Chapter Twenty Two.Edward was certain that Mr Langton would not have advised him to leave London if he had not considered that it was dangerous to remain. He therefore first called upon the Hamburgh merchant, who, upon his explanation, gave him a letter of credit to a friend who resided in the city of York; and then returned to the hotel, packed up his saddle-bags, paid his reckoning, and, mounting his horse, set off on the northern road. As it was late in the afternoon before he was clear of the metropolis, he did not proceed farther than Barnet, where he pulled up at the inn. As soon as he had seen his horse attended to, Edward, with his saddle-bags on his arm, went into the room in the inn where all the travellers congregated. Having procured a bed and given his saddle-bags into the charge of the hostess, he sat down by the fire, which, although it was warm weather, was nevertheless kept alight.Edward had made no alteration in the dress which he had worn since he had been received in the house of Mr Heatherstone. It was plain, although of good materials. He wore a high-crowned hat, and altogether would, from his attire, have been taken for one of the Roundhead party. His sword and shoulder-belt were indeed of more gay appearance than those usually worn by the Roundheads; but this was the only difference.When Edward first entered the room there were three persons in it, whose appearance was not very prepossessing. They were dressed in what had once been very gay attire, but which now exhibited tarnished lace, stains of wine, and dust from travelling. They eyed him as he entered with his saddle-bags, and one of them said—“That’s a fine horse you were riding, sir. Has he much speed?”“He has,” replied Edward, as he turned away, and went into the bar to speak with the hostess, and give his property into her care.“Going north, sir?” inquired the same person when Edward returned.“Not exactly,” replied Edward, walking to the window to avoid further conversation.“The Roundhead is on the stilts,” observed another of the party.“Yes,” replied the first; “it is easy to see that he has not been accustomed to be addressed by gentlemen; for half a pin I would slit his ears.”Edward did not choose to reply; he folded his arms and looked at the man with contempt.The hostess, who had overheard the conversation, now called for her husband, and desired him to go into the room and prevent any further insults to the young gentleman who had just come in. The host, who knew the parties, entered the room, and said—“Now you’ll clear out of this as fast as you can; be off with you, and go to the stables, or I’ll send for somebody whom you will not like.”The three men rose and swaggered, but obeyed the host’s orders, and left the room.“I am sorry, young Master, that these roysterers should have affronted you, as my wife tells me that they have. I did not know that they were in the house. We cannot well refuse to take in their horses; but we know well who they are, and, if you are travelling far, you had better ride in company.”“Thank you for your caution, my good host,” replied Edward; “I thought that they were highwaymen, or something of that sort.”“You have made a good guess, sir; but nothing has yet been proved against them, or they would not be here. In these times we have strange customers, and hardly know who we take in. You have a good sword there, sir, I have no doubt; but I trust that you have other arms.”“I have,” replied Edward, opening his doublet and showing his pistols.“That’s right, sir. Will you take anything before you go to bed?”“Indeed I will, for I am hungry; anything will do, with a pint of wine.”As soon as he had supped Edward asked the hostess for his saddle-bags, and went up to his bed.Early the next morning he rose and went to the stable to see his horse fed. The three men were in the stables, but they did not say anything to him. Edward returned to the inn, called for breakfast, and, as soon as he had finished, took out his pistols to renew the priming. While so occupied he happened to look up, and perceived one of the men with his face against the window, watching him. “Well, now you see what you have to expect, if you try your trade with me,” thought Edward, “I am very glad that you have been spying.” Having replaced his pistols, Edward paid his reckoning, and went to the stable desiring the ostler to saddle his horse and fix on his saddle-bags. As soon as this was done he mounted and rode off. Before he was well clear of the town the highwaymen cantered past him on three well-bred active horses. “I presume we shall meet again,” thought Edward, who for some time cantered at a gentle rate, and then, as his horse was very fresh, he put him to a faster pace, intending to do a long day’s work. He had ridden about fifteen miles, when he came to a heath, and, as he continued at a fast trot, he perceived the three highwaymen about a quarter of a mile in advance of him; they were descending a hill which was between them, and he soon lost sight of them again. Edward now pulled up his horse to let him recover his wind, and walked him gently up the hill. He had nearly gained the summit when he heard the report of firearms, and soon afterwards a man on horse back, in full speed, galloped over the hill towards him. He had a pistol in his hand, and his head turned back. The reason for this was soon evident, as immediately after him appeared the three highwaymen in pursuit. One fired his pistol at the man who fled, and missed him. The man then fired in return, and with true aim, as one of the highwaymen fell. All this was so sudden that Edward had hardly time to draw his pistol and put spurs to his horse before the parties were upon him, and were passing him. Edward levelled at the second highwayman as he passed him, and the man fell. The third highwayman, perceiving this, turned his horse to the side of the road, cleared a ditch, and galloped away across the heath. The man who had been attacked had pulled up his horse when Edward came to his assistance, and now rode up to him, saying—“I have to thank you, sir, for your timely aid; for these rascals were too many for me.”“You are not hurt, I trust, sir?” replied Edward.“No, not the least; the fellow singed my curls though, as you may perceive. They attacked me but half a mile from here. I was proceeding north when I heard the clatter of hoofs behind me; I looked round, and saw at once what they were, and I sprung my horse out of the road to a thicket close to it, that they might not surround me. One of the three rode forward to stop my passage, and the other two rode round to the back of the thicket to get behind me. I then saw that I had separated them, and could gain a start upon them by riding back again, which I did as fast as I could, and they immediately gave chase. The result you saw. Between us we have broken up the gang; for both these fellows seem dead, or nearly so.”“What shall we do with them?”“Leave them where they are,” replied the stranger. “I am in a hurry to get on. I have important business at the city of York, and cannot waste my time in depositions, and such nonsense. It is only two scoundrels less in the world, and there’s an end of the matter.”As Edward was equally anxious to proceed, he agreed with the stranger that it was best to do as he proposed.“I am also going north,” replied Edward, “and am anxious to get there as soon as I can.”“With your permission we will ride together,” said the stranger. “I shall be the gainer, as I shall feel that I have one with me who is to be trusted to in case of any further attacks during our journey.”There was such a gentlemanlike, frank, and courteous air about the stranger, that Edward immediately assented to his proposal of their riding in company for mutual protection. He was a powerful, well-made man, of apparently about one or two and twenty, remarkably handsome in person, dressed richly, but not gaudily, in the cavalier fashion, and wore a hat with a feather. As they proceeded, they entered into conversation on indifferent matters for some time, neither party attempting by any question to discover who his companion might be. Edward had more than once, when the conversation flagged for a minute, considered what reply he should give in case his companion should ask him the cause of his journey, and at last had made up his mind what to say.A little before noon they pulled up to bait their horses at a small village,—the stranger observing that he avoided Saint Alban’s, and all other large towns, as he did not wish to satisfy the curiosity of people, or to have his motions watched; and therefore, if Edward had no objection, he knew the country so well that he could save time by allowing him to direct their path. Edward was, as may be supposed, very agreeable to this, and during their whole journey they never entered a town, except they rode through it after dark; and put up at humble inns on the roadside, where, if not quite so well attended to, at all events they were free from observation.It was, however, impossible that this reserve could continue long, as they became more and more intimate every day. At last the stranger said—“Master Armitage, we have travelled together for some time, interchanging thoughts and feelings, but with due reserve as respects ourselves and our own plans. Is this to continue? If so, of course you have but to say so; but if you feel inclined to trust me, I have the same feeling towards you. By your dress I should imagine that you belonged to a party to which I am opposed; but your language and manners do not agree with your attire; and I think a hat and feathers would grace that head better than the steeple-crowned affair which now covers it. It may be that the dress is only assumed as a disguise: you know best. However, as I say, I feel confidence in you, to whatever party you may belong, and I give you credit for your prudence and reserve in these troubled times. I am a little older than you, and may advise you; and I am indebted to you, and cannot therefore betray you—at least I trust you believe so.”“I do believe it,” replied Edward; “and I will so far answer you, Master Chaloner, that this attire of mine is not the one which I would wear if I had my choice.”“I believe that,” replied Chaloner; “and I cannot help thinking you are bound north on the same business as myself, which is, I confess to you honestly, to strike a blow for the king. If you are on the same errand, I have two old relations in Lancashire who are stanch to the cause; and I am going to their house to remain until I can join the army. If you wish it, you shall come with me, and I will promise you kind treatment and safety while under their roof.”“And the names of these relatives of yours, Master Chaloner?” said Edward.“Nay, you shall have them; for when I trust, I trust wholly. Their name is Conynghame.”Edward took his letters from out of his side-pocket, and handed one of them to his fellow-traveller. The address was, “To the worthy Mistress Conynghame, of Portlake, near Bolton, county of Lancaster.”“It is to that address that I am going myself,” said Edward, smiling. “Whether it is the party you refer to you best know.”Chaloner burst out with a loud laugh.“This is excellent! Two people meet, both bound on the same business, both going to the same rendezvous, and for three days do not venture to trust each other.”“The times require caution,” replied Edward, as he replaced his letter.“You are right,” answered Chaloner, “and you are of my opinion. I know now that you have both prudence and courage. The first quality has been scarcer with us Cavaliers than the last; however, now all reserve is over, at least on my part.”“And on mine also,” replied Edward.Chaloner then talked about the chances of the war. He stated that King Charles’s army was in a good state of discipline, and well found in everything; that there were hundreds in England who would join it, as soon as it had advanced far enough into England; and that everything wore a promising appearance.“My father fell at the battle of Naseby, at the head of his retainers,” said Chaloner, after a pause; “and they have contrived to fine the property, so that it has dwindled from thousands down to hundreds. Indeed, were it not for my good old aunts, who will leave me their estates, and who now supply me liberally, I should be but a poor gentleman.”“Your father fell at Naseby?” said Edward. “Were you there?”“I was,” replied Chaloner.“My father also fell at Naseby,” said Edward.“Your father did?” replied Chaloner, “I do not recollect the name—Armitage—he was not in command there, was he?” continued Chaloner.“Yes, he was,” replied Edward.“There was none of that name among the officers that I can recollect, young sir,” replied Chaloner, with an air of distrust. “Surely you have been misinformed.”“I have spoken the truth,” replied Edward; “and have now said so much that I must, to remove your suspicion, say more than perhaps I should have done. My name is not Armitage, although I have been so called for some time. You have set me the example of confidence, and I will follow it. My father was Colonel Beverley, of Prince Rupert’s troop.”Chaloner started with astonishment.“I’m sure that what you say is true,” at last said he; “for I was thinking who it was that you reminded me of. You are the very picture of your father. Although a boy at the time, I knew him well, Master Beverley; a more gallant Cavalier never drew sword. Come, we must be sworn friends in life and death, Beverley,” continued Chaloner, extending his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Edward, who then confided to Chaloner the history of his life. When he had concluded, Chaloner said—“We all heard of the firing of Arnwood, and it is at this moment believed that all the children perished. It is one of the tales of woe that our nurses repeat to the children, and many a child has wept at your supposed deaths. But tell me, now, had you not fallen in with me, was it your intention to have joined the army under your assumed name of Armitage?”“I hardly know what I intended to do. I wanted a friend to advise me.”“And you have found one, Beverley. I owe my life to you, and I will repay the debt as far as is in my power. You must not conceal your name to your sovereign; the very name of Beverley is a passport; but the son of Colonel Beverley will be indeed welcomed. Why, the very name will be considered as a harbinger of good fortune. Your father was the best and truest soldier that ever drew sword; and his memory stands unrivalled for loyalty and devotion. We are near to the end of our journey; yonder is the steeple of Bolton church. The old ladies will be out of their wits when they find that they have a Beverley under their roof.”Edward was much delighted at this tribute paid to his father’s memory, and the tears more than once started into his eyes as Chaloner renewed his praise.Late in the evening they arrived at Portlake, a grand old mansion, situated in a park crowded with fine old timber. Chaloner was recognised as they rode up the avenue by one of the keepers, who hastened forward to announce his arrival; and the domestics had opened the door for them before they arrived at it. In the hall they were met by the old ladies, who expressed their delight at seeing their nephew, as they had had great fear that something had happened to him.“And something did very nearly happen to me,” replied Chaloner, “had it not been for the timely assistance of my friend here, who, notwithstanding his Puritan attire, I hardly need tell you is a Cavalier devoted to the good cause, when I state that he is the son of Colonel Beverley, who fell at Naseby with my good father.”“No one can be more welcome, then,” replied the old ladies, who extended their hands to Edward. They then went into a sitting-room, and supper was ordered to be sent up immediately.“Our horses will be well attended to, Edward,” said Chaloner; “we need not any longer look after them ourselves. And now, good aunts, have you no letters for me?”“Yes, there are several; but you had better eat first.”“Not so; let me have the letters; we can read them before supper, and talk them over when at table.”One of the ladies produced the letters, which Chaloner, as he read them, handed over to Edward for his perusal. They were from General Middleton, and some other friends of Chaloner’s who were with the army, giving him information as to what was going on, and what their prospects were supposed to be.“You see that they have marched already,” said Chaloner, “and I think the plan is a good one, and it has put General Cromwell in an awkward position. Our army is now between his and London, with three days march in advance. And we shall now be able to pick up our English adherents, who can join us without risk, as we go along. It has been a bold step, but a good one; and if they only continue as well as they have begun we shall succeed. The Parliamentary army is not equal to ours in numbers, as it is; and we shall add to ours daily. The king has sent to the Isle of Man for the Earl of Derby, who is expected to join to-morrow.”“And where is the army at this moment?” inquired Edward.“They will be but a few miles from us to-night, their march is so rapid; to-morrow we will join if it pleases.”“Most willingly,” replied Edward.After an hour’s more conversation, they were shown into their rooms, and retired for the night.
