where I now live.” Edward turned round to Patience, and perceived that her eyes were fixed upon him, as if she would have read his thoughts. Edward smiled, and said—“Do you doubt what I say?”“No, indeed!” said she, “I have no doubt that you were at the cottage at the time; but I was thinking that if the apartments at Arnwood were more splendid, those at your cottage are less comfortable. You have been used to better and to worse, and therefore will, I trust, be content with these.”“I trust I have shown no signs of discontent. I should indeed be difficult to please, if an apartment like this did not suit me. Besides, allow me to observe, that although I stated that the apartments at Arnwood were on a grander scale, I never said that I had ever been a possessor of one of them.”Patience smiled and made no reply.“Now that you know your way to your apartment, Master Armitage, we will, if you please, go back to the sitting-room,” said she. As they were going back into the sitting-room she said—“When you come over on Monday, you will, I presume, bring your clothes in a cart? I ask it, because I promised some flowers and other things to your sisters, which I can send back by the cart.”“You are very kind to think of them, Mistress Patience,” replied Edward; “they are fond of flowers, and will be much pleased with possessing any.”“You sleep here to-night, I think my father said?” inquired Patience.“He did make the proposal, and I shall gladly avail myself of it, as I am not to trust to Phoebe’s ideas of comfort this time,” said Edward, smiling.“Yes, that was a cross action of Phoebe’s; and I can tell you, Master Armitage, that she is ashamed to look you in the face ever since; but how fortunate for me that she was cross, and turned you out as she did! You must forgive her, as she was the means of your performing a noble action; and I must forgive her, as she was the means of my life being saved.”“I have no feeling except kindness towards Phoebe,” replied Edward; “indeed I ought to feel grateful to her! For if she had not given me so bad a bed that night, I never should have been so comfortably lodged as it is proposed that I shall be now.”“I hope you are hungry, Edward,” said Clara; “dinner is almost ready.”“I daresay I shall eat more than you do, Clara.”“So you ought, a great big man like you. How old are you, Edward?” said Clara; “I am thirteen; Patience is past sixteen: now how old are you?”“I am not yet eighteen, Clara; so that I can hardly be called a man.”“Why, you are as tall as Mr Heatherstone.”“Yes, I believe I am.”“And can’t you do everything that a man can do?”“I really don’t know; but I certainly shall always try so to do.”“Well, then, you must be a man.”“Clara, if it pleases you, I will be a man.”“Here comes Mr Heatherstone, so I know dinner is ready; is it not, sir?”“Yes, my child, it is,” replied Mr Heatherstone, kissing Clara; “so let us all go in.”Mr Heatherstone, as was usual at that time with the people to whose party he ostensibly belonged, said a grace before meat, of considerable length, and then they sat down to table. As soon as the repast was over Mr Heatherstone returned to his study, and Edward went out to find Oswald Partridge, with whom he remained the larger portion of the afternoon, going to the kennel and examining the dogs, and talking of matters connected with the chase.“I have not two men that can stalk a deer,” observed Oswald; “the men appointed here as verderers and keepers have not one of them been brought up to the business. Most of them are men who have been in the army, and I believe have been appointed to these situations to get rid of them, because they were troublesome; and they are anything but good characters; the consequence is, that we kill but few deer, for I have so much to attend to here, as none of them know their duties, that I can seldom take my own gun out. I stated so to the Intendant, and he said, that if you accepted an offer he had made you, and came over here, we should not want venison; so it is clear that he does not expect you to have your pen always in your hand.”“I am glad to hear that,” replied Edward; “depend upon it his own table, at all events, shall be well supplied. Is not that the fellow Corbould, who is leaning against the wall?”“Yes; he is to be discharged, as he cannot walk well, and the surgeon says he will always limp. He owes you a grudge, and I am glad that he is going away, for he is a dangerous man. But the sun is setting, Mr Edward, and supper will soon be on the table; you had better go back to the house.”Edward bade Oswald farewell, and returned to the Intendant’s, and found that Oswald was correct, as supper was being placed on the table.Soon after supper, Phoebe and the men-servants were summoned, and prayers offered up by the Intendant; after which Patience and Clara retired. Edward remained in conversation with the Intendant for about an hour, and then was conducted by him to his room, which had already been shown to him by Patience.Edward did not sleep much that night. The novelty of his situation—the novelty of his prospects, and his speculations