The Loyalists, Vol. 1-3

by Mrs. West

  CHAP. XI.

  O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.

  Shakspeare.

  We left Eustace wakening the echoes with his songs, which, while theyexpressed the exultation of his heart at emerging from confinement andobscurity, and launching into a busy scene of action, were also intendedto divert the alarm of his fair companions. Williams recommended cautionand silence to no purpose; Eustace was sure they were going on safe.They were still at a great distance from the Parliament's garrison atHalifax, when they were joined by a person in the dress of a countryman,but in reality a scout belonging to the army of Fairfax. He drew theincautious Eustace into conversation, and soon perceived that theaffected vulgarity of his language ill accorded with the polishedaccents he had overheard. Guessing from this circumstance that theybelonged to the family of some Loyalist, and were attempting to escapeto their friends, he, under pretence of shewing them a nearer way,delivered them into the custody of a foraging party belonging to thegarrison.

  Eustace discovered that they were betrayed at the moment when retreatwas impossible, and resistance of no avail. He now lamented that he haddespised the cautions of Williams; and, as he was furnished with arms,determined to sell his life as dear as possible. The shrieks of theladies in a moment arrested his arm, and also drew the attention of thecornet who commanded the party which had surprised them. He ordered histroop to retire a few paces, and, riding up to Eustace, exclaimed,"Madman, whose life are you going to sacrifice?" Eustace turning, beheldConstantia fainting; and, throwing away his pistols, answered, "Onedearer than my own. If republicans can shew mercy, spare her."

  "You shall find," returned the officer, "that they have mercy and honourtoo. Let me conjure the ladies to moderate their terrors. They areindeed my prisoners; but they shall be treated with all the respectwhich their sex, and, if I guess aright, their quality, deserve."

  Isabel, who supported her lifeless cousin, raised her eyes to bless thebenevolence which dictated such consolatory expressions, and saw theywere uttered by a graceful youth, a little older than her brother, inwhose countenance animation was blended with benignity and compassion.

  "For Heaven's sake," said she, "if you pity us, let the troopers sheaththeir broad swords; we will make no resistance; alas! the alarm haskilled dear Constantia."

  The cornet leaped from his horse, and assisted to raise her. "Her pulsesbeat," said he, "and she recovers fast. But why, Madam, are you notequally alarmed?"

  "I have been used to sorrows and difficulties from my infancy," returnedIsabel; "but Constantia has never known any thing but care andtenderness."

  "Are you her sister?"

  "No; I have only that brother. He is rash, but brave and good. Do nothurt him, for his death would kill my father."

  "It shall be in his own power," returned the officer, "to fashion hisfortunes. I wish, Sir, not to be thought your enemy otherwise than as myduty enjoins. You see I am in the service of the Parliament. Tell me,frankly, who you are. It is possible I may befriend you; at least I knowI can the ladies who are under your care."

  Eustace, whose attention was now relieved by seeing Constantia recover,could not resist an invitation to frankness. "I am not," said he, "whatmy dress imports, but the son of a cavalier and a gentleman; we weregoing to put ourselves under his protection. Allow us to proceed toColonel Evellin's quarters, and I will ever esteem you as my friend,even if we should meet on opposite parts, in some bloody conflict."

  "I will befriend you," answered the cornet; "but the success of myefforts must depend on their being conducted with secrecy. ColonelEvellin is not now in the north. He was attached to the escort whoconducted the Queen to Oxford. Is it your wish to follow him?"

  They answered in the affirmative. "I must hold no further intercoursewith you," continued he; "be of good courage;" then kissing his hand,with a smile to Isabel, he ordered Williams to follow with them, andrejoined his troopers.

  "Surely," observed Isabel, "he cannot be a round-head. I thought theywere all like old Morgan; and this is a true gentleman." Constantiaacquiesced in this opinion, and supposed he might be a loyalist, takenprisoner, and compelled to join the rebel army. Eustace, in an equaldegree unwilling to allow any good qualities to a person who was in armsagainst the King, declared that he suspected the apparent urbanity ofthe stranger to be only a prelude to some base design. He resolved, thatwhile they continued prisoners, nothing should separate him from hisfair charge; and Williams and he agreed that they would sit upalternately every night, in order to be ready at the first alarm.

