The Loyalists, Vol. 1-3

by Mrs. West

  CHAP. XVIII.

  Vast confusion waits; As doth the raven on a sick-fall'n beast, The imminent decay of wrested pomp. Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempest.

  Shakspeare.

  I avoid dwelling on the bitter anguish of the Beaumont family at thedreadful catastrophe of the long-imprisoned King. Its pious head addedlargely to his intercessory prayers, imploring heaven to avert itsvengeance from all who had inadvertently been accessary to the fact, toforgive those who repented of the heinous sin, and to soften the heartsof those who still gloried in having murdered their Sovereign. For theEnglish nation, his petitions were most fervent and impressive. Thecharacter of the young King had in it some traits which excited hisapprehension; he prayed earnestly that they might be found (as manypeople said they were) merely the exuberance of youth; and that theacknowledged grace and affability of his manners, and the placablenessof his temper, might ornament, but not supplant, those christian virtuesand noble principles which had so eminently distinguished his father.Considering the provocations the people had committed, the greatdissoluteness of one sort, and the wild fanaticism or palpable hypocrisyof the others, added to the furious passions and implacable resentmentswhich were excited, especially by this last desperate deed, he sawlittle hope that true religion and regular liberty could be speedilyrestored; he feared, therefore, the sun of England's glory would suffera long eclipse: yet England was his country, nor could affluence ordistinction have tempted him to quit it while he thought his example,his labours, or his prayers could afford assistance to its inhabitants.

  The existing Government allowed Dr. Beaumont and his family personalsecurity: in return, he resolved to abstain from plotting its overthrow.The young King wished his friends not to hazard their own safety by rashundertakings; and Dr. Beaumont considered that to labour at the gradualintroduction of right principles, the removal of mistakes, and theregulation of false doctrines; and, above all, to lead a life ofholiness, universal charity, and meek simplicity, were the most likelymeans to heal the wounds made by violence, to soften the Divine anger,and to prepare the people for the restoration of legitimate rule. Thereformation of individuals must, he knew, precede that of the nation;and he considered that the man, who employed himself diligently at hispost, and strove to revive the sentiments of loyalty and piety in acountry village, more truly served his God and his King than he whoengaged in weak and unweighed efforts against a power which now wieldedthe energies of the kingdom. He lamented to see such enterprizessuccessively come to no better issue than that of giving fresh instancesof the often-recorded fact, that loyalty and truth can die on thescaffold, or in the field of battle, without bending to theirpersecutors, or relinquishing the principles interwoven with life.

  The situation of Colonel Evellin was very different. He was proscribed,exempted out of every amnesty, and though incapacitated by hisinfirmities from serving his King, yet forbidden to rest his weary headin secure privacy, till called by nature to hide it in the grave. ArthurDe Vallance too, the noble-minded revolter, renouncing the distinctionspurchased by the guilt of his parents, was resolved henceforth to devotehis life to atone for their crimes, by being the constant attendant,comforter, and protector of his uncle. Yet was he not whollydisinterested in that resolution; the love of Isabel stimulated him topersevere in it, and he looked to her as the companion and reward of hisservices.

  It was now determined to wait the probable effect of the summer heats inrelieving the Colonel from the imbecility of extreme decrepitude. Dr.Beaumont was then to join the hands of Arthur and Isabel, and they andtheir father were to remove to Holland, where every friend of the RoyalMartyr was affectionately welcomed by the Princess of Orange, whose onlyconsolation in her deep affliction for him, was to cherish those whosuffered in his cause. Arthur possessed a small private fortuneindependent of his parents, which, when converted into cash, would beadequate to their frugal support; and it was agreed, that while theywaited the chance of the Colonel's recovery, no disclosure should bemade of the change in his principles. He, therefore, retained the titleof Sedley; continued to visit Morgan; talked of the friendship ofCromwell; and pretended that he resided with the Beaumonts, because hestill required the assistance of his surgeon, and that he wished to befully convinced of their inoffensive conduct before he recommended themto the General's favour.