thereon, kept him awake till near morning; he was, however, up in good time, and having assisted at the morning prayers, and afterwards eaten a most substantial breakfast, he took his leave of the Intendant and the two girls, and set off on his return to the cottage, having renewed his promise of coming on the following Monday to take up his abode with them. Billy was fresh, and cantered gaily along, so that Edward was back early in the afternoon, and once more welcomed by his household. He stated to Humphrey all that had occurred, and Humphrey was much pleased at Edward having accepted the offer of the Intendant. Alice and Edith did not quite so much approve of it, and a few tears were shed at the idea of Edward leaving the cottage. The next day, Edward and Humphrey set off for Lymington, with Billy in the cart.“Do you know, Edward,” said Humphrey, “what I am going to try and purchase? I will tell you—as many kids as I can, or goats and kids, I don’t care which.”“Why, have you not stock enough, already? You will this year have four cows in milk, and you have two cow calves bringing up.”“That is very true, but I do not intend to have goats for their milk, but simply for eating in lieu of mutton. Sheep I cannot manage, but goats, with a little hay in winter, will do well, and will find themselves in the forest all the year round. I won’t kill any of the females for the first year or two, and after that I expect we shall have a flock sufficient to meet any demand upon it.”“It is not a bad idea, Humphrey; they will always come home, if you have hay for them during the winter.”“Yes, and a large shed for them to lie in when the snow is on the ground.”“Now I recollect, when we used to go to Lymington, I saw a great many goats, and I have no doubt that they are to be purchased. I will soon ascertain that for you, from the landlord of the hostelrie,” replied Edward.“We will drive there first, as I must ask him to recommend me a tailor.”On their arrival at Lymington, they went straight to the hostelrie, and found the landlord at home. He recommended a tailor to Edward, who sent for him to the inn, and was measured by him for a plain suit of dark cloth. Edward and Humphrey then went out, as Edward had to procure boots, and many other articles of dress to correspond with the one which he was about to assume.“I am most puzzled about a hat, Humphrey,” said Edward: “I hate those steeple-crowned hats, worn by the Roundheads; yet the hat and feather is not proper for a secretary.”“I would advise you to submit to wear the steeple-crowned hats, nevertheless,” said Humphrey. “Your dress, as I consider, is a sort of disgrace to a cavalier born, and the heir of Arnwood; why not, therefore, take its hat as well? As secretary to the Intendant, you should dress like him; if not, you may occasion remarks, especially when you travel on his concerns.”“You are right, Humphrey, I must not do things by halves; and unless I wear the hat I might be suspected.”“I doubt if the Intendant wears it for any other reason,” said Humphrey.“At all events, I will not go to the height of the fashion,” replied Edward, laughing. “Some of the hats are not quite so tall as the others.”“Here is the shop for the hat and for the sword-belt.”Edward chose a hat and a plain sword-belt, paid for them, and desired the man to carry them to the hostelrie.While all these purchases on the part of Edward, and many others by Humphrey, such as nails, saws, tools, and various articles which Alice required for the household, were being gathered together, the landlord had sent out to inquire for the goats, and found out at what price they were to be procured. Humphrey left Edward to put away their goods into the cart, while he went out a second time, to see the goats; with the man who had them for sale he made an agreement for a male and three females with two kids each at their sides, and ten more female kids which had just been weaned. The man engaged to drive them from Lymington, as far as the road went into the forest, on the following day; when Humphrey would meet him, pay him his money, and drive them to the cottage, which would only be three miles from the place agreed upon. Having settled that satisfactorily, he returned to Edward, who was all ready, and they returned home.“We have dipped somewhat into the bag to-day, Edward,” said Humphrey; “but the money is well spent.”“I think so, Humphrey, but I have no doubt that I shall be able to replace the money very soon, as the Intendant will pay me for my services. The tailor has promised the clothes on Saturday without fail; so that you or I must go for them.”“I will go, Edward; my sisters will wish you to stay with them now, as you are so soon to leave them; and I will take Pablo with me, that he may know his way to the town; and I will show him where to buy things, in case he goes there by himself.”“It appears to me to have been a most fortunate thing your having caught Pablo as you did, Humphrey, for I do not well know how I could have left you if you had not.”