"Tell your father that they who would hurt the young men must hurt me first.""It will be the greatest, the last, comfort he can have in this world." Then she kissed her brother, and with a glance of farewell pity at his companion, went quickly and quietly away."Go down-stairs, Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham, "and if Dr. Verity is waiting, order supper to be served. Tell him not to wait on my necessities, which are many, with so much packing and putting away to look after. Keep men and maids busy on the ground floor, and the east side. I will bestow our friends in the oak room, on the west side of the house."To this room she took them, and then brought water and wine and bread and meat, and some of her son's clothing, showing them, also, that the wide chimney had been prepared for such emergencies by having stout, firm, iron stirrups placed right and left at very short intervals. "By these you can easily reach the roof," she said; "Dr. Verity did so once, when Laud's men were seeking him. But I think no Parliament soldiers will search Israel Swaffham's house for succored malignants. To-night and to-morrow you can rest and sleep; I will waken you very early Monday morning, and you can go to de Wick for your horses, ere any one is astir." She kissed them both and poured out wine and made them drink, and then, looking carefully to see that no chink in shutters or door let out a glimpse of candle-light, left them to eat and rest. Her heart was light, and she had no sense of wrong-doing, although Stephen had warned her that Parliament had issued an order threatening all who sheltered royalists with fine and imprisonment."Parliament's orders are well enough," she said to herself as she stepped rapidly and lightly away from the scene of her disobedience, "well enough, but I think far more of the orders of the King of kings, and He tells me if my enemy hunger to feed him and give him drink, and of course shelter and clothing—the oil and the twopence—the oil for his visible wants, and the twopence for the wants not seen. I must not forget the twopence. Thank God, I can spare a few pounds for the poor lads!" And her face was so happy in the thought that she seemed to bring sunshine into the parlour, where she found Dr. Verity eating a beefsteak pudding and talking to Jane, who sat with a white and anxious face trying to smile and answer him."Come and rest a little, Martha," he said, "I am not to halve a day.""But I am, Doctor. I want to see to my boys' wounds.""Wounds! Pshaw! Scratches! They will be in armour to enter London when Cromwell does. And what think you? Here come a half-a-dozen riders awhile ago, seeking young de Wick. They said also that it was thought Charles Stuart might be with him, and they would have searched Swaffham—high and low—if I had not been here. I vouched my word for no Stuart or de Wick in Swaffham, and told them the whole house was upside down, men and maids in every room, and you and Jane packing for London. And the rascals didn't take my word, but went to the kitchen and asked Tom and Dick and Harry and all the wenches, and so satisfied themselves.""The impudent varlets," said Mrs. Swaffham, "to set your word at naught. I wish that you had called me.""I told them when they hummed and hawed to 'light from their horses and go through the house, and Jane said, 'Surely, sirs, Dr. Verity will go with you;' and then I let them have the rough side of my tongue, and said, 'I'd do no such mean business as search Captain Israel Swaffham's house for royalists, and he and his three sons fighting them on every battle-field in England and Scotland. Not I!' So they went their ways to the kitchen, and learned nothing to what I told them; but they got a drink of ale, which was likely what they wanted. But if Charles Stuart had been here I would have gladly led the way to him, for I like well to betray a man who deceives and betrays all men.""You would not, Dr. Verity," said Jane. "I know you better than your words. You would have put him on your own big horse, and put money in his hand, and said, Fly! I am not thy executioner.""I say, No, downright.""I say, Yes," affirmed Mrs. Swaffham. "In the heart of battle perhaps No, but if he came to you after the battle and begged for mercy, you would think of the reproach our Lord Christ gave to the unmerciful steward—shouldst not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant even as I had pity on thee.""You argue like a woman, Martha. There is the example of Jael.""I wouldn't do what Jael did if England's crown was for it. There is not an Englishwoman living, not one living, who would play Jael. If Charles Stuart has got away from battle, he has got away; and if you are looking to Englishwomen to betray a poor soul in extremities, Charles Stuart may live to be King of England yet.""You are making a wicked and impossible suggestion, Martha.""No more wicked and impossible than that there is another Jael in England. There is not!""Don't flare up in that way, Martha. Thank God, we are neither of us yet called upon to decide such a question as Charles Stuart's life or death. But he might come here; the courage of despair may bring him. What would you do?""You are here, and I would leave you to answer that question for me.""Well, I wish he would come. There is danger while he is hiding here and there in the country. What good is it to quench the fire in the chimney if it be scattered about the house? I think we will begin our journey to London on Monday morning, Martha.""I cannot. If I had as many hands as fingers, I could not. You may keep watch and ward to-morrow and Monday, and it may be well to do so; for to tell the truth, I trust neither men nor maids in the kitchen. For a Parliament half-crown they would hide the devil. When was this great battle of Worcester fought?""Last Wednesday, on the third day of this month.""Mother, remember how sad we were all that day. You said to me, 'Jane, there is death in the air;' and the men could not work, and they vowed the beasts trembled and were not to guide or to hold.""The third of September!" said Mrs. Swaffham, "that was Dunbar day. A great victory was Dunbar!""Worcester was a greater victory; and there will be one more third of September, the greatest victory of all. But where it will be, and over what enemy, only God knows.""When did the Worcester battle begin?" asked Jane."About four in the afternoon. It was a fair day, the sun shone brightly over the old city, with its red-tiled roofs, its orchards and gardens and hop fields, and over the noble river and long line of the green Malvern hills a few miles away. And the Royalist army made a grand show with their waving cloaks and plumes, their gay silk banners, and their shouts ofFor God and King! But they were as stubble before steel when Cromwell's iron men faced them with their stern answering shout ofGod With Us! It was a stiff business, but indeed God was with us. As for Cromwell, he was so highly transported that scarce one dared speak to him. Wherever he led, a great passion, like to a tempestuous wind, seized the men, and they crowded and rushed the enemy from street to street, shouting as they did so psalms of victory. Yes, Martha, yes, Jane, rushed them as the devil rushed the demon-haunted hogs into the sea of Galilee. Oh, I tell you, Cromwell! our Cromwell! is always grand, but never so mighty as when on horseback in front of his army. Then you look at the man, and thank God for him.""And the battle began at four? I remember hearing Swaffham church strike that hour. I stood in a wretched mood at the door and counted the strokes. They had a fateful sound.""We had been at work all day, but at that hour we had two bridges over the Severn, and Cromwell with half the army passed over them to the west side of the city. He rode in front, and was the first man to cross. Pitscottie's Highlandmen were waiting for him, and he drove them at push of pike from hedge to hedge till they were cut to pieces, every man's son of them, one on the heels of the other. And when Charles Stuart saw this battle raging on the west side of the river, he attacked the troops that had been left with Lambert on the east side. Right glad was Lambert, and 'tis said that the Stuart behaved very gallantly and broke a regiment of militia; and the troops, being mostly volunteers, began to waver. But Cromwell saw this new attack at once, and he and Desborough and Cobbett came rattling over the bridges of boats. No dismay when Cromwell was there! His voice and presence meant victory! The malignants, with their Scotch allies, retreated before him into Worcester streets, Cromwell's men after them pell-mell. Women, it was then hell let loose, for by this time it was nearly dark, and the narrow streets were lit only by the flashes of the great and small shot. Cromwell rode up and down them, in the midst of the fire; he took Fort Royal from the enemy, and with his own hands fired its guns upon them as they fled hither and thither, they knew not, in their terror and despair, where. Every street in Worcester was full of fire and blood, the rattle of artillery, the shouts of our captains, the shrieks of the dying. All night the sack of the city went on. It was a tenfold Drogheda, and ever since, by day and night, Lambert has been following the flying enemy, hunting and slaying them in every highway and hiding-place. Oh, indeed, the faces of our foes have been brought down to earth and their mouths filled with dust; and rightly so. No one will ever know the number slain, and we have ten thousand prisoners.""Was such cruelty necessary?" asked Mrs. Swaffham."War is cruel, Martha; a battle would not be a battle unless it was cruel—furiously cruel. What is the use of striking soft in battle? The work is to do over again. A cruel war is in the end a merciful war.""It is said Charles Stuart is slain.""I don't believe that report, it has been spread by his friends to favour his escape. At first he was distracted, and went about asking some one to slay him; but he was seen afterwards beyond the gates of Worcester, moving eastward with a number of his adherents. David Leslie may be slain. I saw him riding slowly up and down like a man who had lost his senses. I could have shot him easily—but I did not.""Thank God, Doctor!""I don't know about that, Martha. I'm not sure in my own mind about letting the old traitor go. But his white hair, his bloody face, and his demented look stayed my hand. He had left his bridle fall, his horse was trembling in every limb; the old man did not know what he was doing, he had lost his senses. Yet David Leslie ought to have been shot—only, I could not shoot him; he fought at my side—once. God forgive him! Martha, I have had enough of war. I thank God it is over.""But is it over?""Cromwell says so, and I believe him. When a man walks with God as closely as Cromwell does, he knows many things beyond ordinary knowledge. I saw him about ten o'clock. He had written then a few lines to his wife and family, and was writing to the Parliament. And what did he say in that letter? Did he praise himself? No! He was bold humbly to beg that all the glory might be given to God, who had wrought so great a salvation. When he had sealed and sent off these letters—by Lord Cluny Neville, Mistress Jane—he lifted his sword, red from the hilt to the point, and wiped it upon a Royalist flag lying near him. Then he dropped the blade into the sheathe with a clang, and said, 'Truly thou hast had thy last bloody supper. Rest now, thy work is done!'"