Edward was certain that Mr Langton would not have advised him to leave London if he had not considered that it was dangerous to remain. He therefore first called upon the Hamburgh merchant, who, upon his explanation, gave him a letter of credit to a friend who resided in the city of York; and then returned to the hotel, packed up his saddle-bags, paid his reckoning, and, mounting his horse, set off on the northern road. As it was late in the afternoon before he was clear of the metropolis, he did not proceed farther than Barnet, where he pulled up at the inn. As soon as he had seen his horse attended to, Edward, with his saddle-bags on his arm, went into the room in the inn where all the travellers congregated. Having procured a bed and given his saddle-bags into the charge of the hostess, he sat down by the fire, which, although it was warm weather, was nevertheless kept alight.
Edward had made no alteration in the dress which he had worn since he had been received in the house of Mr Heatherstone. It was plain, although of good materials. He wore a high-crowned hat, and altogether would, from his attire, have been taken for one of the Roundhead party. His sword and shoulder-belt were indeed of more gay appearance than those usually worn by the Roundheads; but this was the only difference.
When Edward first entered the room there were three persons in it, whose appearance was not very prepossessing. They were dressed in what had once been very gay attire, but which now exhibited tarnished lace, stains of wine, and dust from travelling. They eyed him as he entered with his saddle-bags, and one of them said—“That’s a fine horse you were riding, sir. Has he much speed?”
“He has,” replied Edward, as he turned away, and went into the bar to speak with the hostess, and give his property into her care.
“Going north, sir?” inquired the same person when Edward returned.
“Not exactly,” replied Edward, walking to the window to avoid further conversation.
“The Roundhead is on the stilts,” observed another of the party.
“Yes,” replied the first; “it is easy to see that he has not been accustomed to be addressed by gentlemen; for half a pin I would slit his ears.”
Edward did not choose to reply; he folded his arms and looked at the man with contempt.
The hostess, who had overheard the conversation, now called for her husband, and desired him to go into the room and prevent any further insults to the young gentleman who had just come in. The host, who knew the parties, entered the room, and said—
“Now you’ll clear out of this as fast as you can; be off with you, and go to the stables, or I’ll send for somebody whom you will not like.”
The three men rose and swaggered, but obeyed the host’s orders, and left the room.
“I am sorry, young Master, that these roysterers should have affronted you, as my wife tells me that they have. I did not know that they were in the house. We cannot well refuse to take in their horses; but we know well who they are, and, if you are travelling far, you had better ride in company.”
“Thank you for your caution, my good host,” replied Edward; “I thought that they were highwaymen, or something of that sort.”
“You have made a good guess, sir; but nothing has yet been proved against them, or they would not be here. In these times we have strange customers, and hardly know who we take in. You have a good sword there, sir, I have no doubt; but I trust that you have other arms.”
“I have,” replied Edward, opening his doublet and showing his pistols.
“That’s right, sir. Will you take anything before you go to bed?”
“Indeed I will, for I am hungry; anything will do, with a pint of wine.”
As soon as he had supped Edward asked the hostess for his saddle-bags, and went up to his bed.
Early the next morning he rose and went to the stable to see his horse fed. The three men were in the stables, but they did not say anything to him. Edward returned to the inn, called for breakfast, and, as soon as he had finished, took out his pistols to renew the priming. While so occupied he happened to look up, and perceived one of the men with his face against the window, watching him. “Well, now you see what you have to expect, if you try your trade with me,” thought Edward, “I am very glad that you have been spying.” Having replaced his pistols, Edward paid his reckoning, and went to the stable desiring the ostler to saddle his horse and fix on his saddle-bags. As soon as this was done he mounted and rode off. Before he was well clear of the town the highwaymen cantered past him on three well-bred active horses. “I presume we shall meet again,” thought Edward, who for some time cantered at a gentle rate, and then, as his horse was very fresh, he put him to a faster pace, intending to do a long day’s work. He had ridden about fifteen miles, when he came to a heath, and, as he continued at a fast trot, he perceived the three highwaymen about a quarter of a mile in advance of him; they were descending a hill which was between them, and he soon lost sight of them again. Edward now pulled up his horse to let him recover his wind, and walked him gently up the hill. He had nearly gained the summit when he heard the report of firearms, and soon afterwards a man on horse back, in full speed, galloped over the hill towards him. He had a pistol in his hand, and his head turned back. The reason for this was soon evident, as immediately after him appeared the three highwaymen in pursuit. One fired his pistol at the man who fled, and missed him. The man then fired in return, and with true aim, as one of the highwaymen fell. All this was so sudden that Edward had hardly time to draw his pistol and put spurs to his horse before the parties were upon him, and were passing him. Edward levelled at the second highwayman as he passed him, and the man fell. The third highwayman, perceiving this, turned his horse to the side of the road, cleared a ditch, and galloped away across the heath. The man who had been attacked had pulled up his horse when Edward came to his assistance, and now rode up to him, saying—“I have to thank you, sir, for your timely aid; for these rascals were too many for me.”
“You are not hurt, I trust, sir?” replied Edward.
“No, not the least; the fellow singed my curls though, as you may perceive. They attacked me but half a mile from here. I was proceeding north when I heard the clatter of hoofs behind me; I looked round, and saw at once what they were, and I sprung my horse out of the road to a thicket close to it, that they might not surround me. One of the three rode forward to stop my passage, and the other two rode round to the back of the thicket to get behind me. I then saw that I had separated them, and could gain a start upon them by riding back again, which I did as fast as I could, and they immediately gave chase. The result you saw. Between us we have broken up the gang; for both these fellows seem dead, or nearly so.”
“What shall we do with them?”
“Leave them where they are,” replied the stranger. “I am in a hurry to get on. I have important business at the city of York, and cannot waste my time in depositions, and such nonsense. It is only two scoundrels less in the world, and there’s an end of the matter.”
As Edward was equally anxious to proceed, he agreed with the stranger that it was best to do as he proposed.
“I am also going north,” replied Edward, “and am anxious to get there as soon as I can.”
“With your permission we will ride together,” said the stranger. “I shall be the gainer, as I shall feel that I have one with me who is to be trusted to in case of any further attacks during our journey.”
There was such a gentlemanlike, frank, and courteous air about the stranger, that Edward immediately assented to his proposal of their riding in company for mutual protection. He was a powerful, well-made man, of apparently about one or two and twenty, remarkably handsome in person, dressed richly, but not gaudily, in the cavalier fashion, and wore a hat with a feather. As they proceeded, they entered into conversation on indifferent matters for some time, neither party attempting by any question to discover who his companion might be. Edward had more than once, when the conversation flagged for a minute, considered what reply he should give in case his companion should ask him the cause of his journey, and at last had made up his mind what to say.
A little before noon they pulled up to bait their horses at a small village,—the stranger observing that he avoided Saint Alban’s, and all other large towns, as he did not wish to satisfy the curiosity of people, or to have his motions watched; and therefore, if Edward had no objection, he knew the country so well that he could save time by allowing him to direct their path. Edward was, as may be supposed, very agreeable to this, and during their whole journey they never entered a town, except they rode through it after dark; and put up at humble inns on the roadside, where, if not quite so well attended to, at all events they were free from observation.
It was, however, impossible that this reserve could continue long, as they became more and more intimate every day. At last the stranger said—“Master Armitage, we have travelled together for some time, interchanging thoughts and feelings, but with due reserve as respects ourselves and our own plans. Is this to continue? If so, of course you have but to say so; but if you feel inclined to trust me, I have the same feeling towards you. By your dress I should imagine that you belonged to a party to which I am opposed; but your language and manners do not agree with your attire; and I think a hat and feathers would grace that head better than the steeple-crowned affair which now covers it. It may be that the dress is only assumed as a disguise: you know best. However, as I say, I feel confidence in you, to whatever party you may belong, and I give you credit for your prudence and reserve in these troubled times. I am a little older than you, and may advise you; and I am indebted to you, and cannot therefore betray you—at least I trust you believe so.”
“I do believe it,” replied Edward; “and I will so far answer you, Master Chaloner, that this attire of mine is not the one which I would wear if I had my choice.”
“I believe that,” replied Chaloner; “and I cannot help thinking you are bound north on the same business as myself, which is, I confess to you honestly, to strike a blow for the king. If you are on the same errand, I have two old relations in Lancashire who are stanch to the cause; and I am going to their house to remain until I can join the army. If you wish it, you shall come with me, and I will promise you kind treatment and safety while under their roof.”
“And the names of these relatives of yours, Master Chaloner?” said Edward.
“Nay, you shall have them; for when I trust, I trust wholly. Their name is Conynghame.”
Edward took his letters from out of his side-pocket, and handed one of them to his fellow-traveller. The address was, “To the worthy Mistress Conynghame, of Portlake, near Bolton, county of Lancaster.”
“It is to that address that I am going myself,” said Edward, smiling. “Whether it is the party you refer to you best know.”
Chaloner burst out with a loud laugh.
“This is excellent! Two people meet, both bound on the same business, both going to the same rendezvous, and for three days do not venture to trust each other.”
“The times require caution,” replied Edward, as he replaced his letter.
“You are right,” answered Chaloner, “and you are of my opinion. I know now that you have both prudence and courage. The first quality has been scarcer with us Cavaliers than the last; however, now all reserve is over, at least on my part.”
“And on mine also,” replied Edward.
Chaloner then talked about the chances of the war. He stated that King Charles’s army was in a good state of discipline, and well found in everything; that there were hundreds in England who would join it, as soon as it had advanced far enough into England; and that everything wore a promising appearance.
“My father fell at the battle of Naseby, at the head of his retainers,” said Chaloner, after a pause; “and they have contrived to fine the property, so that it has dwindled from thousands down to hundreds. Indeed, were it not for my good old aunts, who will leave me their estates, and who now supply me liberally, I should be but a poor gentleman.”
“Your father fell at Naseby?” said Edward. “Were you there?”
“I was,” replied Chaloner.
“My father also fell at Naseby,” said Edward.
“Your father did?” replied Chaloner, “I do not recollect the name—Armitage—he was not in command there, was he?” continued Chaloner.
“Yes, he was,” replied Edward.
“There was none of that name among the officers that I can recollect, young sir,” replied Chaloner, with an air of distrust. “Surely you have been misinformed.”
“I have spoken the truth,” replied Edward; “and have now said so much that I must, to remove your suspicion, say more than perhaps I should have done. My name is not Armitage, although I have been so called for some time. You have set me the example of confidence, and I will follow it. My father was Colonel Beverley, of Prince Rupert’s troop.”
Chaloner started with astonishment.
“I’m sure that what you say is true,” at last said he; “for I was thinking who it was that you reminded me of. You are the very picture of your father. Although a boy at the time, I knew him well, Master Beverley; a more gallant Cavalier never drew sword. Come, we must be sworn friends in life and death, Beverley,” continued Chaloner, extending his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Edward, who then confided to Chaloner the history of his life. When he had concluded, Chaloner said—“We all heard of the firing of Arnwood, and it is at this moment believed that all the children perished. It is one of the tales of woe that our nurses repeat to the children, and many a child has wept at your supposed deaths. But tell me, now, had you not fallen in with me, was it your intention to have joined the army under your assumed name of Armitage?”