“At all events I can do much better without you than I should have done,” replied Humphrey; “although I think now that I could get on by myself; but still, Edward, you know we cannot tell what a day may bring forth, and I might fall sick, or something happen which might prevent my attending to anything; and then, without you or Pablo, everything might have gone to wrack and ruin. Certainly, when we think how we were left, by the death of old Jacob, to our own resources, we have much to thank God for in having got on so well.”“I agree with you, and also that it has pleased Heaven to grant us all such good health. However, I shall be close at hand if you want me, and Oswald will always call and see how you get on.”“I hope you will manage that he calls once a week.”“I will if I can, Humphrey, for I shall be just as anxious as you are to know if all goes on well. Indeed, I shall insist upon coming over to you once a fortnight; and I hardly think the Intendant will refuse me—indeed I am sure that he will not.”“So am I,” replied Humphrey. “I am certain that he wishes us all well, and has, in a measure, taken us under his protection; but, Edward, recollect, I shall never kill any venison after this, and so you may tell the Intendant.”“I will, and that will be an excuse for him to send some over, if he pleases. Indeed, as I know I shall be permitted to go out with Oswald, it will be hard if a stray buck does not find its way to the cottage.”Thus did they continue talking over matters till they arrived at the cottage. Alice came out to them, saying to Humphrey—“Well, Humphrey, have you brought my geese and ducks?”Humphrey had forgotten them, but he replied, “You must wait till I go to Lymington again on Saturday, Alice, and then I hope to bring them with me. As it is, look how poor Billy is loaded. Where’s Pablo?”“In the garden. He has been working there all day, and Edith is with him.”“Well then we will unload the cart, while you get us something to eat, Alice, for we are not a little hungry, I can tell you.”“I have some rabbit stew on the fire, Humphrey, all ready for you, and you will find it very good.”“Nothing I like better, my dear girl. Pablo won’t thank me for bringing this home,” continued Humphrey, taking the long saw out of the cart; “he will have to go to the bottom of the pit again, as soon as the pit is made.”The cart was soon unloaded, Billy taken out and turned out to feed, and then they went in to supper.Humphrey was off the next morning, with Pablo, at an early hour, to meet the farmer of whom he had purchased the goats and kids. He found them punctual to the time, at the place agreed upon; and being satisfied with the lot, paid the farmer his money and drove them home through the forest.“Goat very good, kid better; always eat kid in Spain,” said Pablo.“Were you born in Spain, Pablo?”“Not sure, but I think so. First recollect myself in that country.”“Do you recollect your father?”“No; never see him.”“Did your mother never talk about him?”“Call her mother, but think no mother at all. Custom with Gitanas.”“Why did you call her mother?”“’Cause she feed me when little, beat me when I get big.”“All mothers do that. What made you come to England?”“I don’t know, but I hear people say, Plenty of money in England—plenty to eat—plenty to drink; bring plenty money back to Spain.”“How long have you been in England?”“One, two, three year; yes, three year and a bit.”“Which did you like best, England or Spain?”“When with my people, like Spain best; warm sun—warm night. England, little sun, cold night, much rain, snow, and air always cold; but now I live with you, have warm bed, plenty victuals, like England best.”“But when you were with the gipsies, they stole everything, did they not?”“Not steal everything,” replied Pablo, laughing, “sometimes take and no pay when nobody there; farmer look very sharp—have big dog.”“Did you ever go out to steal?”“Make me go out. Not bring back something, beat me very hard; suppose farmer catch me, beat hard too nothing but beat, beat, beat.”“Then they obliged you to steal?”“Suppose bring nothing home, first beat, and then not have to eat for one, two, three days. How you like that, Master Humphrey? I think you steal after no victuals for three days?”“I should hope not,” replied Humphrey, “although I have never been so severely punished; and I hope, Pablo, you will never steal any more.”“Why steal any more?” replied Pablo. “I not like to steal; but because hungry I steal. Now I never hungry, always have plenty to eat; no one beat me now; sleep warm all night. Why I steal, then? No, Master Humphrey, I never steal more, ’cause I have no reason why, and ’cause Missy Alice and Missy Edith tell me how the good God up there say must not steal.”“I am glad to hear you give that as a reason, Pablo,” replied Humphrey, “as it proves that my sisters have not been teaching you in vain.”“Like to hear Missy Alice talk; she talk grave. Missy Edith talk too, but she laugh very much; very fond Missy Edith, very happy little girl; jump about just like one of these kids we drive home; always merry. Hah! See cottage now; soon get home, Massa Humphrey. Missy Edith like see kids very much. Where we put them?”