[image]"THEN HE DROPPED HIS BLADE INTO THE SHEATHE WITH A CLANG.""Truly, I know not what work," said Mrs. Swaffham. "I see only death and destruction.""Martha, suppose Charles Stuart had conquered at Worcester, and that he had marched on London and been received there as the conqueror of a rebellious people, what would follow?""I know not, nor does any man or woman know.""I can tell you. Our Protestant faith and our civil liberty would be taken from us; for the latter depends on the former, and all we have done since 1640 would be to do over again. Jericho has fallen, would you rebuild it?""All I want is peace.""That we shall now have. Our steel bodies, that have galled us long with the wearing of them, may be cast off; our men will return to their homes and their daily work, and our worship shall never more be broken up, but our Sabbaths be full of good things.""If we love God, I wonder if it makes so much difference how we worship Him?""I am astonished at you, Martha.""I am astonished likewise at all the sorrow and blood-shedding about surplices and chasubles and written prayers and such things.""My dear mother!""Oh, my dear Jane, it is so; and I was astonished when I was a girl and saw my father go to poverty and prison for such trifles. Yes, I say trifles—and I am a Puritan minister's child, and not ashamed of it—and my husband and sons have been taken from me, and my household left for the battle-field, and I know not what sorrows and trials——""Come, come, Martha, you are tired and fretted. If we believe in a great and terrible God,howwe are most acceptably to worship Him is not a trifling thing; far from it! I tell you both, the form of worship we have in England measures our civil liberty. If we submit to spiritual slavery, any king or queen or successful soldier may make us civil slaves. Now let the subject drop; the war is over, we will think of peace.""Peace comes too late for many a family. There are the de Wicks.""I am sorry for them, and I could be sorrier if they had suffered for the right instead of the wrong. What will the young Lady Matilda do after her father's death?""I know not what, with any surety.""Her aunt, Lady Jevery, has been written for, more than a week ago. She may be at de Wick even now. I think Matilda will make her home with the Jeverys.""Then she goes to London. I know their great house near Drury Lane. It has very fine gardens indeed. I believe the Jeverys are under suspicion, Martha, as very hot malignants. And now, Jane, dear little Jane, listen to me. You are going to the great city, to Whitehall Palace, to Hampton Court, to the splendour and state of a great nation. You will be surrounded by military pomp and civil glory and social pride and vanity. Dear little girl, keep yourself unspotted from the world!""May God help me, sir.""And let not the tale of love beguile you. Young Harry Cromwell, gallant and good, will be there; and Lord Neville, with his long pedigree and beautiful face; and officers in scarlet and gold, and godly, eloquent preachers in black and white, and foreign nobles, and men of all kinds and degrees. And 'tis more than likely many will tell you that Jane Swaffham is fair beyond all other women, and vow their hearts and lives to your keeping.Then, Jane, in such hours of temptation, be low and humble towards God. Go often to the assembling of the saints and catch the morning dew and celestial rain of their prayers and praise. Then, Jane, cry all the more earnestly—'Tell me, oh Thou whom my soul loveth'—my soul, Jane—'where Thou feedest, where Thou makest Thy flocks to rest at noon.' And no doubt you will add to this inquiry its sweet closing—'He brought me to the banqueting-house, and His banner over me was love.'"And Jane smiled gratefully, and her eyes were dim with tears as she laid her hands in Doctor Verity's to clasp her promise. Yet when she reached her room and sat quiet in its solitude, no one will blame her because many thoughts of love and hope blended themselves with the piteous ones she sent to de Wick, and to the two weary fugitives under Swaffham roof. She was pleased at the thought of Harry Cromwell, but oh! what a serious happiness, what a flush of maiden joy transfigured her face when she thought of her lover, forecasting rose-winged hours for him to glorify. And in her soul's pure sanctuary she whispered his name while her eyes dreamed against the goal of their expected meeting. For Love gives Hope to the true and tender, but counts a cold heart a castaway.BOOK IIThe Tools To Those Who Can Handle Them!CHAPTER VION THE TIDE TOP"Cromwell! Why that's the name of Victory.""The shouting criesOf the pleased people, rend the vaulted skies.""Let there be music. Let the Master touchThe solemn organ, and soft breathing flute.""Rupert! Oh there's music in the name,Repeated as a charm to ease my grief.I, that loved name did as some god invoke;And printed kisses on it as I spoke."The great day of triumph was over. Cromwell had entered London at the head of his victorious army, and the city was safe and jubilant. Standing at her mother's side, Jane had witnessed from a window in the crowded Strand the glorious pageant of Liberty, the martial vision of warriors whose faces had been bathed in that rain that falls on battle-fields, red as the rains of hell; she had seen again the simple, kindly man who had been her childhood's friend, and who was now England's chief of men, being to England both father and son, both sword and shield. She had heard his name carried on rolling tides of human shouts and huzzas, chording with the firing of cannon, the beating of drums, the tread of thousands, the chiming of bells, and all the multitudinous and chaotic clamour which constitutes the excitement of a great crowd, and always brings with it the sense of bounding life and brotherhood.And in the midst of this joyful turbulence she had caught sight of her father and brothers and lover; her father's face sternly glad, like the face of a man who had fought a good fight to assured victory; his sons imitating his bearing, as well as youth could copy age; and the young lord not far from them, proud and radiant and carrying aloft the colours of the Commonwealth. Somewhere in that crowd of spectators he thought Jane must be present, and he bore himself as if he were constantly in her sight.As yet they had not met, nor had Cluny any certain knowledge of the Swaffham's location. There had been some supposition that they would lodge in Leadenhall Street, at the home of Mistress Adair, the widow of an Independent minister who had preached often in the little chapel attached to Oliver Cromwell's house in Huntingdon; but of this he had no positive information, and he certainly expected that Mrs. Swaffham would advise him of their arrival in London.Mrs. Swaffham had, however, learned that Cluny Neville was personally objectionable to her husband and sons, and, as she could not see clearly what road to take, she very wisely stood still, waiting for some light and guidance. And it seemed unnecessary to trouble Jane's heart until there was a positive reason for doing so; yet her depression and evident disappointment fretted her mother."What is the matter with you, Jane?" she asked irritably one morning; "you look as if you had lost everything in the world instead of being, as your father thinks, right on the road to many a good day. I wouldn't throw such a damp over things if I were you.""You seem to have forgotten Cluny, mother.""He seems to have forgotten us; he might have called, I think.""Does he know where we are?""He could have found out. He sees Cymlin often enough.""I think Cymlin dislikes him. I asked him yesterday if he knew Lord Neville and he answered me rudely.""He is your brother.""Just for that reason he ought to have spoken civilly to me.""He is your brother, and you must hear and heed what he says. And I must tell you, Jane, that it is not maidenly to take any young man so seriously as you take Lord Neville until your father and brothers are satisfied. It is a matter of importance to them what men are brought into the Swaffham family. There is plenty to make you happy without Lord Neville. Your own people are safe and sound, the Cause we love is secure, and you may now dwell your life out in England; but if we had not conquered, it would have been over the seas and into the wilderness for us, and strangers forever in old Swaffham. I shouldn't think you were done thanking God for these mercies yet; and if not, then where do you find heart-room for such melancholy and moping as I see in you?""But, mother, when I look back to last August——""If you want to look happily forward never look backward.""To be sure; but though I know Cluny loves me, doubts and fears will come, and I cannot always fight them or reason with them.""Don't try either fighting or reasoning. There is a broad enough way between them."Jane smiled and lifted her tambour work, and her mother nodded cheerfully as she continued, "Enjoy the hour as it comes to you. I