“I hardly know what I intended to do. I wanted a friend to advise me.”
“And you have found one, Beverley. I owe my life to you, and I will repay the debt as far as is in my power. You must not conceal your name to your sovereign; the very name of Beverley is a passport; but the son of Colonel Beverley will be indeed welcomed. Why, the very name will be considered as a harbinger of good fortune. Your father was the best and truest soldier that ever drew sword; and his memory stands unrivalled for loyalty and devotion. We are near to the end of our journey; yonder is the steeple of Bolton church. The old ladies will be out of their wits when they find that they have a Beverley under their roof.”
Edward was much delighted at this tribute paid to his father’s memory, and the tears more than once started into his eyes as Chaloner renewed his praise.
Late in the evening they arrived at Portlake, a grand old mansion, situated in a park crowded with fine old timber. Chaloner was recognised as they rode up the avenue by one of the keepers, who hastened forward to announce his arrival; and the domestics had opened the door for them before they arrived at it. In the hall they were met by the old ladies, who expressed their delight at seeing their nephew, as they had had great fear that something had happened to him.
“And something did very nearly happen to me,” replied Chaloner, “had it not been for the timely assistance of my friend here, who, notwithstanding his Puritan attire, I hardly need tell you is a Cavalier devoted to the good cause, when I state that he is the son of Colonel Beverley, who fell at Naseby with my good father.”
“No one can be more welcome, then,” replied the old ladies, who extended their hands to Edward. They then went into a sitting-room, and supper was ordered to be sent up immediately.
“Our horses will be well attended to, Edward,” said Chaloner; “we need not any longer look after them ourselves. And now, good aunts, have you no letters for me?”
“Yes, there are several; but you had better eat first.”
“Not so; let me have the letters; we can read them before supper, and talk them over when at table.”
One of the ladies produced the letters, which Chaloner, as he read them, handed over to Edward for his perusal. They were from General Middleton, and some other friends of Chaloner’s who were with the army, giving him information as to what was going on, and what their prospects were supposed to be.
“You see that they have marched already,” said Chaloner, “and I think the plan is a good one, and it has put General Cromwell in an awkward position. Our army is now between his and London, with three days march in advance. And we shall now be able to pick up our English adherents, who can join us without risk, as we go along. It has been a bold step, but a good one; and if they only continue as well as they have begun we shall succeed. The Parliamentary army is not equal to ours in numbers, as it is; and we shall add to ours daily. The king has sent to the Isle of Man for the Earl of Derby, who is expected to join to-morrow.”
“And where is the army at this moment?” inquired Edward.
“They will be but a few miles from us to-night, their march is so rapid; to-morrow we will join if it pleases.”
“Most willingly,” replied Edward.
After an hour’s more conversation, they were shown into their rooms, and retired for the night.
Chapter Twenty Three.The next morning, before they had quitted their beds, a messenger arrived with letters from General Middleton, and from him they found that the king’s army had encamped on the evening before not six miles from Portlake. As they hastily dressed themselves, Chaloner proposed to Edward that a little alteration in his dress would be necessary; and taking him to a wardrobe in which had been put aside some suits of his own, worn when he was a younger and slighter-made man than he now was, he requested Edward to make use of them. Edward, who was aware that Chaloner was right in his proposal, selected two suits of colours which pleased him most; and dressing in one, and changing his hat for one more befitting his new attire, was transformed into a handsome Cavalier. As soon as they had broken their fast they took leave of the old ladies, and, mounting their horses, set off for the camp. An hour’s ride brought them to the outposts; and communicating with the officer on duty, they were conducted by an orderly to the tent of General Middleton, who received Chaloner with great warmth as an old friend, and was very courteous to Edward as soon as he heard that he was the son of Colonel Beverley.“I have wanted you, Chaloner,” said Middleton; “we are raising a troop of horse; the Duke of Buckingham commands it, but Massey will be the real leader of it; you have influence in this county, and will, I have no doubt, bring us many good hands.”“Where is the Earl of Derby?”“Joined us this morning; we have marched so quick that we have not had time to pick our adherents up.”“And General Lesley?”“Is by no means in good spirits: why I know not. We have too many ministers with his army, that is certain, and they do harm; but we cannot help ourselves. His majesty must be visible by this time; if you are ready I will introduce you; and when that is done we will talk matters over.”General Middleton then walked with them to the house in which the king had taken up his quarters for the night; and after a few minutes’ waiting in the anteroom they were admitted into his presence.“Allow me, your majesty,” said General Middleton, after the first salutations, “to present to you Major Chaloner, whose father’s name is not unknown to you.”“On the contrary, well-known to us,” replied the king, “as a loyal and faithful subject, whose loss we must deplore. I have no doubt that his son inherits his courage and his fidelity.”The king held out his hand, and Chaloner bent his knee and kissed it.“And now, your majesty will be surprised that I should present to you one of a house supposed to be extinct—the eldest son of Colonel Beverley.”“Indeed!” replied his majesty; “I heard that all his family perished at the ruthless burning of Arnwood. I hold myself fortunate, as a king, that even one son of so loyal and brave a gentleman as Colonel Beverley has escaped. You are welcome, young sir—most welcome to us; you must be near us; the very name of Beverley will be pleasing to our ears by night or day.”Edward knelt down and kissed his majesty’s hand, and the king said—“What can we do for a Beverley? Let us know, that we may show our feelings towards his father’s memory?”“All I request is, that your majesty will allow me to be near you in the hour of danger,” replied Edward.“A right Beverley reply,” said the king, “and so we shall see to it, Middleton.”After a few more courteous words from his majesty they withdrew; but General Middleton was recalled by the king for a minute or two to receive his commands. When he rejoined Edward and Chaloner, he said to Edward—“I have orders to send in for his majesty’s signature your commission as captain of horse, and attached to the king’s personal staff; it is a high compliment to the memory of your father, sir, and, I may add, your own personal appearance. Chaloner will see to your uniforms and accoutrements; you are well mounted, I believe you have no time to lose, as we march to-morrow for Warrington, in Cheshire.”“Has anything been heard of the Parliamentary army?”“Yes; they are on the march towards London by the Yorkshire road, intending to cut us off if they can. And now, gentlemen, farewell; for I have no idle time, I assure you.”Edward was soon equipped, and now attended upon the king. When they arrived at Warrington they found a body of horse drawn up to oppose their passage onwards. These were charged, and fled with a trifling loss; and as they were known to be commanded by Lambert, one of Cromwell’s best generals, there was great exultation in the king’s army; but the fact was that Lambert had acted upon Cromwell’s orders, which were, to harass and delay the march of the king as much as possible, but not to risk with his small force anything like an engagement. After this skirmish it was considered advisable to send back the Earl of Derby and many other officers of importance into Lancashire, that they might collect the king’s adherents in that quarter and in Cheshire. Accordingly the earl, with about two hundred officers and gentlemen, left the army with that intention. It was then considered that it would be advisable to march the army direct to London; but the men were so fatigued with the rapidity of the march up to the present time, and the weather was so warm, that it was decided in the negative; and as Worcester was a town well affected to the king, and the country abounded with provisions, it was resolved that the army should march there, and wait for English reinforcements. This was done; the city opened the gates with every mark of satisfaction, and supplied the army with all that it required. The first bad news which reached them was the dispersion and defeat of the whole of the Earl of Derby’s party by a regiment of militia, which had surprised them at Wigan during the night, when they were all asleep, and had no idea that any enemy was near to them. Although attacked at such a disadvantage, they defended themselves till a large portion of them were killed, and the remainder were taken prisoners, and most of them brutally put to death. The Earl of Derby was made a prisoner, but not put to death with the others.“This is bad news, Chaloner,” said Edward.“Yes; it is more than bad,” replied the latter; “we have lost our best officers, who never should have left the army; and now, the consequences of the defeat will be that we shall not have any people coming forward to join us. The winning side is the right side in this world; and there is more evil than that: the Duke of Buckingham has claimed the command of the army, which the king has refused; so that we are beginning to fight among ourselves. General Lesley is evidently dispirited, and thinks bad of the cause. Middleton is the only man who does his duty. Depend upon it we shall have Cromwell upon us before we are aware of it; and we are in a state of sad confusion—officers quarrelling, men disobedient, much talking, and little doing. Here we have been five days, and the works, which have been proposed to be thrown up as defences, not yet begun.”“I cannot but admire the patience of the king, with so much to harass and annoy him.”“He must be patient, perforce,” replied Chaloner; “he plays for a crown, and it is a high stake; but he cannot command the minds of men, although he may the persons. I am no croaker, Beverley; but this I do say, that if we succeed with this army, as it is at present disorganised, we shall perform a miracle.”“We must hope for the best,” replied Edward; “common danger may cement those who would otherwise be asunder; and when they have the army of Cromwell before them, they may be induced to forget their private quarrels and jealousies and unite in the good cause.”“I wish I could be of your opinion, Beverley,” replied Chaloner; “but I have mixed with the world longer than you have, and I think otherwise.”Several more days passed, during which no defences were thrown up, and the confusion and quarrelling in the army continued to increase, until at last news arrived that Cromwell was within half a day’s march of them, and that he had collected all the militia on his route, and was now in numbers nearly double to those in the king’s army. All was amazement and confusion—nothing had been done—no arrangements had been made—and Chaloner told Edward that all was lost if immediate steps were not taken.On the 3rd of October the army of Cromwell appeared in sight. Edward had been on horseback, attending the king, for the best part of the night; the disposition of the troops had been made as well as it could; and it was concluded, as Cromwell’s army remained quiet, that no attempt would be made on that day. About noon the king returned to his lodging, to take some refreshment after his fatigue. Edward was with him; but before an hour had passed the alarm came that the armies were engaged. The king mounted his horse, which was ready saddled at the door; but before he could ride out of the city he was met and nearly beaten back by the whole body almost of his own cavalry, who came running on with such force that he could not stop them. His majesty called to several of the officers by name, but they paid no attention; and so great was the panic, that both the king, and his staff who attended him, were nearly overthrown and trampled under foot.Cromwell had passed a large portion of his troops over the river without the knowledge of his opponents, and when the attack was made in so unexpected a quarter a panic ensued. Where General Middleton and the Duke of Hamilton commanded, a very brave resistance was made; but Middleton being wounded, and the Duke of Hamilton having had his leg taken off by a round shot, and many gentlemen having fallen, the troops, deserted by the remainder of the army, at last gave way, and the rout was general, the foot throwing away their muskets before they were discharged.His majesty rode back into the town and found a body of horse, who had been persuaded by Chaloner to make a stand. “Follow me,” said his majesty, “we will see what the enemy are about. I do not think they pursue, and if so, we may yet rally from this foolish panic.”His majesty, followed by Edward, Chaloner, and several of his personal staff, then galloped out to reconnoitre; but to his mortification he found that the troops had not followed him, but gone out of the town by the other gate, and that the enemy’s cavalry in pursuit were actually in the town. Under such circumstances, by the advice of Chaloner and Edward, his majesty withdrew, and turning his horse’s head he made all haste to leave Worcester. After several hours’ riding, the king found himself in company of about 4000 of the cavalry who had so disgracefully fled; but they were still so panic-struck that he could put no confidence in them, and having advised with those about him he resolved to quit them. This he did without mentioning his intentions to any of his staff, not even Chaloner or Edward, leaving at night with two of his servants, whom he dismissed as soon as it was daylight, considering that his chance of escape would be greater if he was quite alone.It was not till next morning that the troops discovered that the king had left them, and then they determined to separate, and as the major portion were from Scotland to make what haste they could back to that country. And now Chaloner and Edward consulted as to their plans.“It appears to me,” said Edward, laughing, “that the danger of this campaign of ours will consist in getting back again to our own homes; for I can most safely assert that I have not as yet struck a blow for the king.”“That is true enough, Beverley. When do you purpose going back to the New Forest? I think, if you will permit me, I will accompany you,” said Chaloner. “All the pursuit will be to the northward to intercept and overtake the retreat into Scotland. I cannot therefore go to Lancashire; and indeed, as they know that I am out, they will be looking for me everywhere.”“Then come with me,” said Edward; “I will find you protection till you can decide what to do. Let us ride on away from this, and we will talk over the matter as we go; but depend upon it, the farther south we get the safer we shall be; but still not safe, unless we can change our costume. There will be a strict search for the king to the south, as they will presume that he will try to get safe to France. Hark! What is that? I heard the report of arms. Let us ride up this hill and see what is going on.”They did so, and perceived that there was a skirmish between a party of Cavaliers and some of the Parliamentary cavalry at about a quarter of a mile distant.