“Edward,” said Edith, “scold Pablo; he has been ill-treating my poor cat; he is a cruel boy.” Pablo laughed. “See, Edward, he’s laughing: put him in the pit-fall again, and let him stay there till he says he is sorry.”

“I very sorry now Missy Edith, but cat bite me,” said Pablo.

“Well, if pussy did, it didn’t hurt you much; and what did I tell you this morning out of the Bible?—that you must forgive them who behave ill to you.”

“Yes, Missy Edith, you tell me all that, and so I do; I forgive pussy ’cause she bite me, but I kick her for it.”

“That’s not forgiveness, is it, Edward? You should have forgiven it at once, and not kicked it at all.”

“Miss Edith, when pussy bite me, pussy hurt me, make me angry, and I give her a kick; then I think what you tell me, and I do as you tell me. I forgive pussy with all my heart.”

“I think you must forgive Pablo, Edith,” said Edward, “if it is only to set him a good example.”

“Well, I will this time; but if he kicks pussy again, he must be put in the pit-fall—mind that, Pablo.”

“Yes, Missy Edith, I go into pit-fall, and then you cry, and ask Master Edward to take me out. When you have me put in pit-fall then you not good Christian, ’cause you not forgive; when you cry and take me out, then you good Christian once more.”

By this conversation it will appear to the reader that they had been trying to impress Pablo with the principles of the Christian religion—and such was the case; Edith having been one of the most active in the endeavour, although very young for a missionary. However, Alice and Humphrey had been more successful, and Pablo was now beginning to comprehend what they had attempted to instil, and was really progressing every day.

Edward remained at the cottage, expecting to hear some message from the Intendant. He was right in his conjecture, for, on the third day, Oswald Partridge came ever to say that the Intendant would be happy to see him, if he could make it convenient to go over; which Edward assented to do on the following day. Oswald had ridden over on a pony: Edward arranged to take Billy and return with him. They started early the next morning, and Edward asked Oswald if he knew why the Intendant had sent for him.

“Not exactly,” replied Oswald; “but I think, from what I heard Miss Patience say, it is to offer you some situation, if you could be prevailed upon to accept it.”

“Very true,” replied Edward; “he offers me the post of secretary. What do you think?”

“Why, sir, I think I would accept it; at all events, I would take it on trial—there can be no harm done: if you do not like it you can only go back to the cottage again. One thing I am sure of, which is, that Master Heatherstone will make it as pleasant to you as he can, for he is most anxious to serve you.”

“That I really believe,” replied Edward; “and I have, pretty well, made up my mind to accept the office. It is a post of confidence, and I shall know all that is going on, which I cannot do while I am secluded in the forest; and depend upon it, we shall have stirring news.”

“I suppose you think that the king will come over?” replied Oswald.

“I feel certain of it, Oswald; and that is the reason why I want to be where I can know all that is going on.”

“Well, sir, it is my opinion that the king will come over, as well as yours; yet I think at present he stands but a poor chance; Master Heatherstone knows more on that score than any one, I should think; but he is very close.”

The conversation then changed, and after a ride of eight hours they arrived at the Intendant’s house. Edward gave Billy into Oswald’s charge, and knocked at the door. Phoebe let him in, and asked him into the sitting-room, where he found the Intendant alone.

“Edward Armitage, I am glad to see you; and shall be still more so if I find that you have made up your mind to accept my proposition. What is your reply?”

“I am very thankful to you for the offer, sir,” replied Edward; “and will accept it if you think that I am fitted for it, and if I find that I am equal to it: I can but give it a trial, and leave if I find it too arduous or too irksome.”

“Too arduous it shall not be—that shall be my concern; and too irksome I hope you will not find it. My letters are not so many but that I could answer them myself, were it not that my eyes are getting weak, and I wish to save them as much as possible. You will therefore have to write chiefly what I shall dictate; but it is not only for that I require a person that I can confide in. I very often shall send you to London instead of going myself, and to that I presume you will have no objection?”

“Certainly none, sir.”