  "Surely," said Isabel, "you forget my uncle's precept, 'Be moderate.'Just now you were all confidence that the false guide would shew us aroad to avoid Halifax; and now you are, without cause, suspecting thatthis gentleman will use us cruelly."

  "Are they not both rebels and republicans?" rejoined Eustace. "The onlydifference is, that one was an ugly vulgar knave, and this a handsomecourtly one." Isabel blushed and gave up the argument, thinking ituseless to contend with one who was never subdued by opposition.

  On their arrival at Halifax, they were provided with comfortableapartments. A guard was placed at the door; but they were informed thatevery indulgence should be allowed them, except that of being atliberty. Williams was ordered to attend the council of officers, to beexamined as to their name and designs; and the captives waited hisreturn with the impatience natural to those whose fate is about to bedecided.

  The account which he gave of his examination seemed to confirm thesuspicions entertained by Eustace of the sinister designs of the cornet,who had anticipated the deposition of Williams, by describing the partyas the children and niece of a cavalier, now an active officer in thepopish army, advising that they should be sent, with some otherprisoners, to London, there to be kept in safe durance till they couldbe exchanged for some other party who had fallen into the hands of theRoyalists. Williams was not suffered to speak. The proposal was adopted;and orders were given that the escort should set off next morning.

  The indignant ravings of Eustace, and the mortification of poor Isabel,who had seen, in the "melting eye of her supposed protector, a softheart and too brave a soul to offer injuries, and too much a Christiannot to pardon them in others," in fine, a generous, open, honourablecharacter, very like her dear father, called forth the mediation ofConstance, who, recollecting her own father's precepts, recommendedcandour and patience. "At least," said she, "whatever befals us, let usnot lose the consolation of fellowship in affliction. We have yet thecomfort of being together; and perhaps we may not find captivity sodreadful, nor our enemies so merciless as we expect. If they do not takeyou from us, dearest Eustace, we cannot be quite miserable."

  They were now joined by an elderly man in the dress of a clergyman, who,though somewhat precise in his habit, and quaint in his address, wasvenerable and benevolent in his aspect and expressions. "Fair maidens,"said he, "I come to inquire if you are content with your presentaccommodations, and willing to begin your journey towards Londonto-morrow morning. The governor of this garrison has joined me to yourescort; and it will be a duty I shall gladly undertake, to render yourtravel lightsome, and your perils trivial."

  "May we," answered Isabel, "request to know to whom we shall be soobliged?"

  "You may call me Mr. Barton," replied he, "a minister of the church bythe laying on the hands of the presbytery. My immediate call among thesemen in arms, arises from my being tutor to the young officer, to whomyou are surrendered prisoners."

  "And did you," said the indignant Eustace, among other things, "teachhim craft and falsehood."

  "I have still to learn those Satanical arts," returned Barton, "andtherefore could not teach them."

  "Were they then," resumed Eustace, "innate properties in his mind?Though little more than my own age, he is a master in the science ofdissimulation. He practised upon my fears; I mean, my fears for these
dear girls, and wormed from my confiding folly a disclosure of myparentage, and my wishes. He promised to serve us. I trusted to hisword; and he performs it by rivetting our chains beyond hope ofliberation."

  "While life endures," returned Barton, "hope and fear successivelyeclipse each other. Yet a wise man should remember both are casualties,which may give colour to his future fortunes. We must allow the enragedlion to chafe, but lest his roarings should terrify these tender lambs,and drive them out among beasts of prey, an old watch-dog will crouchbeside them, and assuage their alarms. I fancy, pretty maids, you neverwere in company with a real round-head before; come, tell me truly, ishe as terrible a creature as your fears pictured."

  "I am half inclined to think you do not mean to injure us," said Isabel.

  "Beware," cried Eustace, lifting up his finger; "remember your pastconfidence."

