CHAPTER VIII.
Inquiries were made on every side, but in vain. No one had seen poorArrah Neil since she had been placed in the coach by Lord Walton; and,indeed, in the haste and confusion of the strife that had ensued afterthe troop had forded the river and attacked the enemy in front, no onehad had an opportunity of witnessing what had taken place amongst thecarriages, except two wounded men who had been left behind upon theroad, one of whom had died before the struggle was over, while theother had crept for security under one of the waggons, which hideverything that was passing from his sight.
The agitation and alarm of Miss Walton and her brother seemed somewhatbeyond measure in the eyes of good Major Randal, who was anxious tohasten forward with all speed. He waited somewhat impatiently whileparties were sent over the plain, to seek for the poor girl who haddisappeared; but at length he broke forth in a sharp tone, exclaiming,"We cannot remain here till night, my lord, waiting for this lostsheep; we have got all the wounded men into the coaches and on thewaggons, and on my life we must be marching; we have prisoners enoughto embarrass us sadly if we be attacked, and who can tell that we maynot meet with another party of these worthies?"
"I think not," said the Earl of Beverly, who had shown a good deal ofinterest in the event which seemed to move his friend so much. "I haveheard of no other Roundheads than these in this neighbourhood; but ifyou will march on, Walton, and take one half of my troop with you, Iwill remain behind with the rest, for they are fresher than your men,and we can overtake you after we have done all that is possible todiscover this poor girl."
"No," answered Lord Walton, "I will not leave her behind, Francis, aslong as there is a chance. You had better march on, major; I will staywith my own people, and follow you to Henley. Annie, you had better goon; your staying, dear sister, would but embarrass me. Lord Beverleywill give you the advantage of his escort, and I will overtake youbefore night."
It was accordingly arranged as he proposed; and, to say the truth,Lord Beverly was by no means displeased with the task of protectinghis friend's sister on the way. In the course of a quarter of an hourthe whole troop was put in motion; and Annie Walton, though somewhatunwilling to leave her brother behind, followed on horseback, with theearl by her side, and some fourteen or fifteen horse bringing up therear, at a short distance behind. She had been rendered sad anddesponding by all the events that had taken place; for the first joyof success and deliverance had by this time passed away, and theimpression that remained was of that dark and gloomy character whichher first entrance upon scenes of strife, bloodshed, and danger, mightnaturally produce upon a gentle and kindly heart, however firm mightbe the mind, however strong the resolution.
Her companion well understood the feelings of a girl nurtured withtenderness and luxury, accustomed to deal only with the peaceful andthe graceful things of life, when suddenly forced to witness and takepart in the fierce and turbulent acts of civil war, to follow marchingmen, and be a spectator of battle and slaughter. He knew right wellthat no gay and lively subject would be pleasant to her ear at such amoment, though the soldier himself might cast off all memory of thestrife the instant it was over, and give way to joy and triumph in thehour of success. The cavalier shaped his conversation accordingly,and, in a grave, though not sad tone, spoke of deeper and more solemnthings than had formed the matter of their discourse when last theymet. Nevertheless, seeking to win her from her gloom, there came fromtime, across the course of all he said, flashes of bright andbrilliant eloquence, rich and imaginative illustrations, sparkling andalmost gay allusions to other things and times and scenes, which,without producing the discord that anything like merriment would haveoccasioned to her ear, stole her thoughts away from gloomier subjectsof contemplation, and, calling the blessed power of fancy to her aid,enabled her to bear up against the first weight of the dark present.
To Annie Walton there was an extraordinary charm in the conversationof the cavalier; it was like the current of a stream flowing onbetween deep and shady banks, profound, yet rapid and various, whileever and anon the sunshine breaks upon it through the trees, andlights it up for a space in all the sparkling lustre of the day. Atfirst her replies were brief and few, but gradually she took a greaterpart in the discourse, answered at large, gave him her own thoughts inreturn for his, inquired as well as listened, and was often won to asmile. Thus they rode on for about two hours, the cavalier gainingmore and more upon her and, to speak the truth, the high qualities ofher heart and mind, winning from him as much admiration as her beautyand her grace commanded at the first sight.
Their progress, as before, was very slow, and once they had to pausefor a quarter of an hour, while the baggage of Lord Beverley's troopwas brought forth from the village where he had left it and added tothat of the other party. At length, however, they came in sight of asmall town, lying on the slope of a hill, with higher up towards theright a detached house and some tall trees about it, standing in themidst of a park or very large meadow, surrounded by ancient brickwalls.
At this point of their march Major Randal rode back and spoke a fewwords to the earl, who replied, "Exactly as you like, major; I amunder your command."
"Nay, my lord," replied the old officer, "I am under yours, you hold ahigher commission."