“Come, Chaloner, let us at all events have one blow,” said Edward.“Agreed,” replied Chaloner, spurring his horse; and down they went at full speed, and in a minute were in themêlée, coming on the rear of the Parliamentary troops.This sudden attack from behind decided the affair. The Parliamentary troopers, thinking that there were wore than two coming upon them, made off after another minute’s combat, leaving five or six of their men on the ground.“Thanks, Chaloner thanks, Beverley!” said a voice, which they immediately recognised. It was that of one of the king’s pages. “These fellows with me were just about to run if you had not come to our aid. I will remain with them no longer, but join you if you will permit me.”“At all events remain here till they go away—I will send them off.”“My lads, you must all separate, or there will be no chance of escape. No more than two should ride together. Depend upon it we shall have more of the troops here directly.”The men, about fifteen in number, who had been in company with Grenville, considered that Chaloner’s advice was good, and without ceremony set off with their horses’ heads to the northward, leaving Chaloner, Edward, and Grenville together on the field of the affray. A dozen men were lying on the ground, either dead or severely wounded; seven of them were of the king’s party, and the other five of the Parliamentary troops.“Now what I propose,” said Edward, “is this,—let us do what we can for those who are wounded, and then strip off the dresses and accoutrements of those Parliamentary dragoons who are dead, and dress ourselves in them, accoutrements and all. We can then pass through the country in safety, as we shall be supposed to be one of the parties looking for the king.”“That is a good idea,” replied Chaloner, “and the sooner it is done the better.”“Well,” said Edward, wiping his sword, which he still held drawn, and then sheathing it, “I will take the spoils of this fellow nearest to me: he fell by my hand, and I am entitled to them by all the laws of war and chivalry; but first let us dismount and look to the wounded.”They tied their horses to a tree, and having given what assistance they could to the wounded men, they proceeded to strip three of the Parliamentary troopers; and then, laying aside their own habiliments, they dressed themselves in the uniform of the enemy, and mounting their horses made all haste from the place. Having gained about twelve miles, they pulled up and rode at a more leisurely pace. It was now eight o’clock in the evening, but still not very dark; they therefore rode on another five miles, till they came to a small village, where they dismounted at an ale-house, and put their horses into the stable.“We must be insolent and brutal in our manners, or we shall be suspected.”“Very true,” said Grenville, giving the ostler a kick and telling him to bestir himself if he did not want his ears cropped.They entered the ale-house, and soon found out they were held in great terror. They ordered everything of the best to be produced, and threatened to set fire to the house if it was not; they turned the man and his wife out of their bed, and all three went to sleep in it; and, in short, they behaved in such an arbitrary manner that nobody doubted that they were Cromwell’s men. In the morning they set off again, by Chaloner’s advice paying for nothing that they had ordered, although they had all of them plenty of money. They now rode fast, inquiring at the places which they passed through whether any fugitives had been seen, and if they came to a town, inquiring, before they entered, whether there were any Parliamentary troops. So well did they manage, that after four days they had gained the skirts of the New Forest, and concealed themselves in a thicket till night-time, when Edward proposed that he should conduct his fellow-travellers to the cottage, where he would leave them till his plans were arranged.Edward had already arranged his plans. His great object was to ward off any suspicion of where he had been, and of course any idea that the Intendant had been a party to his acts; and the fortunate change of his dress enabled him now to do so with success. He had decided to conduct his two friends to the cottage that night, and the next morning to ride over in his Parliamentary costume to the Intendant’s house, and bring the first news of the success of Cromwell and the defeat at Worcester; by which stratagem it would appear as if he had been with the Parliamentary, and not with the Royalist army.As they had travelled along, they found that the news of Cromwell’s success had not yet arrived: in those times there was not the rapidity of communication that we now have, and Edward thought it very probable that he would be the first to communicate the intelligence to the Intendant and those who resided near him.As soon as it was dusk the three travellers left their retreat, and, guided by Edward, soon arrived at the cottage. Their appearance at first created no little consternation, for Humphrey and Pablo happened to be in the yard when they heard the clattering of the swords and accoutrements, and through the gloom observed, as they advanced, that the party were troopers. At first Humphrey was for running on and barring the door, but, on a second reflection, he felt that he could not do a more imprudent thing, if there was danger; and he therefore contented himself with hastily imparting the intelligence to his sisters, and then remaining at the threshold to meet the coming of the parties. The voice of Edward calling him by name dissipated all alarm, and in another minute he was in the arms of his brother and sisters.“First let us take our horses to the stable, Humphrey,” said Edward, after the first greeting was over, “and then we will come and partake of anything that Alice can prepare for us, for we have not fared over well for the last three days.”Accompanied by Humphrey and Pablo, they all went to the stables, and turned out the ponies to make room for the horses; and as soon as they were all fed and littered down they returned to the cottage, and Chaloner and Grenville were introduced. Supper was soon on the table, and they were too hungry to talk while they were eating, so but little information was gleaned from them that night. However, previous to Alice and Edith leaving the room to prepare beds for the newcomers, Humphrey ascertained that all was lost, and that they had escaped from the field. When the beds were ready, Chaloner and Grenville retired, and then Edward remained half an hour with Humphrey, to communicate to him what had passed. Of course he could not enter into detail; but told him that he would get information from their new guests after he had left, which he must do early in the morning.“And now, Humphrey, my advice is this: My two friends cannot remain in this cottage, for many reasons; but we have the key of Clara’s cottage, and they can take up their lodging there, and we can supply them with all they want until they find means of going abroad, which is their intention. I must be off to the Intendant’s to-morrow, and the day after I will come over to you. In the meantime our guests can remain here, while you and Pablo prepare the cottage for them; and when I return everything shall be settled, and we will conduct them to it. I do not think there is much danger of their being discovered while they remain there, certainly not so much as if they were here; for we must expect parties of troops in every direction now, as they were when the king’s father made his escape from Hampton Court. And now to bed, my good brother; and call me early, for I much fear that I shall not wake up, if you do not.”The brothers then parted for the night.The next morning, long before their guests were awake, Edward had been called by Humphrey, and found Pablo at the door with his horse. Edward, who had put on his Parliamentary accoutrements, bade a hasty farewell to them, and set off across the forest to the house of the Intendant, where he arrived before they had left their bedrooms. The first person he encountered was, very fortunately, Oswald, who was at his cottage-door. Edward beckoned to him, being then about one hundred yards off; but Oswald did not recognise him at first, and advanced towards him in a very leisurely manner, to ascertain what the trooper might wish to inquire. But Edward called him Oswald, and that was sufficient. In few words Edward told him how all was lost, and how he had escaped by changing clothes with one of the enemy.“I am now come to bring the news to the Intendant, Oswald. You understand me, of course?”“Of course I do, Master Edward, and will take care that it is well-known that you have been fighting by the side of Cromwell all this time. I should recommend you to show yourself in this dress for the remainder of the day, and then every one will be satisfied. Shall I go to the Intendant’s before you?”“No, no, Oswald; the Intendant does not require me to be introduced to him, of course. I must now gallop up to his house and announce myself. Farewell for the present—I shall see you during the day.”Edward put spurs to his horse, and arrived at the Intendant’s at full speed, making no small clattering in the yard below as he went in, much to the surprise of Sampson, who came out to ascertain what was the cause, and who was not a little surprised at perceiving Edward, who threw himself off the horse, and desiring Sampson to take it to the stable, entered the kitchen, and disturbed Phoebe, who was preparing breakfast. Without speaking to her, Edward passed on to the Intendant’s room, and knocked.“Whois there?” said the Intendant.“Edward Armitage,” was the reply, and the door was opened. The Intendant started back at the sight of Edward in the trooper’s costume.“My dear Edward, I am glad to see you in any dress; but this requires explanation. Sit down and tell me all.”“All is soon told, sir,” replied Edward, taking off his iron skull-cap, and allowing his hair to fall down on his shoulders.He then, in few words, stated what had happened, and by what means he had escaped, and the reason why he had kept on the trooper’s accoutrements and made his appearance in them.“You have done very prudently,” replied the Intendant, “and you have probably saved me; at all events you have warded off all suspicion, and those who are spies upon me will now have nothing to report except to my favour. Your absence has been commented upon, and made known at high quarters, and suspicion has arisen in consequence. Your return as one of the Parliamentary forces will now put an end to all ill-natured remarks. My dear Edward, you have done me a service. As my secretary, and having been known to have been a follower of the Beverleys, your absence was considered strange, and it was intimated at high quarters that you had gone to join the king’s forces, and that with my knowledge and consent. This I have from Langton; and it has in consequence injured me not a little: but now your appearance will make all right again. Now we will first to prayers, and then to breakfast; and after that we will have a more detailed account of what has taken place since your departure. Patience and Clara will not be sorry to recover their companion; but how they will like you in that dress I cannot pretend to say. However, I thank God that you have returned safe to us; and I shall be most happy to see you once more attend in the more peaceful garb of a secretary.”“I will, with your permission, sir, not quit this costume for one day, as it may be as well that I should be seen in it.”“You are right, Edward: for this day retain it; to-morrow you will resume your usual costume. Go down to the parlour; you will find Patience and Clara anxiously waiting for you, I have no doubt. I will join you there in ten minutes.”Edward left the room, and went downstairs. It hardly need be said how joyfully he was received by Patience and Clara. The former, however, expressed her joy in tears—the latter in wild mirth.We will pass over the explanations and the narrative of what had occurred, which was given by Edward to Mr Heatherstone in his own room. The Intendant said, as he concluded—“Edward, you must now perceive that, for the present, nothing more can be done; if it pleases the Lord, the time will come when the monarch will be reseated on his throne; at present, we must bow to the powers that be; and I tell you frankly it is my opinion that Cromwell aims at sovereignty, and will obtain it. Perhaps it may be better that we should suffer the infliction for a time, as for a time only can it be upheld, and it may be the cause of the king being more schooled and more fitted to reign than, by what you have told me in the course of your narrative, he at present appears to be.”“Perhaps so, sir,” replied Edward. “I must say that the short campaign I have gone through has very much opened my eyes. I have seen but little true chivalric feeling, and much of interested motives, in those who have joined the king’s forces. The army collected was composed of most discordant elements, and were so discontented, so full of jealousy and ill-will, that I am not surprised at the result. One thing is certain, that there must be a much better feeling existing between all parties, before such a man as Cromwell can ever be moved from his position; and, for the present, the cause may be considered as lost.”“You are right, Edward,” replied the Intendant; “I would they were better; but, as they are, let us make the best of them. You have now seen enough to have subdued that fiery zeal for the cause which previously occupied your whole thoughts; now let us be prudent, and try if we cannot be happy.”
The next morning, before they had quitted their beds, a messenger arrived with letters from General Middleton, and from him they found that the king’s army had encamped on the evening before not six miles from Portlake. As they hastily dressed themselves, Chaloner proposed to Edward that a little alteration in his dress would be necessary; and taking him to a wardrobe in which had been put aside some suits of his own, worn when he was a younger and slighter-made man than he now was, he requested Edward to make use of them. Edward, who was aware that Chaloner was right in his proposal, selected two suits of colours which pleased him most; and dressing in one, and changing his hat for one more befitting his new attire, was transformed into a handsome Cavalier. As soon as they had broken their fast they took leave of the old ladies, and, mounting their horses, set off for the camp. An hour’s ride brought them to the outposts; and communicating with the officer on duty, they were conducted by an orderly to the tent of General Middleton, who received Chaloner with great warmth as an old friend, and was very courteous to Edward as soon as he heard that he was the son of Colonel Beverley.
“I have wanted you, Chaloner,” said Middleton; “we are raising a troop of horse; the Duke of Buckingham commands it, but Massey will be the real leader of it; you have influence in this county, and will, I have no doubt, bring us many good hands.”
“Where is the Earl of Derby?”
“Joined us this morning; we have marched so quick that we have not had time to pick our adherents up.”
“And General Lesley?”
“Is by no means in good spirits: why I know not. We have too many ministers with his army, that is certain, and they do harm; but we cannot help ourselves. His majesty must be visible by this time; if you are ready I will introduce you; and when that is done we will talk matters over.”
General Middleton then walked with them to the house in which the king had taken up his quarters for the night; and after a few minutes’ waiting in the anteroom they were admitted into his presence.
“Allow me, your majesty,” said General Middleton, after the first salutations, “to present to you Major Chaloner, whose father’s name is not unknown to you.”