“Well, then, it is no use saying any more just now; you will have a chamber in this house, and you will live with me, and at my table altogether. Neither shall I say anything just now about remuneration, as I am convinced that you will be satisfied. All that I require now, is to know the day that you will come, that everything may be ready.”

“I suppose, sir, I must change my attire?” replied Edward, looking at his forester’s dress; “that will hardly accord with the office of secretary.”

“I agree with you that it will be better to keep that dress for your forest excursions, as I presume you will not altogether abandon them,” replied the Intendant. “You can provide yourself with a suit at Lymington. I will furnish you the means.”

“I thank you, sir, I have means, much more than sufficient,” replied Edward, “although not quite so wealthy as little Clara appeared to be.”

“Wealthy, indeed!” replied the Intendant. “I had no idea that poor Ratcliffe possessed so much ready money and jewels. Well, then, this is Wednesday; can you come over next Monday?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Edward, “I see no reason to the contrary.”

“Well, then, that is settled, and I suppose you would like to see your accommodation. Patience and Clara are in the next room. You can join them, and you will make my daughter very happy by telling her that you are to become a resident with us. You will of course dine with us to-day, and sleep here to-night.”

Mr Heatherstone then opened the door, and saying to his daughter, “Patience, my dear, I leave you to entertain Edward Armitage till dinner-time,” he ushered Edward in, and closed the door again. Clara ran up to Edward as soon as he went in; and having kissed him, Edward then took Patience’s offered hand.

“Then you have consented?” said Patience inquiringly.

“Yes, I could not refuse such kindness,” replied Edward.

“And when do you come?”

“On Monday night, if I can be ready by that time.”

“Why, what have you to get ready?” said Clara.

“I must not appear in a forester’s dress, my little Clara. I can wear that with a gun in my hand, but not with a pen: so I must go to Lymington and see what a tailor can do for me.”

“You will feel as strange in a secretary’s dress as I did in boys’ clothes,” said Clara.

“Perhaps I may,” said Edward; although he felt that such would not be the case, having been accustomed to much better clothes when at Arnwood than what were usually worn by secretaries; and this remembrance brought back Arnwood in its train, and Edward became silent and pensive.

Patience observed it, and after a time said—“You will be able to watch over your sisters, Mr Armitage, as well here, almost, as if you were at the cottage. You do not return till to-morrow? How did you come over?”

“I rode the pony Billy, Mistress Patience.”

“Why do you call her Mistress Patience, Edward?” said Clara. “You call me Clara: why not call her Patience?”

“You forget that I am only a forester, Clara,” replied Edward, with a grave smile.

“No, you are a secretarynow,” replied Clara.

“Mistress Patience is older than you by several years. I call you Clara, because you are but a little girl; but I must not take that liberty with Mistress Heatherstone.”

“Do you think so, Patience?” said Clara.

“I certainly do not think that it would be a liberty in a person, after being well acquainted with me, to call me Patience,” replied she; “especially when that person lives in the house with us, eats and associates with us as one of the family, and is received on an equality; but I daresay, Clara, that Master Armitage will be guided by his own feelings, and act as he considers to be proper.”

“But you give him leave, and then it is proper,” replied Clara.

“Yes, if he gave himself leave, Clara,” said Patience. “But we will now show him his own room, Clara,” continued Patience, wishing to change the subject of conversation.

“Will you follow us, sir?” said Patience, with a little mock ceremony.

Edward did so without replying, and was ushered into a large airy room, very neatly furnished.

“This is your future lodging,” said Patience; “I hope you will like it.”

“Why, he never saw anything like it before,” said Clara.

“Yes I have, Clara,” replied Edward.

“Where did you?”

“At Arnwood; the apartments were on a much larger scale.”

“Arnwood! Oh yes, I have heard my father speak of it,” said Clara, with the tears starting in her eyes at his memory. “Yes, it was burnt down, and all the children burnt to death!”

“So they say, Clara; but I was not there when it was burnt.”

“Where were you then?”

“I was at the cottage where I now live.” Edward turned round to Patience, and perceived that her eyes were fixed upon him, as if she would have read his thoughts. Edward smiled, and said—

“Do you doubt what I say?”

“No, indeed!” said she, “I have no doubt that you were at the cottage at the time; but I was thinking that if the apartments at Arnwood were more splendid, those at your cottage are less comfortable. You have been used to better and to worse, and therefore will, I trust, be content with these.”