"But with less experience, my good friend," answered the cavalier; "atall events, Major Randal, I will act by your advice; if you think wecan reach Henley, well, if not we will halt here."
"We might, if it were not for this lumbering baggage," answered theold soldier. "I cannot think what has made Lord Walton, who knows wellwhat service is, cumber us with such stuff as this. A trooper shouldnever have any baggage but his arms, a dozen crowns, and a cleanshirt."
"You must not grumble, my good friend," replied the earl, dropping hisvoice. "If I understand Charles Walton rightly, there is that in thosewaggons which will be more serviceable to the king than all ourbroadswords."
"Ah, Ah! I understand," said Major Randal. "If that be so, we musttake care of it, otherwise I think I should be inclined to pitch thewhole into the first river. Well, then, my lord, we will stop here,and, as that is your house, I believe, you may sleep in your ownsheets for one night. We will quarter the men in the village, and Iwill send out to see that the road is clear for our march to-morrow."
"I shall expect you to supper, however, major," said the earl,"although I cannot tell whether there is any meat in the house, yet Iknow there is good old wine in the cellar, unless the Roundheads mayhave got into it since I was there."
"If they have, you will not find a bottle." replied Randal; "for,notwithstanding all their hypocrisy, they drink as deep as Cavaliers;the only difference is, that they cant where the others swagger. Butas for your wine, my lord, you must drink it yourself for me. I am anold campaigner, and my saloon is the parlour of the ale-house; I ammore at home there, than amongst gilt chairs and sideboards of plate."
"Good faith you will find little of those in my house," replied theearl; "so come if you will; but in the meantime I will guide this fairlady up, and take some of the men with me to guard the house; forthere is but a young girl and an old butler of seventy, who recollectsQueen Elizabeth, left to take care of it. All the rest of my peopleare in the saddle."
"That's where they should be, my lord," replied Randal, "I will makeyour cornet quarter the men, as the place is yours, and will see youbefore I sleep to plan our arrangements for to-morrow."
Thus saying, he rode on again; and the Earl of Beverley after havinggiven a few orders to his officers for the disposal of the force inthe village, the guarding of the house, and the sending back of asmall detachment to meet Lord Walton, rode up with his fair companionand her women by a narrow, wood-covered lane, to the house upon thehill.
The building was not very large, being one of the old fortified houseswhich were common in England at that time, and many of which duringthe civil wars stood regular siege by the parliamentary forces. Strongtowers and buttresses, heavy walls,
narrow windows, and one or twoirregular outworks, gave it a peculiar character, which is only to bemet with now in some of the old mansions which have come down fromthose times to the present, falling rapidly into decay, and generallyapplied to viler uses. As was then customary, and as was the case atBishop's Merton, a wide terrace spread before the house, upon whichthe earl and his companions drew in their horses; and before shedismounted, Miss Walton turned to gaze over the view, while thecavalier sprang to the ground, and, casting his rein to one of thetroopers who had followed him, approached to aid her.
"The prospect is not so wide as at Bishop's Merton, fair lady," saidhe; "but there is one object in it which will be as pleasant to youreye as any you could see at home. There comes your brother."
"I see a party of horse," said Annie Walton, "by the wood under thehill, but I cannot distinguish any of the figures."
"Oh, it is he, it is he!" cried her companion; "but I see no womanamongst them."
"Alas!" said Annie Walton, "what can have become of that poor girl?"
"It is strange indeed," said the cavalier; "but yet, Miss Walton, shemay have been alarmed, and fled while the fight was going on. If anyinjury had happened to her, had she been wounded or killed by a chanceshot, she must have been found by this time."
"Oh, no; fear had nothing to do with it," replied Miss Walton; "shewent through the midst of the fire to tell my brother of the path."
"Why, he said it was yourself," rejoined Lord Beverley.
"We both went," replied Annie Walton; "but she seemed to have no fear,and I confess my heart beat like a very coward's."
"It is indeed strange," said the earl; "but yet, perhaps your brothermay have tidings. Let me assist you to alight;" and lifting her gentlyfrom the horse, he led her into the wide, ancient hall, at the door ofwhich stood the old butler, his head shaking with age, but a glad lookupon his countenance to see his lord once more returned.
From the hall, which felt chilly and damp, as if the door of the househad seldom been opened to the sunshine and free air, the earlconducted his companion up a flight of stone steps, and through somewide, unfurnished corridors, to a part of the house which presented amore cheerful and habitable appearance, giving a glance from time totime at the countenance of Miss Walton, as if to see what effect thedesolate aspect of the place would have upon her. Absorbed in othercontemplations, however, she took no notice, and at length thecavalier called her attention to it himself, saying with a faint andsomewhat sad smile--
"You see, Miss Walton, what effect neglect can have. During my longabsence from England everything has fallen into decay--more indeed inthis house than in my dwelling in the north; but yet I reproach myselffor having given way to the very mingled feelings that kept me fromresiding on my own land and amongst my own people. It is not indeedthe ruin and desolation that falls upon one's property which a manought to mind under such circumstances; but when a wealthy familydwell in the midst of their own tenantry, they build up a bettermansion than any that is raised with hands, a nobler home than thelordly castle or the splendid palace--I mean that which is founded inthe love and affection of friends and dependants, ornamented withkindly feelings and mutual benefits, obligations, gratitude, andesteem. And this is the house which falls into more horrible decayduring a long absence than any of these things of brick or stone."