“On the contrary, well-known to us,” replied the king, “as a loyal and faithful subject, whose loss we must deplore. I have no doubt that his son inherits his courage and his fidelity.”
The king held out his hand, and Chaloner bent his knee and kissed it.
“And now, your majesty will be surprised that I should present to you one of a house supposed to be extinct—the eldest son of Colonel Beverley.”
“Indeed!” replied his majesty; “I heard that all his family perished at the ruthless burning of Arnwood. I hold myself fortunate, as a king, that even one son of so loyal and brave a gentleman as Colonel Beverley has escaped. You are welcome, young sir—most welcome to us; you must be near us; the very name of Beverley will be pleasing to our ears by night or day.”
Edward knelt down and kissed his majesty’s hand, and the king said—
“What can we do for a Beverley? Let us know, that we may show our feelings towards his father’s memory?”
“All I request is, that your majesty will allow me to be near you in the hour of danger,” replied Edward.
“A right Beverley reply,” said the king, “and so we shall see to it, Middleton.”
After a few more courteous words from his majesty they withdrew; but General Middleton was recalled by the king for a minute or two to receive his commands. When he rejoined Edward and Chaloner, he said to Edward—
“I have orders to send in for his majesty’s signature your commission as captain of horse, and attached to the king’s personal staff; it is a high compliment to the memory of your father, sir, and, I may add, your own personal appearance. Chaloner will see to your uniforms and accoutrements; you are well mounted, I believe you have no time to lose, as we march to-morrow for Warrington, in Cheshire.”
“Has anything been heard of the Parliamentary army?”
“Yes; they are on the march towards London by the Yorkshire road, intending to cut us off if they can. And now, gentlemen, farewell; for I have no idle time, I assure you.”
Edward was soon equipped, and now attended upon the king. When they arrived at Warrington they found a body of horse drawn up to oppose their passage onwards. These were charged, and fled with a trifling loss; and as they were known to be commanded by Lambert, one of Cromwell’s best generals, there was great exultation in the king’s army; but the fact was that Lambert had acted upon Cromwell’s orders, which were, to harass and delay the march of the king as much as possible, but not to risk with his small force anything like an engagement. After this skirmish it was considered advisable to send back the Earl of Derby and many other officers of importance into Lancashire, that they might collect the king’s adherents in that quarter and in Cheshire. Accordingly the earl, with about two hundred officers and gentlemen, left the army with that intention. It was then considered that it would be advisable to march the army direct to London; but the men were so fatigued with the rapidity of the march up to the present time, and the weather was so warm, that it was decided in the negative; and as Worcester was a town well affected to the king, and the country abounded with provisions, it was resolved that the army should march there, and wait for English reinforcements. This was done; the city opened the gates with every mark of satisfaction, and supplied the army with all that it required. The first bad news which reached them was the dispersion and defeat of the whole of the Earl of Derby’s party by a regiment of militia, which had surprised them at Wigan during the night, when they were all asleep, and had no idea that any enemy was near to them. Although attacked at such a disadvantage, they defended themselves till a large portion of them were killed, and the remainder were taken prisoners, and most of them brutally put to death. The Earl of Derby was made a prisoner, but not put to death with the others.
“This is bad news, Chaloner,” said Edward.
“Yes; it is more than bad,” replied the latter; “we have lost our best officers, who never should have left the army; and now, the consequences of the defeat will be that we shall not have any people coming forward to join us. The winning side is the right side in this world; and there is more evil than that: the Duke of Buckingham has claimed the command of the army, which the king has refused; so that we are beginning to fight among ourselves. General Lesley is evidently dispirited, and thinks bad of the cause. Middleton is the only man who does his duty. Depend upon it we shall have Cromwell upon us before we are aware of it; and we are in a state of sad confusion—officers quarrelling, men disobedient, much talking, and little doing. Here we have been five days, and the works, which have been proposed to be thrown up as defences, not yet begun.”
“I cannot but admire the patience of the king, with so much to harass and annoy him.”
“He must be patient, perforce,” replied Chaloner; “he plays for a crown, and it is a high stake; but he cannot command the minds of men, although he may the persons. I am no croaker, Beverley; but this I do say, that if we succeed with this army, as it is at present disorganised, we shall perform a miracle.”
“We must hope for the best,” replied Edward; “common danger may cement those who would otherwise be asunder; and when they have the army of Cromwell before them, they may be induced to forget their private quarrels and jealousies and unite in the good cause.”
“I wish I could be of your opinion, Beverley,” replied Chaloner; “but I have mixed with the world longer than you have, and I think otherwise.”
Several more days passed, during which no defences were thrown up, and the confusion and quarrelling in the army continued to increase, until at last news arrived that Cromwell was within half a day’s march of them, and that he had collected all the militia on his route, and was now in numbers nearly double to those in the king’s army. All was amazement and confusion—nothing had been done—no arrangements had been made—and Chaloner told Edward that all was lost if immediate steps were not taken.
On the 3rd of October the army of Cromwell appeared in sight. Edward had been on horseback, attending the king, for the best part of the night; the disposition of the troops had been made as well as it could; and it was concluded, as Cromwell’s army remained quiet, that no attempt would be made on that day. About noon the king returned to his lodging, to take some refreshment after his fatigue. Edward was with him; but before an hour had passed the alarm came that the armies were engaged. The king mounted his horse, which was ready saddled at the door; but before he could ride out of the city he was met and nearly beaten back by the whole body almost of his own cavalry, who came running on with such force that he could not stop them. His majesty called to several of the officers by name, but they paid no attention; and so great was the panic, that both the king, and his staff who attended him, were nearly overthrown and trampled under foot.
Cromwell had passed a large portion of his troops over the river without the knowledge of his opponents, and when the attack was made in so unexpected a quarter a panic ensued. Where General Middleton and the Duke of Hamilton commanded, a very brave resistance was made; but Middleton being wounded, and the Duke of Hamilton having had his leg taken off by a round shot, and many gentlemen having fallen, the troops, deserted by the remainder of the army, at last gave way, and the rout was general, the foot throwing away their muskets before they were discharged.
His majesty rode back into the town and found a body of horse, who had been persuaded by Chaloner to make a stand. “Follow me,” said his majesty, “we will see what the enemy are about. I do not think they pursue, and if so, we may yet rally from this foolish panic.”
His majesty, followed by Edward, Chaloner, and several of his personal staff, then galloped out to reconnoitre; but to his mortification he found that the troops had not followed him, but gone out of the town by the other gate, and that the enemy’s cavalry in pursuit were actually in the town. Under such circumstances, by the advice of Chaloner and Edward, his majesty withdrew, and turning his horse’s head he made all haste to leave Worcester. After several hours’ riding, the king found himself in company of about 4000 of the cavalry who had so disgracefully fled; but they were still so panic-struck that he could put no confidence in them, and having advised with those about him he resolved to quit them. This he did without mentioning his intentions to any of his staff, not even Chaloner or Edward, leaving at night with two of his servants, whom he dismissed as soon as it was daylight, considering that his chance of escape would be greater if he was quite alone.
It was not till next morning that the troops discovered that the king had left them, and then they determined to separate, and as the major portion were from Scotland to make what haste they could back to that country. And now Chaloner and Edward consulted as to their plans.
“It appears to me,” said Edward, laughing, “that the danger of this campaign of ours will consist in getting back again to our own homes; for I can most safely assert that I have not as yet struck a blow for the king.”
“That is true enough, Beverley. When do you purpose going back to the New Forest? I think, if you will permit me, I will accompany you,” said Chaloner. “All the pursuit will be to the northward to intercept and overtake the retreat into Scotland. I cannot therefore go to Lancashire; and indeed, as they know that I am out, they will be looking for me everywhere.”
“Then come with me,” said Edward; “I will find you protection till you can decide what to do. Let us ride on away from this, and we will talk over the matter as we go; but depend upon it, the farther south we get the safer we shall be; but still not safe, unless we can change our costume. There will be a strict search for the king to the south, as they will presume that he will try to get safe to France. Hark! What is that? I heard the report of arms. Let us ride up this hill and see what is going on.”
They did so, and perceived that there was a skirmish between a party of Cavaliers and some of the Parliamentary cavalry at about a quarter of a mile distant.
“Come, Chaloner, let us at all events have one blow,” said Edward.
“Agreed,” replied Chaloner, spurring his horse; and down they went at full speed, and in a minute were in themêlée, coming on the rear of the Parliamentary troops.
This sudden attack from behind decided the affair. The Parliamentary troopers, thinking that there were wore than two coming upon them, made off after another minute’s combat, leaving five or six of their men on the ground.
“Thanks, Chaloner thanks, Beverley!” said a voice, which they immediately recognised. It was that of one of the king’s pages. “These fellows with me were just about to run if you had not come to our aid. I will remain with them no longer, but join you if you will permit me.”
“At all events remain here till they go away—I will send them off.”
“My lads, you must all separate, or there will be no chance of escape. No more than two should ride together. Depend upon it we shall have more of the troops here directly.”
The men, about fifteen in number, who had been in company with Grenville, considered that Chaloner’s advice was good, and without ceremony set off with their horses’ heads to the northward, leaving Chaloner, Edward, and Grenville together on the field of the affray. A dozen men were lying on the ground, either dead or severely wounded; seven of them were of the king’s party, and the other five of the Parliamentary troops.
“Now what I propose,” said Edward, “is this,—let us do what we can for those who are wounded, and then strip off the dresses and accoutrements of those Parliamentary dragoons who are dead, and dress ourselves in them, accoutrements and all. We can then pass through the country in safety, as we shall be supposed to be one of the parties looking for the king.”
“That is a good idea,” replied Chaloner, “and the sooner it is done the better.”
“Well,” said Edward, wiping his sword, which he still held drawn, and then sheathing it, “I will take the spoils of this fellow nearest to me: he fell by my hand, and I am entitled to them by all the laws of war and chivalry; but first let us dismount and look to the wounded.”
They tied their horses to a tree, and having given what assistance they could to the wounded men, they proceeded to strip three of the Parliamentary troopers; and then, laying aside their own habiliments, they dressed themselves in the uniform of the enemy, and mounting their horses made all haste from the place. Having gained about twelve miles, they pulled up and rode at a more leisurely pace. It was now eight o’clock in the evening, but still not very dark; they therefore rode on another five miles, till they came to a small village, where they dismounted at an ale-house, and put their horses into the stable.
“We must be insolent and brutal in our manners, or we shall be suspected.”
“Very true,” said Grenville, giving the ostler a kick and telling him to bestir himself if he did not want his ears cropped.
They entered the ale-house, and soon found out they were held in great terror. They ordered everything of the best to be produced, and threatened to set fire to the house if it was not; they turned the man and his wife out of their bed, and all three went to sleep in it; and, in short, they behaved in such an arbitrary manner that nobody doubted that they were Cromwell’s men. In the morning they set off again, by Chaloner’s advice paying for nothing that they had ordered, although they had all of them plenty of money. They now rode fast, inquiring at the places which they passed through whether any fugitives had been seen, and if they came to a town, inquiring, before they entered, whether there were any Parliamentary troops. So well did they manage, that after four days they had gained the skirts of the New Forest, and concealed themselves in a thicket till night-time, when Edward proposed that he should conduct his fellow-travellers to the cottage, where he would leave them till his plans were arranged.
Edward had already arranged his plans. His great object was to ward off any suspicion of where he had been, and of course any idea that the Intendant had been a party to his acts; and the fortunate change of his dress enabled him now to do so with success. He had decided to conduct his two friends to the cottage that night, and the next morning to ride over in his Parliamentary costume to the Intendant’s house, and bring the first news of the success of Cromwell and the defeat at Worcester; by which stratagem it would appear as if he had been with the Parliamentary, and not with the Royalist army.
As they had travelled along, they found that the news of Cromwell’s success had not yet arrived: in those times there was not the rapidity of communication that we now have, and Edward thought it very probable that he would be the first to communicate the intelligence to the Intendant and those who resided near him.
As soon as it was dusk the three travellers left their retreat, and, guided by Edward, soon arrived at the cottage. Their appearance at first created no little consternation, for Humphrey and Pablo happened to be in the yard when they heard the clattering of the swords and accoutrements, and through the gloom observed, as they advanced, that the party were troopers. At first Humphrey was for running on and barring the door, but, on a second reflection, he felt that he could not do a more imprudent thing, if there was danger; and he therefore contented himself with hastily imparting the intelligence to his sisters, and then remaining at the threshold to meet the coming of the parties. The voice of Edward calling him by name dissipated all alarm, and in another minute he was in the arms of his brother and sisters.