  During this time the Sunday assembling of the church in the wildernesswas repeated as often as the safety of the congregation would permit.These were Dr. Beaumont's halcyon moments; the refreshing balms whichenabled him to support his public and private affliction. The terribledeath of Humphreys had made a great impression in the village, theoutrageous blasphemies of the self-condemned reprobate in his lastmoments, and the utter inability of the various teachers of differentopinions who gathered around him, to tranquillize his disorderedimagination or quiet his alarmed conscience, led the beholders of thatheart-rending scene to recollect, that no such occurrence had takenplace during the quiet ministry of him who had preached the comfortabledoctrine of God's universal acceptance of penitent sinners, and who hadever aimed rather to reform their lives than bewilder theirunderstandings or influence their imaginations. Many of the neighbourswho wanted courage to attend his more public services, visited theDoctor by night, and besought his instruction as a preceptor, or hisjudgment as a casuist. One wished him to talk with his wife, who was somuch engrossed with spiritual things, that she thought it sinful toattend to temporal concerns. He said she left him alone in a severe fitof sickness, while in extreme danger, to listen to a favourite preacher;and, when reproved for her inhumanity, she burst into a transportingextacy, and declared herself now sure of salvation, as "she suffered forrighteousness-sake," and would bear her cross with patience. Heprotested he knew not how to act, since, if he treated her withkindness, she was in despair, calling herself a lost soul, applying toher own case the woe denounced on those with whom the world is at peace,and complaining that she had no longer "a thorn in the flesh to buffether." A disconsolate mother implored Dr. Beaumont to interfere andsupport her authority with her daughter, who, misunderstanding theirpreacher's encomiums on the sufficiency of faith, abandoned herself toantinomian licentiousness, asserting, that "it was the law which hadcreated sin," but that the elect were free from the curse of the law.One father was ruined by children, who refused to "labour for the meatthat perisheth." Another came in the deepest distress, lamenting thathis son was committed to prison for having joined a band of fanaticaldesperadoes, who publicly plundered their neighbours, declaring thatthey were now superior to the commandments, and were prophets appointedto set up the empire of King Jesus, and restore those times "whenbelievers had all things in common." In some of these instances Dr.Beaumont was enabled to enlighten the bewildered judgment; but when theerrors of the imagination were fortified by licentious passions, or aperverse disposition, he could only give comfort to the afflictedrelations by confirming them in a clearer view of divine truth.

  But the Doctor's greatest trouble proceeded from those frequent visitorswho came to complain to him of the state of their neighbours' souls, andto vaunt their own spiritual gifts and happy security. To these he couldbe of no use, nor is it any reflection on his learning and abilities, tosay he was often posed by a class of disputants, who, wanting a previousacquaintance with those general topics of information which arenecessary to a clear and true view of the question, presume to handlethe most abstruse and profound topics of theology, while unable to seethe force of their opponent's reasonings, or to attend to thedevelopment of the false hypothesis on which their notions are founded.These people, being wise in their own conceits, gloried in their errors,mistaking spiritual pride for piety, and censorious curiosity forconcern for their neighbours' souls. The spirit of "Stand apart, I amholier and wiser than thou," had such firm possession of their minds,that the mild instructions and persuasive example of Dr. Beaumont had noeffect;
his refusal to anathematize the darkness of their adversaries,or to admire the splendour of their illumination, sealed their earsagainst all his counsels. In vain did he admonish them that the test ofChristian principles, as given by our Divine Lawgiver, was unity. Thepromulgation of the Gospel to distant countries was to result fromuniversal good-will. "By this shall all men know that ye are mydisciples, if ye have love one to another," was the Saviour's definitionof his true servants. "I thank God that I am not like this Publican,"was the self-gratulation of a much greater sinner. The Apostles enjoinedthe most guarded temperance of judgment respecting others, and theclosest inquisition about ourselves; and the wisest and best men, fromwell-grounded fears of their own perseverance in well-doing, havedeclined[1] all superior affectation of sanctity or invidious comparisonof the behaviour of others with their own, lest they should afterwardsfall into some grievous sin, and thus bring disgrace on religion andvirtue. The Catholic church, he said, was a term implying affectionatecommunion as well as universality; and how could they be said to wishfor Christ's reign upon earth, who made knowledge to consist infrivolous cavils, and piety in rancorous misinterpretation of abrother's motives? Were discord, enmity, and censoriousness, fitharbingers of the Prince of peace? His great forerunner preachedrepentance and reformation. The sins of individuals, not theinstitutions of civil society, were the mountains which were to belevelled before the rising of the Sun of Righteousness. We might besaved, without knowing if our neighbour was in the road to heaven; wemust at the last day be judged for the good we have done, not for theevil others have thought; nor would the mere frequent calling upon theLord save those who in their deeds rejected the Divine government. Infine, Dr. Beaumont, weary of the obstinacy and determined ignorance ofthese self-righteous, told them that their pretensions to a larger shareof heavenly gifts was presumptuous, since they indulged in offences thatspoke a more infernal origin than merely carnal sins; for, so far ashuman eye can penetrate into concealed mysteries, pride was the crime ofthe fallen angels. Nor would he admit that Christian humility had anything to do with general acknowledgments, which rested in the corruptionof our common nature. "It is in confession of actual sin that thecontrite offender humbles himself before his God. The sentiment arisingfrom an imputation of guilt which we could not avoid, or from theexpectation of a punishment of which we are born the inheritors, is notself-abasement, but despair. The penitent, observed Dr. Beaumont, feelslike one abashed by the recollection of his misdeeds, and fearful offorfeiting the pardon afforded him by mercy: hence arise kindness andcompassion to his fellow-sinners, and newness of life in his ownconduct; but he was yet to learn how the feelings of the predestinatedelect, who boasted of being brands snatched out of the fire, andprivileged favourites of Heaven, improved the morals of mankind."