  "But this is an old gentleman," resumed Isabel, and pressed Barton'soffered hand between both hers; "perhaps he is a father, and feels fortwo terrified girls, who never were among strangers before. Or,perhaps," returning the benevolent smile of Barton with one of playfularchness, "he may find us such a troublesome charge, that he will beglad to get rid of us before we reach London."

  "My pretty Eve," returned Barton; "I am proof to temptation. What I haveundertaken to do I will perform."

  "Yet possibly," said she, "you would just allow me to speak once more tothat officer, your pupil. I only wish to remind him of his pastpromises."

  "Rather," replied Barton, "to move him to make more, or perchance makehim your prisoner. No, fair lady, I see too much of your puissance, totrust my noble pupil in your presence. Yet I would have you think aswell of him as the cloudy aspect of present appearances will admit, forman oweth man candour; it is the current coin of social life, and theywho do not traffic with it, must not expect a supply for their ownwants."

  Eustace fretted at this _badinage_, and thought Barton a miserablejester. He caught at the epithet "Noble," and asked if any one, lawfullyentitled to it, would be so degenerate as to rebel against his King.

  "I am one of those stern teachers," said Barton, "who see nobility onlyin virtuous actions and high attainments, but even in your sense of theword, my pupil has a right to the name, being lineally descended fromthose mighty Barons, who in early times enforced Kings to yield, andgave us the right we now enjoy of sitting under our own vine and eatingthe fruit of our own fig-tree. And remember, young cavalier, that allmen's minds are not shaped in one mould, nor have corresponding habitscherished in them the same associations. We have all two characters; ourfriends look at the white side, and see our virtues; our foes at theblack, and discern nothing but our faults. The same action of the King'smay be so coloured by report, as to justify my pupil's enmity and yourpassionate loyalty. You have been trained to deem passive obedience aduty, while he has learned to think that an English nobleman ought toresist arbitrary power. We thought many of the King's proceedings werecontrary to the laws of the realm; and, therefore, joined those whosought to abridge his prerogative. And now that we have buckled onarmour, retreat is difficult; it is dangerous too; party is ahigh-mettled steed, when we are mounted we must hold out the whole raceit pleases to run. But before we part for the night, I will propose onetoast; it is your brave and virtuous Lord Falkland's, and in fact theprayer of every honest man among us--Peace, peace on any terms, ratherthan see England blushing with blood and with crimes!"

  Isabel received a very favourable impression of the integrity andbenevolence of Barton from this conversation, and formed a sort ofundefined hope, respecting the result of their captivity, which inducedher strenuously to reject all the plans which Eustace repeatedly formedfor their emancipation. The most disheartening circumstance was, thatthey saw no more of Williams. They sometimes flattered themselves thathe had regained his liberty, and would carry an account of theirsituation to Colonel Evellin. They observed, that Barton took no noticeof his absence, and hoping that in the confusion which commonly occursin conveying a multitude of prisoners he had been overlooked, theyforbore to make any inquiries that might endanger his safety.

  The country through which they passed in their journey toward London,afforded them a full view of the miseries and crimes incident to civilwar. The fields, in many places, were without any trace of culture; inothers, the harvest had been prematurely seized or purposely wasted, tocut off the enemy's resources. They saw beautiful woods wantonly felled;towns and villages partially burnt; the youthful part of the populationeither enrolled in one or other of the hostile armies, or secretingthemselves to avoid being pressed into military service. The fewlabourers to be seen in the fields consisted of the aged, the sick, orthose who were disabled; and these no longer exhibited the cheerfulaspect of happy industry, but shewed sorrow in their faces, andwretchedness in their garb. In towns, the more respectable inhabitantswere dressed in mourning, thus announcing, that the death of somerelation gave them a deep private interest in the public sorrow. Theunemployed manufacturers crowded the streets, eagerly perusing libellouspamphlets, or diurnal chronicles, disputing furiously on points whichnone could clearly explain or indeed comprehend, asking for news as ifit were bread, and shewing by the lean ferocity of their faces, and thesqualid negligence of their attire, that from unpitied poverty sprungall the virulent passions of rage, envy, revenge, and disobedience. Bysuch as these, the detachment that escorted the prisoners were receivedwith transport as friends and deliverers, who, when their glorious toilswere completed, would transform the present season of woe into a goldenage of luxurious enjoyment and unvaried ease; and as the rebel troopswere well furnished with money, and supplied with every necessary out ofthe royal magazines, which were seized in the beginning of the contest,they were enabled to pay for all the articles of subsistence, and thusacquired a popularity which the strict discipline preserved by theirofficers tended to increase. Hence at every town they passed through,they were not only hailed with acclamations, but received anaugmentation of force by the recruits who joined them, under a certaintyof receiving pay and cloathing.