have always found that one good hour brings on another." And Jane took the counsel into her heart and anon began to sing—"It was alone Thy Providence,That made us Masters of the field,"and when she had got thus far, a loud, joyful voice joined her in the next two lines, and its owner came into the room singing them—"Thou art our Castle of defense,Our Fort, our Bulwark and our Shield.""Oh, Doctor Verity!" Jane cried, "how glad I am to see you.""I had been here an hour ago, but I had to wait on the Lady Mary Cromwell. They who serve women must learn to wait. She has sent you a letter, and a coach is at your order, and you are bid to Whitehall. And you will be very welcome there.""I know not any ceremonies, Doctor.""You do not need to know them. It is Mary Cromwell, yet; though if the women of Cromwell's house assume greatness, he has won it for them. Why should they not wear the honours their father gives them?"Then Jane ran to her mother, and her box of fineries was quickly packed, and the girl came down for her visit glowing with hope and happiness. All the shadows were gone; she sat a little proudly in the fine coach by the side of Doctor Verity, and was alert and watchful, for it did not seem an improbable thing that she might have a passing sight of her lover. The city had by this time recovered its every-day temper, and she could not help contrasting the plodding, busy serenity of its present mood with its frenzy of triumphant joy on the entry of Cromwell. Doctor Verity insisted that the two conditions were alike natural. "No one can play the fool like a wise man," he said; "and the greater and the richer the city the more extravagantly and unreasonably and vauntingly it will express its victory and salvation. London had so much to lose," he continued, "that it would better have lain in ashes than lain at the feet of any Stuart."As they drew near to Whitehall, Jane's spirits fell a little. She had not caught a glimpse of her lover, and she felt a sudden anxiety about her position. Sometimes prosperity is as fatal to friendship as adversity, and the girl tried in silence to prepare herself for any change in affection that change of fortune might have caused. But her fears were very transient; Mary and Frances Cromwell met her with effusive attentions; they called her affectionately by her name, and quickly took her to the general sitting-room of the family. Madame Cromwell was there, as kind and motherly as of old; and Mistress Ireton, silently reading a sermon of Doctor Owen's; and Mrs. Claypole selecting some damask for a new gown; and Mary and Frances, full of the joy and pride of their great position, soon carried Jane all through their splendid apartments, and afterwards sat down together in Mary's room to talk over old times and the friends and occupations that had made them happy and memorable. Their first inquiry was for Lady Matilda de Wick, and when Jane answered, "Her father is dead, and I know not exactly what has befallen her since his death," the girls were all silent a few minutes. After the pause, Mary Cromwell said—"I remember her so well on her fine Barbary mare. How handsome she was! How proud! If the Earl spoke to my father then she would deign to ask after my lessons, or my dog, or how the skating was on the Broad. But she was older than I, and it seems so long ago—lately she has been deaf, dumb and blind to the Cromwells—they do not mind that much now. I wonder where she is.""It was said she would live with her aunt, Lady Jevery; if so, she must be in London.""And you know it not? And you have not seen her? That is a marvel. It was thought impossible for Matilda de Wick and Jane Swaffham to live long apart.""There have been great changes," sighed Jane. "People that were once friends know each other no more. It is hoped now that there will be many reconciliations.""We have seen Lady Heneage often," said Mary Cromwell, "and 'tis said there is a purpose of marriage between Alice Heneage and a favourite of my father's—Lord Cluny Neville.""I have seen Lord Neville," said Jane. "He brought me your letters and the blue and gold ribbon you sent me. His visits were flying ones; he came and he went.""Like the knight in the story—he loved and he rode away. But we are all mightily taken with his fine manner and his beauty, and the Lord General, my father, thinks him to have great sincerity and discretion.""A very perfect youth," answered Jane with a smile."Indeed, we think so; if you are of a different opinion you will change it on a better knowledge of the young man. He is coming here this afternoon, is he not, Frank?""He said so. He was to make some copies of the hymn he wrote, for Mr. Milton has set it to music, and we are to practice the singing together. Father thinks very highly of the words.""Dear me!" ejaculated Jane, "is he also a poet? I thought he wrote only with his sword. I fear that he has too many perfections. Has he not one fault to balance them?""Yes," answered Mary, "he has one great fault, he is a Presbyterian, and a Scotch Presbyterian. In all other things he holds with the Lord General, but he sticks to his Scotch idols—John Knox and the Covenant.""I think no worse of him for that," said Jane. "If he knew what an Independent was, he would likely be an Independent.""It is not believable," retorted Mary. "He is a Scotchman, or next door to one. And if a man is a Samaritan, what can he know of Jerusalem?""I care not what he is," said Frances. "He has handsome eyes, and he writes poetry, and he tells such stories as make your blood run cold—and sometimes love-stories, and then his voice is like music; and if it was not sinful to dance——""But it is sinful," said Jane warmly, "and if I saw Lord Neville or any other man making mincing steps to a viol I would never wish to speak to him again. Would you, Mary?""Of course not, but Frank is only talking. We have masters now in music and singing and geography, and I am learningMorley's Airs[1] straight through, besides roundelays and madrigals. And we have a new harpsichord, though the Lord General, my father, likes best the organ or the lute."[1] Popular and patriotic songs having the same vogue then asMoore's Melodiesin our era."And besides all this," continued Frances, "we are studying the French tongue, and history, and the use of the globes; and Mrs. Katon comes twice every week to teach us how to make wax flowers and fruit and take the new stitches in tatting and embroidery. And, Jane, I have got a glass bowl full of goldfish. They came from China, and there are no more of them, I think, in England. Come with me, and you shall see them.""Never mind the fish now, Frank," said Mary; "there is the bell for dinner, and we must answer it at once or we shall grieve mother."They rose at these words and went quickly to the dining-room. Mrs. Cromwell, leaning upon the arm of her daughter, Mrs. Ireton, was just entering it, and Jane wondered silently at the state these simple country gentry had so easily assumed. Officers of the household, in rich uniforms, waited on all their movements and served them with obsequious respect; and they bore their new honours as if they had been born to the purple. Mrs. Cromwell's simplicity stood her in the place of dignity, and the piety and stern republicanism of Mrs. Ireton gave to her bearing that indifference to outward pomp which passed readily for inherited nobility, while the beauty of Mrs. Claypole and her love of splendour fitted her surroundings with more than accidental propriety. All the women of this famous household were keenly alive to the glory of those achievements which had placed them in a palace, and all of them rendered to its great head every title of honour his mighty deeds claimed as their right."The General dines with the Speaker," said Mrs. Cromwell; and she was herself about to say grace when Doctor Verity entered. He was greeted with a chorus of welcomes, and readily took his seat at the foot of the table and spoke the few words of grateful prayer which sweetened and blessed every Puritan meal. Then in answer to some remark about Cromwell's absence he said,"The Lord General is much troubled about the Worcester prisoners. There has just been a pitiful kind of triumph made out of their miseries. I don't approve of it, not I, God forbid! They have been made a spectacle for men and angels, marched from Hampstead Heath, through Aldgate, Cheapside, and the Strand, to Westminster—hungry, beggarly creatures, many of them wounded, and nearly naked.""Poor fellows," said Mrs. Cromwell."Sturdy, surly fellows, madame. I don't envy the men who will have to manage them as slaves.""They go to the Barbadoes, I hear?""Yes,—it is Scotland no more for them.""Is that right, Doctor?""Indeed, madame, I am not clear in my conscience concerning the matter. It is the liberty of war. The Lord General has given two or three prisoners to each of his friends and entertainers between here and Worcester. However, the miserable fellows brought some comfort out of their evil plight, for the citizens along all the route forgot they were enemies, and the women fed them with the best of victuals, and the men stepped from their shop doors and put money in their hands. I'll be bound the rogues got more money and good white bread this morning than they have seen in all their lives before. Besides which, there is, in the Exchange and in the ale-houses, a box for the poor prisoners, and whenever men make a bargain they drop a God's-penny into it for them. That's Englishmen all over; they fight to the death in fair battle, but when their foe is at their feet they lift him up and help him and forget that he was ever their enemy. And may God keep Englishmen ever in such mind!""Indeed," said Mary Cromwell, "these Scots have given us trouble and sorrow enough. They ought to be sent out of the country, or out of the world, and that at once!""That is my opinion," said Mrs. Ireton. "Our brave men are being slain, and the country is torn asunder for their malignancy.""There have been as brave spirits as the world ever saw in both Puritan and Royalist armies, madame," answered the Doctor. "I, for one, am glad that both parties have fought their quarrel to the end. I rejoice because our hard-smiting Puritan hosts would not let the Stuarts come back