"I fear indeed it is so," said Miss Walton, walking on beside him intoa large and handsome room, not only well furnished, but presentingsome most beautiful pictures of the Italian school hanging upon thewalls, while objects of _vert?_ and instruments of music lay scatteredover numerous tables, many of which were in themselves excessivelycostly.
"But it seems to me, my lord," she continued, "that in some respectsyour house and yourself are very much alike, though perhaps it is boldof me to say so; but now that I know whom you really are, I feel asmuch inclined to look upon you as an old friend as you did in regardto me when first we met."
"Thanks, thanks, sweet lady," answered the earl. "Oh, regard me everso! But if you mean that in my house and in myself there are desolateand ruined corners, you are mistaken. I am not one of those who haveeither some real and deep grief overshadowing the heart for ever, orone of those who nourish a sentimental sorrow for nothing at all.There may be things in my own life that I regret; I may have lost dearfriends and relations whom I mourn; but as the common course of eventsruns in this world, my life has been a very happy one, chequeredindeed only by one terrible catastrophe, and by a great injuryinflicted on my family by the king whom now I serve, which made meresolve, like a foolish boy as I then was, never to set foot in mynative land while he remained in power. When I found that he wasfallen, dispossessed, and in need, I came back in haste to serve him,with that loyalty which I trust will long be the distinction of aBritish gentleman."
"I did not exactly mean what you think," replied Miss Walton; "Imerely wished to remark that you seem sometimes as gay and cheerful asthis room in which we now are, sometimes as sad and gloomy as the hallthrough which we lately passed." She coloured a little as she spoke,from an indefinite consciousness that the woman who remarks so closelythe demeanour of a young and handsome man, may well be suspected oftaking a deeper interest in him than she wished to believe she did inher companion.
The cavalier replied at once, however, without remarking the blush,"It must ever be so, Miss Walton, with those who feel and think. Is itnot so with yourself? The spirit that God gives us is made forhappiness, full of high aspirations and bright capabilities ofenjoyment; but it is placed in a world of trial and of difficulty,prisoned in a corporeal frame that checks and limits its exertions,chained down by cares and circumstances that burden its free energies.Whenever the load is not felt, whenever the walls of the dungeon arenot seen, the captive gladly casts off the remembrance that suchthings exist, and rejoices in their absence. But ever and anon theypresent themselves to his eyes, or press upon his limbs, and he mournsunder the weight that he cannot wholly cast off. But here comes yourbrother; and I will only add, that you shall see me sad no more, ifyou will bargain with me that you will be cheerful."
In a few minutes Lord Walton himself entered the room; but hiscountenance bespoke no good tidings of her he had been in search of.He had been unable to gain any information whatever, though he left noeffort unmade; and he was evidently deeply mortified and grieved, sothat the next two hours passed in sadness upon all parts.
While the necessary arrangements were made for lodging the party inthe house for the night, some occupation of a less sad character thanthe loss of poor Arrah Neil was given to the thoughts of Miss Walton,by all the little inconveniences and difficulties attendant upon thesudden arrival of a large party in a mansion unprepared for theirreception. Though accustomed through life to every sort of comfort,Annie Walton was not one to make much of trifles; and she was amusedrather than otherwise at all the small annoyances, and at the dismayand embarrassment of her maids. When she returned from the rooms whichhad been assigned to her and her female companions, to that which wascalled in the house the picture-room, she found her brother conversingin the window with his friend, with a bright and cheerful countenance,which surprised her. The change was explained in a moment, however, byCharles Walton holding out a dirty strip of paper to her, and saying,"Here is news of our poor Arrah, Annie. She is safe, although I cannottell where."
Annie took the scrap of paper, and read, merely observing as she didso, "This is not Arrah's hand: she writes beautifully."
The note ran as follows:--
MY LORDE,--This is to tell you, as I heer that you have beena-running after pretty Arrah Neil all the evening, that she is saif inthis place, and as well as may be. I can't come just at present, forreasons; but I will be over with you by cock-crow to-morrow morning,and either bring her, if I can, or take you to her.--I subscribemyself; my lorde, your obedient servant to command,
JOHN HURST.