  Beside the mortification of thus viewing the strength of a party whomthey hoped to find weak, disjointed, and inefficient, our young captiveshad the misery of hearing the royal cause every where vilified, and theSovereign's personal character traduced. Among the King's misfortuneshis inability to pay his army, or to supply it with necessaries, wasmost injurious to his success. His forces were chiefly raised and kepttogether by the private fortunes and influence of loyal noblemen andgentry, many of whom, even members of the house of Peers, served asprivates, receiving neither honour nor reward, except the generoussatisfaction of conscious duty. The situation of those who rangedthemselves on this side without funds for their own support, was mostprecarious, the King being compelled to tax the few places whichpreserved their allegiance with their entire maintenance. The weeklyassessment laid upon the nation by the house of Commons being granted bythe constitutional purse-bearer, took the name of a lawful impost; butevery demand of His Majesty might be construed into an exaction. Fearfulto indispose the minds of subjects, pecuniary levies were cautiouslyresorted to; hence the officers were compelled to connive at plunder,and the destitute soldier often had no other means to supply hisimperious wants. For the same reasons discipline was relaxed; every manwho had largely contributed to the King's cause felt himself independentof his authority. Obliged beyond all probable power of remuneration, thePrince saw himself surrounded by men who had forfeited their estates,renounced their comforts, and risked their lives to support a totteringthrone. Yet still they were subject to human passions, and liable tohave those passions heightened by the free manners of camps, while theunhappy circumstances of the cause for which they fought exonerated themfrom those strict restraints that are so peculiarly necessary in anarmy, where right must always be less respected than power, and wheresevere privations, and the frail tenure by which life is held, are everurged as motives to a licentious enjoyment of the present hour. Whilefrom these causes such relaxed d
iscipline prevailed in a royal garrison,as generally to indispose the neighbourhood to its politics, theparliamentary officers felt bound to each other by the common fears ofguilt, knowing that success alone could preserve them from the penaltiesof treason. Their soldiers being well supplied with every thing, had noexcuse for plundering; and all acts of violence were punished withseverity by those who, though of small consideration in their originalsituations compared with the King's officers, yet still held a naturalcommand over the lowest vulgar, of whom the parliamentary rank and filewere composed.

  To return to the woes which our young captives witnessed in theirmelancholy tour through the seat of civil war.--The houses of thenobility and gentry were either abandoned or converted into places ofstrength, fortified for the defence of the inhabitants. Occasionallythey passed over what had recently been a field of battle. Thenewly-formed hillocks pointed out the number of the slain; brokenweapons and torn habiliments still more indubitably identified themournful history; or flocks of ravens and other carrion birds hoveringover the slightly-covered relics of a noble war-horse, which had beenunearthed by foxes, presented a more savage picture of carnage.Sometimes a pale wounded soldier, whose inability to serve prevented hisbeing secured as a prisoner, or removed by his friends, was seenlingering upon the spot that had proved fatal to his hopes of glory,sustained by the compassion of the neighbourhood or asking alms of thetraveller with whom he crept over the graves of his comrades, shewingwhere the charge was first made, pointing to the spot where the leaderfell, and telling what decided the fortune of the day.