and trample them, with all law and liberty, under their feet. But I would have been deadly sorry if the Cavaliers of England had wanted the temper to fight for their King and their church. Right or wrong, we must honour men who have convictions and are willing to die for them.""Monarchy and Prelacy go together," said Mrs. Ireton; "and England has had more than enough of both.""We are of one mind on that point, madame," said Doctor Verity. "In this respect, the man George Fox and his followers have some true light, and they are scattering the truth, as they see it, broadcast. I have taken occasion, and sought occasion, and gone out of my way to find occasion, to meet George Fox, but have not yet done so. I was told that he once listened to my preaching at St. Paul's Cross, and that he said I was not far from the Kingdom. I liked that in George; I hope I may say the same for him. Our Lord General thinks him to be a man after God's own heart.""My father sees the best in every one," said Mrs. Claypole."Why do you not speak to the Lord General about these poor prisoners?" Mrs. Cromwell said. "He gave very kind orders about the Dunbar prisoners, and if they were not carried out it was not his fault.""I neglect no opportunities, madame. And Cromwell needs not that any one soften his heart. The sight of these fallen heroes made him weep—but there are considerations—and every triumph implies some one crushed at the chariot wheels.""But, Doctor Verity," said Jane, "if we may lawfully fight and kill for the sake of our rights and our convictions, may we not also lawfully punish those who made us put our lives in such jeopardy?""Jane, I am sure that we have the right of self-defense; the awful attributes of vengeance and retribution are different things. Will mortal hands be innocent that take the sword of vengeance from God's armoury? I fear not. I had a long talk with Sir Richard Musgrave this morning on this very subject. I found Lord Cluny Neville with him; it seems they are related.""Why did you not bring Lord Neville with you?" asked Frank."Lord Neville looks after his own affairs, Lady Frances—I do likewise.""Then, Doctor," said Mrs. Cromwell, "look better after your dinner. That buttered salmon has gone cold while you talked. There is a jar of olives near you,—and pray what will you have? a dish of steaks? or marrow bones? or ribs of roast beef? or some larded veal? or broiled larks?""Roast beef for John Verity, madame, and a couple of broiled birds and a dish of prawns and cheese. I enjoy my meat, and am not more ashamed of it than the flowers are of drinking the morning dew.""You are always happy, Doctor," said Jane."I think it is the best part of duty to be happy, and to make others happy. No one will merit heaven by making a hell of earth. As I came through Jermyn Street I saw Lady Matilda de Wick. She looked daggers and pistols at me. God knows, I pity her. She was shrouded in black.""Has anything been heard of Stephen de Wick?" asked Jane."It is thought he reached The Hague in safety. His companion, Sir Hugh Belvard, joined Prince Rupert's pirate fleet there."Then Mrs. Ireton, as if desirous of changing the subject, spoke of Doctor John Owen, and of his treatise on "The Pattern-Man," and Doctor Verity said he was "a Master in Israel." Talking of one book led to conversations on several others, until finally the little volume by Cromwell's brother-in-law, Doctor Wilkins, was mentioned. It was a dissertation on the moon and its inhabitants, and the possibility of a passage thither. Mrs. Ireton disapproved the book altogether, and Mrs. Cromwell was quite scornful concerning her brother Wilkins, and thought "the passage to the heavenly land of much greater importance."But it was easy to turn from Doctor Wilkins to the great University in which he was a professor, and Mrs. Claypole reminded her mother of their visit to Oxford after its occupation by Cavalier and Puritan soldiers."I remember," she answered. "It was a sin and a shame to see! The stained windows were broken, and the shrines of Bernard and Frideswide open to the storm; the marble heads of the Apostles were mixed up with cannon balls and rubbish of all kinds. Straw heaps were on the pavements and staples in the walls, for dragoons had been quartered in All Souls, and their beasts had crunched their oats under the tower of St. Mary Magdalene. I could not help feeling the pity of it, and when I told the General he was troubled. He said 'the ignorant have clumsy ways of showing their hatred of wrong; but being ignorant, we must bear with them.'""All these barbarisms have been put out of sight," said Dr. Verity, "and thanks to Doctor Pocock, Oxford is itself again.""Doctor Pocock!" ejaculated Mrs. Cromwell. "He was here a few days ago to consult with the General. He had on a square cap, and large ruff surmounting his doctor's gown; his hair was powdered and his boots had lawn tops trimmed with ribbons. He looked very little like a Commonwealth Divine and Professor.""My dear madame, Doctor Pocock is both a Royalist and a Prelatist.""Then he ought not to be in Oxford," said Mary Cromwell hotly. "What is he doing there?""He is doing good work there, Lady Mary, for he is the most famous Oriental and Hebrew scholar in England. No Latiner, but great in Syriac and Arabic; and no bigot, for he is the close friend of Doctor Wallis and of your uncle, Doctor Wilkins, though he does not go with them to the Wadham conventicle. The Parliamentary triers declared him incompetent but Edward Pocock had powerful friends who knew his worth, and perhaps if you ask your honoured father, he can tell you better than I why Dr. Pocock is in Oxford, and what he is doing there."At this moment, Lord Cluny Neville entered the room. He saw Jane on the instant, and his eyes gave her swift welcome, while in the decided exhilaration following his entrance Love found his opportunities. But among them was none that gave him free speech with Jane; they were not a moment alone. Cluny had a fund of pleasant talk, for he had just come from the Mulberry Gardens, where he had met Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn and had some refreshment at the tables with them."I suppose the Evelyns were as gaily dressed as usual?" asked Mrs. Claypole, "and looking as melancholy as if the world would come to an end in a week's time?""Indeed, they were very handsome," answered Neville; "and the coach they brought from Paris is extremely fine. We had some chocolate in thin porcelain cups, and some Italian biscuits and sweetmeats. And anon we were joined by Mr. Izaak Walton, the gentlest of malignants, and very entertaining in his talk. Mr. Evelyn was praising Mr. Milton's poetry, but Mr. Walton did not agree with him. He thought John Milton was always trying to scale heaven by a ladder of his own, or else to bring down heaven on earth in some arbitrary shape or other—that in truth, he knew not in his work where he was going.""He goes, truly, where Mr. Izaak Walton cannot follow him," said Mrs. Ireton. "John Milton has looked God's Word and his own soul in the face, and he will not hold Mr. Walton's opinion of him as anything to his hurt.""Besides," added Cluny with a pleasant laugh, "Mr. Walton is writing a book, and Mr. Milton will soon not need to say with the patient man of Uz, 'Oh, that mine enemy had written a book!' He may have reprisals."During this speech there was heard from a distant apartment the sound of music, low and sweet, and full of heavenly melody."That is Mr. Milton playing," said Mary Cromwell. "I would know his touch among a thousand." And then Cluny blushed a little, and held out a small roll which he carried in his hand. It contained three fair copies of his own hymn, and Mary delightedly hurried Jane and Frank away with her to the musician. He turned as they entered and bowed gravely, and the girls fell at once under the charm of his music. Mary involuntarily assumed a majestic attitude, Frances ceased her childish titter, Cluny became almost severe, and Jane stood in silent delight while the grand melody filled their souls till they outsoared the shadow of earth and that unrest which men miscall delight. "Glory to God!" he sang, and the room rang with the lofty notes and seemed full of Presence, and of flame-like faces, sublime and tender, while the air vibrated to the final triumphant crescendo, "Glory to God! Glory to God! Glory to God in the Highest!" And in his beautiful face there was seen for a few moments that face of the soul wherein God shineth.Then there was a short pause of spiritual sensitiveness which was broken by the opening of a door, and all eyes turning towards it beheld Cromwell standing on the threshold. Perhaps he had been listening to Mr. Milton's ecstatic anthem, for his clear, penetrating eyes were tender and mystical, and a smile gentle as a woman's softened his austere mouth. He wore a suit of black cloth with a falling linen collar, stockings of homespun wool which his wife had knit, and strong shoes fastened with a steel latchet. But his brown hair, tinged with gray, flowed down upon his shoulders, and his whole air was that of a man on whom the eternal dignities of a good and great life had set their seal. Frances ran to him with a cry of delight. Mary looked at him with adoring pride, and then put into Mr. Milton's hand the roll of manuscript Lord Neville had given her. Jane left her companions and timidly advanced to meet the Lord General. He saw her in a moment, and gave her a smile so bright and affectionate that all fear vanished, and she hastened her steps and the next moment felt his strong arm draw her to his side.
"Tell your father that they who would hurt the young men must hurt me first."
"It will be the greatest, the last, comfort he can have in this world." Then she kissed her brother, and with a glance of farewell pity at his companion, went quickly and quietly away.
"Go down-stairs, Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham, "and if Dr. Verity is waiting, order supper to be served. Tell him not to wait on my necessities, which are many, with so much packing and putting away to look after. Keep men and maids busy on the ground floor, and the east side. I will bestow our friends in the oak room, on the west side of the house."