“I trust I have shown no signs of discontent. I should indeed be difficult to please, if an apartment like this did not suit me. Besides, allow me to observe, that although I stated that the apartments at Arnwood were on a grander scale, I never said that I had ever been a possessor of one of them.”

Patience smiled and made no reply.

“Now that you know your way to your apartment, Master Armitage, we will, if you please, go back to the sitting-room,” said she. As they were going back into the sitting-room she said—“When you come over on Monday, you will, I presume, bring your clothes in a cart? I ask it, because I promised some flowers and other things to your sisters, which I can send back by the cart.”

“You are very kind to think of them, Mistress Patience,” replied Edward; “they are fond of flowers, and will be much pleased with possessing any.”

“You sleep here to-night, I think my father said?” inquired Patience.

“He did make the proposal, and I shall gladly avail myself of it, as I am not to trust to Phoebe’s ideas of comfort this time,” said Edward, smiling.

“Yes, that was a cross action of Phoebe’s; and I can tell you, Master Armitage, that she is ashamed to look you in the face ever since; but how fortunate for me that she was cross, and turned you out as she did! You must forgive her, as she was the means of your performing a noble action; and I must forgive her, as she was the means of my life being saved.”

“I have no feeling except kindness towards Phoebe,” replied Edward; “indeed I ought to feel grateful to her! For if she had not given me so bad a bed that night, I never should have been so comfortably lodged as it is proposed that I shall be now.”

“I hope you are hungry, Edward,” said Clara; “dinner is almost ready.”

“I daresay I shall eat more than you do, Clara.”

“So you ought, a great big man like you. How old are you, Edward?” said Clara; “I am thirteen; Patience is past sixteen: now how old are you?”

“I am not yet eighteen, Clara; so that I can hardly be called a man.”

“Why, you are as tall as Mr Heatherstone.”

“Yes, I believe I am.”

“And can’t you do everything that a man can do?”

“I really don’t know; but I certainly shall always try so to do.”

“Well, then, you must be a man.”

“Clara, if it pleases you, I will be a man.”

“Here comes Mr Heatherstone, so I know dinner is ready; is it not, sir?”

“Yes, my child, it is,” replied Mr Heatherstone, kissing Clara; “so let us all go in.”

Mr Heatherstone, as was usual at that time with the people to whose party he ostensibly belonged, said a grace before meat, of considerable length, and then they sat down to table. As soon as the repast was over Mr Heatherstone returned to his study, and Edward went out to find Oswald Partridge, with whom he remained the larger portion of the afternoon, going to the kennel and examining the dogs, and talking of matters connected with the chase.

“I have not two men that can stalk a deer,” observed Oswald; “the men appointed here as verderers and keepers have not one of them been brought up to the business. Most of them are men who have been in the army, and I believe have been appointed to these situations to get rid of them, because they were troublesome; and they are anything but good characters; the consequence is, that we kill but few deer, for I have so much to attend to here, as none of them know their duties, that I can seldom take my own gun out. I stated so to the Intendant, and he said, that if you accepted an offer he had made you, and came over here, we should not want venison; so it is clear that he does not expect you to have your pen always in your hand.”

“I am glad to hear that,” replied Edward; “depend upon it his own table, at all events, shall be well supplied. Is not that the fellow Corbould, who is leaning against the wall?”

“Yes; he is to be discharged, as he cannot walk well, and the surgeon says he will always limp. He owes you a grudge, and I am glad that he is going away, for he is a dangerous man. But the sun is setting, Mr Edward, and supper will soon be on the table; you had better go back to the house.”

Edward bade Oswald farewell, and returned to the Intendant’s, and found that Oswald was correct, as supper was being placed on the table.

Soon after supper, Phoebe and the men-servants were summoned, and prayers offered up by the Intendant; after which Patience and Clara retired. Edward remained in conversation with the Intendant for about an hour, and then was conducted by him to his room, which had already been shown to him by Patience.

Edward did not sleep much that night. The novelty of his situation—the novelty of his prospects, and his speculations thereon, kept him awake till near morning; he was, however, up in good time, and having assisted at the morning prayers, and afterwards eaten a most substantial breakfast, he took his leave of the Intendant and the two girls, and set off on his return to the cottage, having renewed his promise of coming on the following Monday to take up his abode with them. Billy was fresh, and cantered gaily along, so that Edward was back early in the afternoon, and once more welcomed by his household. He stated to Humphrey all that had occurred, and Humphrey was much pleased at Edward having accepted the offer of the Intendant. Alice and Edith did not quite so much approve of it, and a few tears were shed at the idea of Edward leaving the cottage. The next day, Edward and Humphrey set off for Lymington, with Billy in the cart.