  Scenes very different, yet equally revolting to the feelings of Eustaceand his companions, were frequently exhibited by the fury of fanaticmobs, employed in what they called reforming the churches and cleansingthem from idolatry. The exquisite remains of antient art, the paintings,carvings, and other splendid decorations with which our ancestorsadorned the structures consecrated to the worship of God, were brokenand torn away with such unrelenting fury and blind rage of destruction,as in many instances to threaten the safety of the edifice theybeautified. The Satanical spirit of fanaticism rioted uncontrolled; andto use the words of a venerable Bishop[1], who saw his own cathedraldefaced, "it is no other than tragical to relate the carriage of thatfurious sacrilege, whereof our eyes and ears were the sad witnesses,under the authority and presence of the sheriff. Lord! what work washere--what clattering of glasses--what beating down of walls--whattearing up of monuments--what pulling up of seats--what wresting out ofiron and brass from the windows and graves--what defacing of arms--whatdemolishing of curious stone-work, that had not any representation inthe world but only of the cast of the founder, and the skill of themason--what tooting and piping upon the destroyed organ-pipes, and whata hideous triumph on the market-day before all the country, when, in akind of sacrilegious and profane procession, all the organ-pipes,vestments, copes and surplices, together with the leaden cross which hadbeen newly sawn down from over the green-yard pulpit, and theservice-books and singing-books that could be had, were carried to thefire in the public marketplace; a lewd wretch walking along in the trainin his cope, trailing in the dirt, with his service-book in his hand,imitating in impious scorn the time, and usurping the words of theLitany used formerly in the church. Near the public cross all thesemonuments of idolatry must be sacrificed to the fire, not without muchostentation of a zealous joy in discharging ordnance, to the cost ofsome who professed how much they longed to see that day. Neither was itany news upon this guild-day to have the cathedral, now open on allsides, to be filled with musketeers, waiting for the mayor's return,drinking and tobaccoing as freely as if it had turned ale-house."

  At these sad spectacles (of which almost every ornamented church theypassed supplied an instance), Isabel contemplated with pleasure thecharacter of Barton[2], who displayed that moderation and liberalitywhich justified her predilection for him, and her hopes for themselves.He reproved the conduct of the mob with severity, and even hazarded hisown safety by opposing their outrages. He exhorted the police to preventwhat he termed an Anti-christian triumph over good taste, good manners,and good sense. He represented how grossly indecent it was thatmagistrates should seem, by their presence, to sanction the violation ofauthority, and the reverence due to antiquity, and he sometimesprevailed upon them to order the rabble to disperse, whom they hadpreviously invited to the task of spoliation. He spoke to thebetter-informed, of the degradation which England would suffer in theeyes of surrounding nations, by thus wantonly "sweeping the land withthe besom of destruction," and annihilating all those records of her ownpre-eminence, which other countries, had they possessed them, would havebeen so solicitous to preserve. He distinguished between excitements todevotion and objects of worship, and he read from his littlepocket-bible a description of the decorations bestowed on the first andsecond temples, and remarked, that when the Saviour of the worldpredicted the ruin of the latter, he threw no censure on the munificenceof those who had adorned it. He shewed, that the plainness and povertywhich of necessity attached to an afflicted church in its infancy,destined to make its way, not by the usual assistances of worldlywisdom, but in opposition to principalities and powers, were no rule forher government in future ages, when she was to be brought to herheavenly spouse "in glorious attire, with joy and gladness," and insteadof wandering among caves and deserts, was to "enter into Kings'palaces." "If," said he, "you maintain that the overthrow of episcopacyis to involve the ruin of every thing rich, venerable, and beautiful,you furnish its defenders with the best of arguments. How are curiouscraftsmen to flourish, if there are no purchasers of their handy-works;and if we admit these into our houses, why not into the places where wehold our religious assemblies? Are paintings and carvings less likely tocarnalize our hearts in our halls and banqueting-rooms than in ourchapels? Is a golden cup on the Lord's table the accursed spoil ofAchan; and doth it become purified by being removed to the buttery andused in a private carousal?"

  On one occasion, by an ingenious device, Barton preserved a splendidrepresentation of the twelve apostles in a chancel window. He arrivedjust at the moment that a drunken glazier had convinced the mob thatthey were made saints by the Babylonish harlot, and that therefore theirsimilitudes, as popish rags, ought to be destroyed. After in vainendeavouring to persuade the populace that the Pope had no hand in theircanonization, he at length prevailed upon them to have only the headstaken off, remarking that since the decapitated bodies could not provokethe gazer to commit the idolatry forbidden in the second commandment,they might remain without wounding tender consciences. The proposal wasexecuted under his own superintendance; and at a period of lessirritation, Mr. Barton, having preserved the heads, had the pleasure ofrestoring the mutilated figures to their original perfection.