To this room she took them, and then brought water and wine and bread and meat, and some of her son's clothing, showing them, also, that the wide chimney had been prepared for such emergencies by having stout, firm, iron stirrups placed right and left at very short intervals. "By these you can easily reach the roof," she said; "Dr. Verity did so once, when Laud's men were seeking him. But I think no Parliament soldiers will search Israel Swaffham's house for succored malignants. To-night and to-morrow you can rest and sleep; I will waken you very early Monday morning, and you can go to de Wick for your horses, ere any one is astir." She kissed them both and poured out wine and made them drink, and then, looking carefully to see that no chink in shutters or door let out a glimpse of candle-light, left them to eat and rest. Her heart was light, and she had no sense of wrong-doing, although Stephen had warned her that Parliament had issued an order threatening all who sheltered royalists with fine and imprisonment.
"Parliament's orders are well enough," she said to herself as she stepped rapidly and lightly away from the scene of her disobedience, "well enough, but I think far more of the orders of the King of kings, and He tells me if my enemy hunger to feed him and give him drink, and of course shelter and clothing—the oil and the twopence—the oil for his visible wants, and the twopence for the wants not seen. I must not forget the twopence. Thank God, I can spare a few pounds for the poor lads!" And her face was so happy in the thought that she seemed to bring sunshine into the parlour, where she found Dr. Verity eating a beefsteak pudding and talking to Jane, who sat with a white and anxious face trying to smile and answer him.
"Come and rest a little, Martha," he said, "I am not to halve a day."
"But I am, Doctor. I want to see to my boys' wounds."
"Wounds! Pshaw! Scratches! They will be in armour to enter London when Cromwell does. And what think you? Here come a half-a-dozen riders awhile ago, seeking young de Wick. They said also that it was thought Charles Stuart might be with him, and they would have searched Swaffham—high and low—if I had not been here. I vouched my word for no Stuart or de Wick in Swaffham, and told them the whole house was upside down, men and maids in every room, and you and Jane packing for London. And the rascals didn't take my word, but went to the kitchen and asked Tom and Dick and Harry and all the wenches, and so satisfied themselves."
"The impudent varlets," said Mrs. Swaffham, "to set your word at naught. I wish that you had called me."
"I told them when they hummed and hawed to 'light from their horses and go through the house, and Jane said, 'Surely, sirs, Dr. Verity will go with you;' and then I let them have the rough side of my tongue, and said, 'I'd do no such mean business as search Captain Israel Swaffham's house for royalists, and he and his three sons fighting them on every battle-field in England and Scotland. Not I!' So they went their ways to the kitchen, and learned nothing to what I told them; but they got a drink of ale, which was likely what they wanted. But if Charles Stuart had been here I would have gladly led the way to him, for I like well to betray a man who deceives and betrays all men."
"You would not, Dr. Verity," said Jane. "I know you better than your words. You would have put him on your own big horse, and put money in his hand, and said, Fly! I am not thy executioner."
"I say, No, downright."
"I say, Yes," affirmed Mrs. Swaffham. "In the heart of battle perhaps No, but if he came to you after the battle and begged for mercy, you would think of the reproach our Lord Christ gave to the unmerciful steward—shouldst not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant even as I had pity on thee."
"You argue like a woman, Martha. There is the example of Jael."
"I wouldn't do what Jael did if England's crown was for it. There is not an Englishwoman living, not one living, who would play Jael. If Charles Stuart has got away from battle, he has got away; and if you are looking to Englishwomen to betray a poor soul in extremities, Charles Stuart may live to be King of England yet."
"You are making a wicked and impossible suggestion, Martha."
"No more wicked and impossible than that there is another Jael in England. There is not!"
"Don't flare up in that way, Martha. Thank God, we are neither of us yet called upon to decide such a question as Charles Stuart's life or death. But he might come here; the courage of despair may bring him. What would you do?"
"You are here, and I would leave you to answer that question for me."
"Well, I wish he would come. There is danger while he is hiding here and there in the country. What good is it to quench the fire in the chimney if it be scattered about the house? I think we will begin our journey to London on Monday morning, Martha."
"I cannot. If I had as many hands as fingers, I could not. You may keep watch and ward to-morrow and Monday, and it may be well to do so; for to tell the truth, I trust neither men nor maids in the kitchen. For a Parliament half-crown they would hide the devil. When was this great battle of Worcester fought?"
"Last Wednesday, on the third day of this month."
"Mother, remember how sad we were all that day. You said to me, 'Jane, there is death in the air;' and the men could not work, and they vowed the beasts trembled and were not to guide or to hold."
"The third of September!" said Mrs. Swaffham, "that was Dunbar day. A great victory was Dunbar!"
"Worcester was a greater victory; and there will be one more third of September, the greatest victory of all. But where it will be, and over what enemy, only God knows."
"When did the Worcester battle begin?" asked Jane.
"About four in the afternoon. It was a fair day, the sun shone brightly over the old city, with its red-tiled roofs, its orchards and gardens and hop fields, and over the noble river and long line of the green Malvern hills a few miles away. And the Royalist army made a grand show with their waving cloaks and plumes, their gay silk banners, and their shouts ofFor God and King! But they were as stubble before steel when Cromwell's iron men faced them with their stern answering shout ofGod With Us! It was a stiff business, but indeed God was with us. As for Cromwell, he was so highly transported that scarce one dared speak to him. Wherever he led, a great passion, like to a tempestuous wind, seized the men, and they crowded and rushed the enemy from street to street, shouting as they did so psalms of victory. Yes, Martha, yes, Jane, rushed them as the devil rushed the demon-haunted hogs into the sea of Galilee. Oh, I tell you, Cromwell! our Cromwell! is always grand, but never so mighty as when on horseback in front of his army. Then you look at the man, and thank God for him."
"And the battle began at four? I remember hearing Swaffham church strike that hour. I stood in a wretched mood at the door and counted the strokes. They had a fateful sound."
"We had been at work all day, but at that hour we had two bridges over the Severn, and Cromwell with half the army passed over them to the west side of the city. He rode in front, and was the first man to cross. Pitscottie's Highlandmen were waiting for him, and he drove them at push of pike from hedge to hedge till they were cut to pieces, every man's son of them, one on the heels of the other. And when Charles Stuart saw this battle raging on the west side of the river, he attacked the troops that had been left with Lambert on the east side. Right glad was Lambert, and 'tis said that the Stuart behaved very gallantly and broke a regiment of militia; and the troops, being mostly volunteers, began to waver. But Cromwell saw this new attack at once, and he and Desborough and Cobbett came rattling over the bridges of boats. No dismay when Cromwell was there! His voice and presence meant victory! The malignants, with their Scotch allies, retreated before him into Worcester streets, Cromwell's men after them pell-mell. Women, it was then hell let loose, for by this time it was nearly dark, and the narrow streets were lit only by the flashes of the great and small shot. Cromwell rode up and down them, in the midst of the fire; he took Fort Royal from the enemy, and with his own hands fired its guns upon them as they fled hither and thither, they knew not, in their terror and despair, where. Every street in Worcester was full of fire and blood, the rattle of artillery, the shouts of our captains, the shrieks of the dying. All night the sack of the city went on. It was a tenfold Drogheda, and ever since, by day and night, Lambert has been following the flying enemy, hunting and slaying them in every highway and hiding-place. Oh, indeed, the faces of our foes have been brought down to earth and their mouths filled with dust; and rightly so. No one will ever know the number slain, and we have ten thousand prisoners."
"Was such cruelty necessary?" asked Mrs. Swaffham.
"War is cruel, Martha; a battle would not be a battle unless it was cruel—furiously cruel. What is the use of striking soft in battle? The work is to do over again. A cruel war is in the end a merciful war."
"It is said Charles Stuart is slain."
"I don't believe that report, it has been spread by his friends to favour his escape. At first he was distracted, and went about asking some one to slay him; but he was seen afterwards beyond the gates of Worcester, moving eastward with a number of his adherents. David Leslie may be slain. I saw him riding slowly up and down like a man who had lost his senses. I could have shot him easily—but I did not."
"Thank God, Doctor!"
"I don't know about that, Martha. I'm not sure in my own mind about letting the old traitor go. But his white hair, his bloody face, and his demented look stayed my hand. He had left his bridle fall, his horse was trembling in every limb; the old man did not know what he was doing, he had lost his senses. Yet David Leslie ought to have been shot—only, I could not shoot him; he fought at my side—once. God forgive him! Martha, I have had enough of war. I thank God it is over."
"But is it over?"
"Cromwell says so, and I believe him. When a man walks with God as closely as Cromwell does, he knows many things beyond ordinary knowledge. I saw him about ten o'clock. He had written then a few lines to his wife and family, and was writing to the Parliament. And what did he say in that letter? Did he praise himself? No! He was bold humbly to beg that all the glory might be given to God, who had wrought so great a salvation. When he had sealed and sent off these letters—by Lord Cluny Neville, Mistress Jane—he lifted his sword, red from the hilt to the point, and wiped it upon a Royalist flag lying near him. Then he dropped the blade into the sheathe with a clang, and said, 'Truly thou hast had thy last bloody supper. Rest now, thy work is done!'"