"Francis here," said Lord Walton, when his sister had
done reading,"has been laughing at me for the reputation which I have acquired ofrunning after _pretty_ Arrah Neil during the whole evening; but Ithink I may set laughs at defiance regarding her, Annie."
"I think so too," answered Miss Walton, with a smile; "but I wish weknew where she is."
As often happens, however, when, in the midst of many cares andanxieties, one subject of alarm and grief is removed, all the rest areforgotten for the time, the news of poor Arrah's safety restored thecheerfulness of all the party. We draw an augury of future happinessfrom each blessing that befals us, from each relief that is afforded;and it is not till new difficulties press upon us that apprehensionresumes its sway.
Cheerfulness then returned to the party assembled in Lord Beverley'shouse; they sat down to the pleasant evening meal, which closed a dayof strife and danger, with hearts lightened and expectations raised;the merry voices of the troopers who were supping in the hall belowgave them warning how best to treat the cares of the time; and if ananxiety or thought of the future did break in for a moment upon them,it was but to teach them to enjoy the present hour, inasmuch as noforethought or grave contemplation could affect the coming events.Lord Beverley exerted himself, without any apparent effort, to keepthe conversation in its cheerful tone; and when Miss Walton made someinquiries as to any danger or difficulty which might lie upon themarch of the following day, he exclaimed gaily, "Away with suchthoughts, fair lady! we have taken every precaution; we have done allthat we can to guard against evil; we have true hearts and a goodcause; and in trust of God's protection let us enjoy these hours oftranquillity. They are treasures, believe me, that are not often metwith; let us gather them whilst we can. The best of husbandry, dependupon it, is to sift the corn from the chaff, to separate the gold fromthe dross, in the portion of time that is allotted to us, and not tomingle the sorrow of tomorrow with the enjoyment of to-day. Come, MissWalton," he added, "you must add to our present happiness by lettingus hear once more that sweet voice in song, such as delighted me atBishop's Merton."
"Nay, not to-night," said Annie Walton. "It is your turn now, my lord.By all these instruments of music, I am sure you sing yourself. Is itnot so, Charles?"
"Beautifully!" replied Lord Walton; "and what is better than all,Annie, he requires no pressing."
"I will, with all my heart," replied the cavalier, "but upon onecondition--that I am called no more 'my lord.' Charles Walton andFrancis Beverley have been too long brothers for the sister of eitherto use so cold a term. What shall I sing? It must be of love in alady's presence, otherwise were I no true knight;" and taking a largeVenetian mandolin from the table behind him, he put it in tune, andsang--
Light of my heart! my heart's intense desire! Soul of my soul thou blossom and thou beam? Thou kindlest day with more than summer's fire, Thou bright'nest night like some celestial dream.
The sight of thee gives sunshine to my way, Thy music breath brings rapture to my ear; My thoughts thy thoughts, like willing slaves, obey, Oh thou most beautiful! oh thou most dear!
One look of thine is worth a monarch's throne, One smile from thee would raise the dying head; One tear of thine would melt the heart of stone; One kiss, one kiss, would vivify the dead.
Near thee the hours like moments fleet away; Absent, they linger heavy on the view: In life, in death, oh, let me with thee stay! Oh thou most beautiful, most good, most true!
The voice was rich and mellow, with all the cultivation which the artof Italy could at that time bestow. There was no effort, there wasnothing forced; every note seemed as much a part of the expression ofthe thought as the words in which it was clothed. But there was afire, a warmth, an enthusiasm in the singer, which gave full depth andpower to the whole. It was impossible to see him and to hear himwithout forgetting that he was singing a song composed probably longbefore, and without believing that he was giving voice, in the onlyway his feelings would permit, to the sensations of the moment.
Annie Walton knew not why, but her heart beat quickly as she sat andlistened; the long black eyelashes of her beautiful eyes remained sunktowards the ground, and her fair cheek became pale as marble. Shewould fain have looked up when the song was done--she would fain havethanked the cavalier, and expressed her admiration of his music, butshe could do neither, and remained perfectly silent, while her brotherremarked the emotion which she felt, and turned his eyes with a smilefrom her countenance to that of his friend.
But the earl, too, had fallen into thought, and with his hand leaningupon the mandolin, which he had suffered to drop by his knee till itreached the floor, seemed gazing upon the frets, as if the straightlines of ivory contained some matter of serious contemplation. MissWalton coloured as she marked the silence, and looking suddenly upsaid one or two commonplace words, which at once betrayed an effort.They served, however, to renew the conversation again.
Another and another song succeeded, and, after about an hour spent inthis manner, the party separated and retired to rest, while AnnieWalton asked herself, with an agitated breast, "What is the meaning ofthis?" The sensations were new to her, and for more than an hour theybanished sleep from her pillow.
Arrah Neil; or, Times of Old Page 9