“First let us take our horses to the stable, Humphrey,” said Edward, after the first greeting was over, “and then we will come and partake of anything that Alice can prepare for us, for we have not fared over well for the last three days.”
Accompanied by Humphrey and Pablo, they all went to the stables, and turned out the ponies to make room for the horses; and as soon as they were all fed and littered down they returned to the cottage, and Chaloner and Grenville were introduced. Supper was soon on the table, and they were too hungry to talk while they were eating, so but little information was gleaned from them that night. However, previous to Alice and Edith leaving the room to prepare beds for the newcomers, Humphrey ascertained that all was lost, and that they had escaped from the field. When the beds were ready, Chaloner and Grenville retired, and then Edward remained half an hour with Humphrey, to communicate to him what had passed. Of course he could not enter into detail; but told him that he would get information from their new guests after he had left, which he must do early in the morning.
“And now, Humphrey, my advice is this: My two friends cannot remain in this cottage, for many reasons; but we have the key of Clara’s cottage, and they can take up their lodging there, and we can supply them with all they want until they find means of going abroad, which is their intention. I must be off to the Intendant’s to-morrow, and the day after I will come over to you. In the meantime our guests can remain here, while you and Pablo prepare the cottage for them; and when I return everything shall be settled, and we will conduct them to it. I do not think there is much danger of their being discovered while they remain there, certainly not so much as if they were here; for we must expect parties of troops in every direction now, as they were when the king’s father made his escape from Hampton Court. And now to bed, my good brother; and call me early, for I much fear that I shall not wake up, if you do not.”
The brothers then parted for the night.
The next morning, long before their guests were awake, Edward had been called by Humphrey, and found Pablo at the door with his horse. Edward, who had put on his Parliamentary accoutrements, bade a hasty farewell to them, and set off across the forest to the house of the Intendant, where he arrived before they had left their bedrooms. The first person he encountered was, very fortunately, Oswald, who was at his cottage-door. Edward beckoned to him, being then about one hundred yards off; but Oswald did not recognise him at first, and advanced towards him in a very leisurely manner, to ascertain what the trooper might wish to inquire. But Edward called him Oswald, and that was sufficient. In few words Edward told him how all was lost, and how he had escaped by changing clothes with one of the enemy.
“I am now come to bring the news to the Intendant, Oswald. You understand me, of course?”
“Of course I do, Master Edward, and will take care that it is well-known that you have been fighting by the side of Cromwell all this time. I should recommend you to show yourself in this dress for the remainder of the day, and then every one will be satisfied. Shall I go to the Intendant’s before you?”
“No, no, Oswald; the Intendant does not require me to be introduced to him, of course. I must now gallop up to his house and announce myself. Farewell for the present—I shall see you during the day.”
Edward put spurs to his horse, and arrived at the Intendant’s at full speed, making no small clattering in the yard below as he went in, much to the surprise of Sampson, who came out to ascertain what was the cause, and who was not a little surprised at perceiving Edward, who threw himself off the horse, and desiring Sampson to take it to the stable, entered the kitchen, and disturbed Phoebe, who was preparing breakfast. Without speaking to her, Edward passed on to the Intendant’s room, and knocked.
“Whois there?” said the Intendant.
“Edward Armitage,” was the reply, and the door was opened. The Intendant started back at the sight of Edward in the trooper’s costume.
“My dear Edward, I am glad to see you in any dress; but this requires explanation. Sit down and tell me all.”
“All is soon told, sir,” replied Edward, taking off his iron skull-cap, and allowing his hair to fall down on his shoulders.
He then, in few words, stated what had happened, and by what means he had escaped, and the reason why he had kept on the trooper’s accoutrements and made his appearance in them.
“You have done very prudently,” replied the Intendant, “and you have probably saved me; at all events you have warded off all suspicion, and those who are spies upon me will now have nothing to report except to my favour. Your absence has been commented upon, and made known at high quarters, and suspicion has arisen in consequence. Your return as one of the Parliamentary forces will now put an end to all ill-natured remarks. My dear Edward, you have done me a service. As my secretary, and having been known to have been a follower of the Beverleys, your absence was considered strange, and it was intimated at high quarters that you had gone to join the king’s forces, and that with my knowledge and consent. This I have from Langton; and it has in consequence injured me not a little: but now your appearance will make all right again. Now we will first to prayers, and then to breakfast; and after that we will have a more detailed account of what has taken place since your departure. Patience and Clara will not be sorry to recover their companion; but how they will like you in that dress I cannot pretend to say. However, I thank God that you have returned safe to us; and I shall be most happy to see you once more attend in the more peaceful garb of a secretary.”
“I will, with your permission, sir, not quit this costume for one day, as it may be as well that I should be seen in it.”
“You are right, Edward: for this day retain it; to-morrow you will resume your usual costume. Go down to the parlour; you will find Patience and Clara anxiously waiting for you, I have no doubt. I will join you there in ten minutes.”
Edward left the room, and went downstairs. It hardly need be said how joyfully he was received by Patience and Clara. The former, however, expressed her joy in tears—the latter in wild mirth.
We will pass over the explanations and the narrative of what had occurred, which was given by Edward to Mr Heatherstone in his own room. The Intendant said, as he concluded—
“Edward, you must now perceive that, for the present, nothing more can be done; if it pleases the Lord, the time will come when the monarch will be reseated on his throne; at present, we must bow to the powers that be; and I tell you frankly it is my opinion that Cromwell aims at sovereignty, and will obtain it. Perhaps it may be better that we should suffer the infliction for a time, as for a time only can it be upheld, and it may be the cause of the king being more schooled and more fitted to reign than, by what you have told me in the course of your narrative, he at present appears to be.”
“Perhaps so, sir,” replied Edward. “I must say that the short campaign I have gone through has very much opened my eyes. I have seen but little true chivalric feeling, and much of interested motives, in those who have joined the king’s forces. The army collected was composed of most discordant elements, and were so discontented, so full of jealousy and ill-will, that I am not surprised at the result. One thing is certain, that there must be a much better feeling existing between all parties, before such a man as Cromwell can ever be moved from his position; and, for the present, the cause may be considered as lost.”
“You are right, Edward,” replied the Intendant; “I would they were better; but, as they are, let us make the best of them. You have now seen enough to have subdued that fiery zeal for the cause which previously occupied your whole thoughts; now let us be prudent, and try if we cannot be happy.”
Chapter Twenty Four.It was only to Oswald that Edward made known what had occurred; he knew that he was to be trusted. The next day Edward resumed his forester’s dress, while another one was preparing for him, and went over to the cottage; where, with the consent of the Intendant, he proposed remaining for a few days. Of course Edward had not failed to acquaint the Intendant with his proposed plans relative to Chaloner and Grenville, and received his consent; at the same time advising that they should gain the other side of the Channel as soon as they possibly could. Edward found them all very anxious for his arrival. Humphrey and Pablo had been to the cottage, which they had found undisturbed since the capture of the robbers, and made everything ready for the reception of the two Cavaliers, as on their first journey they took with them a cart-load of what they knew would be necessary. Chaloner and Grenville appeared to be quite at home already, and not very willing to shift their quarters. They, of course, still retained their troopers’ clothes, as they had no other to wear until they could be procured from Lymington; but, as we have before mentioned, they were in no want of money. They, had been amusing the girls and Humphrey with a description of what had occurred during the campaign, and Edward found that he had but little to tell them, as Chaloner had commenced his narrative with an account of his first meeting with Edward when he had been attacked by the highwaymen. As soon as he could get away, Edward went out with Humphrey to have some conversation with him.“Now, Humphrey, as you have pretty well heard all my adventures since our separation, let me hear what you have been doing.”“I have no such tales of stirring interest to narrate as Chaloner has been doing as your deputy, Edward,” replied Humphrey. “All I can say is, that we have had no visitors—that we have longed for your return—and that we have not been idle since you quitted us.”“What horses were those in the stable,” said Edward, “that you turned out to make room for ours when we arrived?”Humphrey laughed, and then informed Edward of the manner in which they had succeeded in capturing them.“Well, you really deserve credit, Humphrey, and certainly were not born to be secluded in this forest.”“I rather think that I have found that I was born for it,” replied Humphrey, “although, I must confess, that since you have quitted us I have not felt so contented here as I did before. You have returned, and you have no idea what an alteration I see in you since you have mixed with the world, and have been a party in such stirring scenes.”“Perhaps so, Humphrey,” replied Edward; “and yet do you know that, although I so ardently wished to mix with the world, and to follow the wars, I am anything but satisfied with what I have seen of it; and so far from feeling any inclination to return to it I rather feel more inclined to remain here, and remain in quiet and in peace. I have been disappointed, that is the truth. There is a great difference between the world such as we fancy it when we are pining for it, and the world when we actually are placed within the vortex, and perceive the secret springs of men’s actions. I have gained a lesson, but not a satisfactory one, Humphrey; it may be told in a very few words. It is a most deceitful and hollow world! And that is all there is to be said.”“What very agreeable, pleasant young men are Masters Chaloner and Grenville,” observed Humphrey.“Chaloner I know well,” replied Edward; “he is to be trusted, and he is the only one in whom I have been able to place confidence, and therefore I was most fortunate in falling in with him as I did on my first starting. Grenville I know little about; we met often, it is true, but it was in the presence of the king, being both of us on his staff; at the same time, I must acknowledge that I know nothing against him; and this I do know, which is, that he is brave.”Edward then narrated what had passed between the Intendant and himself since his return; and how well satisfied the Intendant had been with hisrusein returning to him in the dress of a trooper.“Talking about that, Edward, do you not think it likely that we shall have the troopers down here in search of the king?”“I wonder you have not had them already,” replied Edward.“And what shall we do if they arrive?”“That is all prepared for,” replied Edward; “although, till you mentioned it, I had quite forgotten it. The Intendant was talking with me on the subject last night, and here is an appointment for you as verderer, signed by him, which you are to use as you may find necessary; and here is another missive, ordering you to receive into your house two of the troopers who may be sent down here, and find them quarters and victuals, but not to be compelled to receive more. Until the search is over, Chaloner and Grenville must retain their accoutrements and remain with us: And, Humphrey, if you have not made any use of the clothes which I left here—I mean the first dress I had made when I was appointed secretary, and which I thought rather too faded to wear any longer—I will put it on now, as, should any military come here as scouters to the Intendant, I shall have some authority over them.”“It is in your chest, where you left it, Edward. The girls did propose to make two josephs out of it for winter wear; but they never have thought of it since, or have not had time. By the bye, you have not told me what you think of Alice and Edith after your long absence.”“I think they are both very much grown and very much improved,” replied Edward, “but I must confess to you that I think it is high time that they were, if possible, removed from their present homely occupations, and instructed as young ladies should be.”“But how, Edward, is that to be?”“That I cannot yet tell, and it grieves me that I cannot; but still I see the necessity of it, if ever we are to return to our position in society.”“And are we ever to return?”“I don’t know. I thought little of it before I went away and mixed in society; but since I have been in the world I have been compelled to feel that my dear sisters are not in their sphere, and I have resolved upon trying if I cannot find a more suitable position for them. Had we been successful I should have had no difficulty: but now I hardly know what to do.”“I have not inquired about Mrs Patience, brother; how is she?”“She is as good and as handsome as ever, and very much grown; indeed, she is becoming quite womanly.”“And Clara?”“Oh, I do not perceive any difference in her: I think she is grown, but I hardly observed her. Here comes Chaloner; we will tell him of our arrangements in case we are disturbed by the military parties.”“It is a most excellent arrangement,” said Chaloner, when Edward had made the communication; “and it was a lucky day when I first fell in with you, Beverley.”“Not Beverley, I pray you; that name is to be forgotten; it was only revived for the occasion.”“Very true; then, Master Secretary Armitage, I think the arrangement excellent: the only point will be to find out what troops are sent down in this direction, as we must of course belong to some other regiment, and have been pursued from the field of battle. I should think that Lambert’s squadrons will not be this way.”“We will soon ascertain that; let your horses be saddled and accoutred, so that should any of them make their appearance the horses may be at the door. It is my opinion that they will be here some time to-day.”“I fear that it will be almost impossible for the king to escape,” observed Chaloner.“I hardly know what to think of his leaving us in that way.”