  But Barton shewed his conciliatory character in many ways besidesprotecting the inanimate appendages of the persecuted church. Thejourney afforded him frequent opportunities of assisting its livingmembers, either by rescuing them from the requisitions of the trooperswho escorted the prisoners, or by shielding them from the virulence oftheir infuriated neighbours. Often in the towns they passed through, wasa degraded pastor dragged from the lowly cottage in which he sought toshelter his misfortunes, and compelled (with barbarous exaltation) tobehold the rebel colours flying over his captive friends. Wherever thishappened, Barton uniformly pressed forward, assured the dejectedconfessor that every possible attention was paid to the comfort of theprisoners; inquired into his own situation, not with impertinentcuriosity but with kindness, and promised his assistance to procure hima regular payment of the pittance which Parliament allowed to ejectedincumbents out of their sequestered rents, if (as it too frequentlyhappened) he found it had been embezzled by the commissioners employedin the work of re-modelling the ecclesiastical system.

  They had proceeded very far in their journey, when one evening Bartonrejoined his charge with much apparent agitation in his manner. "We areforbidden," said he, "to let our left hand know the good deeds our rightdoth
, yet cannot I refrain from telling you, young maidens, that I amthis day satisfied with my labours. Among other providences, I have beenable to render brotherly kindness to an episcopal minister whom I foundin a lamentable state, for he had fallen among thieves, who robbed himof his property and tore his pass for safe conduct. Our van-guard foundhim by the way-side, and judging by his venerable aspect, and somesuperfluous decorations in his attire, that he was a deposed bishopflying to the King, they seized him without paying attention to hisnarrative. When I heard that a person in distress was taken prisoner, Ispurred on my horse to see if I could be of use. The placid benignity ofthe sufferer's aspect moved my commiseration; he stood calm andcollected among the musketeers, supporting a woman about his own age,who I trow was his wife. To do her justice she shewed no signs ofterror, though she rolled her eyes on those around her with a look ofdisdain, less suited, methought, to her situation than the dignifiedpatience of her companion. I asked him if he had been a bishop, and heanswered, No; but was still a minister of the Christian church. 'Then,'said I, 'perhaps in your affliction you will not refuse the service, orreject the hand of one who calls himself by the same title.' 'Sir,' saidhe, 'this is no time to dispute the validity of your ordination; letyour actions shew that it has had a due efficacy on your heart. As men,if not as clergymen, we are brothers by our common faith and nature. Ibeg you to listen to the statement of facts, which I have vainlyendeavoured to persuade your soldiers to attend to.' He then told me hewas travelling from a living in Lancashire, from whence he had beenexpelled, to Oxford, where he possessed some collegiate endowments; thathe had been assaulted by a band of depredators, beat, bound, andplundered."

  Constantia here eagerly interupted Barton; "His name!" exclaimedshe;--"O, for mercy tell me, could it be my father, Eusebius Beaumont?"

  "The same," returned Barton, melting with pity at her filial anguish."Set thy kind heart at rest; he was not materially hurt; his propertyhas been restored. He is now at liberty, pursuing his journey, and therobbers are secured. But why, dear maid, didst thou conceal thy name?Had I known thou wast his daughter, thou shouldst even now have been inhis arms."

  "O better, far not; for then he would have been a prisoner. But hiscompanion, my excellent aunt?"

  "At liberty too; I handed her into their own calash, and saw them driveoff with a pass of safe conduct. But, pretty trembler, if she is soexcellent, I will make you her proxy, to give me the reward she refusedto my services. I did but ask for the kiss of peace at our parting, whenshe drew back her head as if she were an empress, and stiffly answered,'Sir, I am a Loyalist.'"