  Had Dr. Beaumont merely consulted his own ease, he could not have takenmore effectual methods for clearing his door of those who came todisplay their own graces; yet his converts were numerous, respectable,and, what is better, shewed in their behaviour the improvement theyderived from his labours. A quiet tractable deportment, a due sense ofsubordination, of duty to superiors, and of contented labour in theirown callings, those noble and peculiar distinctions of true disciples ofthe church of England, which render her so proper an ally to the state,were again visible in the language and manners of those who attended thestolen congregational services I have mentioned, for to this assemblingthemselves together, the Divine blessing is especially promised. Afterthe solemn and primary duties of confession, prayer, and praise, Dr.Beaumont resumed his old method of instruction, alternately expoundingChristian mysteries, and inforcing Christian morals. On some occasionshe pursued a course of catechetical lectures; on others, quittingelementary instructions, he proceeded to inforce good works as the testof faith; now recommending the means of grace, by which the heart of manwas prepared to co-operate with the Divine Spirit, and then expatiatingon the hopes of glory, the goal and reward of diligence and perseverancein well-doing. The service was lengthened by occasional prayers, adaptedto the state of the kingdom, and closed with an hymn, except at thosetimes when the centinel or watch indicated there was danger ofinterruption.

  One fine evening of the summer of 1649 they were thus employed, androused to uncommon fervour by a most pathetic discourse, to which thefollowing hymn, sung by the congregation, was in its purport analogous:

  Oh Thou, to whose paternal ear Affliction never vainly cried! Whom in prosperity we fear, On whom in sorrow we confide; We mourning exiles humbly crave Thy light to guide--thy power to save.

  Proscribed from consecrated ground, Forbid thy sacred courts to tread, We know, where contrite hearts are found, Thy cleansing grace is largely shed. The church may wander in the wild, But God still feeds his pilgrim child.

  Our canopy the vaulted skies, Our unction the refreshing dew; The circling rocks that round us rise, Conceal us from th' oppressor's view; Still shall their solemn echoes bear To thy high courts our praise and prayer.

  Not for ourselves (though sore dismay'd Like hunted doves) we pray alone; A bleeding people asks thy aid, A ruin'd church, a prostrate throne, A land become by woes and crimes, A beacon to surrounding climes.

  Oh, by the sacred ransom paid For rebel man, rebellion hide; Where evil spirits now have made Their den, let thine own Spirit 'bide. And change our contests and our wrongs To holy lauds and peaceful songs.

  The echoing rocks prolonged the solemn melody, and every heart wasfilled with sympathetic submission, devout patience, and humble hope,when their attention was recalled to the present scene by a loud Amen,which discovered a till-then-unobserved participator in their devotions.A lame bare-headed beggar stood leaning on his crutch, while the windblew his hair and tattered garments in every direction. "Heaven blessyou, worthy Christians!" said he; "you have prayed for the King, help awounded soldier who has fought for his Royal Father. 'Tis many a daysince I have heard the old church service, and it has done my heartgood; I have drunk to her prosperity thousands of times."

  Arthur offered him an alms.--"Oh, young gentleman," said he, "this islike throwing diamonds to a dunghill-cock. I cannot buy a loaf in themountains, and I dare not venture into any town till I can get someother clothes to disguise myself. I was in the last insurrection, as therebels call it, and so may be hanged without judge or jury, whereverthey catch me; and they may hang me if they will, for they can nevermake any thing of me but a King's trooper, or else a Tom o' Bedlam."