“I have reflected upon it,” replied Edward, “and I think it was perhaps prudent: some were to be trusted, and some not; it was impossible to know who were and who were not—he therefore trusted nobody. Besides, his chance of escape, if quite alone, is greater than if in company.”“And yet I feel a little mortified that he did not trust me,” continued Edward; “my life was at his service.”“He could no more read your heart than he could mine or others,” observed Chaloner; “and any selection would have been invidious: on the whole, I think he acted wisely, and I trust that it will prove so. One thing is certain, which is, that all is over now, and that for a long while—we may let our swords rest in their scabbards. Indeed, I am sickened with it, after what I have seen, and would gladly live here with you, and help to till the land—away from the world and all its vexations. What say you, Edward; will you and your brother take me as a labourer after all is quiet again?”“You would soon tire of it, Chaloner; you were made for active exertion and bustling in the world.”“Nevertheless, I think, under two such amiable and pretty mistresses, I could stay well contented here: it is almost Arcadian. But still it is selfish for me to talk in this way; indeed, my feelings are contrary to my words.”“How do you mean, Chaloner?”“To be candid with you, Edward, I was thinking what a pity it is that two such sweet girls as your sisters should be employed here in domestic drudgery, and remain in such an uncultivated state—if I may be pardoned for speaking so freely—but I do so because I am convinced that, if in proper hands, they would grace a court; and you must feel that I am right.”“Do you not think that the same feelings have passed in my mind, Chaloner? Indeed, Humphrey will tell you that we were speaking on the same subject but an hour ago. You must, however, be aware of the difficulty I am in: were I in possession of Arnwood and its domain, then indeed—but that is all over now, and I presume I shall shortly see my own property, whose woods are now in sight of me, made over to some Roundhead, for good services against the Cavaliers at Worcester.”“Edward,” replied Chaloner, “I have this to say to you, and I can say it because you know that I am indebted to you for my life, and that is a debt that nothing can cancel: If at any time you determine upon removing your sisters from this, recollect my maiden aunts at Portlake. They cannot be in better hands, and they cannot be in the hands of any person who will more religiously do their duty towards them, and be pleased with the trust confided to them. They are rich, in spite of exactions; but in these times women are not fined and plundered as men are, and they have been well able to afford all that has been taken from them, and all that they have voluntarily given to the assistance of our party. They are alone, and I really believe that nothing would make them more happy than to have the care of the two sisters of Edward Beverley—be sure of that. But I will be more sure of it, if you will find means of sending to them a letter, which I shall write to them. I tell you that you will do them a favour, and that if you do not accept the offer, you will sacrifice your sisters’ welfare to your own pride,—which I do not think you would do.”“Most certainly I will not do that,” replied Edward; “and I am fully sensible of your kind offer; but I can say no more until I hear what your good aunts may reply to your letter. You mistake me much, Chaloner, if you think that any sense of obligation would prevent me from seeing my sisters removed from a position so unworthy of them, but which circumstances have driven them to. That we are paupers is undeniable; but I never shall forget that my sisters are the daughters of Colonel Beverley.”“I am delighted with your reply, Edward, and I fear not that of my good aunts. It will be a great happiness to me when I am wandering abroad to know that your sisters are under their roof, and are being educated as they ought to be.”“What’s the matter, Pablo?” said Humphrey to the former, who came running, out of breath.“Soldiers,” said Pablo; “plenty of them, gallop this way—gallop every way.”“Now, Chaloner, we must get ourselves out of this scrape; and I trust that afterwards all will be well,” said Edward. “Bring the horses out to the door; and, Chaloner, you and Grenville must wait within: bring my horse out also, as it will appear as if I had just ridden over. I must in to change my dress. Humphrey, keep a look-out and let us know when they come.”Chaloner and Edward went in, and Edward put on his dress of secretary. Shortly afterwards a party of cavalry were seen galloping towards the cottage. They soon arrived there, and pulled up their horses. An officer who headed them addressed Humphrey in a haughty tone, and asked him who he was.“I am one of the verderers of the forest, sir,” replied Humphrey respectfully.“And whose cottage is that? And who have you there?”“The cottage is mine, sir; two of the horses at the door belong to two troopers who have come in quest of those who fled from Worcester; the other horse belongs to the secretary of the Intendant of the forest, Mr Heatherstone, who has come over with directions from the Intendant as to the capture of the rebels.”At this moment Edward came out and saluted the officer.“This is the secretary, sir, Master Armitage,” said Humphrey, falling back.Edward saluted the officer, and said—“Mr Heatherstone, the Intendant, has sent me over here to make arrangements for the capture of the rebels. This man is ordered to lodge two troopers as long as they are considered necessary to remain; and I have directions to tell any officer whom I may meet that Mr Heatherstone and his verderers will take good care that none of the rebels are harboured in this direction; and that it will be better that the troops scour the southern edge of the forest, as it is certain that the fugitives will try all that they can to embark for France.”“What regiment do the troopers belong to that you have here?”“I believe to Lambert’s troop, sir; but they shall come out and answer for themselves. Tell those men to come out,” said Edward to Humphrey.“Yes, sir; but they are hard to wake, for they have ridden from Worcester; but I will rouse them.”“Nay, I cannot wait,” replied the officer. “I know none of Lambert’s troops, and they have no information to give.”“Could you not take them with you, sir, and leave two of your men instead of them; for they are troublesome people to a poor man, and devour everything?” said Humphrey submissively.“No, no,” replied the officer, laughing, “we all know Lambert’s people—a friend or enemy is much the same to them. I have no power over them, and you must make the best of it.—Forward! Men,” continued the officer, saluting Edward as he passed on: and in a minute or two they were far in the distance.“That’s well over,” observed Edward. “Chaloner and Grenville are too young-looking and too good-looking for Lambert’s villains; and a sight of them might have occasioned suspicion. We must, however, expect more visits. Keep a good look-out, Pablo.”Edward and Humphrey then went in and joined the party inside the cottage, who were in a state of no little suspense during the colloquy outside.“Why, Alice, dearest, you look quite pale,” said Edward, as he came in.“I feared for our guests, Edward. I’m sure that if they had come into the cottage, Master Chaloner and Master Grenville would never have been believed to be troopers.”“We thank you for the compliment, Mistress Alice,” said Chaloner; “but I think, if necessary, I could ruffle and swear with the best, or rather the worst of them. We passed for troopers very well on the road here.”“Yes, but you did not meet any other troopers.”“That’s very true, and shows your penetration. I acknowledge that with troopers there would have been more difficulty; but still, among so many thousands there must be many varieties, and it would be an awkward thing for an officer of one troop to arrest upon suspicion the men belonging to another. I think, when we are visited again, I shall sham intoxication—that will not be very suspicious.”“No, not on either side,” replied Edward. “Come, Alice, we will eat what dinner you may have ready for us.”For three or four days the Parliamentary forces continued to scour the forest, and another visit or two was paid to the cottage, but without suspicion being created, in consequence of the presence of Edward, and his explanations. The parties were invariably sent in another direction. Edward wrote to the Intendant, informing him what had occurred, and requesting permission to remain a few days longer at the cottage; and Pablo, who took the letter, returned with one from the Intendant, acquainting him that the king had not yet been taken; and requesting the utmost vigilance on his part to ensure his capture, with directions to search various places, in company with the troopers who had been stationed at the cottage; or if he did not like to leave the cottage, to show the letter to any officer commanding parties in search, that they might act upon the suggestions contained in it. This letter Edward had an opportunity of showing to one or two officers commanding parties, who approached the cottage, and to whom Edward went out to communicate with, thereby preventing their stopping there.At last, in about a fortnight, there was not a party in the forest, all of them having gone down to the sea-side, to look-out for the fugitives, several of whom were taken.Humphrey took the cart to Lymington, to procure clothes for Chaloner and Grenville, and it was decided that they should assume those of verderers of the forest, which would enable them to carry a gun. As soon as Humphrey had obtained what was requisite, Chaloner and Grenville were conducted to Clara’s cottage, and took possession,—of course never showing themselves outside the wood which surrounded it. Humphrey lent them Holdfast as a watch dog, and they took leave of Alice and Edith with much regret. Humphrey and Edward accompanied them to their new abode. It was arranged that the horses should remain under the care of Humphrey, as they had no stable at Clara’s cottage.On parting, Chaloner gave Edward the letter for his aunts; and then Edward once more bent his steps towards the Intendant’s house, and found himself in the company of Patience and Clara.Edward narrated to the Intendant all that had occurred, and the Intendant approved of what he had done; strongly advising that Chaloner and Grenville should not attempt to go to the continent till all pursuit was over.“Here’s a letter I have received from the Government, Edward, highly commending my vigilance and activity in pursuit of the fugitives. It appears that the officers you fell in with have written up to state what admirable dispositions we had made. It is a pity, is it not, Edward, that we are compelled to be thus deceitful in this world? Nothing but the times, and the wish to do good, could warrant it. We meet the wicked, and fight them with their own weapons; but although it is treating them as they deserve, our conscience must tell us that it is not right.”“Surely, sir, to save the lives of people who have committed no other fault except loyalty to their king, will warrant our so doing—at least, I hope so.”“According to the Scriptures, I fear it will not; but it is a difficult question for us to decide. Let us be guided by our own consciences; if they do not reproach us we cannot be far from right.”Edward then produced the letter he had received from Chaloner, requesting that the Intendant would have the kindness to forward it.“I see,” replied the Intendant; “I can forward these through Langton. I presume it is to obtain credit for money. It shall go on Thursday.”The conference was then broken up, and Edward went to see Oswald.
It was only to Oswald that Edward made known what had occurred; he knew that he was to be trusted. The next day Edward resumed his forester’s dress, while another one was preparing for him, and went over to the cottage; where, with the consent of the Intendant, he proposed remaining for a few days. Of course Edward had not failed to acquaint the Intendant with his proposed plans relative to Chaloner and Grenville, and received his consent; at the same time advising that they should gain the other side of the Channel as soon as they possibly could. Edward found them all very anxious for his arrival. Humphrey and Pablo had been to the cottage, which they had found undisturbed since the capture of the robbers, and made everything ready for the reception of the two Cavaliers, as on their first journey they took with them a cart-load of what they knew would be necessary. Chaloner and Grenville appeared to be quite at home already, and not very willing to shift their quarters. They, of course, still retained their troopers’ clothes, as they had no other to wear until they could be procured from Lymington; but, as we have before mentioned, they were in no want of money. They, had been amusing the girls and Humphrey with a description of what had occurred during the campaign, and Edward found that he had but little to tell them, as Chaloner had commenced his narrative with an account of his first meeting with Edward when he had been attacked by the highwaymen. As soon as he could get away, Edward went out with Humphrey to have some conversation with him.
“Now, Humphrey, as you have pretty well heard all my adventures since our separation, let me hear what you have been doing.”
“I have no such tales of stirring interest to narrate as Chaloner has been doing as your deputy, Edward,” replied Humphrey. “All I can say is, that we have had no visitors—that we have longed for your return—and that we have not been idle since you quitted us.”
“What horses were those in the stable,” said Edward, “that you turned out to make room for ours when we arrived?”
Humphrey laughed, and then informed Edward of the manner in which they had succeeded in capturing them.
“Well, you really deserve credit, Humphrey, and certainly were not born to be secluded in this forest.”
“I rather think that I have found that I was born for it,” replied Humphrey, “although, I must confess, that since you have quitted us I have not felt so contented here as I did before. You have returned, and you have no idea what an alteration I see in you since you have mixed with the world, and have been a party in such stirring scenes.”
“Perhaps so, Humphrey,” replied Edward; “and yet do you know that, although I so ardently wished to mix with the world, and to follow the wars, I am anything but satisfied with what I have seen of it; and so far from feeling any inclination to return to it I rather feel more inclined to remain here, and remain in quiet and in peace. I have been disappointed, that is the truth. There is a great difference between the world such as we fancy it when we are pining for it, and the world when we actually are placed within the vortex, and perceive the secret springs of men’s actions. I have gained a lesson, but not a satisfactory one, Humphrey; it may be told in a very few words. It is a most deceitful and hollow world! And that is all there is to be said.”
“What very agreeable, pleasant young men are Masters Chaloner and Grenville,” observed Humphrey.
“Chaloner I know well,” replied Edward; “he is to be trusted, and he is the only one in whom I have been able to place confidence, and therefore I was most fortunate in falling in with him as I did on my first starting. Grenville I know little about; we met often, it is true, but it was in the presence of the king, being both of us on his staff; at the same time, I must acknowledge that I know nothing against him; and this I do know, which is, that he is brave.”