  This faithful description of aunt Mellicent's unswerving decorumdiverted the young Evellins, and helped to dissipate Constantia'sterrors. Her rapturous acknowledgements of the humane Barton largelyrepaid him for his services to her father. She listened to acircumstantial detail of the difficulties with which he had contendedagainst the obstinacy and prejudices of the magistrates, to whom he hadapplied for a fresh passport; of the fortunate combination ofcircumstances which, had led to the pursuit and detection of thethieves, with the original instrument in their possession, and of theirconfession, commitment, and discovery of the place where they haddeposited their booty. "I parted from your father," continued he, "withmany affecting testimonies of mutual good-will, and I think auntMellicent, as you call her, would almost have smiled upon me, had not myvain heart indulged in too much joyous self-gratulation at the successof my endeavours, and thus brought on that just rebuke of mypresumption. I did not ask your father to shew like mercy, whenever heshould find one of us in like affliction, for his eyes told me that hisconscience would be a better remembrancer than my tongue. I said,however, that I trusted we should meet in a world, where slightdiscrepancies of opinion would be no preventatives of friendship, thoughin this life they kindled the animosities which it was our misfortune towitness and deplore." "Sir," said he, pressing my hand, "let our contestbe, who shall most truly serve God and our fellow-creatures, and then wemay hope for that pardon, which ensures endless blessedness. On mercythe best of us must depend, though we too often withhold it from ourfellow-sinners, by whose side we must one day kneel, and like them placeall our confidence in boundless compassion."

  "O!" said Constantia, "had not my fears anticipated the fact, thosesentiments would have convinced me you had met my father."

  "And when you next meet him," said Barton, "tell him that while there isa Carolus in my purse, he never shall feel penury."

  "Say," returned she; "shall I ever see him again?"--Barton checked areply, which a momentary reflection whispered was too prompt, andanswered, "I am not a wizard, or diviner of things to come; wait, andsee what the morrow will bring forth."

  "'Tis impossible," replied Isabel, "to reach London to-morrow; but wemight get to Oxford."

  "True," said Barton, with a grave air, "but since we now draw near theKing's quarters, I must redouble my precautions, and I now recollect'tis my duty to attend the council of officers."

  "At Banbury," continued she, attempting to detain him, "there is a royalgarrison."

  "To which you would escape," resumed Barton.--"Have I not told you I amproof to temptation, and will faithfully discharge the trust reposed inme by my employer."

  The next day seemed to give the death-blow to Isabel's hopes. They nowturned out of the direct road, in order that they might avoid the King'squarters, and directed their course, so that they might proceed throughthe associated counties to London.--With her usual alacrity ofaccommodation, Isabel endeavoured to reconcile her mind to theprivations of captivity. "I know," said she, "I can not only earn my ownliving, but work also for Constantia. They will soon relax in the careof us girls, and it will be very easy for us to walk from London toOxford. But, dear Eustace, I do indeed regret that I hindered you fromattempting to escape. It was so selfish in me to keep you with us, as Ifear they will require you to enlist in their army."

  "I will be hewn into a thousand pieces first," returned he. "Have we notseen enough of those vile republicans, to determine an honest man neverto purchase his life, by wearing the colours of traitors?"

  "Yet, remember Barton's goodness to my father," said Constantia; "andforgive his severity to us."

  "I honour Barton," replied Eustace; "I honour him even for thatseverity. His word has been plighted to his employers, and he mustdeliver us up prisoners. But what think you of Isabel's gallant officer,that resemblance of the noble, ingenuous Evellin. I will never studyphysiognomy under you, sister."

  Isabel was more pained at this reproach than usual. Eustace perceivedher droop. "Come, dear girl," said he, "we will talk of him no more. Youshall never want a faithful protector while I live, and ardently as Ipant to break these bonds and to be in action, I will make no attempt atfreedom, unless I can also liberate you."

  They stopped that night at Northampton. Barton was reserved and silent,and at length remarked, that in two days their party would reachLondon.--"I have never seen London," said Isabel. "Come, describe it tous, and say where shall we be confined. I suppose we shall meet withonly warm, steady, common-wealth's men."

  "It is the seat of discord," answered Barton; "there are as manyfactions as there are orators, all striving for mastery; yet all unitedagainst the King, by a persuasion of his insincerity, and byapprehensions that he would sacrifice them to his vengeance, in case hewere reconciled to the Parliament."