[image]"THEN HE DROPPED HIS BLADE INTO THE SHEATHE WITH A CLANG."
[image]
[image]
"THEN HE DROPPED HIS BLADE INTO THE SHEATHE WITH A CLANG."
"Truly, I know not what work," said Mrs. Swaffham. "I see only death and destruction."
"Martha, suppose Charles Stuart had conquered at Worcester, and that he had marched on London and been received there as the conqueror of a rebellious people, what would follow?"
"I know not, nor does any man or woman know."
"I can tell you. Our Protestant faith and our civil liberty would be taken from us; for the latter depends on the former, and all we have done since 1640 would be to do over again. Jericho has fallen, would you rebuild it?"
"All I want is peace."
"That we shall now have. Our steel bodies, that have galled us long with the wearing of them, may be cast off; our men will return to their homes and their daily work, and our worship shall never more be broken up, but our Sabbaths be full of good things."
"If we love God, I wonder if it makes so much difference how we worship Him?"
"I am astonished at you, Martha."
"I am astonished likewise at all the sorrow and blood-shedding about surplices and chasubles and written prayers and such things."
"My dear mother!"
"Oh, my dear Jane, it is so; and I was astonished when I was a girl and saw my father go to poverty and prison for such trifles. Yes, I say trifles—and I am a Puritan minister's child, and not ashamed of it—and my husband and sons have been taken from me, and my household left for the battle-field, and I know not what sorrows and trials——"
"Come, come, Martha, you are tired and fretted. If we believe in a great and terrible God,howwe are most acceptably to worship Him is not a trifling thing; far from it! I tell you both, the form of worship we have in England measures our civil liberty. If we submit to spiritual slavery, any king or queen or successful soldier may make us civil slaves. Now let the subject drop; the war is over, we will think of peace."
"Peace comes too late for many a family. There are the de Wicks."
"I am sorry for them, and I could be sorrier if they had suffered for the right instead of the wrong. What will the young Lady Matilda do after her father's death?"
"I know not what, with any surety."
"Her aunt, Lady Jevery, has been written for, more than a week ago. She may be at de Wick even now. I think Matilda will make her home with the Jeverys."
"Then she goes to London. I know their great house near Drury Lane. It has very fine gardens indeed. I believe the Jeverys are under suspicion, Martha, as very hot malignants. And now, Jane, dear little Jane, listen to me. You are going to the great city, to Whitehall Palace, to Hampton Court, to the splendour and state of a great nation. You will be surrounded by military pomp and civil glory and social pride and vanity. Dear little girl, keep yourself unspotted from the world!"
"May God help me, sir."
"And let not the tale of love beguile you. Young Harry Cromwell, gallant and good, will be there; and Lord Neville, with his long pedigree and beautiful face; and officers in scarlet and gold, and godly, eloquent preachers in black and white, and foreign nobles, and men of all kinds and degrees. And 'tis more than likely many will tell you that Jane Swaffham is fair beyond all other women, and vow their hearts and lives to your keeping.Then, Jane, in such hours of temptation, be low and humble towards God. Go often to the assembling of the saints and catch the morning dew and celestial rain of their prayers and praise. Then, Jane, cry all the more earnestly—'Tell me, oh Thou whom my soul loveth'—my soul, Jane—'where Thou feedest, where Thou makest Thy flocks to rest at noon.' And no doubt you will add to this inquiry its sweet closing—'He brought me to the banqueting-house, and His banner over me was love.'"
And Jane smiled gratefully, and her eyes were dim with tears as she laid her hands in Doctor Verity's to clasp her promise. Yet when she reached her room and sat quiet in its solitude, no one will blame her because many thoughts of love and hope blended themselves with the piteous ones she sent to de Wick, and to the two weary fugitives under Swaffham roof. She was pleased at the thought of Harry Cromwell, but oh! what a serious happiness, what a flush of maiden joy transfigured her face when she thought of her lover, forecasting rose-winged hours for him to glorify. And in her soul's pure sanctuary she whispered his name while her eyes dreamed against the goal of their expected meeting. For Love gives Hope to the true and tender, but counts a cold heart a castaway.
BOOK II
The Tools To Those Who Can Handle Them!
CHAPTER VI
ON THE TIDE TOP
"Cromwell! Why that's the name of Victory.""The shouting criesOf the pleased people, rend the vaulted skies.""Let there be music. Let the Master touchThe solemn organ, and soft breathing flute.""Rupert! Oh there's music in the name,Repeated as a charm to ease my grief.I, that loved name did as some god invoke;And printed kisses on it as I spoke."
"Cromwell! Why that's the name of Victory."
"Cromwell! Why that's the name of Victory."
"The shouting criesOf the pleased people, rend the vaulted skies."
"The shouting cries
"The shouting cries
Of the pleased people, rend the vaulted skies."
"Let there be music. Let the Master touchThe solemn organ, and soft breathing flute."
"Let there be music. Let the Master touch
The solemn organ, and soft breathing flute."
"Rupert! Oh there's music in the name,Repeated as a charm to ease my grief.I, that loved name did as some god invoke;And printed kisses on it as I spoke."
"Rupert! Oh there's music in the name,
Repeated as a charm to ease my grief.
I, that loved name did as some god invoke;
And printed kisses on it as I spoke."
The great day of triumph was over. Cromwell had entered London at the head of his victorious army, and the city was safe and jubilant. Standing at her mother's side, Jane had witnessed from a window in the crowded Strand the glorious pageant of Liberty, the martial vision of warriors whose faces had been bathed in that rain that falls on battle-fields, red as the rains of hell; she had seen again the simple, kindly man who had been her childhood's friend, and who was now England's chief of men, being to England both father and son, both sword and shield. She had heard his name carried on rolling tides of human shouts and huzzas, chording with the firing of cannon, the beating of drums, the tread of thousands, the chiming of bells, and all the multitudinous and chaotic clamour which constitutes the excitement of a great crowd, and always brings with it the sense of bounding life and brotherhood.
And in the midst of this joyful turbulence she had caught sight of her father and brothers and lover; her father's face sternly glad, like the face of a man who had fought a good fight to assured victory; his sons imitating his bearing, as well as youth could copy age; and the young lord not far from them, proud and radiant and carrying aloft the colours of the Commonwealth. Somewhere in that crowd of spectators he thought Jane must be present, and he bore himself as if he were constantly in her sight.
As yet they had not met, nor had Cluny any certain knowledge of the Swaffham's location. There had been some supposition that they would lodge in Leadenhall Street, at the home of Mistress Adair, the widow of an Independent minister who had preached often in the little chapel attached to Oliver Cromwell's house in Huntingdon; but of this he had no positive information, and he certainly expected that Mrs. Swaffham would advise him of their arrival in London.
Mrs. Swaffham had, however, learned that Cluny Neville was personally objectionable to her husband and sons, and, as she could not see clearly what road to take, she very wisely stood still, waiting for some light and guidance. And it seemed unnecessary to trouble Jane's heart until there was a positive reason for doing so; yet her depression and evident disappointment fretted her mother.
"What is the matter with you, Jane?" she asked irritably one morning; "you look as if you had lost everything in the world instead of being, as your father thinks, right on the road to many a good day. I wouldn't throw such a damp over things if I were you."
"You seem to have forgotten Cluny, mother."
"He seems to have forgotten us; he might have called, I think."
"Does he know where we are?"
"He could have found out. He sees Cymlin often enough."
"I think Cymlin dislikes him. I asked him yesterday if he knew Lord Neville and he answered me rudely."
"He is your brother."
"Just for that reason he ought to have spoken civilly to me."
"He is your brother, and you must hear and heed what he says. And I must tell you, Jane, that it is not maidenly to take any young man so seriously as you take Lord Neville until your father and brothers are satisfied. It is a matter of importance to them what men are brought into the Swaffham family. There is plenty to make you happy without Lord Neville. Your own people are safe and sound, the Cause we love is secure, and you may now dwell your life out in England; but if we had not conquered, it would have been over the seas and into the wilderness for us, and strangers forever in old Swaffham. I shouldn't think you were done thanking God for these mercies yet; and if not, then where do you find heart-room for such melancholy and moping as I see in you?"
"But, mother, when I look back to last August——"
"If you want to look happily forward never look backward."
"To be sure; but though I know Cluny loves me, doubts and fears will come, and I cannot always fight them or reason with them."
"Don't try either fighting or reasoning. There is a broad enough way between them."