  Dr. Beaumont now advanced to see what measures could be adopted torelieve the stranger's necessities, when, to his great surprize, the manlimped forward, and, grasping his hand with ecstasy, gave it a heartyshake. "Ah, my good Doctor, is it you?--'Twas so dusky I could not seeyour face; and your voice is quite broke and hollow to what it used tobe. I hoped Your Reverence was safe and well at Oxford, and notpreaching here among the goats and sheep in the mountains, while tinkersand tailors are palavering in churches. Don't Your Reverence rememberJobson, whom you tried to get out of that Squire Morgan's clutches, whenthe cursed covenant came first in fashion. I could not swallow it, youknow, nor will I now, though they were to change my torn coat for amajor's uniform. Is the Squire still alive? I should like to knock himdown with my crutch, and tell him I bought shoes of his father."

  It was with unfeigned pleasure that honest Jobson was recognised by hisneighbours. Plans were proposed for his immediate relief, and Arthurhoped he could procure him a protection through the interest of Morgan."Say nothing about it, Sir," answered Jobson; "I tell you I'll owe himnothing but a sound drubbing, and I hope to pay that before I die, inspite of the wound in my knee; he should have it now if I could catchhim; and let me tell you, I am sorry to hear such a pretty-spokengentleman as you, say you have any acquaintance with such a scoundrel.He has made me hate the neighbourhood he lives in; and I only came intoit to see if all was true that was said of my wife; and I find she isgon
e a tramping with one of the new preachers, and her girls are goneafter her with some of the rebel troopers. Let them go, I say, if theyhave no better fancies than that; I'll hop back to Wales, where an oldsoldier of the King's is sure to find a nook in a cottage-chimney, and apiggin of warm leek porridge; aye, and a warm heart too, that never willbetray him."

  "It is not in Wales only," answered Dr. Beaumont, "that there are foundwarm hearts who revere the memory of their martyred Sovereign, and lovethe brave soldier who has bled in his cause. My situation compels me tobe careful of offending the ruling powers, but we can contrive to makesome cavern in the mountains a comfortable place of shelter, till youare better able to undertake a long journey; and believe me, it rejoicesmy soul to see you display the same firmness in adversity as you did inthe hour of danger. In the wreck of your little fortune, you havepreserved that noblest treasure, an upright heart. Many who now bask inaffluence, would give their ill-acquired eminence to call that jewelwithout price their own."

  "True, worthy Doctor," answered Jobson; "yet the knaves often getuppermost in this world, and so won't own themselves to be scoundrels,which is what provokes me. But the times will come when we shall tellthem a bit of our minds again; and then I suppose my wife will leave thepreacher, and want me to take her in again; but no, no, Madam, says I,there's two words to that bargain. Does Your Reverence know, that thoughI never rose higher yet than to be an officer's servant, I am to be ayeoman of the guard. His Highness the King, as now ought to be,promised, when he was only Prince of Wales, that when he came to live inWhitehall, he'd make me one of the Beaf-eaters: bless his generousheart! he'd have made me any thing I asked, but I never was ambitious.So, please Your Majesty's Highness sweet Prince, says I, let me be aBeef-eater as long as I live. This was when I was in the boat with him,as he went to Sicily from Pendennis-Castle. 'Twas the last time he sethis foot on English ground, said he must think of his word when he comesback with the crown on his head."

  By this time Isabel and Constantia had concerted a retreat for Jobson inthe mausoleum, which, having been recently searched, was not likely soonto excite the suspicions of the parliamentary committee-men. Theytherefore lingered by the side of Jobson, and gave him a privateintimation of their design, directing him to come to the park-wall atmidnight, where they would provide, not only for his support, butattempt to cure his wound, as habit had now made them expert surgeons.Jobson could scarcely be confined to whispering his acknowledgements."Give me the use of my leg again," said he, "and let the King's coloursfly in what part of England they will, Ralph Jobson shall stand by theside of them."