  "Can it be supposed," said Eustace, "that after the wrongs andiniquities he has endured, he ever can forgive! Where is the obliviousdraught that can drown the recollection of a nation rising in armsagainst its Sovereign?"

  Baron answered--"The nation and the King must both forgive, or war mustbe eternal. You have seen its aspect; what think you? Is this greatquarrel like the mere abstract question which is cooly discussed in thecabinet of Princes, when they talk of risking ten thousand lives for avictory, and laying waste a province to cut off the resources of theenemy? Let us not balance misery against forgiveness. It is childishreasoning to keep ourse
lves in torment, because we will not forget theinjuries we have suffered. Peace only can heal our putrifying wounds,and peace can never be bought too dear, unless the price is conscienceor safety."

  They now separated for the evening; anxious thoughts kept the captivesawake. But after all was silent in the inn, Isabel heard a gentle tap atthe chamber-door. In a state of agitation, every sound is alarming. Shelistened, and heard Barton whisper, "Arise." Before she could open thedoor, the watchful Eustace had flown to their protection. Barton wasclosely muffled in his cloak, and inquired if they dared to trustthemselves with him. Constantia drew back, and looked alarmed, whileIsabel accepted his offered arm. "The night is dark," said Eustace, "andwould conceal evil designs."--"Peradventure," replied Barton, "it willalso prosper good ones; I speak but three words--speed, silence,liberty."

  Encouraged by these animating sounds, Eustace cheered the tremblingConstance, and following their guide, they hurried along by the streetwhich led to the castle. As the avenues to the King's quarters were morevigilantly watched, their danger was here most imminent; but Barton hadsecured a friend, who suffered them to pass through his garden, and byclose unfrequented passages they gained the fields. The rising moon nowdiscovered some indefinite objects, concealed among brush-wood. Bartonwhistled, and the countersign, "Banbury," was returned in a voice whichthey knew to be that of Williams. He ran for their horses, which werefastened at a little distance, while Barton alternately embraced hisyoung friends, and affectionately bade them God-speed.--"Excellent man,"said the ardent Eustace, whose over-flowing gratitude now seemed toexceed his former suspicions, "why did you not tell us your design?"

  "Because," replied he, "I saw not in you that property of discretion,which would allow me to trust you with your own safety."

  "Yet," resumed Eustace, "if I am rash, I am not base, nor will I acceptfreedom if it endangers your safety or wounds your conscience."

  "I trust," replied Barton, "I shall be back to my quarters before I ammissed, and as to my conscience, that sleeps on a soft pillow. I havedischarged the trust reposed in me."

  "The Cornet then," said Isabel, "is not a villain."

  Barton smiled, and replied, "Artless maiden, think not too much of theagent whom Providence employed to send you safely through a tract ofcountry you could not otherwise have passed."

  "O, tell me his name," said Eustace, "that I may join it to yours, whenI pray for my benefactors."

  "I must not compromise his safety," answered Barton; "his generosity, ifknown, would endanger his life."

  "But how shall I know him, as to repay his kindness."

  "Think you see him in every unarmed enemy you meet, and deal by them ashe has dealt by you."

  "But if we should meet him in battle?"

  "Even in battle," answered Barton, "if there is time for reflection,remember thy enemy is a man, and thy brother." With these words theyparted. Barton regained his quarters undiscovered, and the young people,blessing his goodness, performed the rest of their journey in safety.

  [1] Bishop Hall, who cannot be objected to as a favourer of Popery or Arminianism. The inconsistency of the Fanatics was exemplified by their destroying, as a popish relic, Paul's Cross, so celebrated for sounding forth the doctrines of the Reformation.

  [2] This portrait of Barton is justified by the conduct of many truly respectable men, whose principles led them, for a time, to countenance the impracticable theories of republicanism. I could name Dr. Owen, General Fairfax, Lord Manchester and others.

  END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

  VOLUME II

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAP. XII.CHAP. XIII.CHAP. XIV.CHAP. XV.CHAP. XVI.CHAP. XVII.CHAP. XVIII.