Jane smiled and lifted her tambour work, and her mother nodded cheerfully as she continued, "Enjoy the hour as it comes to you. I have always found that one good hour brings on another." And Jane took the counsel into her heart and anon began to sing—
"It was alone Thy Providence,That made us Masters of the field,"
"It was alone Thy Providence,That made us Masters of the field,"
"It was alone Thy Providence,
That made us Masters of the field,"
and when she had got thus far, a loud, joyful voice joined her in the next two lines, and its owner came into the room singing them—
"Thou art our Castle of defense,Our Fort, our Bulwark and our Shield."
"Thou art our Castle of defense,Our Fort, our Bulwark and our Shield."
"Thou art our Castle of defense,
Our Fort, our Bulwark and our Shield."
"Oh, Doctor Verity!" Jane cried, "how glad I am to see you."
"I had been here an hour ago, but I had to wait on the Lady Mary Cromwell. They who serve women must learn to wait. She has sent you a letter, and a coach is at your order, and you are bid to Whitehall. And you will be very welcome there."
"I know not any ceremonies, Doctor."
"You do not need to know them. It is Mary Cromwell, yet; though if the women of Cromwell's house assume greatness, he has won it for them. Why should they not wear the honours their father gives them?"
Then Jane ran to her mother, and her box of fineries was quickly packed, and the girl came down for her visit glowing with hope and happiness. All the shadows were gone; she sat a little proudly in the fine coach by the side of Doctor Verity, and was alert and watchful, for it did not seem an improbable thing that she might have a passing sight of her lover. The city had by this time recovered its every-day temper, and she could not help contrasting the plodding, busy serenity of its present mood with its frenzy of triumphant joy on the entry of Cromwell. Doctor Verity insisted that the two conditions were alike natural. "No one can play the fool like a wise man," he said; "and the greater and the richer the city the more extravagantly and unreasonably and vauntingly it will express its victory and salvation. London had so much to lose," he continued, "that it would better have lain in ashes than lain at the feet of any Stuart."
As they drew near to Whitehall, Jane's spirits fell a little. She had not caught a glimpse of her lover, and she felt a sudden anxiety about her position. Sometimes prosperity is as fatal to friendship as adversity, and the girl tried in silence to prepare herself for any change in affection that change of fortune might have caused. But her fears were very transient; Mary and Frances Cromwell met her with effusive attentions; they called her affectionately by her name, and quickly took her to the general sitting-room of the family. Madame Cromwell was there, as kind and motherly as of old; and Mistress Ireton, silently reading a sermon of Doctor Owen's; and Mrs. Claypole selecting some damask for a new gown; and Mary and Frances, full of the joy and pride of their great position, soon carried Jane all through their splendid apartments, and afterwards sat down together in Mary's room to talk over old times and the friends and occupations that had made them happy and memorable. Their first inquiry was for Lady Matilda de Wick, and when Jane answered, "Her father is dead, and I know not exactly what has befallen her since his death," the girls were all silent a few minutes. After the pause, Mary Cromwell said—
"I remember her so well on her fine Barbary mare. How handsome she was! How proud! If the Earl spoke to my father then she would deign to ask after my lessons, or my dog, or how the skating was on the Broad. But she was older than I, and it seems so long ago—lately she has been deaf, dumb and blind to the Cromwells—they do not mind that much now. I wonder where she is."
"It was said she would live with her aunt, Lady Jevery; if so, she must be in London."
"And you know it not? And you have not seen her? That is a marvel. It was thought impossible for Matilda de Wick and Jane Swaffham to live long apart."
"There have been great changes," sighed Jane. "People that were once friends know each other no more. It is hoped now that there will be many reconciliations."
"We have seen Lady Heneage often," said Mary Cromwell, "and 'tis said there is a purpose of marriage between Alice Heneage and a favourite of my father's—Lord Cluny Neville."
"I have seen Lord Neville," said Jane. "He brought me your letters and the blue and gold ribbon you sent me. His visits were flying ones; he came and he went."
"Like the knight in the story—he loved and he rode away. But we are all mightily taken with his fine manner and his beauty, and the Lord General, my father, thinks him to have great sincerity and discretion."
"A very perfect youth," answered Jane with a smile.
"Indeed, we think so; if you are of a different opinion you will change it on a better knowledge of the young man. He is coming here this afternoon, is he not, Frank?"
"He said so. He was to make some copies of the hymn he wrote, for Mr. Milton has set it to music, and we are to practice the singing together. Father thinks very highly of the words."
"Dear me!" ejaculated Jane, "is he also a poet? I thought he wrote only with his sword. I fear that he has too many perfections. Has he not one fault to balance them?"
"Yes," answered Mary, "he has one great fault, he is a Presbyterian, and a Scotch Presbyterian. In all other things he holds with the Lord General, but he sticks to his Scotch idols—John Knox and the Covenant."
"I think no worse of him for that," said Jane. "If he knew what an Independent was, he would likely be an Independent."
"It is not believable," retorted Mary. "He is a Scotchman, or next door to one. And if a man is a Samaritan, what can he know of Jerusalem?"
"I care not what he is," said Frances. "He has handsome eyes, and he writes poetry, and he tells such stories as make your blood run cold—and sometimes love-stories, and then his voice is like music; and if it was not sinful to dance——"
"But it is sinful," said Jane warmly, "and if I saw Lord Neville or any other man making mincing steps to a viol I would never wish to speak to him again. Would you, Mary?"
"Of course not, but Frank is only talking. We have masters now in music and singing and geography, and I am learningMorley's Airs[1] straight through, besides roundelays and madrigals. And we have a new harpsichord, though the Lord General, my father, likes best the organ or the lute."
[1] Popular and patriotic songs having the same vogue then asMoore's Melodiesin our era.
"And besides all this," continued Frances, "we are studying the French tongue, and history, and the use of the globes; and Mrs. Katon comes twice every week to teach us how to make wax flowers and fruit and take the new stitches in tatting and embroidery. And, Jane, I have got a glass bowl full of goldfish. They came from China, and there are no more of them, I think, in England. Come with me, and you shall see them."
"Never mind the fish now, Frank," said Mary; "there is the bell for dinner, and we must answer it at once or we shall grieve mother."
They rose at these words and went quickly to the dining-room. Mrs. Cromwell, leaning upon the arm of her daughter, Mrs. Ireton, was just entering it, and Jane wondered silently at the state these simple country gentry had so easily assumed. Officers of the household, in rich uniforms, waited on all their movements and served them with obsequious respect; and they bore their new honours as if they had been born to the purple. Mrs. Cromwell's simplicity stood her in the place of dignity, and the piety and stern republicanism of Mrs. Ireton gave to her bearing that indifference to outward pomp which passed readily for inherited nobility, while the beauty of Mrs. Claypole and her love of splendour fitted her surroundings with more than accidental propriety. All the women of this famous household were keenly alive to the glory of those achievements which had placed them in a palace, and all of them rendered to its great head every title of honour his mighty deeds claimed as their right.
"The General dines with the Speaker," said Mrs. Cromwell; and she was herself about to say grace when Doctor Verity entered. He was greeted with a chorus of welcomes, and readily took his seat at the foot of the table and spoke the few words of grateful prayer which sweetened and blessed every Puritan meal. Then in answer to some remark about Cromwell's absence he said,
"The Lord General is much troubled about the Worcester prisoners. There has just been a pitiful kind of triumph made out of their miseries. I don't approve of it, not I, God forbid! They have been made a spectacle for men and angels, marched from Hampstead Heath, through Aldgate, Cheapside, and the Strand, to Westminster—hungry, beggarly creatures, many of them wounded, and nearly naked."
"Poor fellows," said Mrs. Cromwell.
"Sturdy, surly fellows, madame. I don't envy the men who will have to manage them as slaves."
"They go to the Barbadoes, I hear?"
"Yes,—it is Scotland no more for them."
"Is that right, Doctor?"
"Indeed, madame, I am not clear in my conscience concerning the matter. It is the liberty of war. The Lord General has given two or three prisoners to each of his friends and entertainers between here and Worcester. However, the miserable fellows brought some comfort out of their evil plight, for the citizens along all the route forgot they were enemies, and the women fed them with the best of victuals, and the men stepped from their shop doors and put money in their hands. I'll be bound the rogues got more money and good white bread this morning than they have seen in all their lives before. Besides which, there is, in the Exchange and in the ale-houses, a box for the poor prisoners, and whenever men make a bargain they drop a God's-penny into it for them. That's Englishmen all over; they fight to the death in fair battle, but when their foe is at their feet they lift him up and help him and forget that he was ever their enemy. And may God keep Englishmen ever in such mind!"
"Indeed," said Mary Cromwell, "these Scots have given us trouble and sorrow enough. They ought to be sent out of the country, or out of the world, and that at once!"
"That is my opinion," said Mrs. Ireton. "Our brave men are being slain, and the country is torn asunder for their malignancy."