Edward then narrated what had passed between the Intendant and himself since his return; and how well satisfied the Intendant had been with hisrusein returning to him in the dress of a trooper.
“Talking about that, Edward, do you not think it likely that we shall have the troopers down here in search of the king?”
“I wonder you have not had them already,” replied Edward.
“And what shall we do if they arrive?”
“That is all prepared for,” replied Edward; “although, till you mentioned it, I had quite forgotten it. The Intendant was talking with me on the subject last night, and here is an appointment for you as verderer, signed by him, which you are to use as you may find necessary; and here is another missive, ordering you to receive into your house two of the troopers who may be sent down here, and find them quarters and victuals, but not to be compelled to receive more. Until the search is over, Chaloner and Grenville must retain their accoutrements and remain with us: And, Humphrey, if you have not made any use of the clothes which I left here—I mean the first dress I had made when I was appointed secretary, and which I thought rather too faded to wear any longer—I will put it on now, as, should any military come here as scouters to the Intendant, I shall have some authority over them.”
“It is in your chest, where you left it, Edward. The girls did propose to make two josephs out of it for winter wear; but they never have thought of it since, or have not had time. By the bye, you have not told me what you think of Alice and Edith after your long absence.”
“I think they are both very much grown and very much improved,” replied Edward, “but I must confess to you that I think it is high time that they were, if possible, removed from their present homely occupations, and instructed as young ladies should be.”
“But how, Edward, is that to be?”
“That I cannot yet tell, and it grieves me that I cannot; but still I see the necessity of it, if ever we are to return to our position in society.”
“And are we ever to return?”
“I don’t know. I thought little of it before I went away and mixed in society; but since I have been in the world I have been compelled to feel that my dear sisters are not in their sphere, and I have resolved upon trying if I cannot find a more suitable position for them. Had we been successful I should have had no difficulty: but now I hardly know what to do.”
“I have not inquired about Mrs Patience, brother; how is she?”
“She is as good and as handsome as ever, and very much grown; indeed, she is becoming quite womanly.”
“And Clara?”
“Oh, I do not perceive any difference in her: I think she is grown, but I hardly observed her. Here comes Chaloner; we will tell him of our arrangements in case we are disturbed by the military parties.”
“It is a most excellent arrangement,” said Chaloner, when Edward had made the communication; “and it was a lucky day when I first fell in with you, Beverley.”
“Not Beverley, I pray you; that name is to be forgotten; it was only revived for the occasion.”
“Very true; then, Master Secretary Armitage, I think the arrangement excellent: the only point will be to find out what troops are sent down in this direction, as we must of course belong to some other regiment, and have been pursued from the field of battle. I should think that Lambert’s squadrons will not be this way.”
“We will soon ascertain that; let your horses be saddled and accoutred, so that should any of them make their appearance the horses may be at the door. It is my opinion that they will be here some time to-day.”
“I fear that it will be almost impossible for the king to escape,” observed Chaloner.
“I hardly know what to think of his leaving us in that way.”
“I have reflected upon it,” replied Edward, “and I think it was perhaps prudent: some were to be trusted, and some not; it was impossible to know who were and who were not—he therefore trusted nobody. Besides, his chance of escape, if quite alone, is greater than if in company.”
“And yet I feel a little mortified that he did not trust me,” continued Edward; “my life was at his service.”
“He could no more read your heart than he could mine or others,” observed Chaloner; “and any selection would have been invidious: on the whole, I think he acted wisely, and I trust that it will prove so. One thing is certain, which is, that all is over now, and that for a long while—we may let our swords rest in their scabbards. Indeed, I am sickened with it, after what I have seen, and would gladly live here with you, and help to till the land—away from the world and all its vexations. What say you, Edward; will you and your brother take me as a labourer after all is quiet again?”
“You would soon tire of it, Chaloner; you were made for active exertion and bustling in the world.”
“Nevertheless, I think, under two such amiable and pretty mistresses, I could stay well contented here: it is almost Arcadian. But still it is selfish for me to talk in this way; indeed, my feelings are contrary to my words.”
“How do you mean, Chaloner?”
“To be candid with you, Edward, I was thinking what a pity it is that two such sweet girls as your sisters should be employed here in domestic drudgery, and remain in such an uncultivated state—if I may be pardoned for speaking so freely—but I do so because I am convinced that, if in proper hands, they would grace a court; and you must feel that I am right.”
“Do you not think that the same feelings have passed in my mind, Chaloner? Indeed, Humphrey will tell you that we were speaking on the same subject but an hour ago. You must, however, be aware of the difficulty I am in: were I in possession of Arnwood and its domain, then indeed—but that is all over now, and I presume I shall shortly see my own property, whose woods are now in sight of me, made over to some Roundhead, for good services against the Cavaliers at Worcester.”
“Edward,” replied Chaloner, “I have this to say to you, and I can say it because you know that I am indebted to you for my life, and that is a debt that nothing can cancel: If at any time you determine upon removing your sisters from this, recollect my maiden aunts at Portlake. They cannot be in better hands, and they cannot be in the hands of any person who will more religiously do their duty towards them, and be pleased with the trust confided to them. They are rich, in spite of exactions; but in these times women are not fined and plundered as men are, and they have been well able to afford all that has been taken from them, and all that they have voluntarily given to the assistance of our party. They are alone, and I really believe that nothing would make them more happy than to have the care of the two sisters of Edward Beverley—be sure of that. But I will be more sure of it, if you will find means of sending to them a letter, which I shall write to them. I tell you that you will do them a favour, and that if you do not accept the offer, you will sacrifice your sisters’ welfare to your own pride,—which I do not think you would do.”
“Most certainly I will not do that,” replied Edward; “and I am fully sensible of your kind offer; but I can say no more until I hear what your good aunts may reply to your letter. You mistake me much, Chaloner, if you think that any sense of obligation would prevent me from seeing my sisters removed from a position so unworthy of them, but which circumstances have driven them to. That we are paupers is undeniable; but I never shall forget that my sisters are the daughters of Colonel Beverley.”
“I am delighted with your reply, Edward, and I fear not that of my good aunts. It will be a great happiness to me when I am wandering abroad to know that your sisters are under their roof, and are being educated as they ought to be.”
“What’s the matter, Pablo?” said Humphrey to the former, who came running, out of breath.
“Soldiers,” said Pablo; “plenty of them, gallop this way—gallop every way.”
“Now, Chaloner, we must get ourselves out of this scrape; and I trust that afterwards all will be well,” said Edward. “Bring the horses out to the door; and, Chaloner, you and Grenville must wait within: bring my horse out also, as it will appear as if I had just ridden over. I must in to change my dress. Humphrey, keep a look-out and let us know when they come.”
Chaloner and Edward went in, and Edward put on his dress of secretary. Shortly afterwards a party of cavalry were seen galloping towards the cottage. They soon arrived there, and pulled up their horses. An officer who headed them addressed Humphrey in a haughty tone, and asked him who he was.
“I am one of the verderers of the forest, sir,” replied Humphrey respectfully.
“And whose cottage is that? And who have you there?”
“The cottage is mine, sir; two of the horses at the door belong to two troopers who have come in quest of those who fled from Worcester; the other horse belongs to the secretary of the Intendant of the forest, Mr Heatherstone, who has come over with directions from the Intendant as to the capture of the rebels.”
At this moment Edward came out and saluted the officer.
“This is the secretary, sir, Master Armitage,” said Humphrey, falling back.
Edward saluted the officer, and said—
“Mr Heatherstone, the Intendant, has sent me over here to make arrangements for the capture of the rebels. This man is ordered to lodge two troopers as long as they are considered necessary to remain; and I have directions to tell any officer whom I may meet that Mr Heatherstone and his verderers will take good care that none of the rebels are harboured in this direction; and that it will be better that the troops scour the southern edge of the forest, as it is certain that the fugitives will try all that they can to embark for France.”
“What regiment do the troopers belong to that you have here?”
“I believe to Lambert’s troop, sir; but they shall come out and answer for themselves. Tell those men to come out,” said Edward to Humphrey.
“Yes, sir; but they are hard to wake, for they have ridden from Worcester; but I will rouse them.”
“Nay, I cannot wait,” replied the officer. “I know none of Lambert’s troops, and they have no information to give.”
“Could you not take them with you, sir, and leave two of your men instead of them; for they are troublesome people to a poor man, and devour everything?” said Humphrey submissively.
“No, no,” replied the officer, laughing, “we all know Lambert’s people—a friend or enemy is much the same to them. I have no power over them, and you must make the best of it.—Forward! Men,” continued the officer, saluting Edward as he passed on: and in a minute or two they were far in the distance.
“That’s well over,” observed Edward. “Chaloner and Grenville are too young-looking and too good-looking for Lambert’s villains; and a sight of them might have occasioned suspicion. We must, however, expect more visits. Keep a good look-out, Pablo.”
Edward and Humphrey then went in and joined the party inside the cottage, who were in a state of no little suspense during the colloquy outside.
“Why, Alice, dearest, you look quite pale,” said Edward, as he came in.
“I feared for our guests, Edward. I’m sure that if they had come into the cottage, Master Chaloner and Master Grenville would never have been believed to be troopers.”
“We thank you for the compliment, Mistress Alice,” said Chaloner; “but I think, if necessary, I could ruffle and swear with the best, or rather the worst of them. We passed for troopers very well on the road here.”
“Yes, but you did not meet any other troopers.”
“That’s very true, and shows your penetration. I acknowledge that with troopers there would have been more difficulty; but still, among so many thousands there must be many varieties, and it would be an awkward thing for an officer of one troop to arrest upon suspicion the men belonging to another. I think, when we are visited again, I shall sham intoxication—that will not be very suspicious.”
“No, not on either side,” replied Edward. “Come, Alice, we will eat what dinner you may have ready for us.”
For three or four days the Parliamentary forces continued to scour the forest, and another visit or two was paid to the cottage, but without suspicion being created, in consequence of the presence of Edward, and his explanations. The parties were invariably sent in another direction. Edward wrote to the Intendant, informing him what had occurred, and requesting permission to remain a few days longer at the cottage; and Pablo, who took the letter, returned with one from the Intendant, acquainting him that the king had not yet been taken; and requesting the utmost vigilance on his part to ensure his capture, with directions to search various places, in company with the troopers who had been stationed at the cottage; or if he did not like to leave the cottage, to show the letter to any officer commanding parties in search, that they might act upon the suggestions contained in it. This letter Edward had an opportunity of showing to one or two officers commanding parties, who approached the cottage, and to whom Edward went out to communicate with, thereby preventing their stopping there.
At last, in about a fortnight, there was not a party in the forest, all of them having gone down to the sea-side, to look-out for the fugitives, several of whom were taken.
Humphrey took the cart to Lymington, to procure clothes for Chaloner and Grenville, and it was decided that they should assume those of verderers of the forest, which would enable them to carry a gun. As soon as Humphrey had obtained what was requisite, Chaloner and Grenville were conducted to Clara’s cottage, and took possession,—of course never showing themselves outside the wood which surrounded it. Humphrey lent them Holdfast as a watch dog, and they took leave of Alice and Edith with much regret. Humphrey and Edward accompanied them to their new abode. It was arranged that the horses should remain under the care of Humphrey, as they had no stable at Clara’s cottage.
On parting, Chaloner gave Edward the letter for his aunts; and then Edward once more bent his steps towards the Intendant’s house, and found himself in the company of Patience and Clara.
Edward narrated to the Intendant all that had occurred, and the Intendant approved of what he had done; strongly advising that Chaloner and Grenville should not attempt to go to the continent till all pursuit was over.
“Here’s a letter I have received from the Government, Edward, highly commending my vigilance and activity in pursuit of the fugitives. It appears that the officers you fell in with have written up to state what admirable dispositions we had made. It is a pity, is it not, Edward, that we are compelled to be thus deceitful in this world? Nothing but the times, and the wish to do good, could warrant it. We meet the wicked, and fight them with their own weapons; but although it is treating them as they deserve, our conscience must tell us that it is not right.”
“Surely, sir, to save the lives of people who have committed no other fault except loyalty to their king, will warrant our so doing—at least, I hope so.”
“According to the Scriptures, I fear it will not; but it is a difficult question for us to decide. Let us be guided by our own consciences; if they do not reproach us we cannot be far from right.”
Edward then produced the letter he had received from Chaloner, requesting that the Intendant would have the kindness to forward it.
“I see,” replied the Intendant; “I can forward these through Langton. I presume it is to obtain credit for money. It shall go on Thursday.”
The conference was then broken up, and Edward went to see Oswald.