“Do you know, Edward,” said Humphrey, “what I am going to try and purchase? I will tell you—as many kids as I can, or goats and kids, I don’t care which.”

“Why, have you not stock enough, already? You will this year have four cows in milk, and you have two cow calves bringing up.”

“That is very true, but I do not intend to have goats for their milk, but simply for eating in lieu of mutton. Sheep I cannot manage, but goats, with a little hay in winter, will do well, and will find themselves in the forest all the year round. I won’t kill any of the females for the first year or two, and after that I expect we shall have a flock sufficient to meet any demand upon it.”

“It is not a bad idea, Humphrey; they will always come home, if you have hay for them during the winter.”

“Yes, and a large shed for them to lie in when the snow is on the ground.”

“Now I recollect, when we used to go to Lymington, I saw a great many goats, and I have no doubt that they are to be purchased. I will soon ascertain that for you, from the landlord of the hostelrie,” replied Edward.

“We will drive there first, as I must ask him to recommend me a tailor.”

On their arrival at Lymington, they went straight to the hostelrie, and found the landlord at home. He recommended a tailor to Edward, who sent for him to the inn, and was measured by him for a plain suit of dark cloth. Edward and Humphrey then went out, as Edward had to procure boots, and many other articles of dress to correspond with the one which he was about to assume.

“I am most puzzled about a hat, Humphrey,” said Edward: “I hate those steeple-crowned hats, worn by the Roundheads; yet the hat and feather is not proper for a secretary.”

“I would advise you to submit to wear the steeple-crowned hats, nevertheless,” said Humphrey. “Your dress, as I consider, is a sort of disgrace to a cavalier born, and the heir of Arnwood; why not, therefore, take its hat as well? As secretary to the Intendant, you should dress like him; if not, you may occasion remarks, especially when you travel on his concerns.”

“You are right, Humphrey, I must not do things by halves; and unless I wear the hat I might be suspected.”

“I doubt if the Intendant wears it for any other reason,” said Humphrey.

“At all events, I will not go to the height of the fashion,” replied Edward, laughing. “Some of the hats are not quite so tall as the others.”

“Here is the shop for the hat and for the sword-belt.”

Edward chose a hat and a plain sword-belt, paid for them, and desired the man to carry them to the hostelrie.

While all these purchases on the part of Edward, and many others by Humphrey, such as nails, saws, tools, and various articles which Alice required for the household, were being gathered together, the landlord had sent out to inquire for the goats, and found out at what price they were to be procured. Humphrey left Edward to put away their goods into the cart, while he went out a second time, to see the goats; with the man who had them for sale he made an agreement for a male and three females with two kids each at their sides, and ten more female kids which had just been weaned. The man engaged to drive them from Lymington, as far as the road went into the forest, on the following day; when Humphrey would meet him, pay him his money, and drive them to the cottage, which would only be three miles from the place agreed upon. Having settled that satisfactorily, he returned to Edward, who was all ready, and they returned home.

“We have dipped somewhat into the bag to-day, Edward,” said Humphrey; “but the money is well spent.”

“I think so, Humphrey, but I have no doubt that I shall be able to replace the money very soon, as the Intendant will pay me for my services. The tailor has promised the clothes on Saturday without fail; so that you or I must go for them.”

“I will go, Edward; my sisters will wish you to stay with them now, as you are so soon to leave them; and I will take Pablo with me, that he may know his way to the town; and I will show him where to buy things, in case he goes there by himself.”

“It appears to me to have been a most fortunate thing your having caught Pablo as you did, Humphrey, for I do not well know how I could have left you if you had not.”

“At all events I can do much better without you than I should have done,” replied Humphrey; “although I think now that I could get on by myself; but still, Edward, you know we cannot tell what a day may bring forth, and I might fall sick, or something happen which might prevent my attending to anything; and then, without you or Pablo, everything might have gone to wrack and ruin. Certainly, when we think how we were left, by the death of old Jacob, to our own resources, we have much to thank God for in having got on so well.”