"There have been as brave spirits as the world ever saw in both Puritan and Royalist armies, madame," answered the Doctor. "I, for one, am glad that both parties have fought their quarrel to the end. I rejoice because our hard-smiting Puritan hosts would not let the Stuarts come back and trample them, with all law and liberty, under their feet. But I would have been deadly sorry if the Cavaliers of England had wanted the temper to fight for their King and their church. Right or wrong, we must honour men who have convictions and are willing to die for them."
"Monarchy and Prelacy go together," said Mrs. Ireton; "and England has had more than enough of both."
"We are of one mind on that point, madame," said Doctor Verity. "In this respect, the man George Fox and his followers have some true light, and they are scattering the truth, as they see it, broadcast. I have taken occasion, and sought occasion, and gone out of my way to find occasion, to meet George Fox, but have not yet done so. I was told that he once listened to my preaching at St. Paul's Cross, and that he said I was not far from the Kingdom. I liked that in George; I hope I may say the same for him. Our Lord General thinks him to be a man after God's own heart."
"My father sees the best in every one," said Mrs. Claypole.
"Why do you not speak to the Lord General about these poor prisoners?" Mrs. Cromwell said. "He gave very kind orders about the Dunbar prisoners, and if they were not carried out it was not his fault."
"I neglect no opportunities, madame. And Cromwell needs not that any one soften his heart. The sight of these fallen heroes made him weep—but there are considerations—and every triumph implies some one crushed at the chariot wheels."
"But, Doctor Verity," said Jane, "if we may lawfully fight and kill for the sake of our rights and our convictions, may we not also lawfully punish those who made us put our lives in such jeopardy?"
"Jane, I am sure that we have the right of self-defense; the awful attributes of vengeance and retribution are different things. Will mortal hands be innocent that take the sword of vengeance from God's armoury? I fear not. I had a long talk with Sir Richard Musgrave this morning on this very subject. I found Lord Cluny Neville with him; it seems they are related."
"Why did you not bring Lord Neville with you?" asked Frank.
"Lord Neville looks after his own affairs, Lady Frances—I do likewise."
"Then, Doctor," said Mrs. Cromwell, "look better after your dinner. That buttered salmon has gone cold while you talked. There is a jar of olives near you,—and pray what will you have? a dish of steaks? or marrow bones? or ribs of roast beef? or some larded veal? or broiled larks?"
"Roast beef for John Verity, madame, and a couple of broiled birds and a dish of prawns and cheese. I enjoy my meat, and am not more ashamed of it than the flowers are of drinking the morning dew."
"You are always happy, Doctor," said Jane.
"I think it is the best part of duty to be happy, and to make others happy. No one will merit heaven by making a hell of earth. As I came through Jermyn Street I saw Lady Matilda de Wick. She looked daggers and pistols at me. God knows, I pity her. She was shrouded in black."
"Has anything been heard of Stephen de Wick?" asked Jane.
"It is thought he reached The Hague in safety. His companion, Sir Hugh Belvard, joined Prince Rupert's pirate fleet there."
Then Mrs. Ireton, as if desirous of changing the subject, spoke of Doctor John Owen, and of his treatise on "The Pattern-Man," and Doctor Verity said he was "a Master in Israel." Talking of one book led to conversations on several others, until finally the little volume by Cromwell's brother-in-law, Doctor Wilkins, was mentioned. It was a dissertation on the moon and its inhabitants, and the possibility of a passage thither. Mrs. Ireton disapproved the book altogether, and Mrs. Cromwell was quite scornful concerning her brother Wilkins, and thought "the passage to the heavenly land of much greater importance."
But it was easy to turn from Doctor Wilkins to the great University in which he was a professor, and Mrs. Claypole reminded her mother of their visit to Oxford after its occupation by Cavalier and Puritan soldiers.
"I remember," she answered. "It was a sin and a shame to see! The stained windows were broken, and the shrines of Bernard and Frideswide open to the storm; the marble heads of the Apostles were mixed up with cannon balls and rubbish of all kinds. Straw heaps were on the pavements and staples in the walls, for dragoons had been quartered in All Souls, and their beasts had crunched their oats under the tower of St. Mary Magdalene. I could not help feeling the pity of it, and when I told the General he was troubled. He said 'the ignorant have clumsy ways of showing their hatred of wrong; but being ignorant, we must bear with them.'"
"All these barbarisms have been put out of sight," said Dr. Verity, "and thanks to Doctor Pocock, Oxford is itself again."
"Doctor Pocock!" ejaculated Mrs. Cromwell. "He was here a few days ago to consult with the General. He had on a square cap, and large ruff surmounting his doctor's gown; his hair was powdered and his boots had lawn tops trimmed with ribbons. He looked very little like a Commonwealth Divine and Professor."
"My dear madame, Doctor Pocock is both a Royalist and a Prelatist."
"Then he ought not to be in Oxford," said Mary Cromwell hotly. "What is he doing there?"
"He is doing good work there, Lady Mary, for he is the most famous Oriental and Hebrew scholar in England. No Latiner, but great in Syriac and Arabic; and no bigot, for he is the close friend of Doctor Wallis and of your uncle, Doctor Wilkins, though he does not go with them to the Wadham conventicle. The Parliamentary triers declared him incompetent but Edward Pocock had powerful friends who knew his worth, and perhaps if you ask your honoured father, he can tell you better than I why Dr. Pocock is in Oxford, and what he is doing there."
At this moment, Lord Cluny Neville entered the room. He saw Jane on the instant, and his eyes gave her swift welcome, while in the decided exhilaration following his entrance Love found his opportunities. But among them was none that gave him free speech with Jane; they were not a moment alone. Cluny had a fund of pleasant talk, for he had just come from the Mulberry Gardens, where he had met Mr. and Mrs. Evelyn and had some refreshment at the tables with them.
"I suppose the Evelyns were as gaily dressed as usual?" asked Mrs. Claypole, "and looking as melancholy as if the world would come to an end in a week's time?"
"Indeed, they were very handsome," answered Neville; "and the coach they brought from Paris is extremely fine. We had some chocolate in thin porcelain cups, and some Italian biscuits and sweetmeats. And anon we were joined by Mr. Izaak Walton, the gentlest of malignants, and very entertaining in his talk. Mr. Evelyn was praising Mr. Milton's poetry, but Mr. Walton did not agree with him. He thought John Milton was always trying to scale heaven by a ladder of his own, or else to bring down heaven on earth in some arbitrary shape or other—that in truth, he knew not in his work where he was going."
"He goes, truly, where Mr. Izaak Walton cannot follow him," said Mrs. Ireton. "John Milton has looked God's Word and his own soul in the face, and he will not hold Mr. Walton's opinion of him as anything to his hurt."
"Besides," added Cluny with a pleasant laugh, "Mr. Walton is writing a book, and Mr. Milton will soon not need to say with the patient man of Uz, 'Oh, that mine enemy had written a book!' He may have reprisals."
During this speech there was heard from a distant apartment the sound of music, low and sweet, and full of heavenly melody.
"That is Mr. Milton playing," said Mary Cromwell. "I would know his touch among a thousand." And then Cluny blushed a little, and held out a small roll which he carried in his hand. It contained three fair copies of his own hymn, and Mary delightedly hurried Jane and Frank away with her to the musician. He turned as they entered and bowed gravely, and the girls fell at once under the charm of his music. Mary involuntarily assumed a majestic attitude, Frances ceased her childish titter, Cluny became almost severe, and Jane stood in silent delight while the grand melody filled their souls till they outsoared the shadow of earth and that unrest which men miscall delight. "Glory to God!" he sang, and the room rang with the lofty notes and seemed full of Presence, and of flame-like faces, sublime and tender, while the air vibrated to the final triumphant crescendo, "Glory to God! Glory to God! Glory to God in the Highest!" And in his beautiful face there was seen for a few moments that face of the soul wherein God shineth.
Then there was a short pause of spiritual sensitiveness which was broken by the opening of a door, and all eyes turning towards it beheld Cromwell standing on the threshold. Perhaps he had been listening to Mr. Milton's ecstatic anthem, for his clear, penetrating eyes were tender and mystical, and a smile gentle as a woman's softened his austere mouth. He wore a suit of black cloth with a falling linen collar, stockings of homespun wool which his wife had knit, and strong shoes fastened with a steel latchet. But his brown hair, tinged with gray, flowed down upon his shoulders, and his whole air was that of a man on whom the eternal dignities of a good and great life had set their seal. Frances ran to him with a cry of delight. Mary looked at him with adoring pride, and then put into Mr. Milton's hand the roll of manuscript Lord Neville had given her. Jane left her companions and timidly advanced to meet the Lord General. He saw her in a moment, and gave her a smile so bright and affectionate that all fear vanished, and she hastened her steps and the next moment felt his strong arm draw her to his side.