  Each party was true to the appointment, and the tender chirurgeonsperceived with pleasure, that Jobson's lameness proceeded rather fromneglect and unskilful treatment, than from such an injury of the musclesas excluded all hope that their action could be restored. His adventureswere told to Colonel Evellin, who insisted that his fellow-sufferershould become an inmate of his apartment. "Soldiers," said he, "can talkover wars and sieges together, and pray for better times. The tedioushours will pass pleasantly, enlivened by that gallant fellow'ssimplicity; and, if Morgan thinks that it is worth while to let loosehis blood-hounds in search of a lame beggar, he may, at the same time,unearth another who has nothing but his life to lose. Calamities likeours level all distinctions; and why is the breath which animates theruined representative of fallen greatness more valuable than that whichinspires the heroism and cheerful patience of an honest trooper. Yetcourage, my girl; the blood of Neville is not wholly contaminated; andwhen I cease to give thee anguish, thou and Arthur shall restore itspurity."

  The family considered on Colonel Evellin's request, and as none butthemselves knew of Jobson's first retreat, they thought the safety oftheir noble charge would not be hazarded by indulging him with acompanion. It was, however, still deemed expedient to conceal his nameand connexion with the Beaumonts, and to describe him to Jobson only asa loyal officer, disabled by hard service, who sought concealment tillhe was sufficiently recovered to leave England. Jobson rejoiced in thechange of apartments. The tincture of superstition, which was universalin those times, gave him a great reluctance to being hid in a monument,though he disguised his general apprehension of supernatural beingsunder the pretence of dislike to Sir William Waverly. "If it had been aloyal gentleman's tomb," said he, "I dare say I could have slept in itall night very well, but I know the Baronet was no better than a rebelin his heart, and the malice of those scoundrels is not cured byknocking their brains out. To say the truth, my teeth chattered in myhead, and my legs twitched so about, that I am sure I never should havegot well while I staid there."

  Jobson's light heart now foreboded that his wound would quickly heal,and that the brave gentleman, who was his companion in affliction, wouldtake him to be his servant, when he should be able to leave England; he,therefore, settled in his own mind, that he would stay in ColonelEvellin's service till the King sent for him to make him a Beef-eater.The concealed Loyalists soon fell into that intimacy which suffering inthe same cause naturally inspires. Adversity is a great leveller, notonly of artificial distinctions, but also of personal qualities. Thedispossessed nobleman, and the village-ploughman, conversed familiarlytogether of many a hard-fought day. The scene of their warfare lay indifferent parts of the kingdom; but each listened with painful interestto the details of the other: Evellin ruminating on the errors which hadruined the King's cause, Jobson cursing the knaves who betrayed, and thetraitors who beheaded, him.

  "I cannot help making free with Your Honour," said Jobson, "though I seeby all your ways you are a right true gentleman, and not like theRump-tinkers and Old Noll's make-believes. You would hardly think, merryas I seem with you, that I am very sad at heart: not about Madge Jobson,my wife as was; no, let her go where she will, for she always was a badone; but 'tis about that noble family that are so good to us both. Andthat pretty Mistress Constance, as sighs so when she bandages up myknee; sweet creature! she thinks she hurts me, but I would not cry outif she did; for I have a story I could tell her would make her sighmore, and look paler than she does, though she is now as white as acoward marching up to a charged battery."

  Colonel Evellin inquired what story. The remembrance of his son was everpresent to his mind; but the indelible shame of his public disgrace hadprevented him from alluding to him, or asking Jobson if he had ever methim during the campaign of 1645: and the deep feeling of affectionategrief prevented Jobson from naming the gallant youth to the goodgentleman, who seemed, he thought, to want to have his spirits raised,and was too cast down to be diverted with melancholy stories.

  Jobson now begged the Colonel to satisfy his doubts whether it was rightto make his benefactors unhappy. "As a friend of the family," said he,"and a wise man, I wish to consult you. They don't seem to know what isbecome of Mr. Eustace Evellin, had I better tell them or not?"

  Though long and intimately versed in the discipline of severest misery,Colonel Evellin was forced to turn away his face to conceal his paternalperturbation. "If," said he, "since the public rebuke of Lord Hopton, hehas again disgraced his lineage, bury his shame in that oblivion which Ihope now covers his body; but, if he lived long enough to redeem hishonour, tell me his history."

  Jobson gazed with indignant surprise on his agitated companion. "If,"answered he, "you had not fought as nobly as you have for the King, Iwould not bear to hear you talk about Mr. Eustace Evellin's redeeminghis honour before he lost it. Why, it was all a mistake of the oldLord's when the cowards and traitors drove him distracted; and so hethought Mr. Eustace one of them, because now and then they tippledtogether. Aye, he has been sorry enough for it since: but Generalsshould be careful what they say, for Lord Hopton ruined one of thefairest young gentlemen that ever was born."