“I agree with you, and also that it has pleased Heaven to grant us all such good health. However, I shall be close at hand if you want me, and Oswald will always call and see how you get on.”

“I hope you will manage that he calls once a week.”

“I will if I can, Humphrey, for I shall be just as anxious as you are to know if all goes on well. Indeed, I shall insist upon coming over to you once a fortnight; and I hardly think the Intendant will refuse me—indeed I am sure that he will not.”

“So am I,” replied Humphrey. “I am certain that he wishes us all well, and has, in a measure, taken us under his protection; but, Edward, recollect, I shall never kill any venison after this, and so you may tell the Intendant.”

“I will, and that will be an excuse for him to send some over, if he pleases. Indeed, as I know I shall be permitted to go out with Oswald, it will be hard if a stray buck does not find its way to the cottage.”

Thus did they continue talking over matters till they arrived at the cottage. Alice came out to them, saying to Humphrey—“Well, Humphrey, have you brought my geese and ducks?”

Humphrey had forgotten them, but he replied, “You must wait till I go to Lymington again on Saturday, Alice, and then I hope to bring them with me. As it is, look how poor Billy is loaded. Where’s Pablo?”

“In the garden. He has been working there all day, and Edith is with him.”

“Well then we will unload the cart, while you get us something to eat, Alice, for we are not a little hungry, I can tell you.”

“I have some rabbit stew on the fire, Humphrey, all ready for you, and you will find it very good.”

“Nothing I like better, my dear girl. Pablo won’t thank me for bringing this home,” continued Humphrey, taking the long saw out of the cart; “he will have to go to the bottom of the pit again, as soon as the pit is made.”

The cart was soon unloaded, Billy taken out and turned out to feed, and then they went in to supper.

Humphrey was off the next morning, with Pablo, at an early hour, to meet the farmer of whom he had purchased the goats and kids. He found them punctual to the time, at the place agreed upon; and being satisfied with the lot, paid the farmer his money and drove them home through the forest.

“Goat very good, kid better; always eat kid in Spain,” said Pablo.

“Were you born in Spain, Pablo?”

“Not sure, but I think so. First recollect myself in that country.”

“Do you recollect your father?”

“No; never see him.”

“Did your mother never talk about him?”

“Call her mother, but think no mother at all. Custom with Gitanas.”

“Why did you call her mother?”

“’Cause she feed me when little, beat me when I get big.”

“All mothers do that. What made you come to England?”

“I don’t know, but I hear people say, Plenty of money in England—plenty to eat—plenty to drink; bring plenty money back to Spain.”

“How long have you been in England?”

“One, two, three year; yes, three year and a bit.”

“Which did you like best, England or Spain?”

“When with my people, like Spain best; warm sun—warm night. England, little sun, cold night, much rain, snow, and air always cold; but now I live with you, have warm bed, plenty victuals, like England best.”

“But when you were with the gipsies, they stole everything, did they not?”

“Not steal everything,” replied Pablo, laughing, “sometimes take and no pay when nobody there; farmer look very sharp—have big dog.”

“Did you ever go out to steal?”

“Make me go out. Not bring back something, beat me very hard; suppose farmer catch me, beat hard too nothing but beat, beat, beat.”

“Then they obliged you to steal?”

“Suppose bring nothing home, first beat, and then not have to eat for one, two, three days. How you like that, Master Humphrey? I think you steal after no victuals for three days?”

“I should hope not,” replied Humphrey, “although I have never been so severely punished; and I hope, Pablo, you will never steal any more.”

“Why steal any more?” replied Pablo. “I not like to steal; but because hungry I steal. Now I never hungry, always have plenty to eat; no one beat me now; sleep warm all night. Why I steal, then? No, Master Humphrey, I never steal more, ’cause I have no reason why, and ’cause Missy Alice and Missy Edith tell me how the good God up there say must not steal.”

“I am glad to hear you give that as a reason, Pablo,” replied Humphrey, “as it proves that my sisters have not been teaching you in vain.”

“Like to hear Missy Alice talk; she talk grave. Missy Edith talk too, but she laugh very much; very fond Missy Edith, very happy little girl; jump about just like one of these kids we drive home; always merry. Hah! See cottage now; soon get home, Massa Humphrey. Missy Edith like see kids very much. Where we put them?”

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