  The Colonel motioned with his hand that Jobson should proceed with hisnarrative. "Does Your Honour groan through pain?" inquired the latter;"let me lay you in an easier posture. Did you never hear how Mr. Eustacefought at Pendennis-Castle; when old John Arundel of
Terrice thanked himbefore all the garrison?"

  "Thank heaven!" exclaimed Evellin, "that was a public honour!"

  "Tush! that was nothing," continued Jobson; "every soldier knew alreadywhat stuff Mr. Eustace was made of. Old John called him the hero ofLancashire. After the castle had surrendered, I went with him intoWales; and wherever there was a little fighting we were at it: and whenthere was none, we lived just as we could; for I did not care aboutMadge Jobson, and Mr. Eustace said he could not go home because hisfather had cursed him."

  "No, no, no," said Evellin; "he never cursed him."

  "I wish," cried Jobson, "the poor gentleman had known that; it mighthave saved his life."

  "Is he dead?" exclaimed the father, in an agony that lifted hisdebilitated frame from its recumbent posture.

  "Shot in cold blood after the taking of Pembroke-Castle."

  "By whose order?"

  "A devil's-born traitor, as bad as those who cut off the King's head;Lord Bellingham they call him."

  Evellin clenched his fist; his teeth were set; his eyes rolled interrific wildness; Jobson thought him in a fit, and advanced to supporthim. But with the reckless strength of frenzy, the distracted fathergrasped the tottering veteran. No object but Bellingham presented itselfto his perverted imagination; and in the fury of rage, blended withanguish, he redoubled his blows on Jobson, exclaiming, "AccursedBellingham, give me back my son!"

  The vehemence of the Colonel's execrations brought Arthur de Vallance tothe assistance of Jobson, who, in terrified accents, declared the goodgentleman was suddenly gone mad, and he could not hold him. It might beexpected, that the entrance, at that instant, of the son of Eustace'smurderer would have increased the paroxysm, but nature was exhausted; hefixed his eyes upon him, till anguish changed to glaring inanity, and hesunk lifeless on the pallet.

  Arthur's first care was to call Isabel, in hopes her tenderministrations would restore her father. Her efforts were attended withsuccess. Evellin opened his eyes, saw his daughter and her loversupporting him; he looked alternately at each; no language can describethe expression of those looks, while he vainly struggled for utterance.Withdrawing his hand from the pressure of Arthur's, he threw it roundthe neck of Isabel, and with the feebleness of an apparently dyingaccent, inquired if she loved that man. Astonishment kept her mute;Evellin sobbed aloud. "By _his_ father, girl, your brother has beenmurdered in cold blood."

  If a painter wished to portray a scene of superlative misery, which thepen cannot describe, the present might employ his strongest powers ofpathos.--The pleading eye of Arthur fixed on the face of Isabel, whileshe gazed on her father with the blank features of astonishment anddespair. Jobson now understood the development he had caused, and sharedthe anguish which it excited. He brushed the tears from his eyes; theyfilled again. He sobbed aloud, and thought such sorrow worse than theseverest warfare he had ever sustained.

  The first return of recollection suggested to young De Vallance thenecessity of withdrawing from the presence of his uncle. He sought Dr.Beaumont, but that universal comforter could not relieve such despair.He had, himself, the dreadful task of disclosing the death of Eustace toConstantia, and of sustaining the keen anguish of her first sorrow,before he could intrust her to the care of Mrs. Mellicent, and assistIsabel in the secret chamber, where the loud cries and groans of Evellinexposed them all to the most imminent danger of discovery.

  Before Dr. Beaumont could visit his frantic friend, rage had againexhausted his strength; he lay apparently lifeless, and Isabel wasweeping over him.--In cases of extreme distress, to talk of comfort andprescribe composure, is impertinence. Nature will claim her rights, anda true friend respects them in silence. He directed his attention to thenarrative of Jobson, from whose report he gathered those particulars ofthe fate of Eustace, which, with other circumstances that afterwardstranspired, shall be narrated in the subsequent chapter.

  [1] This disposition was a prominent feature in the character of Sir Matthew Hale.

  END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

  VOLUME III

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAP. XIX.CHAP. XX.CHAP. XXI.CHAP. XXII.CHAP. XXIII.CHAP. XXIV.CHAP. XXV.CHAP. XXVI.CHAP. XXVII.CHAP. XXVIII.